Here are a few random thoughts I had on our first night, March 6, in Puerto Iguazú:

Our travel day to Iguazú Falls was rainy with low-slung clouds washing the sky in shades of grey. The earth responded with shouts of color as the red of the iron rich earth and the brilliant green of rain-slick plants livened the scene.

We passed shacks, nothing more than boards put together as 4 walls and a roof; a family (?) of 12 or so outside of one, fires burning, clothes hanging on the line.

We witnessed the vastness of the forest, the hills, the trees stretching far into the distance.

About air bnbs: the paucity of accoutrements, yet how much, what can be done with them and how in the end you had just what you needed – at least for the limited time staying there.

Thinking about England, maybe NYC, too and other places, post WWII. Families of 5-12 living in 1 or 2 room flats; barely a kitchen; bathroom outside and down the way, shared by numerous other families. It’s a wonder more didn’t die of TB or cholera or flu or any other possible rampant illness that could spread or be incurred through less than hygienic conditions. And now, we – USA we – have gone in the other direction. So fearful of bacteria that our own systems do not have the opportunity to develop immunities as bacteria have grown immune to our barrage of poisons and chemicals (antibiotics) to eradicate them, or at the very least, to severely limit our exposure. (This as part of my reflection on living in 2 rooms, for the most part these past two months. The two rooms being bedroom and living area; there is also a small kitchen area and a bathroom, so technically 4 rooms, though the actual living space is two rooms.) 

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And now it is March 11 as I write this. We are in Santa Fe! We haven’t posted in days. Why? Iguazú Falls took all of our energy on the first day. We arrived early and stayed until closing. We walked miles and miles of trails to see the as many of the hundreds of falls as we could. We got soaked on the boat ride on the river and into the falls. Oh my, what a hoot, that was!! Drenched. The boat pilots know just how to angle the nose of the boat in between shattering walls of water. As we were up front we got hit with it but good. Breathless, invigorating, joyful.

Notice that boat on the river below? That’s the type of boat we were on, heading into the falls!

A light rain began as we were making our way to La Garganta del Diablo, the Devil’s Throat, the very large horseshoe falls. It soon turned into torrential rains, made more soak inducing by the wind that blew in sideways, and swirled around making it impossible to escape. As it was pretty warm out I eschewed the use of poncho and just got wet. At the overlook to the Garganta del Diablo, the mist pushed up from every which way. It was not a good day to see the Garganta due to the clouds and rain, but it was an exhilarating day to be there.

Fortunately, weather cooperated the next day. We returned early and beat a hasty advance directly to the Garganta. We could tell it was going to be a busy day at the park. We arrived at the entry point to the path just after a train pulled in carrying about 200 people all headed to the same place we were. We opted to again walk as fast as we could and pass as many as we could to get there, ahead of as many as possible. I’m happy to report that we were successful in this endeavor. Of course there were still lots of folks there, but not as many as there was about to be. It was worth the rush and I almost don’t feel sorry for any number of people I had to push aside to get there. Carpe diem.

As we left it apeared that there were close to a thousand people along the walk lining up for their view. I wonder how many cell phones have gone into the falls as people bump and push for the limited space.

There is a point in Puerto Iguazú from which you can see Brazil (on the right) and Paraguay (on the left). We made our way there that afternoon. I don’t think there are too many places in the world where you can be standing in one country and see two more. Sarah Palin would have a field day.

How quickly the rains come and go. Above you see two countries under cloudy skies. In no time a’tall, this was the view:

I gained a new appreciation for the phrase, “When it rains, it pours,” while in Puerto Iguazú. 

It took some travel to get from Iguazú to Santa Fe. The first leg was on the Crucero del Norte bus and took seven hours as it stopped at every little town, and picking up and dropping off people along the road at bus stands or sometimes just a wide spot. I wonder how those who live along the road, in an unincorporated area know when the bus will be by. They stand there with bags and babies and children by the hand and flag down the bus. It’s one of the mysteries for foreigners. After a four hour lay-over, we boarded Rio Uruguay for the 13 hour over-night to Santa Fe. These butacas were even better than the ones on Andesmar. The seats reclined 180 and the foot rest came up level with the seat for a fine flat bed. A full size pillow and blanket made for a comfortable rest.

Goodness, it’s already March 12! I don’t understand why this computer has trouble saving and uploading photos sometimes, but that is always my delay. But now we are in BsAs, it will be easier and I will post again tomorrow. Right now I’m falling asleep.

Pampas Grass

Best love, Paula

 

 

Before I get into the post, I ask your forgiveness for these less than crisp photos. It was a challenge to capture images from the stands, under bright lights, at night, and while performers were walking and dancing along the parade route.

