Mar Del Plata

Mar Del Plata is a touristy town on the Atlantic coast, about 400km south-east of Buenos Aires. We came here partially because our time at the beach on Ilha do Mel had turned into something of a wash-out, and it broke up the long trip southwards towards Patagonia.

Mar Del Plata has all the seaside kitch and tat that any self respecting seaside town should have, but on a massive scale with highrise apartment blocks towering over the skyline. The beach is home to a succession of balnearios, row upon row of tents for sheltering the beach goers from the sun and wind.

We have quite enjoyed this torquay/benidorm hybrid of a town, although mostly for the bemusing array of touristy tackiness everywhere!

We spent a day on bicycles, and rode about 3 miles to the fishing port, where we saw an amazing sight of a couple of hundred sea lions, who had established a colony on one of the breakwaters. One sneezed over us. Nice.

8 days in Buenos Aires

After peaceful San Antonio de Areco we found ourselves arriving in Buenos Aires' busy 'microcentro'. The cab ride from Retiro station to our hostel took a hair raising 20 minutes through several junctions of traffic 6 lanes wide in each direction. Yikes. (see pic below for typical Bs As traffic conditions, including 'reversible lanes' which made it almost impossible to cross the road in some places!)



The microcentro was our home for 3 nights, in a hostel that seemed pretty groovy.... a good breakfast, clean sheets, free pool table and very convenient for several sites. A bit too convenient. The traffic outside was non stop bumper to bumper until aboiut 4 am. The buses were noisy as hell, screeching to a halt to avoid other traffic, pedestrians etc. Out of our window we saw one of the seemingly daily occurances of public demonstration. It was the communist party, but there had already been a tube strike and a construction workers strike on the 2 previous days.



We went to the hip area of Palermo Viejo, which was full of design shops for fashion and home. It is a traveller's woe that her backpack is never big enough.....a good excuse not to shop anyway.

The folowing day we spent a scorching morning at Recoleta Cemetery, well known to non-argentines as this is where Eva Peron is interred. We followed this with a trip to MALBA, a great modern art museum. It had air con which is always a bonus! Unfortunately we discovered that the area around the gallery was not the place to find a bite to eat at short notice, and after tramping about 30 blocks we eventually found ourselves back in Palermo Viejo, but thankfully not at the same place as the day before (where Robin ate half a cow and I (Hannah) had a whole 'bird' to myself - menu descriptions can be somewhat dubious in Argentina).

One evenings distraction was the christmas fireworks display laid on by the local department stores. It was held in the Puerto Madero, which is the area of redeveloped docks and warehouses. The fireworks were a good excuse to wonder around the old port area and also to see Luna Park.





Because BsAs is (surprisingly) busy around Christmas, we had to 'move house' after 3 days to avoid sleeping in dorms. We moved about 15 blocks south to the area of San Telmo, which felt more like a world away from the noise and bustle of the Microcentro. San Telmo is reknowned as the 'tango' area of BsAs but in reality it is practiced everywhere, and originated in La Boca, a rough area a bit further south still. Anyway San Telmo was still a great place to be, with lots of old colonial-era buildings, and good cafes bars and shops, as well as a market. Some of it was quite touristy (for instance, the tat-sellers in the main square, Plaza Dorrego, rendered it much less attractive than it could be) but hey, this is coming from a couple who live in London, which is not unknown for its peddlers of tat.




On the Saturday before Christmas we took a tango lesson at the Mansion Dandi Royal 'tango academy' (more on that claim later, harrumph!), a three hour class, which was fun but different to what we had previously experienced at home. Robin looked particularly fetching in his 'magic shoes' that were bought that morning. There is a street in the microcentro that is full of authentic tango shoe shops, and we had a lovely morning exploring them and trying to find 'practice' suede-soled shoes in a size 47. Calle Suipacha is also home to one of BsAs' most famous milonga venues, called 'Confiteria Ideal'. This establishment is faded in glory, but had just about managed to provide us with a cup of coffee each, a day or two earlier. The coffee came complete with an old man playing an organ in the corner. If you could ignore the peeling plaster and paint work the Ideal was quite atmospheric.

