The bus from Mendoza arrived at Retiro bus station at 8am. We caught a taxi straight to the British embassy in Recoleta. It was Wednesday morning, 23rd January.
Our haste derived from our fear that there could well be a queue of other poor unfortunates in similar situations to ours, waiting from the early hours to have their passport applications processed. Thankfully this wasn't the case and we were the first in when the consular section's counter opened at 9am.
Once inside I had to fill out a passport application form and hand over the Mendoza police report along with two passport photos and a whopping 750 pesos in cash (about £125). The new passport would be ready to collect on Friday, just two days later. Phew.
Armed with the knowledge that we could start to make travel plans again, we booked flights with a budget airline to enable us to return to Santiago from Buenos Aires on Saturday morning. We also visited the local Qantas office, where we were told that as there were no seats that could be reserved in January or February on the Santiago - Auckland flight, we would be waitlisted. Not really knowing what this meant, we set about doing some of the things we had wanted to do in Buenos Aires but hadn't found time for last time around, and generally killed time until we could pick up my passport and return to Santiago.
Robin
Tuesday, 29 January 2008
From the best of days to the worst of days
The previous blog post ended on an upbeat note but at about 7:30pm on Monday 21st January our world was temporarily turned upside down.
Following our return to town after our horse riding trip, we decided to go to an internet cafe to check on the status of our flights to Auckland, amongst other things.
Once in front of the computer screen I put my "man-bag" (shoulder bag) on the floor next to my feet. A couple of minutes later I needed a reservation code or something and retrieved it from the scrap of paper it had been scribbled on, squirreled away in the bag. Another couple of minutes later, I went to put the piece of paper back in the bag. But the bag was nowhere to be seen.
Our constant moving on from place to place had accustomed us to ensuring that we put our things back in the places that they came from. Using this technique we had so far got packing up our room and leaving a hostel down to an art - all done inside of 20 minutes! The problem with this was that I was accustomed to keeping all sorts of valuables inside the "man-bag". With the theft of the bag I had lost our digital camera, our portable hard disk, my driving license, and worst of all, my passport.
What the hell were we going to do? We were due to exit Argentina, travel through Chile and onto New Zealand the next day, for crying out loud!
The police were called but did nothing of real use except for giving us a lift in a patrol car to the local police station where after an hour of waiting we were able to file a report. The purpose of this report, it transpired later, was to allow me to obtain a new passport, leave the country without being fined for the lack of an entry stamp, and file an insurance claim. Slowly it dawned on us that our stuff was not going to come back.
The next morning we contacted the British consulate in Mendoza who unfortunately could not process any passport applications except via a laborious process of posting forms and documents back and forth from the embassy in Buenos Aires. Realising that this could take weeks, by nightfall we were on a night bus back to the capital. Strangely enough, it was the most comfortable bus ride we ever took in Argentina, with seats that reclined into fully flat beds.
Following our return to town after our horse riding trip, we decided to go to an internet cafe to check on the status of our flights to Auckland, amongst other things.
Once in front of the computer screen I put my "man-bag" (shoulder bag) on the floor next to my feet. A couple of minutes later I needed a reservation code or something and retrieved it from the scrap of paper it had been scribbled on, squirreled away in the bag. Another couple of minutes later, I went to put the piece of paper back in the bag. But the bag was nowhere to be seen.
Our constant moving on from place to place had accustomed us to ensuring that we put our things back in the places that they came from. Using this technique we had so far got packing up our room and leaving a hostel down to an art - all done inside of 20 minutes! The problem with this was that I was accustomed to keeping all sorts of valuables inside the "man-bag". With the theft of the bag I had lost our digital camera, our portable hard disk, my driving license, and worst of all, my passport.
What the hell were we going to do? We were due to exit Argentina, travel through Chile and onto New Zealand the next day, for crying out loud!
The police were called but did nothing of real use except for giving us a lift in a patrol car to the local police station where after an hour of waiting we were able to file a report. The purpose of this report, it transpired later, was to allow me to obtain a new passport, leave the country without being fined for the lack of an entry stamp, and file an insurance claim. Slowly it dawned on us that our stuff was not going to come back.
The next morning we contacted the British consulate in Mendoza who unfortunately could not process any passport applications except via a laborious process of posting forms and documents back and forth from the embassy in Buenos Aires. Realising that this could take weeks, by nightfall we were on a night bus back to the capital. Strangely enough, it was the most comfortable bus ride we ever took in Argentina, with seats that reclined into fully flat beds.
