Alan Irwin’s Blog

Howdy Folks,

Here’s an update on the fire in Santa Barbara. We are currently safe and not in the evacuation area. So far, the fire is north of us on the other side of the freeway. The fire has been spreading out east and west.

The fire has been named the Jesusita Fire (named for a trail near its origin). It’s over 2700 acres, over 75 homes confirmed destroyed (we know there’s a lot more). 5000 homes in the evacuation area, 12000 people affected.

Over 2300 firefighters. Lots of ash in the air. Here’s the map with evacuation areas marked: http://is.gd/xG6Q

I’ll be twittering status about our household if you want to follow @alanirwin

You can also follow the twitter topic #jesusitafire

The weather is just kicking our ass.

Love to all

There’s a great feel here; the people are lovely; the scenery is spectacular; everything seems less expensive than in Argentina, and the food — ah, dear friends, more on that soon.

Puerto Varas is a sweet, little, rose-filled town on the shore of Lake Llanquihue with a bit of a Santa Barbara feel – not much to do but a nice place to be despite the soon-to-be completed high-rise hotels. This is not a charming little fishing village, but it was a good place to catch our breath and get more information about the fire back home… and to eat our first chupes.

My chupe de centolla would give any cardiologist a heart attack just looking at it. It was a large gratin of fresh king crab with cream, Parmesan, a hint of sweet onion, topped with light, buttery crumbs. Think warm, cheesy crab dip but with 95% crab…the real stuff, not Krab…big hunks of crab…and heavy cream… and Italian Parmesan… and eaten with a fork or spoon instead of filling French bread…and all the double-dipping you could want. I found god in a crustacean casserole. What Alan’s chupe lacked in cream, it made up in other shellfish, chicken, and sausage. Price: about $4.50 per chupe.

In general, pescados y mariscos (fish and shellfish) are to Chile as beef is to Argentina. Good, cheap, plentiful and served in gigantic portions. One afternoon, we ate lunch at a semi-touristy place with pictures on the menu. I chose what looked like a small soup bowl of shellfish; Alan chose the salmon which we thought came with a side of ham and cheese. Alan’s dish arrived with two shoe-sized slabs of salmon with sausages, cheese and tomatoes sandwiched between them. Then came a small bowl of broth for dipping my shellfish and a plastic two-quart bowl for discarding the shells. We began to worry. With good reason.

Out came an enormous platter with no less than a dozen GIANT mussels, a couple dozen small mussels, and large handful of clams. Beneath all that was a substantial chunk of smoked meat, a chicken leg, an entire chorizo sausage, and two bagel-sized gordita sort of things stuffed with different meats and more sausage. Oh, and because we thought the photo on the menu probably exaggerated the volume of my entree and wouldn’t be enough, I ordered a little side salad of avo and hearts of palm—enough for four.

There was a huge influx of Swiss and Germans to this part of the country and that is strongly reflected in the kuchen (pastries) and architecture. Most of the houses are covered in ornate wooden shingles that would seem more likely in the Alps than in Patagonia, and the hostels and restaurants are filled with lots of shell mobiles, model ships, etc. Alpine Nautical Kitch is the dominant theme here. Unfortunately, the Chileans got the look of the pastry right, but not unlike the chocolate, the taste just isn’t there.

We bussed down to Isla Chiloe for a couple of days. We only saw a small area but loved it. Again, great feel, friendly people, gorgeous scenery and fabulous food. Oh, and did we mention los peros? There are lots of dogs everywhere – cute, gentle, well-fed, friendly pups. We love Chile.

One of Chiloe’s claims to fame is its wooden churches, designated as UNESCO World Heritage sites. We had read about them but didn’t understand the aesthetic appeal until we walked into Catedral San Francisco. Think basic Gothic cathedral but all wood, no stone, no plaster. Wood walls, wooden pillars, wooden arches. Think Norm Abrams on commission by the Medicis (or Phil Harris on crack with a newfound religious fervor).

Our last day on the island, we drove over rock and gravel roads through head high fields of psychedelic yellow mustard flowers to a broad, quiet beach that was deserted except for three guys wearing hip waders and a friendly woman who assisted them in digging a boat trailer out of the wet sand. The quartet then rolled up a chariot of sorts and we were wheeled into the water alongside the boat. From there, we motored around the nearby outcroppings to view sea otters, flocks of black cormorants and other birds, and what we had really made the trek to see — lots and lots of little penguinos – all doing those cute penguin things.

Next up: GOING HEAD TO HEAD – EASTER ISLAND

Here’s some irony: Our plane touched down on Tierra del Fuego (Land of Fire) just a few hours before Santa Barbara erupted in flames. We were online early the next morning (middle of the night PST) and began speculating who among our friends and acquaintances had become homeless.

We knew Chuck’s house was in the middle of the inferno. But a couple anxious days later, he emailed us from Thailand to let us know that firefighters had halted the flames at his back patio and that his housemate and cat were safe. It was one of the very few houses that survived on his street. We’re hoping for word that our other friends in the area were as lucky.

We spent a couple of days in and around Ushuaia, the southernmost city in the world (although inhabitants on the small Chilean Islands might beg to differ). The town is unremarkable but provided a great base from which to explore.

A hike to the Martial Glacier provided great views (between snow flurries) of the surrounding mountains and the Beagle Channel (named for famed navigator Magellan’s ship that rounded the Cape Horn). For those of you who live in places with “real” winters and who ski on a regular basis, this may not seem like a big deal. But hey, these Santa Barbarian weather wimps HIKED ON A GLACIER!

A much more challenging day was spent trekking for 7 hours, most of it in ankle-deep mud, through Parque Nacional Tierra del Fuego. Despite the muck, a few icy gusts of wind, and only a handful of other determined (or foolish) people on the trails, it was a great hike.

Most interesting was the plethora of dams and damage created by el castores–beavers. We were also surprised to come upon a few large conejos, some Woody Woodpeckers that were completely oblivious to us, bizarre Doctor Seuss-looking parasitic growths on some of the trees, and a family of wild horses. Every so often, the trail would wend its way up a peak or back to the water and we would be treated to breathtaking vistas of the outlying islands and snow-covered mountains.

The end of the world may be muddy, but it is extraordinarily beautiful.

COMIDA
“Vistas schmistas” I can hear my siblings saying. Let’s talk food, shall we?

Argentina: Beef, pizza, pasta, wine. That’s about it. The food is good, not particularly interesting, but good. If you are a steak-and-potatoes person, you’d be in heaven here. The beef IS as good as everyone says and, as our friend Michael points out, Argentina is the only place where fillet mignon (or a thick Porterhouse if that’s your preference) is cheaper than pizza. It IS cheap and the portions are huge. And if you really want your cholesterol to soar, the ice cream/gelato is excellent. Don’t worry, we’re mitigating it all with outstanding, ridiculously cheap red wine.

There are beautiful chocolate shops everywhere so Alan made it his goal to find the best chocolate in Argentina. We soon learned that looks are deceiving, or at least our tastes are very different than the average Argentine. What we’ve tried is overly sweet and short on the cacao. Great looking, but dull. But ever the optimist, Alan will continue the quest. [Sacrifices must be made in the search for excellence. --Alan]

The best meals we experienced in Argentina happened to be French (rivaling some of the finest we’ve had in France) and, of course, Mexican, courtesy of Genevieve and Marcelo who created an incredible feast of mole de Puebla and grilled pollo. The mole was way too spicy for the Argentine guests at Enrique’s birthday party (although they raved about it between cooling swigs of dark beer), while we and the Mexicanos all but licked our plates clean.

Next up: CHILE

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