Hemispherica: Last drinks in Buenos Aires

Wednesday, March 19, 2008

Last drinks in Buenos Aires

We woke up in Buenos Aires in a botanical garden full of stray cats and fabulous sculptures.

Upon arrival from Bahia Blanca by overnight bus, we found no hotel who would take us before noon, and so we found ourselves rubbing our sleep-crusted eyes in the Jardin Botanica de Carlos Thays. This delightful garden is home to hundreds of stray cats who are very much possessed of the place. They stalk through the garden beds, and preen themselves on the benches, and languidly regard the strangers who wander through their domain. At the centre of the gardens stands a grand house with four turreted corners alongside a gothic greenhouse in black wrought iron, and roundabout is set fabulous statuary. We set to photographing all the most picturesque statues, which can be found in butleresq´s Flickr photo gallery at http://www.flickr.com/photos/24084003@N02/sets/72157604009466584/

By now,we had determined to conclude our explorations of Buenos Aires so we could fly south to Patagonia and on our northward return journey not feel the compulsion to return to a city left unexplored. So we set to identifying and investigating the most curious and iconic elements of the city:

We wandered with wonder through the gallery of Xul Solar, one of the avant garde of Buenos Aires in the early 20c, who amongst other accomplishments, invented several Pan languages, a piano played by coloured keys set in three tiers, and a body of hundreds of ethereal paintings integrating elements of zodiac and astral philosophy and surreal landscapes and architectures, the images of which have lingered long after on the brain.

We took in the contemporary arts found in MALBA (the Museo de Artes Latinoamericano Buenos Aires) where Dale was rapt to see Frida Kahlo in the original for the first time, an art exhibition called Autopsia, featuring artists presenting jewellery of Mexican victims of drive-by shootings and botanical arrangements of the bones of murdered Colombians, and further in the Palais de Glace, formerly an ice rink, now exhibiting an installation of a black walled maze and numerous black&white paintings

Under a grey swollen sky, we wandered through the Recoleta Cemetry, where the Argentine elite are entombed in a lavish labyrinth of elaborate graves, amidst ornamentations of the Argentine ego after death, all watched over by ranks of marble angels and long dead presidents and generals. In the rain, the angels look like they are crying. Many tombs are in disrepair, and coffins have fallen from their places. Evita Peron´s tomb however is daily set with fresh gladioli and the black marble flashes from hundreds of photographing tourists. At 5.30pm, a largebell chimes, tourists are ushered out and the cemetry closes and we passed under the marble arch enscribed ´REQUISCANT IN PACE´. Such a place confirms my wish for my ashes to be scattered in the sea.

We wined and dined in Palermo Soho, where the young and the beautiful mince about in designer sunglasses late into the night, and which was very reminscent of Paddington, Sydney. We walked and talked through La Boca, the port district where the houses are brightly painted and tourists gawp and gaggle at the staged tango displays and the souvenir markets.

We drank wine from penguin shaped carafes and gorged ourselves on beef parilla style with James Hoare and Evan Williams from Sydney, and arrived back at our hotel well past midnight to find half our laundry had not arrived as ordered, and with us due at the airport for our flight to Ushuaia at 5.30am that morning, we abandoned our underwear and flew to the end of the world.

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Trekking Diary

PROGRESSIVE TREKKING DISTANCE TOTAL; 702km

10. Choquequirau to Machu Picchu - 120km

Fascinated by this fabled ridge top reproduction of Machu Picchu,without the assistance of mules or their friendly masters, from the village of Cachora down the Rio Apurimac, then up to the campsite located on the ancient terraces. The flies bit, and the ascent stung. The ruins were rewarding and newly uncovered, and we felt like tombraiders. We continued the third day of archaeological explanations up over the water sources of Choquequirau, and down to Pinchinuyoc, a complex of terraces rescued from the jungle, where we camped amongst ganja smoking gypsies. The fourth day took us deep down the midge world of the Rio Blanco then up 12oo m to the relative oasis of Maizal where for 15 soles a cold beer was had in ultimate isolation. Butterflies floated deliciously along with beer bubbles. We ventured up the hill 800m but got lost on the search for ruins and ended the day in respite. The 5th day mounted the Abra Victoria, an old Incan path made of silvery stones, and punctuated with strange mines, took us up and down from 4200m, til we camped thankfully, Chris´s feet bloodied and blistered in Yamana. The exquisite weaving offered us by our host was declined, with much regret. The following and the sixth day was a long slow haul across a 4800m pass where the air and grass was thin, and then down a further four hours to Colpapampa, Chris feet a bloody mush by this time. Eggs and noodles in a horse poo potted paddock marked the end of the day. A further descent on the eighth day, to La Playa, a dip in thermal baths, an avalanche of mules, an apotheosis of butterflies, and broken feet, to end at La Playa and four litres in beer. Up and over a distant ridge for the ninth day, amidst coffee plantations, and distant views of Machu Picchu, ending with a punishing descent and a bathe in the cold waters of the Rio Ahobamba, and a train to Aguas Calientes. We count the tenth day, marking 12 hours in the precincts of Machu Picchu, including an ascent and descent of Huayna Picchu, which amongst the ruined wanderings, mark at least 10km. Appropriately we ended our trek at a hotel called the Los Caminantes, or the walkers. We were bitten, blistered and buggered.