Monday, 28 January 2008
Mendoza
Mendoza is a sizeable city that resembles an oasis in a desert. Wide avenues of trees downtown provide shelter from the incessant sun, fed by a complex system of irrigation channels tapping Andean snowmelt from the River Mendoza. The guidebooks say that these acequias burble down every street - but although there was definitely some burbling, too often the channels get clogged by rubbish.
(It's the same story in many parts of South America - we have lost count of the times we have said to each other "oh, this place is beautiful, it's just a shame there's so much litter everywhere!")
Having not decided until late to come to Mendoza, we couldn't find anywhere to stay on our first night on town through the normal hostel-booking websites. However we had picked up a flyer for the Hostel Parque Central in Valparaiso and upon calling them discovered that there was room at the inn. However the room turned out to be little more than an open-topped cupboard with no lock on the door, no lockers, and no air-con (an important consideration in Mendoza!). However all this would have been bearable if the young owners of the hostel hadn't decided to throw a party that night - given that our cupboard had no roof and so was open to all the noise emanating up the staircase - there was little option to grin and bear it. We woke up early and left.
Accommodation was still proving hard to find on that Friday morning but we scored an amazing victory by finding an 'apart hotel' run by one of the hostels - so achieving a perfect balance of space, privacy, cleanliness, and amazingly, cheapness. We had a patio, a kitchen, a bedroom, and bathroom (space for four people in truth) for 100 Argentine pesos, whereas the dump we stayed in the night before had cost us 60 pesos. Given the relative luxury, it was easy to decide to stay one day longer than planned, until the morning of our flight onwards to Auckland.
We spent quite a lot of time in Mendoza doing not much, relaxing at the 'apart'. However we did manage to visit three different wineries, two of them via bicycle, and go on a four-hour horse ride in the Andean foothills. From two of the wineries we bought bottles, and spent enjoyable evenings supping them back at the 'apart' and showing off our new-found knowledge of wine-tasting to each other. The horse ride was followed by a real Argentine asado back at the rudimentary stables prepared by the young Argentine guys who had led the horse trek, who apropos of nothing produced a guitar from somewhere and started to regale us with traditional folk songs.
All in all we thought this was a good way to round off our last full day in South America, and as we were driven back into town we eagerly anticipated crossing back to Santiago the next morning and flying on to Auckland.
(It's the same story in many parts of South America - we have lost count of the times we have said to each other "oh, this place is beautiful, it's just a shame there's so much litter everywhere!")
Having not decided until late to come to Mendoza, we couldn't find anywhere to stay on our first night on town through the normal hostel-booking websites. However we had picked up a flyer for the Hostel Parque Central in Valparaiso and upon calling them discovered that there was room at the inn. However the room turned out to be little more than an open-topped cupboard with no lock on the door, no lockers, and no air-con (an important consideration in Mendoza!). However all this would have been bearable if the young owners of the hostel hadn't decided to throw a party that night - given that our cupboard had no roof and so was open to all the noise emanating up the staircase - there was little option to grin and bear it. We woke up early and left.
Accommodation was still proving hard to find on that Friday morning but we scored an amazing victory by finding an 'apart hotel' run by one of the hostels - so achieving a perfect balance of space, privacy, cleanliness, and amazingly, cheapness. We had a patio, a kitchen, a bedroom, and bathroom (space for four people in truth) for 100 Argentine pesos, whereas the dump we stayed in the night before had cost us 60 pesos. Given the relative luxury, it was easy to decide to stay one day longer than planned, until the morning of our flight onwards to Auckland.
We spent quite a lot of time in Mendoza doing not much, relaxing at the 'apart'. However we did manage to visit three different wineries, two of them via bicycle, and go on a four-hour horse ride in the Andean foothills. From two of the wineries we bought bottles, and spent enjoyable evenings supping them back at the 'apart' and showing off our new-found knowledge of wine-tasting to each other. The horse ride was followed by a real Argentine asado back at the rudimentary stables prepared by the young Argentine guys who had led the horse trek, who apropos of nothing produced a guitar from somewhere and started to regale us with traditional folk songs.
All in all we thought this was a good way to round off our last full day in South America, and as we were driven back into town we eagerly anticipated crossing back to Santiago the next morning and flying on to Auckland.
Back over the Andes
On the Thursday 17th January we left Valparaiso bound for Mendoza, back over the Andes in Argentina. All the direct buses were sold out so we had to first get back to Santiago and procure transport from there. A bit of a detour but not too dramatic.