La Boca, mentioned above, was a highlight, if a smelly one. It was full of brightly coloured buildings clad in corrugated iron. Cue Lonely Planet style photo oportunities....... The smell came from the somewhat polluted river basin. Here we also took in the Boca Juniors Stadium, where I (Hannah) was sorely tempted to buy a pair of ultra short shorts (knickers) as worn by the 'boquitas' who are the team's cheer-leaders. This is the team that Maradona played for. Hmm, I learn something new everyday (says H).



One thing that we really wanted to do was to take part in a 'milonga' (where the public dances tango, and the 'milonga' dance itself), but we felt that we probably needed more than one lesson so that our 'milonga' was more than just a malinger.

(Ha!)

Thankfully the posh hotel we had booked for the 24th and 25th, the aforementioned 'Mansion Dandi Royal' included tango lessons for its guests. Or so we thought. Upon checking in, we asked when the tango lesson would start. The conversation went something like this:

R: "What time are our tango lessons today?"
Chap at desk: "There aren´t any"
R: "Oh."
H: "Why not?"
Chap: "Ah, because it is Christmas"
R&H: "Yes, we know that, that´s why we are here."
Chap: "It is Christmas, so no tango."
R&H: "Oh."

Oh dear, we needn't have bought magic shoes after all.

Suffice to say that we were pretty pissed off with the explanation given (no teachers available, apparently... it was Christmas you know) as (at least we thought) we had bought a special Christmas package that specifically included tango lessons. Harrumph. Even more frustrating was to be told by the salesperson when we checked out that the tango lessons, as well as the flowers (where?), and 'bandoneon' serenade (that never appeared) were in fact complimentary. By this time I (Robin) wasn't feeling too complementary myself, but I was thankful for the lack of bandoneon (a type of accordion)!

(see post below for Christmas itself)

Hannah & Robin

Buenos Aires Christmas

I write this short post while clutching my stomach and cursing my sunburn, both of which were features of our Christmas Day in Buenos Aires. (A fuller post on BsAs will follow when the headache induced by a monstrous portion of dulce de leche served with my dessert has passed.)

Christmas Day itself was quite different from the experience of a british christmas; although most shops were closed it was still possible to go out for a beer, and later a blow-out meal (as alluded to above - well, it is Christmas). Not that we really noticed til about 4pm, when we broke from a regime of calling family using skype and sunning ourselves by the rooftop pool of the rather swanky hotel we'd booked for the 24th and 25th (hence the sunburn!)



The big deal here seems to be the evening of Christmas Eve, with many restaurants advertising very expensive meals and entertainment, which most will repeat for New Year's Eve. Walking through the streets of San Telmo we saw many families enjoying festive meals together at home and everything seemed pretty peaceful. That is to say, it seemed that way until midnight when suddenly it sounded like World War 3 had started! We went to the roof of the hotel and watched for almost an hour the immense number of fireworks being set off from every direction (and in every direction, for that matter). Actually, replace 'watched' in the last sentence with 'heard' as most of the fireworks had clearly been designed to deliver the most decibels possible per peso!

We supposed that the fireworks and hot weather made up for the lack of christmas crackers and three different kinds of stuffing... (seriously, no irony intended - it's amazing how you miss such things when they're not available!)

Robin

San Antonio de Areco / the littlest hobo

Between Rosario and Buenos Aires is the small town of San Antonio de Areco, which is supposed to be 'ground zero' for gaucho (argentine cowboy) culture. Indeed the views from the bus ride across the northern pampas fitted the bill: plenty of livestock, small windmills and tractor dealerships made us feel like we were in the american midwest - an illusion only shattered by the occasional palm tree. Although we hadn't originally planned to stop here, we thought a brief stay in the country (between Argentina's two biggest cities) would provide a brief respite from the urban jungle. plus there was an opportunity to camp by the river near the middle of town, and by this time i had started to grumble about carrying a tent that we might never use.