We attended on Saturday night, looking forward to arriving early to avoid the long lines of cars trying to get in from the one road that went by the Corsódromo. Tickets indicated that doors opened at 6; show to begin at 9. We figured we’d arrive around 6:30 and have time to tour the grounds, imagining that there would be food and craft vendors (not). Our taxi driver said that 6:30 arrival was early; he also recommended that since we’d be there early, there was a good chance that we could get a close up view of the participants in all of their fine regalia and of the floats. Don’t be intimidated, he said. Just tell them you’re from the US.

Upon arrival at the gate, we were turned away and not only that, but told gates would not open until 8:45! After conferring with our taxista, we had him take us to a mall to hang out whilst time passed. An hour passed fairly quickly and uneventfully. Then we stopped to look at wine in one of the carts that line mall concourses. I had a delightful conversation in Spanish with one vendor, while Charlie and the other vendor conversed in English. Gustavo told me that it would be a good idea to eat before going to Carnival to avoid the long lines there and recommended a place at the mall called Sherwood. It had the best cuts of beef, cooked to perfection, and very generous, too generous portions.

By now of course, we are arriving late to carnival and we do get stuck in traffic, but it moved fairly quickly.

We should have bought our tickets on-line as the best stand locations were sold out. We bought Preferential tickets, but were still a ways down the concourse. The performers had steely stamina, though and provided a good show for the entire length of the route, which was between a quarter to a half mile long. The energy of the evening was electric from the folks watching, to the performers. The music blared, and repeated throughout the long night, though periodically some comparsa would inject something different. At times, the music was live, with musicians and singers on a float, their stage high above the crowd. I don’t have a photo of that, but below are a few more photos to provide an ideal of te flash, the creativity, and the beauty of the costumes.

We stayed until the end at around 6 in the morning, and joined the crowd in walking to the main drag. Many were taking the buses – they went by, just packed and sounding like the party was continuing. We walked about a mile, passing many others trying to get a cab, before we could procure one. It was a beautiful walk, watching the sky lighten, and it felt good to stretch the legs after dancing on the bleachers all night.

Remember I mentioned a foam spray that was so popular at the Fiesta de Queso in Tafí? It’s called nieve, really does look like snow, and was in abundance here, too. Kids have such a good time trying to spray one another down as much as possible. Others just spray it up into air.

Arrived home (so many homes in the past few months and 3 more to come!) around 7, had yogurt and fruit, brushed my teeth, and headed to bed for a several hours.

I awoke yesterday morning feeling lethargic and with an upset stomach. It lasted all day, into the night, and is hanging on today. Last night I couldn’t do anything but listen to a book on Audible and go to bed early. Hence the lateness of this post.

All the costumes are hand made, hand stitched; some by the participant and some pay to have it made. A comparsa is a troupe or a club; members decide together on the theme for the year. People have their favorite comparsas, the one they think is best. We heard that the best ones come at the end, but, I don’t know that I have the ability to discern. They were all, with maybe one or two exceptions, over-the-top brilliant.

Before I get into the post, I ask your forgiveness for these less than crisp photos. It was a challenge to capture images from the stands, under bright lights, at night, and while performers were walking and dancing along the parade route.

We attended on Saturday night (2 March), looking forward to arriving early to avoid the long lines of cars trying to get in from the one road that went by the Corsódromo. Tickets indicated that doors opened at 6; show to begin at 9. We figured we’d arrive around 6:30 and have time to tour the grounds, imagining that there would be food and craft vendors (not). Our taxi driver said that 6:30 arrival was early; he also recommended that since we’d be there early, there was a good chance that we could get a close up view of the participants in all of their fine regalia and of the floats. Don’t be intimidated, he said. Just tell them you’re from the US.

Upon arrival at the gate, we were turned away and not only that, but told gates would not open until 8:45! After conferring with our taxista, we had him take us to a mall to hang out whilst time passed. An hour passed fairly quickly and uneventfully. Then we stopped to look at wine in one of the carts that line mall concourses. I had a delightful conversation in Spanish with one vendor, while Charlie and the other vendor conversed in English. Gustavo told me that it would be a good idea to eat before going to Carnival to avoid the long lines there and recommended a place at the mall called Sherwood. It had the best cuts of beef, cooked to perfection, and very generous, too generous portions.

By now of course, we are arriving late to carnival and we do get stuck in traffic, but it moved fairly quickly.

