El Calafate

The road to El Calafate cuts a long, gray swath through a cold, windy, desolate desert. Once likely a funky little backpacker/climber village, the town itself is quickly becoming more like an Aspen with chi-chi shops, expensive hotels, overpriced chocolate boutiques, and a casino. We, of course, managed to find a very simple and relatively inexpensive hosteleria and then set out to find a comparable meal.

So we head out to dinner, in search of a basic meal at a reasonable price, and stumble upon an all-you-can-eat parrillla (think enormous slabs of beef, and sometimes pork, roasting over hot coals and a burly guy with machete-sized knife and often a saw standing by to hack off a hunk of whatever you want). There’s a long buffet table full of all sorts of salads, many with heavy emphasis on the mayo; cold sliced meats; cheeses; fried calamari; marinated octopus; egg rolls (yes, egg rolls); and desserts. The place is packed with locals (a good sign) and a fair number of Argentine tourists.

We slowly realize that we’re the youngest ones seated and that we’re amidst what feels like the Early Bird dinner stop on a bingo junket to Reno. People are jostling for position in the buffet line before heading over to The Meat. Then they request their favorite cut and the butcher/cook/parrilla dude lops off a gigantic slab o’ beef — a small portion weighing about a kilo.

Again, the average patron is not a professional athlete bulking up–they are a 70-something, out-of-shape tourist–but they are equally as aggressive and as committed to protein loading.

Periodically, we would hear the clatter of a plate hitting the ground. We wouldn’t see much of a commotion until a white-haired head would pop up and a few others would assist the elderly eater to her feet. “No, no, I’m fine,” we would imagine her saying, “just get me a fresh plate and don’t lose my place in the parrilla line.”

Perito Moreno

A bus and boat ride from El Calafate brought us to one of the most spectacular — and certainly the coolest — things we have seen in all our years of travel. While most of the planet’s glaciers are receding at an alarming rate, Perito Moreno continues to advance at the rate of about two meters a day. At 30 kilometers long, 5 kilometers wide, and 60 meters high, it is a truly awesome sight accompanied by the thunderous sound of enormous ice walls calving off into the water.

Next up:IT’S THE END OF THE WORLD AS WE KNOW IT

TANGO

Tango is Argentina’s national dance, passion and blatant obsession. It is everywhere in Buenos Aires. There are lavish shows in huge theaters, performances in tiny cafes, impromptu dancing on sidewalks when the music wafts within audible range, and on any given night there are milongas — public dances — throughout the city. Young and old, novice and professional come to tango for the sheer joy of it. At 11:00 p.m on a slow Sunday night, the millonga at Cafe Ideal, one of the oldest cafes in Buenos Aires, was just getting started. Nearly a hundred people were sipping drinks, enjoying the live music and dancing what has been described as the closest thing to having sex with clothes on. These are “real” people who just want/need to tango. Had we remembered to pack our dance shoes, we’d have been out there swishing and swaying with the rest of them.

LA BOCA & RECOLETA

Despite Lonely Planet’s paranoia-inducing warnings, we loved the portside, touristy little barrio of La Boca which is full of colorful cafes; wild murals; rich, gritty history; and, of course, lots of tango.

Although it is only a small fraction of the size of Paris’ famed Pere Lachaise, Recoleta Cemetery boasts some lovely, elaborate funereal architecture… and is populated by a few gentle cats who seem to receive more food than the other permanent residents receive flowers.

There is so much more to explore and enjoy in Buenos Aires but it’s time for us to trade our Tevas for hiking boots, head southward and test our Patagonia threads in the real Patagonia.

Next up: TOTALLY COOL

BUENOS AIRES

BA is considered by many to be the “Paris of South America” and it has a decidedly European, rather than South American, feel. It is a large, lively, slightly neurotic and theatrical city — sort of San Francisco-Paris-Madrid on a cheap Malbec hangover.

FERIA SAN TELMO

Our hosts, Genevieve (Mexican-born, lived in South Africa, educated in Switzerland) and Marcelo (Argentine of Italian descent) have both worked in theater all over the world and have an extraordinary home full of objects d’art from their work and travels. With theatre paraphenalia and African sculptures everywhere, eclectic collections of every kind, eight hysterical cats (including Malcolm X, the magnificent king of the pride; Mozart, who has a heavy streak of Golden Retriever in his personality; Moliere, a black beauty; Mustafa and Morticia, cautiously friendly), a mix of international music playing at any given moment, and a fun, funny, fascinating family, we began our vacation on a perfect note in the perfect place.

Their home is in barrio San Telmo. A colorful, slightly funky, quickly gentrifying neighborhood full of antique shops, art galleries and tango schools, it is famous for its Sunday crafts fair which sprawls for no less than 20 blocks. As luck would have it, this particular Sunday was also a once-yearly celebration which we quickly discovered was no ordinary tzchotchkies-for-tourists affair. Oh no nos amigos — this was something else altogether. Alan describes it as “Cabrillo Arts Show Meets ComicCon.” I would only add “and Fellini Directs.”

