Antarctica

In about 6 hours I embark and depart on some sort of boat bound for Antarctica.

I cannot think of a better present (from myself) for my 30th birthday.

Although, given that I shared a birthday dinner last night with a pair of kiwis, things can only look up!

Be sure that there will be pictures galore when I arrive back in Ushuaia(on the 2 March).

Til then folks.

Second course

As Im sure you are all keen to know, the heart attack lunch comprised a substantial plate onto which a field of potatoes in chip form had been uncarefully arranged, then the chef had slopped 17 onions, sliced and fried, lumps and chunks of beef and the absolutely fabulous latin american chorizo (they do excellent sausages over here). I then proceeded to carefully drool over this pile sufficient quantities of mustard. To my shame I was not able to finish my meal. Though, on the flip side, I am still alive.

Anyway, let me speak of BA (the capital city of Argentina and so abbreviated by all and sundry, including the locals, most likely because they also are not able to accurately spell Buenos Aries)....and also Argentina in general.

I will speak on the following topics, tango, steak, shopping, absurd Argentine hair styles and a proposed new definition for non developed countries.

Tango

Flic and I took a tango lesson. From a gentleman called Fabrizzio. I cannot remember his surname, it could have been Furlano (although he did not have a mustache or cape). He informed me that a lack of dancing experience was not a barrier to tango. Tango is all about the sensitivity.... However, Im not sure that he immediately understood when I informed him that Australian males, as I have been reliably advised by an expert (a perhaps slightly bitter Australian female) do not possess the sensitivity gene. This misconception was quickly corrected once the lesson commenced.

Later on that night, after a coffee that contained more than a generous helping of rum and an elaborate stage performance of tango, we ventured into Plaza Dorrego in the San Telmo district of BA. It was a Saturday night after the antiques market (I struggle to see how anyone can be interested in antiques - not only are they other peoples junk that they no longer want, by definition they are also old junk....), and we found that the locals, enthusiastic tourists and assorted show offs had taken over the plaza and were dancing tango. It was a sight to see. Flic had palpatations and wanted to join in, but showing great sensitivity, I encouraged sanity to prevail. Maybe in a decade or so....

Steak

When the Argentines eat a cow they are not kidding. A mixed grill (which can be purchased for about A$7 or less) consists of all parts of the cow. Personally I prefer to stick to rib fillet (Im expensive to keep) and so on, considering that one eats intestines and other wobbly bits only because rib fillet is too expensive.

I have found that most traditional delicacies involve icky bits and are primarily eaten by tourists, to the significant amusement of the locals (who are eating rib fillet, or a macdonalds burger). By example, I remember visitors to our place when we were branding and castrating steers being encouraged to eat the resulting freshly roasted testicles. Some of them did so, never wondering why we did not partake and the bits were usually fed to the dogs. Anyway, traditional delicacies generally appear to have derived from a time when the locals were hard scrabble subsistence farmers and the next mouthful was uncertain. Effectively, I think, when one is hungry, one will eat even boiled cow hooves or guinea pig....

A final note on steak (I will not bother you with a recounting of tonights planned visit to an all you can eat steak place), regardless of Argentine assertions, I am not convinced that Argentine steak is better than grass fed Australian beef.

Shopping

I have 5 pairs of shoes now, all bought on this trip. I left with 2 pairs (one of which was a set of thongs...). I also have a, possibly fake, YSL suit. Unfortunately I could not find a fedora that suited me. Also, I thought better of a pair of two tone zapatas...If you ever are by BA, take an empty suitcase and be thankful that some countries still persist in populist, economically unsustainable monetary policies.

Absurd Argentine hair styles

Which are primarily confined to the males and caused by a significant influence from Argentine and international soccer stars. Who are all well known for their excellent taste and grooming...think David Beckham and his sarong. The mullet is alive and well in Argentina. In all shapes and forms. It is obscence. Moreover, folk are proud of it. If there is one flaw in globalisation, it is perhaps the ability for sheer wrongness to quickly spread across the world til it takes root and flourishes, like a cane toad. Not many people with glorious burns though, which is strange.

Soccer players have a lot to answer for...

A definition of non developed countries

I intend approaching the World Bank with the following -

A non developed country is any country where, when one attempts to pay a shopkeeper, merchant, or any purveyor of goods and services with a note commonly available from atm´s, they experience significant difficulty, look sideways, um, ah and ask if one has something smaller.

