A birthday to remember
Trip Start
Nov 15, 2006
1
9
60
Trip End
Aug 04, 2007
Mendoza,
Argentina
Friday, December 29, 2006
26 December
Tedium of a 20-hour coach journey from Bariloche to Mendoza (both in Argentina) broken only by an upset stomach (the first since Ive been away) on a double decker coach with a paperless, un-Tardis like toilet. I can correct the adverts, Immodium actually takes 3 hours to kick in rather than the quoted 15 mins. The obvious agony was compounded by "helpful" staff who, after I made the heinous crime of flushing the toliet twice, greeted my exit from the toliet with a a tirade of Spanish as they handed me a bottle of water. My interpreter was asleep, so I assumed noises from the toilet had signalled that I was very ill and they were offering me water to bring me back from the abyss. However, after I drunk some of the water, the bloke pushed me back in the toilet and gestured for me to (unnecessarily) use the water to flush the toilet. On leaving the toilet (shame-faced) a second time, he again prevented my full exit and handed me disinfectant to pour down the toilet (again, unnecessarily). This was all in full view of the coach, and accompanied by a stream of unintelligible Spanish, as I crawled back to my seat humiliated.
27 December
Quiet day at office in Mendoza ahead of Charlie´s birthday tomorrow; there was a travelling-enforced cap on birthday present expenditure of 20 pounds....it was absolutely heartbreaking.
- Our good luck in hostels ran out: the swimming pool (de rigeur in 30 degrees heat) also attracted 18-25 party crowd (with unhealthy preponderance of English males) who were seemingly unintimidated by my stretches and keep-uppies (double figures twice achieved) on the lawn.
(Editor´s notes: Mendoza is a beautiful city. Absolutely boiling but with treelined streets and pretty architecture, very pleasant. The much lauded San Martín park, is however, not. A rubbish strewn dustbowl with the relic of the stadium built for the ´78 World Cup did little for our hot and bothered tempers, so back to the kids at the hostel, joy.)
28 December (Charlie´s birthday)
- Not sure if it was a dream start to her birthday given that:
a) she woke up in a dorm with 7 others,
b) we barely slept a wink due to the mating calls of the 18-25 crowd throughout the night, combined with 25% of our room snoring [why are these people not staying in barns?]
c) her presents from me consisted of a penguin-like chocolate biscuit, a pop-up Dr Jekyll and Hyde book in Spanish (one of us needs the practice), the collected works of John Steinbeck (Mice and Men etc) and an IOU for a necklace. I had thought it would be harder to stay within the 20 pounds expenditure cap.
- In an effort to salvage something from the day we did a "vineyard and bikes tour" (virtually all Argentinian wine comes from the Mendoza region). The nose-dive the day had taken, however, steepened as Charlotte whilst on the bus to the vineyards was CAUGHT fare-dodging. Charlotte says it was an accident, the first time she had ever done it etc., but I personally have NEVER been so embarrassed (by delicous irony I had bought a ticket). Charlotte´s mea culpa response was confined to "fare-dodging, now I am true Wensley."
(Editor´s note: It WAS an accident, some confusion with an old lady and her ´oyster card´ and the bus driver telling me it was alright.)
- When we collected the bikes, and after I had checked that the one-woman crime wave Charlie had paid for her bike and stayed away from the petty cash, my keenness to get the birthday back on track resulted in me cycling off the forecourt at high speed, and somehow clipping a 20-foot high yellow inflatable arch over the entrance. This knocked one end of the giant banana-like arch off the gas pump inflating it, with it consequently deflating on me and the bike and apparently only leaving my right hand visible. My cries for help were met with "WHAT is it Ben?" from Charlie, "Well Charlotte, its probably better if you come and see ..." from me. The shop owner could not understand how it happened, luckily for me a watching, if bemused, Swiss couple demonstrated their world famed silence in the face of wrong-doings.
- As for the actual wine-tour, it involved too many moments of non-tasting but we learnt a smattering about wines. In our humble opinion, Merlot´s are not where it´s at, Charlie goes for Malbec, me for Cabernet Sauvignon, and don´t insult us by offering anything from 2004 - we wouldn´t give it to the servants.
- We closed her birthday with by far the best meal we´ve had since we´ve been here, spending a mind-blowing (for Argentina) 50 pounds on slap-up (enormous) steak y vino tinto dinner at La Barra. Unfortunately, later on, noise allegedly from the dorm next door causes Noise Patrol (me) to don its kit (had been on active service 5 nights already) and climb up on the partition wall between the two dorms to reprimand the transgressors. Regrettably as I came back down, I managed to jump into, thereby head-butting, the metal ceiling fan suspended just above the bed and styled on a Tiger Moth propellor. Followed by a conversation, with us both drenched in my blood, along the lines of "Stay calm Charlie, and tell me if the gash touches either eye." But if you think I was bad, you should have seen the fan. Luckily Charlie stayed amazingly calm, despite the blood, and has previous in patching me up; we have mixed views on the desirablity of a possible manly scar accross my nose. The injury and the earlier wine-tasting and boozy dinner is entirely coincidental. As a footnote, the noise next door quietened down quite promptly after the screams, another one chalked up to noise patrol.
