First of all, just to pick up on Buenos Aires: best moments were...
-seeing boca juniors at the Bombonera. Although it was the last game of the season the atmosphere was great, and not even very intimidating. Interestingly, the crowd seemed to appreciate the opposite side of the game to British fans- ie lengthy, solo runs culminating in a swan dive, or silly attempted flicks, as opposed to the good old cross-field pass.
-filling ourselves with delicious empanadas in a tiny barbecue shop next to the hostel. Empanadas are so good, like mini-Cornish-pasties, filled with meat, ham, cheese and loads more. And they have a universal shape-code so you can identify what is in them, and avoid the veg ones (they're Hester's).
-ballet performance followed by an evening city tour and authentic argentine (ie in no way authentic Italian) pizza with our new friend, Gustavo, who we met on Roraima.
-the 50something, balding cabbie, humming along to Lady Gaga, with a picture of her on his dashboard, and a huge tattoo of her on his forearm (Madonna was on the other). And Hes saying that 'titanium' is her favourite Lady Gaga song (it is not a Lady Gaga song).
-the cemetery de la Recoleta. It is a wondrous maze of fantastic stone follies- classical, gothic, art nouveau and modern. Like the Jesuit ruins, just a beautiful place where you could wander for hour after hour. Different to but as good as Pere Lachaise.
So, with Hes having adequately picked up on the Peninsula Valdez I shall continue with Bariloche, where we arrived once more as a twosome. It is in the Argentinian Lake District, and we hit such a spell of bad weather that it did feel a bit Cumbrian. I went up a mountain on the first day and came back a sodden, shivering wreck. Bariloche itself is on odd little town, as if someone had to recreate a Swiss village from a written description only, like how olden-days artists got exotic animals amusingly wrong. But it does sit in a beautiful landscape, which is exactly Alpine, and we had a very pleasant few days moseying around local trails, dodging showers, and cooking for ourselves in our beautiful hostel on the outskirts of town.
Except for one night of steak, that is. My steak-eating is improving, almost to the standards of The Vegetarian (see entries passim). I now like a chorizo, or morcilla, or both, to accompany my steak. And looking back, the frequency of intake has been positively Argentinian.
In Bariloche we hired a car for a two week period, to see out the Christmas/ new year period. We also bought camping gear with a view to doing a circuit of northern and central Patagonia, including Ruta 40, apparently a well known road trip which Che Guevara, amongst others, took. And here I'm afraid any previously advised attempts not to get all flowery about our travels are going to crumble. Patagonia is just incredible.
From Bariloche we headed south and spent two nights in a hotel in Trevelin, a small welsh colony. We had a nice relaxed day or so, including a carol service in the local church, which made me a little sad. I'm not really a Christmassy sort, but being so far away at such a time was a little sad and I thought a lot about my amazing family. I also got a nice Welsh tea- ie a proper cuppa with sandwiches, cakes and all. The fruit cake was like Christmas cake and I got a bit sad again, but there were plenty of other flavours to cheer me up. Hester's favourite was the 'cream pie'.
On Christmas Eve we ventured into the nearby Park de Los Alerces, named after a specific tree which grows there. It is a collection of stunning, vivid blue lakes amongst dappled forested hills and was utterly beautiful. We saw in Christmas with the campsite owners and other campers over a big Patagonian lamb meal. It was lovely. On Christmas Day we had a walk along the lake, then I went kayaking on the lakes while she looked at birds, and then we had an open fire and cooked meat and veg on it. It was lovely, again.
We hit the road again on Boxing Day and put in a full day on Ruta 40 as far as Rio Mayo, an absolute backwater town which is also Argentina's sheep shearing capital; we were initially confused by a large sculpture of a man pinning a sheep down, as we thought we had left the Welsh colonies. *HA! Sorry Welsh friends*. The towns along Ruta 40 in Patagonia all seemed a bit redneck at first glance, like rolling in to some backwards pyschoville. The ubiquitous 'Malvinas son Argentinas' signs didn't help with this sense of unease, but we encountered nothing but utter friendliness, as we have throughout this country.
Ruta 40, up until then, had been a little underwhelming. It is famously a dirt road but much is now paved- which wasn't too distressing as the 'ripio' surface made for a very uncomfortable ride, not least due to worrying about the hire-car disintegrating. Winding at speed through the steppe on asphalt was much more pleasing- I felt a bit like Jeremy Clarkson, though Hes seemed to be clutching at the door handle. South of Rio Mayo we stopped for a lunchtime visit to see some cave paintings (13,000 years old, folks), and after that drive became incredible. The arid steppe burst into colour- yellows, purples, oranges and more. It all looked like someone had fiddled with the colours on photoshop, or perhaps a lycergic hand-tinted photograph. I was driving with my jaw on my lap as one incredible vista unfolded into the next.
We came off the most remote road in Argentina and took a further 90km of dirt track to the Park Perito Moreno, a seldom visited bit of Andean Valhalla. I am only concerned that the photos couldn't do this place justice, it is so incredibly dramatic and beautiful. There are two central lakes, one of which is steely grey (ie lake-coloured), the other is bright azure blue. To one side there are foothills which are marbled in browns, yellows, creams and oranges. To the other the Andes themselves, appearing at first glance as black, snow-capped behemoths but revealing all kinds of colours once your eyes adapt. The grass is mostly green, but a lot of it is red, and some is blue, and it is all speckled with little flowers, mostly orchids. A couple of other lakes are just browny green, so they have pink flamingos in them to brighten them up. Yes, I think it is the most beautiful place I have ever been.
We had two nights camping in the wild (the facilities consisted of a tap in the grass and a little shed with a pit-loo, from which you could check out guanacos in your seated position). It was lovely, once again.
I see I have written a lot. Am at the moment on a 30hr bus from Bariloche bound for the south of Patagonia, which is supposed to be even nicer, so all this may look a little premature. I will write about the second half of our circuit (across and back up the east coast) later, or hes may lift a finger, as it was more about penguins than mountains. That's her thing.
Until then, happy new year all.
Joe.
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