In Argentina, and elsewhere we have been on this trip, atm´s spit out 100 peso bills (bolivianos, whatever). But it seems no one ever has sufficient change to break one of these bills. The problem is that it is not obvious where a tourist finds change, especially if people dealing with money cannot!? So, one must eat enough for the bill to reach near to 100 pesos (a tough job when a 700g steak is worth 20 pesos) or stand blankly admiting that one has no change until the salesperson runs about town to find the necessary change. Or one must give a big tip (to which I am opposed on principle).

Anyway, that is enough for today. Ushuaia appears an interesting place in a cold, grey, wind whipping in off the Antarctic sort of way. I am impressed that from this computer I can walk 7kms out of town to the bottom of a glacier, and then take a stroll up. Actually, this is what I am about to do.

Also, you, dear reader, if you have reached this far, are probably almost asleep.

Later.

Putting some meat on the bones

It is a cold, grey and miserable day in Santiago de Chile. The sky drools on one in an intermittent, but highly unpleasant manner, imagine the outcome of a baby that some delirious new parent forces on one thinking that you care... Moreover, coming of the Andes is a gusty gritty wind that bites and scratches. It seems that Felicity well timed her departure.

This all explains why I sit spending time recounting some more of our adventure (a further reason is that despite the miserable weather, I am about to undertake a voyage to Antarctica, while the vast majority of you are at work - it is well known that it is incumbent on people in interesting places to tell those who are not, thus leaving them to experience fits of jealousy and curse).

Looking back it appears that Felicity has left me the job of providing detail on some of our adventures (perhaps, more fool her? Although she also has editorial rights so maybe she thinks things cannot get to out of hand or over blown?).

But first, a warning, this may be long, occasionally sentances, paragraphs and tangents get away from me - as some of you well know I am more than capable of offering up dozens of pages on the dullest topics, let alone a trip through South America. If it is any comfort though, reading this means you probably wont have to listen to me carry on when I get home. There is always a silver lining....

So here goes, I will try and be brief.

Mendoza

From the City of Shoes we made our way to Mendoza, the source of most Argentine wine (you may be seeing a common theme in destinations by this stage). Unfortunately, Mendoza is a large city, which meant the wineries and vinyards are farflung and most processing (and tasting) is done at sites within the city limits. Thus the tasting experience lacked the charm of Cafeyette. It was all a bit manufactured. That said, the booze was pretty damn good.

Mendoza is however, a very pretty place, with wide tree lined avenues (filled with cars and buses belching fumes) and backed by the Andes. Scattered throughout are parks and plazas, where hippies and other layabout types proffer handicrafts to allcomers. Which is very nice indeed, if I was not sick to the death by this stage of markets, woven goods, little carved objects and assorted rubbish......on this point - all the stuff is incredibly similar, the only change between a market in Peru, Bolivia and Argentina is price. I cannot imagine how hard they must work those small children to churn out sufficient quantities of finely stitched product.

The horse ride

In Mendoza we decided to attempt another physical activity, horseriding. I am not so keen on horses, having spent the earlier years of my life feeding them, shovelling up their crap, undertaking medical procedures (I still have far to vivid memories of a complex medical procedure requiring the spreading of a horse and its insides over our front lawn) and chasing the damn things about the countryside (Im told the experience was character building, but given a preference I would probably have preferred to be a colourless, boring individual and become a lawyer or accountant).

So anyway, we were taken an hour out of Mendoza into the foothills of the Andes for a 4 hour horseriding experience. The scenery was not too bad but it took days for me to recover. The ponies do not steer like Australian horses, the saddles were hobbit sized and we were expected to ride like jockies, almost sitting in the animals ears. But no worries, teeth were gritted, the horse was flogged til it did as it was told (sort of) and a good time was had by all (except maybe the horse).

Then we waited 4 hours before starting back to Mendoza. 4 hours waiting aimlessly, being driven around for no apparent purpose, grinding our way up mountains to pick up randoms, causing my temper to fray and eyes to narrow.

The steak

Things were redeemed that night by a shower and a visit to a restaurant that had a 700g steak on the menu. I did not choose to eat this huge hunk of beef, deciding on a 450g version instead, but was made happy by having the option. This steak was washed down by a bottle of red.

And things dont get much better than that.

I could go on and provide more detail of our time in BA, the tango, the coffee, the shopping, the delightfull night spent almost mingling with the Argentine equivalent of Home and Away stars...but prior to escaping from the rain and misery I saw a Chilean dish being offered by a nearby restaurant. As far as I could tell it involved chips, steak, chorizo, fried eggs and a few other things piled on a plate. I think the objective is to cause heart failure. Anyway, Im off to try it.