9. El Choro - 39km

Prostrate, in company with Pete once again, before the statue of Christ of La Cumbre at 4660m, we puffed our way up to cross the pass at 4850, then begin our knee crunching descent through the blonde puna, crumbling incan road houses, along the fabulously preserved incan road, five metres wide and composed perfectly fitted stones. The vegetatino grew verdant, orchids and bromeliads dangled from the boughs, and the watercourses ravinous and ravenous upon our legs. We took a rest day for our ravaged knees, and then wound further down to the verdant vagina of forest, to our end and a taxi ride up to the cool retreat of Coroico. Tough and pretty.

8. Isla del Sol, Lago de Titicaca - 32km

Peter Eckersley, a wandering winegrowers son, joined us amiably for this interesting trek, where after a strange and suspended bus journey, we found ourselves on the anvil of Copacabana, the Bolivian anchor in the Lake, and having fed a steak into the hole, walked the dusty 14km to the end of the peninsula. A ferry to a bunch of rocks croipping up from the potable waters at the south the panther isle, we climbed ancient incan terraces to camp some 5 km up and on, straddled between moon and sun. The next day threw us in with day walkers (though we were toting 15kegs on the back) a burden which entitled us to camp on the frigid northern beaches of this misnomer of an island, and bathe bathetically in the freezing waters, a worship of sorts. A walk back along the mediterranean eastern shores of the island was breathless but beautiful, and the beers to conclude were cold. Joy.

7. The wild west coast of Chiloe - 35km

After our sojourn in Valdivia, armed with various tenses of Spanish language, we took a bus from Castro to the coast, and walked a windswept 35km to La Playa Cole Cole, the eastern pacific making a milkshake of the thick sea, tearing thick kelp and scarlet seaweed, and a beachcombers paradise. Long whipped swell, mounted foam thigh deep on the endless beach. In the dense and dark twisted forest that sprawled like a fairytale, kingfishers pried the dark waters of streams, and ancient shellfish encrusted shores like mosaic. The forests were haunting, and we were all alone.

6. Termas de Callao - 35km

So deep was blue was the lake that the boatman wanted $120 dollars to ford its fraught waters. For that fee, we landed in the El Rincon (the corner) of the Lago todos los santos (All Saints Lake) where we camped mid dried cattle turds on the flat sands of the mouth of the River of No Name. The next day took us along the anonymous contours of this nameless river, through black volcano soil, deep cut soiled tracks and emerald forest. A kindly family gave us their forlorn cottage, washed in french blue wash paint, and a pile of firewood and fresh farm eggs for $20 a night, and use of the hot springs piped into their lovingly carved logs as dusk determinedly settled into the gorgeous gouges of landscape. Quite the delight. We walked out past subterraneanly draining lakes, bubbling in effervescence, rolling farmlands of the town of the Gulls ´the Gulls´to the peaceful lakeside camp of Lago Rupanco. A local ferry forded us out, to Valdivia and a months rest of Spanish language.

5. Monte Tronador and El Paso de Las Nubes - 95km

First and second day 41km from the Highway at V14illa Mascardi around the southern and western arms of Lago Mascardi, then along the Rio Manso to Pampa Linda nestled at the foot of the mighty Mt Tronador. Third day 19km and 750metres ascent to a high ridge of Mt Tronador, overlooking the Glaciar Manso icefall, and the incredible Ventisquero Negro, a glacial penisula of broken rock and ice in a frozen green lake. Fourth day of 6km took us to the Rio Alerce, where we camped in earshot of a mighty waterfall, beside a beautiful cascade, toasting our mothers for Mothers Day with hot milo and cognac. Day 5 across marsh and bog, up through Valdivian rainforest of multicoloured mushrooms and ferns, into the high lenga, to reach the Pass of the Clouds swathed in clouds, crossing surreal alpine meadows of clear pools and dense fog. Down through a cathedral of coigue trees, to come out on a breath taking mirador lokoing up at the Glaciar Frias, its jagged snout hanging high in the mist, sending down a dozen cascades of over 50metres height into the broad glacial ampitheatre. Three condors wheeled about in the mist, whilst a young condor dried its wings on a rock only 10 metres from our mirador, a truly awesome sight. Day 6, a 10km trudge over long and under tree, through bog and under scree to reach Puerto Frias, where we were stamped out of Argentina, climbing to the Paso Vincente Perez Rosales to camp between border posts. Day 6 was a prospect of 26km on roads tot he town of Peulla, but the kindly carabineros on their morning border run picked us up, and drove us to Peulla, where we checked into the faded grandeur of the Hotel Peulla for our 4th year anniversary.