In addition to the usual bad crafts and robomimes of Feria San Telmo, there were people in elaborate costumes and fully staged booths. Among them: Samuri warrior; very old Rapunzel (complete with old prince drinking a cup of coffee); guys in gorilla suits; Leonardo’s Virgin of the Rocks; Eco-woman in a trash can; Edith Piaf impersonator; and Alan’s favorites, septegenarian Batman, Robin and the Joker. They weren’t selling anything. They just wanted to dress up and have their pictures taken — for ego, not for money.

I met the Julia Child of Argentina. Evidently, she had the first popular television show and best-selling cookbook — several decades ago. So the aged pair — “Julia” brought along her sister — had a large booth oufitted with a crumbling copy of the now antique book and signature mixer. They stood for hours, with a petrifying crepe to one side, beating together an egg and some farina. It was about 90 degrees outside so “baking” demonstration took on extra meaning for us all.

OFF (and on) THE WALL ART

The city is full of colorful murals at every turn and we took many as we explored the different barrios. We also strolled through MALBA, the modern art museum which we enjoyed more for its design than contents because the best of the collection was closed off. However, just a few blocks away, we were able to view Floralis Generica, a gigantic metal sculpture that opens and closes using some sort of solar control.

Late one afternoon, we stumbled into multiple art show openings at Galeria Borges. The Art of Advertising show was a knock-out. At some point, we were asked by an Italian photographer if we would pose for a photo that might someday appear who-knows-where. (Look for us next time you’re in Italy at a swanky art opening.) Our favorite painting depicts 13 women at a long table, talking among themselves and cooing over a plastic bowl. See if you can guess the title.

We also happened upon The International Photojournalism Exhibition & Awards show. From sports to social justice to AIDS, every piece was striking.

And, of course, there was wine flowing everywhere. It may have been the Argentine version of Two Buck Chuck, but it was damn good.

POLITICS (not) AS USUAL

First a few thoughts on the eve of our departure from the U.S….

Tomorrow, for the first time in eight years, Alan and I will land in a foreign county without feeling the need to adopt Canadian accents or identify ourselves as “Californians-who-hate-Bush.” We won’t have to struggle to explain the idiocy and greed that has ruled this land. (We were in India for the 2000 election/robbery and people asked us why Americans weren’t rioting in the streets. I have to confess, I didn’t have a good answer and wondered why myself.)

No, tonight I am truly proud of being an American. I am overwhelmed by the profundity of what has transpired and what can be. For the first time in many, many years I am truly, gratefully hopeful; and I am truly grateful that together we have been able to share this extraordinary moment in history.

And now from Argentina…

As we had hoped and expected, everyone here is thrilled when we introduce ourselves as “Americans celebrating Obama’s election.” Other travelers, taxi drivers, hostel managers, shop clerks, EVERYONE. At the fabulous French restaurant, after a long talk with the owner, Pasqual, we were teated to champagne. On a more somber note, I (Harriet) talked with one of the “desaparesidos” in Plaza de Mayo who said that because of Obama’s election, she felt hopeful for the entire world

For those of you who may not know or be too young to remember, in 1976 a military coup led by Gen Jorge Videla began the 7-year “Dirty War” when an estimated 30,000 supposed “dissidents” were abducted, raped, tortured, murdered — “disappeared.”

A year after Videla’s brutal reign began, a group of mothers of the desaparesidos marched in Plaza de Mayo to demand information about their missing children. The march has continued weekly for 30 years, but very few madres remain and the demands for retribution and information have given way to a small vigil of sorts. A new faction of the original group also marches each week, but their focus is more political than personal and they seek social justice for current, as well as past issues.

That a mother–who lost her newly married 21-year old son and his wife, both students, 30 years ago–can feel hopeful, is both inspiring and, hopefully, prophetic.

In addition to witnessing the madres (www.madres.org), we stumbled upon a few other colorful, and evidently common, political rallies.

Next up: IT TAKES TWO

This year Harriet and I are taking our annual vacation in Argentina and Chile. The highlights are Easter Island, Patagonia, and Buenos Aires. You can see the map showing our current travel plans once we get into the region.

On Wednesday, Nov. 5 (hopefully after celebrating a wonderfully successful election) we’ll fly from LA to Buenos Aires via St. Luis and Miami (don’t ask). After a few days there, we’ll fly down to Ushuia, the southernmost city in the world. Then on to El Califate where we’ll explore one of the last advancing glaciers on the planet. Bariloche is next, on the Argentine side of the lakes district, which we understand is gorgeous. We’ll be traveling over land and lakes to Puerto Montt on the Chilean side of the region. After a few days soaking up the local sites, we fly to Santiago and then on the Easter Island. We expect 3 days of being amazed by those big noggins before heading back to Buenos Aires and our return to the US on Tues. Nov 25.

We’ll be updating this blog during the trip (with Harriet, the far better writer, at the keyboard), and sending out group emails notifying folks (hopefully you got an email telling you about this post).