Cordoba, Argentina

Now, if anybody is paying close attention, or is even reading these blogs, you may notice an anomally with today's posting. A careful look at the map of Argentina clearly shows that Cordoba is before Salta, if heading north. Yet my Salta blog was last week. Yeah, yeah I know, just bear with me. I don't even know what day it is sometimes, let alone remember what town I'm in.

So, let's deal with Cordoba. A city I was highly anticipating due to the fact that it is a colonial town that has preserved many of it's buildings from that period.

The trip from Mendoza once again took myself and Grace through Andes and another brush with the border control. Although these are fairly painless, it always takes longer than it should and seems so inefficient. The process definitely needs a LEAN or Six Sigma approach applying.

The journey from Valparaiso entailed a 10 hour bus journey to Mendoza, a 6 hour wait in Mendoza, then an 11 hour overnight bus to Cordoba. Those buildings better be bloody breathtaking to make all this worthwhile. And the abiding memory of the journey? The obese, badly dressed, builder's arse showing bloke on the seat opposite, snoring like a trooper. It got so bad at one point Grace actually shook him, woke him up and shouted at him. The look of surprise on his face! Priceless. With his shirt riding over his ample stomach, and the bouncing of the bus, we had a constant “truffle shuffle” to keep us entertained.

We arrived at 8am and got a cab to Palenque Hostel, which turned out be a very friendly hostel, just indicative of most city hostels in that there were not many places to chill with a book or a beer. The favourite activity of most of the backpackers there seemed to be to watch telly, loudly, from 9am in the morning. Honestly, kids, there is a whole wide world out there! And yes, despite claiming in previous blogs that I was finished with dorms, in Cordoba I shared a 6 bed dorm with 5 attractive Dutch girls. Worse ways to spend 3 days. I suppose!!



Cordoba did in fact turn out to be a good example of an old colonial town, with well preserved buildings and churches scattered around the centre. That said, the development in the town, not all good, overshadows some of the amazing architecture. The main square, Plaza San Martin, is surrounded by shops and cafes with the biggest, ugliest billboards you will see. Hardly an aesthetic contrast to the Igelisa Catedral, begun in 1577 and crowned with a Romanesque dome.

Day 2 in Cordoba we decided to head into the hills, to Alta Gracia, 35kms from Cordoba. A colonial mountain town and home to an adolescent Ernesto “Che” Guevara in the 1930's. His home from that time, Villa Beatriz now houses the excellent Museo Casa Ernest “Che” Guevara. The museum documented his trips around Argentina and South America, the most famous being the one that made it onto the big screen as “The Motorcycle Diaries”. It also showcased many photos from his childhood and, from later years, copies of very moving letters that he sent to his children whilst he was overseas, mostly in Cuba, freedom fighting.





Also in Alta Gracia we visited the Iglesia Parroquial Nuestra Senora de la Merced, built by the Jesuits between 1643 and 1762. Amazing to walk amongst the various buildings, imagining people all those years ago walking the same path.



In all, we had a very good 3 days in Cordoba but I was looking forward to heading off, on the road again, in search of something that captures my imagination just a little bit more.

And it was the end of the travel road for myself and Grace. End of a very enjoyable two weeks. A two weeks in which we had established a familiar drinking routine, both of us enjoying a drink. We would have the litre before dinner, as a “sharpener”, have dinner, then have more beer, to see out the evening. Who will I say “salut”, or “un ronda mas?” with now Graciela?

Oh well, such is the traveller's life, always transient. We said our farewells as I got into a cab for my overnight bus to Salta, whereas Grace was headed back to Buenos Aires and a flight back to Holland. Not all sad for Grace though, three days at home and she was heading back on a plane for a holiday in Cuba. Thats the life!

For me, well you know what I did. If you read my previous post that is. I went to Salta! Next time, I hope to have my blog posts in order, so we should be reading about San Pedro de Atacama, one of the driest deserts in the world.

Chao chicas!

Salta, northern Argentina

For those of you that follow both my pictures and blogs on Facebook, apologies. I have been very remiss in the posting of blogs and now they are a few weeks behind. Today's blog concentrates on my visit to Salta.