We should have bought our tickets on-line as the best stand locations were sold out. We bought Preferential tickets, but were still a ways down the concourse. The performers had steely stamina, though and provided a good show for the entire length of the route, which was between a quarter to a half mile long. The energy of the evening was electric from the folks watching, to the performers. The music blared, and repeated throughout the long night, though periodically some comparsa would inject something different. At times, the music was live, with musicians and singers on a float, their stage high above the crowd. I don’t have a photo of that, but below are a few more photos to provide an ideal of te flash, the creativity, and the beauty of the costumes.

The backsides are equally beautiful – costume and other wise. But I don’t have any good photos of the otherwise backsides. You know of what I speak.

There was often some drama played out at participants went by.

A close-up to get an idea of what the women are walking in.

I only saw one man in heels – er, kinky boots? And I gotta say, I saw him stumble once. Never saw a woman stumble in that whole long escapade of paraders. Man, I look at the photo below and see relatively few smiles. I feel like I had one plastered on my face the entire time.

We stayed until the end at around 6 in the morning, and joined the crowd in walking to the main drag. Many were taking the buses – they went by, just packed, not a hair’s width between them and sounding like the party was continuing. We walked about a mile, passing many others trying to get a cab, before we could procure one. It was a beautiful walk, watching the sky lighten, and it felt good to stretch the legs after dancing on the bleachers all night.

Remember I mentioned a foam spray that was so popular at the Fiesta de Queso in Tafí? It’s called nieve, really does look like snow, and was in abundance here, too. Kids have such a good time trying to spray one another down as much as possible. Others just spray it up into air.

All the costumes are hand made, hand stitched; some by the participant and some pay to have it made. A comparsa is a troupe or a club; members decide together on the theme for the year. People have their favorite comparsas, the one they think is best. We heard that the best ones come at the end, but, I don’t know that I have the ability to discern. They were all, with maybe one or two exceptions, over-the-top brilliant. Look at this one, which came down the pike fairly early in the whole 9 hours (as far as I recall). This guy walked and did tricks and road it upside down. Spectacular!

At the end of Carnival, some costumes are put in storage; some are taken apart to be recycled for use on next year’s creation; some are donated to the Chamame & Carnival Museum in Corrientes. Chamame is the local music.

Arrived home (so many homes in the past few months and 3 more to come!) around 7, had yogurt and fruit, brushed my teeth, and headed to bed for a several hours.

I awoke yesterday morning feeling lethargic and with an upset stomach. It lasted all day, into the night, and is hanging on today. Last night I couldn’t do anything but listen to a book on Audible and go to bed early. Hence the lateness of this post.

The posting is extra late now (Today is the 6th and we traveled all day from Corrientes to Iguazú Falls) because I had trouble saving it. Sometimes WordPress gets particular about how long a post has gone unpublished. At least that seems to be the issue. My tummy is finally feeling better; this morning was dicey.

It’s raining buckets here in Puerto Iguazú. Hoping for some sun tomorrow and/or Friday for best viewing of the cataratas or falls. We are told they are so much more immense than Niagara. Eleanor Roosevelt is purported to have said, upon viewing them, “Oh, poor Niagara.” We’ll let you know!

Leaving on Saturday for Santa Fe for a few nights on our return to BsAs. Last days coming up! I’m already feeling nostalgic for places we’ve been and people we’ve met. Ties can be made so easily; and just as easily untied, let go. We have found the Argentine people to be so very friendly and happy to engage in conversation, to be helpful, to be genuinely happy to meet us. This is as true in a big city as it is in the smaller ones. I would happily return to Argentina to visit those parts unexplored.

I had better post or this will be delayed again!

Loving and missing you and knowing you are here with me in a fashion. Paula

 

We left Tafí del Valle around mid day on the 28th and haven’t posted since the 26th or 25th. On the 27th, Wednesday, we took a day trip to Cafayate, north of Tafí. It’s another great wine country area, though lesser known than the Mendoza region. On-line google maps indicated that the trip takes 2 hours by bus. Well, I guess that’s a direct bus. It took us 3 hours, what with stops all along the route to pick up and drop off people in small towns, and at times what appeared to be simply a shaded bus stop on the road. One stop was at a Museo Escolar and several students got on for a short ride to their next destination. School is not in session, so we assume they were engaged in a summer session of extra curricular activity.

By the time we arrived in Cafayate, most of the wineries (of which there are several in town) were closed for the lunch hour. So we tucked in ourselves at a local brewery. Many breweries in the north western part of the country only brew rubia (blond), roja (red amber), and a porter. This roja was not so great. I had the local white wine Torrentés which was OMG delicious. It’s crisp, fresh, fruity, not sweet. A delicate array of flowers on the tongue. Look for it!