Tomorrow morning (Saturday) I go to Ushuaia, which is a damn long way from anywhere at the bottom of South America and where I commence the voyage to Antarctica.

Felicity Leaves Me

As of today, Felicity has left me.

Not for the convent as was expected (as probably previously mentioned, the nuns were not willing to have her due to her dubious moral rectitude).

Not under a bus, taxi, donkey or other form of South American transportation as seemed likely on a daily basis while negotiating the highways and byways.

And not even for an Argentine polo player with tanned skin, long flowing locks and tight white jodphurs.

No, indeed, she has departed for Darwin to be back at work on Monday.

Rather than that, I am off to Antarctica.

Tough hey....

It has been a while...

Sorry folks for the lack of entries in the blog over the past week or so. So much to do, and with so little time means that one doesn´t have much opportunity to spend updating blog pages. The plan is to update much of this when Flic gets home, and leave the Antarctica adventures to Craig. He has time in Ushuaia when gets in off the boat from the land of ice, as well as a day in Santiago, so he has to have something useful to do... anyway...

Mendoza will be too lengthy to complete this afternoon (can you tell we are filling in time before we catch our flight to Santiago?), so I thought I would update you all on the most bizarre thing we have done all trip - visit a cemetary.

Ok, so you are probably thinking, "a cemetary, what is so amazing about that???". Well, let me tell you, this is no ordinary cemetary. It is the cemetary based in the district of Recoleta, one of the more ritzy suburbs of Buenos Aires. Walking up to the cemetary, one is rather dazzled by the fact that they have a 12 ft wall surrounding the area (can´t be letting those corpses escape now can we), and then above it, there appear to be what look like buildings - hmmm - strange when this is supposed to be full of graves. Maybe the caretakers need lots of storage space...

The entrance is a rather impressive ´gate´, that you walk through, to which one discovers that the ´buildings´one can see above the wall of the cemetary are not so much buildings, but the graves themselves. Yep, you guessed it, this isn´t where your average Tom, Dick and Juan are buried, but those that can obviously afford to be kept in death as they were in life - in all the glitz and glam of their earthly lives. Well, as ´glam´as you can be in death I assume.

The work that has gone into some of these monuments is amazing, although somewhat creepy. Many of the tombs have glass doors, intricate wood and iron work, stain glass windows, beautiful marble alters. And they often stand over 20ft tall. The coffins are another story...

I was a little creeped out to begin with, thinking that there were masses of coffins buried under these massive houses of tombs (most of those near the entrances appeared to simply have alters where people could leave gifts for their departed loved ones - glass of coke anyone???), however as we moved through the maze of grave houses, I realised that some of these contained acutual coffins which, if I had wanted to, I could have reached out and touched. Perfectly preserved in the tombs, these ornate boxes seems to rest easily among ´friends and family´(wonder what they do when someone moves into the neighbourhood they don´t particularly like???). We were to find out later from a local source that unlike many coffins, generally these are perfectly water/air tight, so that the bodies in them are preserved beautifully and when the grave house gets full (once all the relatives have come to stay), the older coffins are taken out, the body removed, and then cremated (the coffin can be reused you understand). Our local source was to inform us that he had a friend who once had the wonderful job of dealing with granny when more room was required at the inn- it seems the dress whe was wearing was in less shape than she was - ick!!!

This place is amazing (more than just for containing the grave of Evita Peron) and well worth a visit (if you can cope). There are many more stories, but are not for the faint stomached, so I will leave them for when I get home. This has certainly been one of the most memorable moments of the trip, and for more than just the scenery, let me tell you. Anyone who is thinking of filming in a cemetary for a really creepy night scene, this is most certainly this pick of the bunch.

The City of Shoes

For our journey from Caffeyette to Tucuman, henceforth known as the City of Shoes, we caught a bus at the somewhat unseemly hour of 6am.

The trip was advertised as taking 7 hours and passing through some rather pretty scenery. What was not advertised is the reason the trip is 7, as opposed to perhaps 4 hours. Effectively, for the first 4 hours the bus stopped every 100 metres to pick up random passangers, most of whom then alighted a further 1 km up the road. Moreover, these random smellies were packed on with no regard to comfort or safety. Thus, for a considerable portion of the trip I was required to deal with the very ample posteriers of three lovely local ladies. This experience was not what some may think it cracked up to be...