I reached Salta, northern Argentina, after another painless, dare I say enjoyable, overnight bus ride from Cordoba. I rocked into the Terminal de Autobuses at 8:30am, jumped in a cab and within a few minutes I was at the Hostel Las Heras. Despite being too early to check in, I got a friendly welcome and was able to store my bags whilst I went off, new map in hand, to find somewhere for strong coffee and breakfast (desayuno). My immediate impressions, confirmed over the next couple of days, were that I was going to enjoy my stay there. A great homely feel to the place, good outside seating options and only a couple of blocks from the main plaza.

Salta turned out to be one of my favourite places in Argentina. A city but with a small town feeling. Beautiful, large plazas. Great restaurants and cafés. An amazing cathedral and the most ornate church I have ever seen, the Iglesias San Francisco (church of Saint Francis).





And very friendly locals. Not to mention a fantastic museum. Now, I must admit, culturally I have been a bit bereft on this trip. I tend to think that once you have seen a museum, you have seen them all. However, that was before I went to the Museo de Arqueologia de Alta Montana (www.maam.org.ar). A museum dedicated to the finding in the 90's of 3 perfectly preserved Inca children mummies. It was unreal. During an archeology expedition in the Andes around Salta, these mummies and their burial site was stumbled upon. It turns out that the Incas believed that if they sacrificed the children, buried them alive with Inca treasures, then no harm would befall their Inca tribe. And these 3 unfortunate children were the ones sacrificed. The 6 year old girl was in a display cabinet, a bit eerie, and was preserved down to the last detail, including her teeth that were baked into a grimace. Fascinating to witness, but I have to admit, I needed a beer after.

Also in Salta is the Cerro San Bernardo. A hill that gives awesome views all over Salta. For my first visit I decided to walk the 1070 steps to the top. Wow, was that a good idea? I was pissed through in sweat by the time I reached the top. The views made it all worth while. I even walked back down after but made a return visit the next day, this time on the chairlift, Complejo Telefrico Salta, for $25AR. A much more relaxing day, but equally enjoyable.





On my last night in Salta I had planned to have no booze and an early night as I had a 7:00am bus to San Pedro de Atacama the next day. Now as this was an 11 hour bus ride I thought a good nights sleep was the perfect preparation. However. This was before I discovered that there was an asado planned for that night in the hostel. And being the sociable sort, I thought I would join them. And what an asado! Beautiful steak, as much as you wanted. Chorizo sausage and heaps of fresh salad, all washed down with carafes of regional wines. And there was a great bunch having the asado. A couple from Dublin, a couple from the Yukon in Canada (near Alaska apparently, where they regularly contend with -40 degree temperatures) and a couple from Denmark, together with a couple of locals who worked at the hostel.

As I left the hostel to walk to the bus station, in the dark at 6am the following morning, I just wished, just a little bit, that I had a soupcon less wine. Oh well, life is for living.

Until the next time chicas.

Valparaiso - Chile

Valparaiso, commonly known as Valpo, is a UNESCO heritage city a couple of hours from Santiago. A port town that is famous for its hills and the old school funiculars that are there to transport you up the said hills.

Myself and Grace had got the early afternoon bus to Valpo and headed for our accommodation, Casa Valparaiso. This was a hostel in an old house and we were staying in a 7 bed dorm. Rather unusual for dorms as you more commonly get either 4 or 6 beds (bunks) but for some reason we had an additional single bed in the room. This was very friendly hostel albeit a bit ramshackle and rough around the edges. Great views from the bedroom window though.



Without further ado we went off to investigate Valpo and started with lunch. We plonked ourselves down in a great old style cafe that we later discovered is one of the cafe gems of Valpo, Bar Cinzano. Old school waiters, a fabulous long bar and a menu of traditional Chilean meals and drinks. I ordered grilled chicken with rice and also ordered my first “pisco sour”. I didn't know what it was either, other than it is the national drink of Chile. And when it arrived it looked a little odd, but let me tell you, it tasted sublime. Absolutely gorgeous. A mix of pisco (some strong liquer type drink), fresh lime juice and sugar. If they weren't so strong I could have sat there and drank them all day. I'm glad I didn't though as they might have ended up all over the little boat that we got on later to sail around the harbour.