San Antonio was a lovely town full of arty types and interesting cafes and shops (Hannah bought a cow hide here for a song!) which made up for the touristy nature of the 'gaucho' offering. However as well as managing to accomodate two people and all their stuff in the world's smallest two-man tent (Damn you, Millets!) we will remember the town for its stray dogs, particularly the one who not only chose to sleep next to our tent, but also followed us all the way into town the next morning. She then dozed peacefully while we drank coffee and juice, waking just in time to follow us again as we attempted to leave very quietly (By this time we had been trying pretty hard to get rid of her!). Even our entering the church by one door and leaving by another didn't faze this mutt (obviously this trick had been tried before!) but eventually we managed to lose her. It was only when walking back to the campsite that we bumped into our friend again, who looked as though she had been waiting for us! (On the corner of the road that we had to take).

The next day a slightly mangier dog followed us all the way back to the bus station. I swear that were it not for the ticket inspector the damn thing would have hopped on too.

Robin

Backpacker clichés: part 1

In Rosario we stayed in a very stereotypical backpackers hostel (Complete with 'reggae' bar attached - seems to be some kind of natural law that all backpackers must like reggae, or else!) where we met some real characters.

From his long greying mane and shaggy beard to his nut brown body with sweaty money-belt permanently attached, Roger (a retired TV producer from Canada) was certainly a contender for the prize of backpacker stereotype of the week. This vision of a traveller completed his look with a brazilian flag bandana knotted over his locks and a T-shirt with the somewhat crass slogan of "Cambodia: danger! mines!". While the Argentine and Uruguayan travellers present also sported the slightly hippy look, they were no match for Roger.

Rosario

Ah, nothing like a 7:30am arrival at a bus station that rivals a small airport in size to make you feel like a 'traveller'. A coffee and a media luna (croissant) later and we felt ready to work out how to get into the city. Typically, the long distance station was a little way out of town, which meant negotiating the local bus service... after such a lengthly journey we were not at our best, so this task felt more difficult than it probably should, coffee or no coffee! (And thanks to the guy who helped us out with change for the bus... and then got off before we could pay him back.)




Rosario was an attractive city, quite leafy with enough to occupy us for a few days. although the natural history museum seemed to be a school - a recurring theme i feel?! we did however visit an art gallery which was interesting because of the building - a converted grain silo - rather than the modern art within. we also stumbled on the red light district, and enquired at the railway station nearby about the possiblily of getting to Buenos Aires by train. Feasible, but only if you want to travel on one of the 3 trains that leaves each week. Looks like it's the bus again... On the 15th we went to the beach, even though we were 300km inland. the Rio Paraná is incredibly wide, in fact it's navigable all the way up to Asuncion in Paraguay. It's quite strange to be on an island in the middle of a river, sat on a sandy beach (with 80's pop music pumping out of speakers), only to see a massive ocean going freight ship glide past.

We liked Rosario.

Hannah

Posadas to Rosario

So this was it, on weds 12th december - our first really long bus ride - 14 hours overnight, covering almost a thousand km. It was also our first experience of argentine "coche cama" service - like flying business class only much, much slower! Only later did we discover (from talking to other travellers in Rosario) that our excitement over being served dinner at our seats (accompanied by suspiciously luminous orange fizz) was perhaps over exuberant - one guy we met paid less for the same trip with a different firm and was served "champagne" apparently. but to be honest i was just glad for some distraction from the evening's choice of filmic entertainment, being "dr. doolittle 3". wasn't one sequel already one too many?

Robin

Puerto Iguazu to Posadas via San Ignacio

San Ignacio was a 4 hour bus ride away from Puerto Iguazu. The scenery was unchanging in its verdant leafyness, not that we noticed much anyway as the bus had onboard entertainment. We watched 'The Punisher' and 'American Pie: The Wedding'. Why?!

San Ignacio's Jesuit Ruins are merely 300 years old, quite old for Argentina. The town was one of the one horse variety, where there was very little to do other than see the ruins, the local museum/art gallery (with 3 paintings) and walk a mile or so along a red mud track, I mean road, to Horacio Quiroga's house (an adored Argentine author). We quite enjoyed the latter for its quaintness.