Once the bus finished roaming about the countryside seeking unfortunates on the side of the road we crossed through the mountains and reached the first flat land since leaving Lima all those weeks ago.

So we reached the City of Shoes (Tucuman), which was intended as a break in the journey to Mendoza. As such, there was limited expectation of excitement. However, this was put paid by the discovery a concentration of shops devoted to the display and sale of shoes never before found in this world. I doubt that Norwich in its heyday could have competed. Even better, everything was on sale at much reduced prices...liquidacion....50% off etc etc etc

How could one resist? I ended up purchasing a pair of sandles and a pair of wellies (for the trip to antarctica - nothing kinky). I also sought out a pair of white shoes, to go with the white linen suit and brown fedora hat, that will make up my BA attire....No luck, but....

The City of Shoes also represented a return to hot weather and sweat, reminding me that Darwin awaits........The rude shock of being hot and smelly again brought me to the realisation that I am more than prepared to sacrifice the world of our children if it means I get aircon.

We are in Mendoza now, taking our ease and enjoying further the amenity of Argentina - primarily meat and red wine. In addition, Felicity is reading a book by JK Galbraith on his prespective of world events and economics since WWI (I reckon this is as good a lead in as any to her next reading Road to Serfdom, which also forms part of our holiday reading list)...Dont doubt that we are having a fun time!

Hasta luego all.

Land of vino and large lumps of cow...

Hmmm....

At this rate, I will not only be getting a new pair of running shoes when I return to Darwin, but that will be doubled with many a trip to the gym (Adam - I am in need of a Spin class or 6), and a diet of lettuce and celery for two weeks - the only thing that will compensate for the many calories consumed in the past few days, and indeed those to be inevitably consumed in the coming last couple of weeks here in Argentina.

We have just spent the past couple of days in the delightful town of Cafayette, about (by bus) 3 hours south of Salta and 6 hours west from Tucaman (where we are currently residing for the night).

Cafayette, for those of you who don´t yet know, is one of the finest wine growing regions in Argentina, with vinyards up to the door of many of the residences of town. It is surrounded by beautiful mountains, has rivers close by, and is a very pretty part of the world. It has a beautiful plaza in the centre of town, which just calls for many a glass of wine or cup of coffee to be drunk, either before or after that two hour siesta in the afternoon (Alf, I hope you are working on Aunty Clare - I expect progress when I return...). Life here is blissfully difficult to take.

In order to see as many wineries as possible, we decided to hire bikes for the day and see if we could fit in all Cafayette had to offer (well, as many wineries as possible until intoxication prohibited balancing on two wheels anymore). Unfortunately, the standards of up keep on bikes in this part of the world is not quite what it is in Australia, so only a few kms up the road (up hill I might add), the handle bars of Craig´s bike decided that they no longer wanted to be attached to the bike, so we had to hike it back to town and replace it with one that had them firmly attached.

That dampened our spirits some what and we decided that it was getting too hot to head back where we had already ridden (winery was 5 kms out of town), so we opted for a few that were a little closer by.

The wines here, particularly the whites, have a very distinct flavour. Me being one who doesn´t drink, or particularly like, white wine, I was decidedly impressed with what was on offer. I was even more impressed with the Malbec and Cab/Sav wines and managed to get my fair share of tasting in during our adventures. We visited three wineries in total in the end (after attempting many more in the morning - bloody shonky bikes!!!), and were sufficiently impressed to say that Argentinian wine is certainly to be experienced.

Along with good wine, the other thing that Argentina is well known for is beef, and the serving of huge lumps of cow at any one sitting. Craig had tried ´bife de chorizo´ on our first night (in an exceptionally rare state I might add - too much for my liking) in Cafayette, however I decided to ´do as the Romans do´ on our second night (with it cooked a little more to the medium side of things), and sampled some myself. The steak here is quite good, although certianly not ´eating with a spoon´quality just yet (I still have high hopes and am assured that BA is the place to sample...). The fantastic thing is that Argentina is dirt cheap when it comes to eating almost anything. For the bargain basement price of about $20AUS we can both have massive cuts of meat, huge salad, at least half a bottle of wine between us (and generally more so) and dessert. See what I mean about having to put my running shoes to good use when I get home...

I sure could get used to this life. Seems there will be more to come as we head to Mendoza - I am sure copius amounts of wine and beef await our arrival...