The Santiago - Mendoza run is a busy route, and we had no trouble buying tickets for a minibus leaving within 30 minutes of our arrival at the bus station. Normally we wouldn't have dreamed of getting a minibus for this kind of distance, but we knew that at the border everyone on public transport would have to disembark, pass through customs and immigration control on foot, and have their bags X-rayed. Given all this, we expected that a minibus would get through quicker than a full bus. (And the verdict... not really! and certainly not worth the discomfort of the seats)
After seeing snow and shivering our socks off at both sides of the border crossing from Bariloche to Osorno, we were darned if we were going to let the weather catch us out again. The Samore pass from Bariloche to Osorno peaked at about 1200m, and we reasoned that, although we were now about 1000km nearer to the equator, the weather was bound to be cold again, especially as this pass peaked at about 3200m. Imagine our surprise, clad in jeans and warm jumpers, me with a woolly hat in my man-bag, with the temperature at about 30°C at the border. And as we drove down to Mendoza, the temperature rose to nearer 40°C. As soon as we were off the minibus we practically stripped off right there on the bus station platform.
The scenery visible from the Santiago - Mendoza road was incredible; the innumerable colours of the Andean rock contrasting with the snow at high level and surprising occasional patches of bright green grass, straggling thinly across the more sheltered slopes. We passed ski lifts and resorts (deserted - out of season) and Chilean and Argentine army training bases. We also caught a glimpse of the 'Puente del Inca' - a natural stone bridge worn away by the River Mendoza, close to the Argentine side of the border. One of the climbs on the Chilean side involved about 27 hairpin bends, one after the other - the bends were even numbered. We also saw a couple of hundred people crossing the pass on horseback, seemingly re-enacting Jose de San Martin's Army of the Andes' crossing from Mendoza to liberate Chile from the Spanish. Not an easy task now, and certainly not 200 years ago...
Robin
The Santiago - Mendoza run is a busy route, and we had no trouble buying tickets for a minibus leaving within 30 minutes of our arrival at the bus station. Normally we wouldn't have dreamed of getting a minibus for this kind of distance, but we knew that at the border everyone on public transport would have to disembark, pass through customs and immigration control on foot, and have their bags X-rayed. Given all this, we expected that a minibus would get through quicker than a full bus. (And the verdict... not really! and certainly not worth the discomfort of the seats)
After seeing snow and shivering our socks off at both sides of the border crossing from Bariloche to Osorno, we were darned if we were going to let the weather catch us out again. The Samore pass from Bariloche to Osorno peaked at about 1200m, and we reasoned that, although we were now about 1000km nearer to the equator, the weather was bound to be cold again, especially as this pass peaked at about 3200m. Imagine our surprise, clad in jeans and warm jumpers, me with a woolly hat in my man-bag, with the temperature at about 30°C at the border. And as we drove down to Mendoza, the temperature rose to nearer 40°C. As soon as we were off the minibus we practically stripped off right there on the bus station platform.
The scenery visible from the Santiago - Mendoza road was incredible; the innumerable colours of the Andean rock contrasting with the snow at high level and surprising occasional patches of bright green grass, straggling thinly across the more sheltered slopes. We passed ski lifts and resorts (deserted - out of season) and Chilean and Argentine army training bases. We also caught a glimpse of the 'Puente del Inca' - a natural stone bridge worn away by the River Mendoza, close to the Argentine side of the border. One of the climbs on the Chilean side involved about 27 hairpin bends, one after the other - the bends were even numbered. We also saw a couple of hundred people crossing the pass on horseback, seemingly re-enacting Jose de San Martin's Army of the Andes' crossing from Mendoza to liberate Chile from the Spanish. Not an easy task now, and certainly not 200 years ago...
Robin
Sunday, 20 January 2008
Valparaíso
'Valpo' as the locals call it, is a faded, or should that be crumbling, coastal city that was once grand and affluent due to its importance as the gateway port to south america from the Pacific. The geography of the area is that of craggy 'cerros' on top of which houses are stacked in all manner of configurations, mostly all clad in corrugated iron decorated in colourful, if flaking, paint. This poor city suffered an economic slump when the Panama Canal was inaugerated along with no less than 3 earthquakes in the last 100 years. In someways Valparaíso seems doomed. There was a forest fire the day we arrived, burning down more than seventy houses.
A couple of the cerros are very attractive, where the bohemian locals have made a real effort to spruce up the buildings and open attractive cafes, craft shops and the odd gallery and we spent a nice day wondering about and taking in the view of the pacific and the bustling container port, complete with naval ships in the distance.