Dinner was less than interesting. My Ravioli was more like glue. I think it maust have been boiling since about noon and we ate at 8pm. Robin had some battered and fried meat.

Now we are in Posadas. Not much to do here. Thought we might go to the 'Serpentarium,' but that is now a school. Been on the web twice today, which says a lot about this town. We are leaving on the nightbus tonight, for Rosario. I wonder what the film will be?

Hannah

Itaipu DAMN!

After seeing the Argentine side of the falls on Saturday we needed a day of rest. Just as well, because on Sunday (9th Dec) everything was shut. We had planned to leave the next day but decided to stay a day longer so that Hannah could buy a new rucksack (the old one really was only made for festival going, not trekking half way round the globe...ow!) and so we could see the Itaipu dam, the biggest in the world (until China built the Three Gorges project).


Anyway after some ribbing that I was dragging Hannah on a busman's holiday, we got up on the Monday morning and set off back into Brazil for the day. (The Itaipu dam straddles the River Paraná, separating Brazil and Paraguay). A change of buses (and a passport stamp) later and we were at the visitors centre. First problem - we'd forgotten that in summer Brazil is 1 hour ahead of Argentina, and so rather than having time to kill we had to jump straight on the tour bus. Second problem - despite all the available guide books telling you the tour of the dam was free, we had to pay 13 reals each. Cue lots of problems with change (because we only had 20 reals left by this point), three different credit cards not working, and eventual payment half in reals and half in pesos.

OK so now we were on the tour bus. After 5 minutes driving around (and listening to a light jazz soundtrack, bizarrely) we stopped for photos. It was raining by now. The view was not great. We could see a bloody big wall. Mmmm, maybe the next photo opportunity would be better....? After getting back on the bus we were driven over the lower section of dam, past all the big conduits that feed water into the turbines (each could take half the flow of the Iguazu falls, fact fans) and (theoretically at least) into Paraguay. Then we went to the top of the dam. Great, should get a good photo from here, we thought. Except the bus didn't stop. It just took us back to the vistor centre....disappointing. Back at the vivitors centre we consoled ourselves that we could watch the educational film ("how exciting" says Hannah). But no. We managed to catch the last 5 minutes ("Oh, dear - such a shame" says Hannah) .

As an engineer I thought i'd really enjoy the trip to the dam (and that Hannah would at least tolerate it) but it was basically a total rip-off. As we were checking out of our hostel the next day another couple were asking the owner about the dam. Turns out the guy was an engineer too. I told him not to bother! (And his girlfriend looked relieved.....!)

Robin

Puerto Iguazu

The Argentine side of the falls was much more impressive than the Brazilian side, which is not a disservice to Foz as there was quite a fantastic view from there too.

The park consists of catwalks in and amongst the forest and water falls, with real up close and personal views of the water cascading down the rocks, over grasses clinging on for their dear lives and swallows darting in and out of the mist catching bugs (good on 'em I say, nasty little blighters).

Fact fans the falls are:
Very wide
Quite high
and the forest in this area is said by some to rival that of the Amazonian Pantanal for richness in flora and fawna....

We saw:
Iguana type lizardy beast
Coati, hairy long nosed critters about the size of a fox
2 Toucans
Loads of fat, horrid centipedes
Many colourful butterflies
Many 'bichos' (bugs)


After lots of walking we decided it was time to cool off, and signed up for the silly boat ride that takes you almost under the falls themselves - as near as you would want to be anyway! We boarded a power dinghy (!) and took our shoes off, sensibly...... The boats tosses you from side to side, to build the suspense and then approaches the waterfall. While we didn´t go under the actual falls we got drenched in the spray. Hilarious. The best 100 pesos spent so far.

This pretty much finished up the day, except for another walk along the catwalks to the main attraction. 'La Garganta del Diablo' or 'devils throat' is an amazing view of the largest of the waterfalls from its very edge. It felt like looking into a cauldron with the mist blowing up in our faces. WOW!