5. Monte Tronador and El Paso de Las Nubes - 95 km

After declining an overpriced tour (then snking equivalent pesos in margaritas) a dogged two days 41km from the RN40 at Villa Mascardi around the southern and western arms of Lago Mascardi, then along the Rio Manso to Pampa Linda nestled at the foot of the ever roaring Mt Tronador. Third day 19km and 750metres ascent to a high ridge of Mt Tronador, overlooking the Glaciar Manso icefall, and the incredible Ventisquero Negro, a glacial penisula of broken rock and ice in a frozen green lake. The mountain growls dawn, morn and night. Fourth day of 6km took us to the Rio Alerce, where exhausted from battling barricades of bamboo we camped in earshot of a mighty waterfall, beside a beautiful cascade, toasting our mothers for Mothers Day with hot milo and cognac. Day 5 across marsh and bog, up through Valdivian rainforest of multicoloured mushrooms and ferns, into the high lenga, to reach the Pass of the Clouds swathed in clouds, crossing surreal alpine meadows of clear pools and dense fog. Down through a cathedral of coigue trees, to come out on a breath taking mirador (lookout) of the Glaciar Frias, its jagged snout hanging high in the mist, sending down a dozen cascades of over 50metres height into the broad glacial ampitheatre. Three condors wheeled about in the mist, whilst a young condor dried its wings on a rock only 10 metres from our mirador, singularly the most spectacular sight of all our Andean adventures. Day 6, a 10km trudge over log and under tree, through bog and under scree to reach Puerto Frias, where we were stamped out of Argentina (after a search of our packs for weapons - the porridge was heavy enough!), climbing to the Paso Vincente Perez Rosales to camp between border posts. Day 6 was a prospect of 26km on roads to the town of Peulla, but the kindly Carabineros, the green police of Chile, on their morning border run picked us up, and drove us to Peulla, where we checked into the faded grandeur of the Hotel Peulla for our 4th year anniversary, 150 dollars and a good night sleep.

4. Monte Fitz Roy and Cerro Torre - 43km , 5 days/4 nights. In the Parque Nacional Los Glaciares, we set off in lightly falling snow up a broad glacially shaped valley through magical forest beside a startling green Rio Electrico, to the Glaciar Piedra Blanca, a gothic cathedral of ice, camping in the woods with a foot of snow and visitations by Patagonian fox (and more mice!) overnight, an ascent to the high Laguna de los Tres below the mighty peaks of Fitz Roy (3450m) and Poincenot (3002m), an enchanting walk past the snow rimmed Las Lagunas Madre y Hija (Mother and Daughter Lakes), spotting fresh puma prints in the snow, camping on the glacial morraines beneath Cerro Torre (3102m) , a jagged peak like a knife in the sky. Frozen boots each morning and ferocious mice attacks in the night made two very tired walkers by trail´s end!

3. Torres del Paine ´Q´Circuit - 160km, 12 days/13 nights. An awesome circuit trek around the spectacular Maciszo Paine on the edge of the Campo de Hielo Sur ice sheet. Astonishingly sculpted mountain peaks, including the Torres del Paine (seen at sunrise), Los Cuernos (the Horns) and Cerro Paine Grande, the jaw-droppingly huge Glaciars Grey and Dickson like rivers of ice, the dramatic Glaciars Perros and Frances plunging off the side of mountains, huge milky blue lakes fringed by black&white stone beaches and filled with floating icebergs, beautiful forests of lenga and nirre, a high pass of 1241m, and 160km of long hard walking. Multiple attacks by mice in the night, and an exhilirating sense of accomplishment (and enjoyment of cold beer and mulled wine) at the end.

2. Lapataia - 14km, 1 day, following the Sendera Costera along the shores of the Beagle Channel, littered with purple mussel shells and kelp, rocks splotched with red, yellow and orange lichens, through dense forest filled with delightful glades and glens, lengas bearded by hanging moss, then across broad meadows fringing lagoons and streams, home to hundreds of hares.

1. Paso del Oveja, Ushuaia - 34km, 3 days-2nights, in the Parque Nacional Tierra del Fuego, around the Montes Martial, the mountains that loom above the Beagle Channel and Ushuaia, through coigue and lenga forest, red Fuegian moors, beneath the Cordon Vinciguerra to an alpine lake surrounded by meadows, and over a bare windswept 800m pass.

Wednesday, March 19, 2008

Last drinks in Buenos Aires

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