The boat trip was nothing too exciting but was a good way to spend a bit of time in the sun and on the water. By the port you can jump in a little “collectivo”, a small boat, along with about 30 other people, and for $2000 pesos (less than £3) can sail around the harbour. The trip only lasted about 30 mins and I didn't understand a bloody word of what the guide was saying, but it was great just to sit in the boat, soak up the sun, and see Valpo from a very different perspective.



In the evening we met up with George and Mildred (Richard and Alison) and went out for pizza to Allegretto. This is run by the same Englishman that runs the B&B that they are staying in. And what a treat the pizzas turned out to be. Truly authentic, thin crust pizzas, just like they come in Napoli. Mamma mia!

The next day we took ourselves off on the bus, along with another traveller, Anna from Germany, to Casablanca, a very important wine region of Chile. We had a fantastic day visiting 3 wineries and having a tasting at each. The weather was glorious, the wines delectable. Oh what a day. In the evening we took advantage of the BBQ at the B&B and made ourselves steaks to go with the wine purchased from the wineries.




Day 3 was spent at the beach in Vina del Mar, a short train ride from the city. Again we were blessed with beautiful sunshine and we secured loungers on the beach and just whiled away the hours, sunbathing, reading, eating, drinking and listening to music being played by buskers on the beach. I could get used to this life :-) As Alison asked Richard if he had had a good day, I once again heard the, by now, very familiar refrain of “yes dear”.

I really enjoyed Valparaiso, more so than I even expected. Truth be told I could have quite happily extended my stay there. However, the road was calling and early on Friday morning we were in a taxi to the bus station for the long slog to Cordoba. Back through the Andes, through border control and to Mendoza (8 hours). Then a 6 hour wait in Mendoza before we boarded the bus for Cordoba which would be a journey of approx 10 hours.

Oh, the life of a traveller.

Chi-Chi-Chi Lay-Lay

So goes the chant of the national football team in Chile and I found myself chanting along on my first night in Santiago de Chile as we watched the under 20s take on Brazil. The hostel, Andes Hostel, had a mix of Brazilians and Chileans so It was fun to watch it with them and their running commentary in their respective languages.

We, myself and Grace, had arrived in Santiago after a breathtaking bus ride from Mendoza, through the Andes mountains and the border crossing, before dropping down through the mountains into Chile. The scenery is amazing and you can not do it justice by camera. Switching back, through curve after curve on sometimes treacherous roads, all you can do is stare and drink in the scenery.



So I was in Chile for the first time. The immediate concern was to try and get my head around the new exchange rate. I had got used to converting $6 pesos in Argentina to £1. I now had to contend with $745 pesos to the £1. Hmm, could take some getting used to. As was evidenced by getting ripped off by our very first Chilean taxi ride. We jumped in a cab, with Louis a guy from Belgium and headed towards our hostel. Only on arrival, and paying the cab did we realise that he had charged us about £14 for an approximate £5 taxi ride. Oh well, there were 3 of us so the hit wasn't that bad to the backpacker budget.

Santiago is a clean, pleasant city and I quite enjoyed just wandering around, checking out the parks and plazas, and generally watching the Chileans go about their business. We ventured into one park (bizarrely which I had to sign us in to, I kid you not) and after a bit of a climb we got some great views of the city in the shadow of the Andes mountain range.



When it was time for coffee I thought I had wandered into one of my crazy dreams! Café Haiti was just like one of my perfect Italian coffee houses. You pay the cashier for the drink you want then take the slip to the barista who expertly prepares your drink. However, after a few minutes of being in Café Haiti I soon realised that something was different. And then I looked around and it clicked. All the baristas were females, in tight black mini skirts and black high heels. And the lower counter had been cut away so the skirts and shoes could be admired in all their glory. I was being served fantastic, strong coffee by numerous extras from a Robert Palmer video. I had died and gone to heaven. I only wish I had had the balls to take some photos but it didn't seem appropriate.

The hostel we stayed in, Andes Hostel, was large, modern and clean but had a distinct lack of character. I think we had been spoiled by Hostel Lao in Mendoza, with it's relaxing garden, hammocks and free Malbec. And it was a bit of a party hostel for travellers who were obviously on their first trip overseas and were enjoying the recently acquired legal privilege of being able to drink alcohol. Yeah, I remember the first time I had a drink.