Since it was still early after lunch, as wineries didn’t open till 3 or 3:30 we went to the Museo de la Vid (vine) y el Vino. It’s the most delightful mix of poetry and science that I have had the fortune to witness. Jazz music plays. Poetry explains the magic of the elements that come together to create wine. This photo gives a sense of the whimsy and seriousness with which the topic is undertaken. I loved these wineglasses suspended like hummingbird feeders.

Later in the exhibit there is a month by month delineation of the tasks that must be undertaken to have the results of a fine wine.

We enjoyed our first wine tasting at the Vid y Vino tasting room. The one wine we had not tried before, but did here, was a sweet after dinner wine to enjoy with dessert. In this case it was called La Boda de Caná. Too sweet for us. Reminded me of the Vin Santo of Italy. 

We met James from the Bay area here. I helped him out with Spanish. Then we ran into one another again at the next tasting and continued on together through the rest of the tastings. He teaches preschool children in Berkeley and is traveling solo, driving. His mom lives in ABQ! We gave him our contact info but failed to get his. Hoping to hear from him when next he visits his mom. We were so enjoying our time together, and the last wine tasting had such generous pours, that we had to really walk fast to make our 6 pm bus. The doors had closed when we arrived. But unlike a plane, they opened to let us on. I slept the sleep of a wine soaked biscuit on the way back to Tafí.

I’m not sure when I took this photo, but I love it for the moodiness of sky, the clouds above and below, shrouding the mountains in mystery. It must have been the morning of the 28th because that’s what the photo log says. At any rate, the day turned bright and sunny. It would have been perfect for another attempt at climbing the Cerro.

Leaving Tafí

This is Lago Angostura, created by a dam. I don’t understand why the water exits the dam as it does in the photo above the lake, but I think it’s pretty impressive.

And below is my attempt at showing what it’s like to sit in the upper level of a two decker bus in the front seats. Wow. It’s quite disconcerting not seeing a driver in front of you. When the bus takes the hairpin curves to the right it seemingly goes to the very edge of the road on the right. And when the hairpin curves left, it goes into the oncoming lane. My heart was in my throat a few times, even recognizing that the bus drivers know the route and they must have mirrors that allow them to see around the bend to know that a car is not in that lane. It was a beautiful drive through the mountains and I look forward to our next bus trip to Puerto Iguazu when we again have seats 1 and 2 on the upper level.

We arrived in Tucuman around 3 pm which gave us time to have lunch in the bus terminal, which was more like a mall. I had a dish I hadn’t seen previously on any menu: tarta de verdura con ensalada. The tarta whas made with squash and chicken in a light a flaky crust and was accompanied with cooked zucchini and beets, and fresh tomatoes, and red cabbage. Charlie had the albondígas portuguesas, (not that we saw any such thing while in Portugal) which are 2 really big meatballs on a bed of rice. The meat was well seasoned and delicious. Meals were served on real plates with real stainless steel utensils. We were quite impressed with this level of attention at a bus station. I pray that the US conglomerate fast food joints never infiltrate.

At 7 pm we boarded El Norte Bis, hereafter known as El Norte Beast as it was pretty much a POS. No ports for phones or head phones to listen to the movie. No blanket or pillow for a 12 hour ride. But, the seats are wide and recline a good bit. BTW, seats of this nature are called “butacas”. In the end it wasn’t so bad, but it certainly didn’t live up to the high standard that we received on Andesmar for the BsAs to Mendoza trip. We didn’t have much of a choice either; probably has to do with the rural nature of the trip from the northwest part of the country across a no-man’s land to Corrientes.

Right now, so excited to be leaving soon for Carnival at the Corsódromo! More tomorrow.

Much love, Paula

 

 

Nothing like a rainy morning to help you slow down and relax. Last night’s steady downpour turned into steady rain this morning and into intermittent mist throughout the day. Post breakfast I took a warming shower. There’s no heat here, so the warm shower provided a good start to the day and dressing in layers kept me warm enough. I had to get my down vest out! While we read and listened to podcasts on the bed, a blanket covered my feet and legs.

I’m reading a book called My Enemy’s Cradle, set during WWII in Holland. I didn’t know that Dutch women who became pregnant by German soldiers often went into a Lebensborn, a home where they were cared for by the Germans in order to give birth to healthy German babies. The babies were then either given to good German families or to the wives of the German soldier who was the father of the baby. Can you imagine?

It’s the story of a half Jewish (father), half Dutch (mother) woman who was sent to live with her mother’s sister in Holland for safety. This young woman ends up in a Lebensborn through a rather complicated turn of events. She is not having a German soldier’s baby and she has taken on her fully Dutch cousin’s identity (They look remarkably alike.) who is now dead and who was impregnated by a German. She loved him. Thought he was different; thought he loved her; that they would marry. Gave herself an abortion. Aunt signs death certificate with our heroine’s name.