Hannah

Foz Do Iguacu to Puerto Iguazu

Here we checked our bags into left luggage, and went to see the water falls. It was an amazing view and made us look forward to seeing the falls up close on the Argentine side.

We were pretty smelly by now and needed to cross the border and get to our hostel, not least for the shower!

The border crossing consisted of a mini bus ride out of Foz do Iguacu from a crumbling bus stop simply labelled 'Argentina'. This took us to the Brazilian border, where we got off, eventually found the right office to get our passports stamped, and then waited for a second bus (effectively in nomans land) to take us the Argentine border. Where we got off, got our passports stamped again, got back on again (mad scramble with the locals, as this bus waits for no one...) and made it to Puerto Iguazu. We really needed a shower now!

Hannah

Curitiba to Foz do Iguacu

The bus ride between Curitiba and Foz do Iguacu was long and sweaty. The seats were comfy, but not comfy enough.

Hannah & Robin

Ilha Do Mel to Curitiba

Ilha do Mel is an island that has no cars, the main thoroughfares are sandy pathways where the men push a wagon along to make deliveries of fresh water or bottled beer. We stayed in Nova Brasilia, that was made up of 'pousadas' with hammocks swinging outside, restaurants serving locally caught fish and enormous cachacas filled to the brim with lime, ice and extra sugar... a headache inducing brew. We met a bunch of brit backpackers, one of which lives just off the cally road very near us at home (!), who became our drinking buddies for a couple of evenings. And yes, that's why I know that cachaca gives a heavy hangover.....

On the island the beaches are huge swathes of sand, with barely a sole on them - more to do with it being mid-week, low season and the weather. The rain; what started as a couple of showers on Wednesday (5/12) afternoon turned much heavier. Oh how it poured .... all through the night and on into the next day. We cut our loses on Thursday and hightailed it off the island. The walk through the sandy pathway was wet, the boat ride choppy and then a mad panic to find a taxi to catch the bus that was leaving imminently. Phew, we made it!

We decided to spend the day on the move, meaning a return to Curitiba to catch the onward overnighter to Foz do Iguacu. Curitiba seems an attractive city, with all the pavements cobbled in patterns of black and white stone, and some pretty early 20th C. architecture amongst the obligatory high rises. We visited the Oscar Niemeyer museum, he's the brazilian architect with a modernist style who designed Brasilia. On a wet day with a few hours to kill it was a welcome distraction.

As we had to wait until 10pm to get our bus we went to a cafe, drank beer and had a cheap meal. The food in brazil is meaty. And it comes with chips and rice. I really can't think of anything else to say about it!

Hannah

Sao Paulo to Ilha Do Mel

We arrived in Sao Paulo early Sat. morning and all went smoothly....the flight was a little bouncy but we arrived safe and sound, the worst part of the trip was the huge queue for customs on arrival and the hour long taxi ride from the airport to the city; Sao Paulo is one huge concrete jungle. While the people were very friendly we were surprised at how much money we were getting through, Sao Paulo being a lot more expensive than the rest of Brazil. A couple of days here was quite enough, thank you.

On to Curitiba, a 6 hour ´convencional´ bus ride that took us up and down hills with fantastic luscious greenery all the way. Our journey was unhindered, except for the slow crawl for the last 30k or so, as the driver was concerned that we had a flat tyre (all the men got off the bus, rubbed their chins a bit, got back on again......).

From Curitiba, which was just a pit stop, we took a 3 hr train ride (the Serra do Mar "express" - the bus takes half this time) down from the high plain to the coast. The locals kept us entertained, with singing and dancing the whole way (and beer drinking before 9am). In fact we even had a rendition of the conga. Funny for the first 1/2 hour. Less fun after they all squealed through the 7th or 8th tunnel! The scenery was great on this trip, with the mountain side falling away to show huge swathes of jungle and rivers at the bottom. A mini bus ride (air con, yay!) and a boat ride later and we arrived at our idyll of a beach get away at Ilha do Mel.... if only it would stop raining!

Hannah & Robin