And after 2 nights it was time to move on again. To the port town of Valparaiso, a UNESCO heritage town a couple of hours from Santiago. There we were going to meet up again with George and Mildred, aka Richard and Alison from Colchester. The plan was to do some more wine tasting, spend some time at the beach and see what “Valpo” has to offer. See what in my next blog.

I couldn't end this post, about my first time in Chile, without dropping in a terrible play on words, albeit very true. As we were the other side of the Andes now, the ocean side, the temperatures had dropped slightly. So much so in the evening that as we sat outside Galindo restaurant, having dinner, it was fair to say that it was distinctly Chilly in Chile.

Chao Chicas!

Ah, Mendoza!!

My time in Bariloche came to an end and I was on the road again. This time to Mendoza. A place I have wanted to visit for many years, mainly down to my predilection for Malbec wine. And so it was, I was meeting my Canadian friend Leah and we were gonna jump on the bus to the bus station.

This was a 17 hour bus trip and the bus operators way of making you forget the length is to play bingo. More specifically “Bingo Andesmar” in honour of the bus operator. Now, have you ever tried to play bingo when the numbers are called out in a foreign language? Not easy I can tell you. However, as the game went on the tension, and excitement increased. I was just 2 numbers short. Come on, come on. Alas, it wasn't to be, my luck was out.

And in the blink of an eye, we were in early morning Mendoza, in the hustle and bustle of the bus station. Fortunately, our hostel was only a 10 minute walk. And the hostel turned out to be the best yet. Hostel Lao if you are ever in Mendoza. Chilled music, hammocks in a quiet garden in which there was a small pool. And the best breakfast in any hostel hands down. Fresh pastries, fresh grapefruit juice (amazing!) and in the evening, free Malbec. Yes folks, free Malbec. To the extent that one night we had 3 bottles before heading out for dinner. In the hostel, besides myself and Leah we met Richard and Alison again from our trip up Ruta 40 to Bariloche. Over Malbec we decided to do the cycling tour of the wineries in the morning and Grace, from Holland decided to come too so the 5 of us were up early and off on the bus to wine country.



The day was fantastic. We cycled around 4 wineries, having tastings at each. Stopping for a picnic lunch in the shade of some trees to escape the scorching Mendoza sun. Thankfully Leah had worn her overcoat for the ride. Otherwise known as factor 60 sun screen. Seriously folks, factor 60. Apparently they make factor 80 but at this point I was convinced I was being subject to a bit of Canadian humour. However, the red knees that were on display over wine in the evening would suggest that the factor 60 was not fastidiously applied!

We managed to see a real cross section of wineries from an independent family owned one, one owned by Carmelo Patti (apparently quite famous in these circles) and a couple of bigger ones. I made a purchase of a bottle of Pinot Noir which I shared over dinner with a group of us who had a pizza party. And the more the wine flowed, the weirder the conversation got. There was an Aussie, a Dutch, an American, English, Canadian and a German. The conversations ranged from subjects as bizarre as dolphins being gay sharks, their tendency to partake in group rape and a particularly disturbing story of an eyelash-stroking fetish! I kid you not.

Whilst in Mendoza we also got the opportunity of meeting a friend of Leah's who is a Mendoza resident. She was able to show us the “real Mendoza”. We had the usual late start and headed out to Alameda district for drinks and live street music. The conversation was good, the beer very cold and before we knew it it was 4.30am. And people were still ordering drinks. However, we called it a night, walked home and I was safely tucked up in bed for 5am.



Needless to say, the following day was a relaxing one. Mooching around Mendoza, sitting in leafy Plazas with my book, sipping coffee at sidewalk cafes and generally watching the world go by. I had slipped into Mendoza time, where time drifts and drifts and drifts.

And it drifted for 4 days because before I knew it, it was time to leave and head to Santiago. This is the point the people started heading off in different directions with just myself and Grace on the 10.30am bus to Santiago de Chile, through the awesome Andes mountains. But that is for another blog.

And I couldn't leave without posting a picture of a steak from Mendoza.



Until the next time, chau.