Sheesh, as I write this, it all sounds highly unlikely. Especially the part where our protagonist is lucky enough to become pregnant by the man she loves on the first try so that this identity switch can happen. Also, she’s supposed to be sprung from this home before giving birth. I have no idea how that will happen. Especially as she was taken to a different place than expected and how will Isaac (baby daddy) find her?! I’m not yet halfway into this book, and incredulousnous aside, the writing is well crafted and I’m curious as to the outcome. Are you?

I also started listening to an interview of Laura Logan, renowned journalist and war correspondent, with Mike Ritland, host of the podcast Mike Drop. She was with CBS 60 Minutes for years. It’s a 3 hour interview and I’m just 1 hour into it. So far, it’s a fascinating listen as this woman talks about her life growing up in South Africa, her interest in writing from an early age, and her beliefs. In the first half hour she talks about being true to your word and doing the best you can do. These are 2 of the 4 Agreements in the book by Don Miguel Ruiz, The Four Agreements: A Practical Guide to Personal Freedom. I mention this because Charlie and I were recently talking about it. Syncronicity.

Enough of my morning past times. Around 1 pm the rain had stopped and we needed to move. And to eat. On Sunday we had gone to a restaurant just down the road that advertised that it only prepared regional and local dishes and if that was not your preference, then here is a list of other restaurants you might like. The place was packed – always a good sign. Yet, as this was a holiday weekend, every place was packed. So…. still we liked that sign and decided to return. Then I stumbled across an Argentine Trip Advisor post about the restaurant. It got rave reviews all around.

I had a local favorite, humita al plato. It’s a stew, a cross between posole and menudo. I am a fan of the former, not the latter. What makes it posole is the corn kernels (choclo, in these parts). What makes it menudo is the small bits of tripe. But it has it’s own twists – the base is squash; they add fava beans; they use beef instead of pork. I liked it; but didn’t eat all the tripe parts.

Charlie had the special: polenta con tuco. The polenta was remarkably like the polenta we know. I say this because yesterday morning we ordered tortillas and received a really dry, layered bread. The polenta came topped with a savory ground beef and grated cheese. Very tasty.

Another local favorite: humita. This is a corn and cheese mixture steamed in a corn husk. Super creamy and flavorful. However, it seems totally unrelated to humita al plato. Except for the corn ingredient.

Empanadas are ubiquitous throughout the parts of Argentina we’ve been in. They can be stuffed with beef, squash, chicken, fish (pejerrey is the local in Tafí – and delish), dulce de leche, and on… The quality varies, of course, as to both insides and as to the pastry surrounding.

A walk into town followed to search for an umbrella. The one that Charlie bought in BsAs  gave it up. We plan to take the bus to Cafayate, wine county, tomorrow and rain is in the forecast again.

Here are a few pics from today’s walk:

And one from yesterday…

I’ve grown quite fond of Tafí, especially with the crowds gone. I’ve also grown fond of La Vidala. I’ve noticed how initial impressions of place can change and grow into appreciation, even recognizing the shortfalls. We’ve much enjoyed having La Vidala to ourselves these past 2 days. Internet service is much better without all the competition for one thing; having the comedor to ourselves for dinner and writing has also been helpful. I don’t know how people can live in one room. We need at least 2, not counting the bathroom. If I lived alone, I could handle one room. I think.

Yours truly, Paula

Today (2.25) dawned overcast and misty. (Oh, and noisy – as mentioned in the previous post.) Beautiful to view. A great day for a hike up to the Cerro. Actually, it was a chancy day for a hike up to the Cerro due to the weather, but we headed that way anyway. The sky hung low; the clouds wispy and grazing the hills. The sky could have opened at any moment. But it didn’t. We had a beautiful day of walking in misty mist out of town and along a country road bordered by a river. I listened to the rhythm of my heart telling me, “Today. Today is the day to attempt this climb.”

I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, weatherwise or otherwise. But I knew to take advantage of today. While we had a peaceful and calming walk, we didn’t make it to the Cerro. We headed out on the right road. We started up a path that looked like it could be it. Turned out to be nothing more than a cow path. Which petered out. Ended. The cows mooed their disapproval at our presence. Maybe they mooed their delight at our arrival. I don’t know.

Horses grazing between road and river snuffled along.

We continued along the dirt road, scanning the hills for signs of a trail, but found none. We followed a path to a Santuario. It was locked up. But there was a sweet homemade wooden turnstile to get into the property. Dogs lolled at intervals along the road, thumping tails as if to say, “Hey, acknowledge me. Give me some love.” So, I’d share some time with them and they would accompany us for a bit, then decide they needed to retreat to their posts.