To reach any of the cerros (some of which, we were warned by our hostel, were 'no go areas') you can climb up steep, rough lanes or take an 'ascensor'. Yep you guessed it another silly form of transport to enjoy. These funiculars are little more than wooden boxes that are hoisted up the side of the hill, and are very cheap. At the top there are usually great views and the obligatory 'feria artesania' or craft fair (selling the usual cheap, poor quality hippy stuff or rip offs of the traditional mapuche textiles - steer well clear!) In fact Valparaíso has more than one form of silly transportation to choose from - the 'trolley buses' are quite charming, some being swiss and from the 20's or 30's, but very slow. (Hannah)
While in Valpo we also visited neighbouring Viña del Mar, a short distance away via the hair-raising micros (minibuses who compete with each other for fares, with consequently little consideration of passenger comfort, let alone the safety of those who might wish to board them) or via the modern metro train. We took the latter and were amazed to find such a clean, quiet and efficient service... most train lines in South America have been abandoned. Viña was fun for a day at the beach - and seemed a lot more developed than Valpo. In fact after our visit we worked out that Viña del Mar and Valparaíso are essentially two halves of the same city - one crumbling yet historic, and the other modern and commercial. (Robin)
Our beach experience was quite hilarious, in fact, as the waves crashed onto the shore quite violently and the water was freezing. Once nice and toasty from the sun we went and cooled off for a bit. This consisted of us standing on the water's edge, and then running madly in the opposite direction as the waves came splashing in, frequently drenching us! Robin eventually made it into the water head first and was tossed about as if in a washing machine. When he surfaced there were complaints that the sand had gotten into all sorts of places it really shouldn't be. I was the weed this time, and never made it beyond waist deep. Brrrr! (Hannah)
Another feature of Valpo was the hostel we stayed at, the 'Yoyo'. This was a great place to meet people, although it was essentially obligatory to party every night, or listen to everyone else having fun right outside your door. We had a great time here and met some very clued-up travellers as well as some americans. No, that's not fair really, although there are a LOT of americans travelling in Chile - far more than in Argentina. (Robin)
Friday, 18 January 2008
More Santiago
We went to the Mercado Central, hoping to see fresh produce in similar quantities and quality to that of Temuco. However, it is a much smaller venue and is predominantly for fish, and even more so, fish restaurants aimed at tourists with touts vying for business every second step. Not to be detererred and determined to sit down to one of the local fish dishes so lauded by our 'good book' we dodged the touts and found a small restaurant at the side of the market, where actual Chileans (yes, really) were dining. I had a type of 'cazuela de Mariscos,' literally shellfish caserole, that had no less than 9 different types of seafood in it ...clams, cockels, scallops, octopus, mussels were the ones I could name. A couple of them were quite difficult to swallow, not least beacuase they were so peculiar and I didn't recognise them, let alone know their names - it was however, delicious. Robin played it safe and had salmon. Wimp!
Hannah
Santiago
The journey to Santiago on the 12th January was good, not because of the food offered - a super sweet black coffee or 'cafécito' and a cookie - but because we took the 9 hour journey during the day. As Larry had mentioned to Robin on Facebook recently, "night-buses are a false economy". This is true; we have suffered 4 journeys of endless swaying in the darkness, arriving at stupid-o'clock in the morning, needing desperately to recover by crashing out for a few hours, thereby wasting most of the first day anyway. We left Temuco at 7.30 am and actually got to see the landscape of the country we were visiting (including a volcano undergoing a small-scale eruption - the dark clouds and haze in the picture below are the dust and ash...)
To be fair, some of the night-buses in Argentina really would not have been exciting as day rides - from Puerto Madryn to Esquel would have been painfully boring after the first hour or so, as it is barren desert and scrub most of the way). However, as long as there has been something to see, we have always enjoyed the 5 hour bus journeys, so it makes sense that a 9 hour one would be worth it too, it's only taken us 6 weeks to figure this out!
(Horse Trials: We stretched our legs for 5 minutes at Chillán bus station, where there was a hawker selling pastries and the like. He also had packets of jerky... having heard about llama jerky, we thought we would give it a try. Having succesfully purchased, we were about to tear open the packet when we noticed the picture of a horses head on it, and not that of a llama as you might expect. Needless to say, we wimped out, and exchanged it for a couple of empanadas. These had an unfamiliar taste and unrecognisable filling...)
We passed though the valley that lies between the Andes cordillera and the Pacific Cordillera mountain ranges. It is wide and flat and green. There are countless farms with the now familiar scene of fileds of corn rows and herds of cows. These small holdings interspersed the far greater commercial farms growing all types of fruit and vegetables. As we approached Santiago the vegetable and fruit crops gave way soley to vineyards.