We arrived back “home” minutes before the rain came. We were happily ensconsed in the comedor of La Vidala, partaking of the simple pleasures of cheese, bread, olive tapenade, and wine. Alfajores for dessert. We sat for a long while writing and uploading photos. The rain stopped. We repaired to our room.

Just now it is thundering and raining heavily. How I love listening to the rhythm of the rain, the rumble of distant thunder.  This weather system now seems to be quite content hovering over the area. We’re in for the night. Extra blankets on the bed are called for and instituted.

When we arrived in Tafí on Saturday we had a series of upsets, starting with the taxi driver not being able to find the place. Got that sorted out. Then an issue with payment not going through on credit card. So, having to get cash to pay which involved extra fees. All rather minor in the scheme of things and all worked out. But that on top of lack of sleep and hot, sticky weather made for some less than easy going travelers.

And then things fall into place. You get some sleep. Some food. You find out that the fiesta is a lot of fun to attend. You appreciate the surroundings. The weather cools. You make it through a series of questions as to just who it is you married and get through the wondering why and back into sync.

These road signs are my metaphor for traveling – weather traversing the road of a relationship or the roads of destinations. Sometimes the route is clear; sometimes the way is unclear. There’s a back and forth to navigating both. Like living amidst a foreign language, there are words and concepts you kind of get amidst a stream that goes right past. You must help one another understand the physical as well as the emotional travel as you continually work to get the lay of the land. True whether the lay of the land is a new land, your own or another’s inner landscape. That’s my pop-psych for the day. Paula

 

 

Wah. Why does Charlie get easy internet access and not me? I lost a post. I won’t try to recreate it.

It’s a ghost town here at La Vidala. The Fiesta Nacional de Queso is over. The crowds have gone or are on their way out of town. Town being Tafí del Valle. We arrived on Saturday morning after an overnight bus trip from Cordoba, through San Miguel de Tucuman. It was sad leaving Colanchanga. But as I recite every morning: “I give thanks for the journey. I give thanks for the arriving and leaving.”

I really like the location of Tafí. Nestled in a valley, its surrounded by soft green hills, very different from the hills of Colanchanga. The day we arrived it was hot and humid, even here, one place people come to escape the heat of the city. Most likely the city of San Miguel de Tucuman, about 2 hours away. A city we are thankful not to be in, not that it was a consideration. Maybe a short consideration when we checked in on Air b and b and Booking.com to find that places to stay were in short supply and expensive in Tafí.

But we found La Vidala and are happy to be here. We also found out why accommodations are in short supply. The Fiesta referenced above. It started Wednesday and ended this morning around 7 am. What an odd time to end a fiesta, you think, on a Monday morning. They do things differently here.

While the fiesta title focuses on cheese, it’s really a fiesta of Argentine culture. Yes, there is cheese and lots of it being sold in town and on the fairgrounds where the main fiesta is held nightly. The large grounds encompass a rodeo ring, a children’s midway – think rides for the very young ones, lots of cheese stalls, artisans selling homemade goods of woven and crocheted variety, leather items for the vaquero, grilled meat, and did I mention grilled meat? Also fried potatoes, hotdogs, which are called panchos here, beer, wine, and Fernet and Coke.

A word about Fernet and Coke. Fernet branca is ubiquitous. Given the branca, (Portuguese for white and since Brazil is close by…) I thought it would be white/clear. It’s a dark medicinal brown, with that same medicinal flavor. Bitter. We had to try it. Stopped at a stand and asked for one, but said we wanted to try Fernet solo. Surprised looks from the young man and woman. But okay, and they warned us. Then they had a good laugh at my face after trying a sip of Fernet. The way to drink it is with Coke, we were assured, so that’s what we got. Although we were also told that a capful of Fernet straight, after a night of hard drinking and/or too much eating had a healthful effect. At the fair, people carried 2 litre sized bottles of coke, a bottle of Fernet, and plastic cups filled with ice. I wondered if Coke started the Fernet and Coke craze. Or does Coke manufacture Fernet? People are as addicted to it here as folks are married to mate in Uruguay. Fernet, by the way, is a bitter and was originally produced in Milan, Italy as a remedy for cholera. Fernet crossed the ocean with the many Italian immigrants to Argentina. And it is still distilled by Fratelli, not a Coke product.

Back to the fair. We also experienced an Argentine rodeo. Lots of fast riding, roping, and riding a bucking bronc.

I have neve seen so many horses out and about, being ridden and grazing just about anywhere. And leaving massive horse poops just about anywhere, too.