Fantastic. Why had it not dawned on us sooner that we were diving head first into Latin America's most well known wine glass? First thing on our 'to do list' was to head for the vineyard of international brand 'Concha y Toro'. The location was very handy from the city of Santiago, being just a short taxi ride away from the last underground metro stop. Nowadays this historic 'viña' is more the commercial head quarters of the company, sited in the old grounds of the original. The buildings and gardens date from the 1820's, and are very picturesque. The experience was informative, if only to realise what huge outfits the winemakers of Chile have become, the sales pitch video at the start of the tour further enhanced the commerciality of it all. But you know, I'm not grumbling, we got to taste three very nice bottles. Unfortunately not the whole bottle though.
One of the wines we quaffed is known at home, called 'Casillero del Diablo', which comes in a variety of 'flavours' (okay, so I don't know the lingo yet....) or grapes.
Santiago is a pretty pleasing city, with a back drop of the Andes. Beautiful. If you could see them. The city suffers from smog, and the protected mountain ranges surrounding it are barely visible most of the time, even when we took the daft funicular to the top of Cerro San Cristóbal, one of the many hills that pop from nowhere from the flat cityscape. At the top of the Cerro is 14m high statue of the Virgen Mary, a small chapel, and piped choral music. A little surreal.
The hostal we stayed at was another dorm bunk experience, but this time sharing with 5 others. The breakfast was a DIY affair of yogurt, wholemeal bread, fruit, juice, tea/coffee. I mention this because breakfast is of such insignificance to latin americans that the offering to hungry travellers is often pretty meagre. We had a couple of great evenings chatting to folk from Sweden, Austria, Germany, and an Italian who had been living in Archway just up the road from Holloway. The down point was that Charles, the American owner, and his hobo helpers from the US and Canada (people work in hostels in exchange for board while travelling) didn't really understand the concept of cleanliness....the kitchen floor wouldn't even know what a mop was. The sheets were clean though and the intermittent showers sufficient!
Hannah
(Horse Trials: We stretched our legs for 5 minutes at Chillán bus station, where there was a hawker selling pastries and the like. He also had packets of jerky... having heard about llama jerky, we thought we would give it a try. Having succesfully purchased, we were about to tear open the packet when we noticed the picture of a horses head on it, and not that of a llama as you might expect. Needless to say, we wimped out, and exchanged it for a couple of empanadas. These had an unfamiliar taste and unrecognisable filling...)
We passed though the valley that lies between the Andes cordillera and the Pacific Cordillera mountain ranges. It is wide and flat and green. There are countless farms with the now familiar scene of fileds of corn rows and herds of cows. These small holdings interspersed the far greater commercial farms growing all types of fruit and vegetables. As we approached Santiago the vegetable and fruit crops gave way soley to vineyards.
Fantastic. Why had it not dawned on us sooner that we were diving head first into Latin America's most well known wine glass? First thing on our 'to do list' was to head for the vineyard of international brand 'Concha y Toro'. The location was very handy from the city of Santiago, being just a short taxi ride away from the last underground metro stop. Nowadays this historic 'viña' is more the commercial head quarters of the company, sited in the old grounds of the original. The buildings and gardens date from the 1820's, and are very picturesque. The experience was informative, if only to realise what huge outfits the winemakers of Chile have become, the sales pitch video at the start of the tour further enhanced the commerciality of it all. But you know, I'm not grumbling, we got to taste three very nice bottles. Unfortunately not the whole bottle though.
One of the wines we quaffed is known at home, called 'Casillero del Diablo', which comes in a variety of 'flavours' (okay, so I don't know the lingo yet....) or grapes.
Santiago is a pretty pleasing city, with a back drop of the Andes. Beautiful. If you could see them. The city suffers from smog, and the protected mountain ranges surrounding it are barely visible most of the time, even when we took the daft funicular to the top of Cerro San Cristóbal, one of the many hills that pop from nowhere from the flat cityscape. At the top of the Cerro is 14m high statue of the Virgen Mary, a small chapel, and piped choral music. A little surreal.
The hostal we stayed at was another dorm bunk experience, but this time sharing with 5 others. The breakfast was a DIY affair of yogurt, wholemeal bread, fruit, juice, tea/coffee. I mention this because breakfast is of such insignificance to latin americans that the offering to hungry travellers is often pretty meagre. We had a couple of great evenings chatting to folk from Sweden, Austria, Germany, and an Italian who had been living in Archway just up the road from Holloway. The down point was that Charles, the American owner, and his hobo helpers from the US and Canada (people work in hostels in exchange for board while travelling) didn't really understand the concept of cleanliness....the kitchen floor wouldn't even know what a mop was. The sheets were clean though and the intermittent showers sufficient!
Hannah
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