Okay. Why did the fiesta end sometime between 7 and 7:30 am this morning – a Monday morning? I don’t know why. Only that it did. Music starts on the grand escenario at 9 and it don’t stop until the wee, wee, wee hours. As our digs are about 1/8 mile from the event, we were really surprised to awake to music at 6 on Saturday morning and it went until after 7 on this Monday morning. It had been going all night! We stayed until midnight-1 am both Saturday and Sunday.

We enjoyed Saturday night’s music more as it was traditional but updated. Check out Canto 4 if you get the chance. However, it seemed that the Argentine population enjoyed the Sunday night line-up better as they were more traditional. Sergio Galleguillo is especially loved. We enjoyed seeing young and old alike breaking into traditional dance moves on both nights. How I wish I could upload a video. (Another, Why me?!) I tried to send one to Charlie to upload, but that failed as well.

The fiesta also included a parade of carrozas, (floats) each one a celebration of some aspect of Argentine history and/or food. As floats passed the Grand Marshal, participants distributed bits of food related to their float – beef, cheese, bread, or a treat typical of a wedding. Being nosy, er curious, I talked with one woman closely guarding her tray of treats. They were the wedding treats she would hand out when that float passed by. There were 2 sorts: one, a pastry type and the other a bittersweet mix of peach and meat – kind of like mincemeat, but better.

One other noteworthy aspect – the cans of spray soap foam. Kids and adults go crazy with this. Think Silly-String, but in a foamy soap spray that disappears. Although it would take some time for it to disappear on some kids who were absolutely covered in it. Oh, the shrieks and the running wild. It was delightful to behold.

We didn’t realize that this event would be occuring while we were here. In fact, I’d read about it and looked it up on-line, but the dates listed were not the dates of our stay. What a wonderful surprise!

 

 

I love this place. When Charlie and I talk about the possibility of moving there are a few things we want: a rural location, close to a city, and water. Colanchanga has all 3. Especially the proximity to a city, as it is close to the small city of Rio Ceballos, about a 20 minute drive and accessible by taxi, bus, or your own car. Rio Ceballos is big enough that it has grocery stores, panaderias, banks, shops of every sort – everything you might need. For bigger city requirements, Cordoba is an hour away by bus.

The Rio Ceballos runs through Colanchanga and into town. A short walk from the casita in which we are staying there is a dam, perfect for swimming in, which I have done and will again. Up the way from the casita there is a waterfall, which we will get to soon. And I think I mentioned the man-made pool, sheltered by trees and fed by the ever moving Rio Ceballos.

Now, Else and Vlad, duenos of the casita in which we are staying, are selling a casita just across the road. It’s very tempting. It doesn’t have the view of their rental on the hill, but how fun to live near new friends and have them become friends of long standing.

View from our patio:

Our place:

Else and Vlad’s place:

It’s a wonderful open interior. There’s a patio between the two main sections. Mounds of lavender climb the hill providing nector for the 2 hives they keep on the property.

And as it’s time to evict ourselves from this cafe and get some groceries, I end this post. Who knows what wifi will be like in Tafí del Valle, our next destination. I may post again on Thursday as I’ll be in town once again for yoga with Else.

Just a quick word on a guided yoga practice just when I needed it this mornning. Last night we received word that a dear long time friend died from a brain aneurysm. I have been teary since hearing. Yoga provided me the space to sink into the feeling, but more, to feel as though I connected with Mary Lynn on her passage to another realm. The floodgates opened as I lay in shavasana, “corpse” pose, appropriately enough. It felt good to bathe my wounded heart with tears of remembering and appreciating the beautiful soul of a dear friend. I do wish I could have seen her, spent time together, one more time – at least.  And of course, I am holding her spouse of 60 years, Lew, close and hurting for him as well.

Much love to you all. Paula

On a long bus ride you will receive boxed food. I mentioned already the hot meal on the overnight trip from Buenos Aires to Mendoza. In the morning, we received a breakfast box. On both legs of our ida y veuleta Santiago-Mendoza  trip, and on the overnight trip Mendoza to Cordoba we also received breakfast boxes. Here is what they consist of: an alfajor (that sandwich cookie I wrote about before); a package of what are called biscocho de grasa, which are tasty and savory, not sweet; 2 packages of sugar, a napkin, and either instant coffee or a coffee bag (you know, like a tea bag, but with coffee – it’s terrible); a tea bag; a plastic stirrer.

Our bus at Argentina aduana.

Lunch on a long leg consists of either a ham and cheese sandwich or a chicken paste sandwich, also accompanied by an alfajor. Hey, it’s the national cookie. The box also contains everything else that’s in the breakfast box, minus the biscocho de grasa.

Movies are provided during the day or leaving earlier in the evening. I’ve noticed that they fall into 2 camps: a comedy chic flic and an action packed, shoot-em-up flic. One for the gals and one for the guys, I guess. I’ve watched two of them, both silly, but as they are in Spanish, I appreciate the practice.

Waiting for a bus can be a little harrowing. You purchase your ticket and are then told a range of platforms in which the bus might park. So you watch for your bus company, keeping an eye on platforms 10-20, say and reading the bus signs for destination and departure time. Actually, it was only a little nervous making the first few times. I have no qualms about asking the bus driver for clarification.

Santiago is about 1/3 the size of Buenos Aires and it feels it. Really. 10 million people make a big difference.

I got attacked by the bogus “bird poo” scam again in the Mendoza bus station. I felt a spray on the back of my head. A woman sidled up and with a sympathetic smile said, “Birds.” I looked her in the eye and said, “No son los pájaraos, es una persona,” with derision in my tone, eyeing her suspiciously. She took off at quite a clip.

Leaving Argentina for Chile and leaving Chile for Argentina, we did not go through passport control – no exit stamps.

In Argentina, they will add the “servicio” to the bill, but you can’t include it on the credit card. You must leave cash. In Chile and Uruguay, the “propina” is added and you can pay it via credit card. In both countries, they ask if you’d like to add it. It’s a standard 10%.

I am so behind that I won’t attempt to write about our last day or two in Chile. Charlie has that covered. And as these last days in Colanchanga I have not had adequate or prolonged access to internet, I’m off on that count. But I will write a bit about Colanchanga in the next post. We are in Rio Ceballos, having brunch at a cafe with good wifi, so here I come.

Paula

What you don’t know doesn’t really matter. Or it could, but as you don’t know until later, it doesn’t matter. Or it does matter, but in a way you didn’t expect.

I’d read about Cacheuta Thermal springs in the Lonely Planet guide. As the guide was published in 2018, but the material sourced years earlier, it wasn’t all that relevant. I tried to find more info on-line. The website is terrible. Trip Advisor wasn’t much help either. So much conflicting and unspecific information.

Still, I wanted to go and so we went. From Mendoza it’s about an hour and a half bus ride. When the bus stopped, we followed everyone. I had read that there were two sections – an upper for kiddies and a lower for kids and everyone else. The entrance fee includes both. Which is great if you have kids, as both parts of the park are kid friendly.

This photo – rode along several narrow roads like this to get there.

I’ll say this: upon arrival, we were underwhelmed, as is often the case when expectations and reality converge. There were a lot of people. It seemed confined. Yet, as we entered further into the park, it expanded. Still, for the number of people there, it was crowded. And still, for that, it was very enjoyable.

A recorrido, or flowing river of water runs around the park. In the center is a large pool with a central fountain. Two water slides provide slippery means of entrance, should you select that mode. Or, you can just walk into the main cool pool. Around that, are numerous shallow soaking pools, with varying temperatures of naturally heated water to relax in.

As I was soaking in one of the shallow areas, a young woman joined the rest of us. Settling in, she sighed, “Es un paradis.” I could only agree, as the water was warmly welcoming, the sky overhead was deeply blue, and the surrounding foothills of the Andes provided a dramatic backdrop.

Another slide just to the left of the tube.

This seems to be the quintessential Mendoza day trip. Families come with chairs, food, mounds of equipment. They claim a picnic table in one of the many possible locations, either under a covered structure, or along the recorrido, under trees. In some areas, grills (parrillas) are available; wood to burn and cook on can be bought. Bring your own meat and accompanying side dishes and make a day of it.

It was an experience that told me, “This is Argentina.” Families are extended and expansive and really seem to enjoy one another. On arrival, we saw at least 10 family members enter the recorrido together, laughing and chatting and being in the moment. There is an ease among families here that seems accepting and voluminous. Voluminous in speech and laughter, and in the joy of living.

Now, as to what you don’t know. Rather, kind of know, but can’t pin down. Just up the road apiece from the public and populated thermal pools, there is a hotel with private thermal soaks. At the equivalent of ~$50 USD per person, you can imagine it is much more refined. There you will find showers, lockers, towels, room to spare in the thermal pools. What the website doesn’t tell you is that you must reserve in advance to access this delight of desultory relaxation. A variety of massages, facials, etc. are also available.

While that option may have been the more overall relaxing of the two, I have to say that I appreciated being amidst the gente and the full throated, full throttle exuberance of the more local experience. I mean, would the hotel have water slides and the recorrido and full on, true to life family outing? No. So, I’m glad I didn’t know in advance. Cuz, truthfully, I probably would have gone for the more expensive, more isolated, less true-to-everyday upscale selection.

Travel – it plunks you into the local, if you let it.