29 December
- It was with high spirits that we left Mendoza behind and bused (6 hours) to Mount Aconcagua in the Andes, the highest peak outside of the Himalayas (6962m), given that my sight was intact despite last night´s best efforts. We had reached the foothills of the mountain by lunchtime and climbed for the rest of the day (with our 15kg backpacks on) in 30 degrees heat to eventually reach the Base camp called Confluencia at 3,250m.
- We, as instructed, monitored oursleves for any symptoms of Acute Mountain (or Altitude) sickness, which included nausea, headaches, shortness of breath - basically symptoms indistinguishable from those associated with a hangover (and accentuated by being struck in the face by a metal ceiling fan).
- The climb had been well worth it given given our new found love or walking in intense heat up steep hills in thin air with huge packs on our backs and not encountering another soul who could possibly help us in the case of an emergency. The terrain was beautiful yet mixed (chocolate covered rivers, grassy knolls, boulders, glaciers, shale) and the altitude was a new challenge, meaning a stop for breath (for Charlie) every few metres and a pounding headache for most of our stay. We camped overnight at base camp among those climbing all the way to the top of mountain (including macho guy wanting to do it as quickly as possible despite it being highly dangerous and an 18 year old Yank determined to do it solo and so become the first of his kind to do so). Coming back to climb the peak was enthusiastically discussed as it´s a ´plod´ rather than a technical climb
30 December
- We were alone in getting up early, no one seems capable of getting up early in the Southern Hemishphere, with many struggling to get up in time for the siesta, and climbed up to around 4,000 meters, Charlie fine depsite her athsma, before heading all the way down at double the speed of the ascent. We paid a quick visit to Puente del Inca a natural bridge that was used by the Incas on their route across the Andes and is bright yellow and amorphous due to the hot springs and sulphur that bubble away all day long. The day was then rounded off by 50 people waiting for the only bus of the day (retruning to Mendoza) that had space for 25 people. To my surprise, when the going got rough, Charlie´s elbows got a-flying, and she was second on, with me not far behind (although people had been parting for me, like the red sea, all day due to the fan-related bruising on my face).
31 December
- Wake up at 8am and 30 degrees in the shade, so time to bus out of Mendoza, leave Argentina (with heavy hearts) and head through the Andes to Valparaíso on the Chilean coast. I´d finally given in to Charlie and agreed to wing it on the accomodation, so we take the most spectacular road through the Andes (passing Aconcagua again) and arrive at 8pm on New Years Eve in a city that gets an influx of 300,000 for the midnight fireworks. Fortunately for Charlie, a local woman intercepts us at the coach station, and whisks away to her house after price negotiations are conducted in both Spanish (Charlie) and frowning (me).
- The rest of the evening can be paraphrased as: they indeed had fireworks (Ed: pretty spectacular ones), we bought a silly hat, the city smelt of piss, and we had a big row. The latter involved us walking back wto the hostel with never less than 25 meters between us, but never more than 25 meters as one of us had the key and the other knew where the hostel was.
1 January 2007
Determined to reap the benefits of our first New Years away and having forgiven each other for a slightly anticlimactic NYE, we lunched with a stunning hilltop view of the city, walked around bohemian streets (ie they ran out of same coloured paint), some one called Pablo Neruda´s house was closed, and then finish off the afternoon on 400m beach with the rest of Chile and all the rubbish they had been collecting for 2006. A lesson learnt was NEVER go sight-seeing on a public holiday the day after a major street (and drinking) festival, although this giving Val-Piss-araíso a hugely generous benefit of doubt. Bring back Argentina, all is forgiven.
2 January
In search of a romantic and quiet hideaway we left the smelly city and headed down coast to Quintay, tiny village with only a few Chilean tourists and unspolit, perfect mile long beach. Did not see a cloud while we there, with the days mostly consisting of Charlie being in the sun all day long, and me being in the sun when I moved between the cabaña we were staying in and the drinks hut (and related shade) on the beach.
- The flipside of the quiet resort is that the two main restuarns are closed on weekdays, so we have only one venue for dinner. We, however, visit there only once given we were the ony customers, the chef appears drunk, the waiter seemingly has learning-difficulties, the most sense was coming from the parrot after whom ¨Don Mario´s¨ was named and the food consisted of a bubbling cauldron'esque bowl of water garnished with assorted homeless shellfish.
3 January
- More sun for Charlie, and shade for Ben. I decided that the 2-bedroom chalet is the exact dimensions that I want my house to be: Charlie sees it as the exact dimensions of her chalet holiday home.
4 January
- Leave Quintay and via 8 hours of bus journeys arrive in Santiago. Again we are "winging it"; the hostel we wanted is full, and we end up in an all-German hostel (Charlie speaks it) - I think we will be booking accomodation ahead for forseeable future and possibly lifetime.
- We explore Santiago, and initial impressions are very favourable, friendly people, small centre, lots of history (recent stuff e.g. 1973 coup, death of much-loved Salvador Allende and Pinochet´s heinous activities conveniently ignored), and hill in middle of town that gives stunning 360 degrees views. Though, as with all Chile, far from dirt cheap.
- We have a new entry at number 1 in the "bad night sleeps¨ chart, due to a combination of a very hot night, snoring from an Aryan coming through the wall next door, plus a street party starting at 3am finishing at 6am (those crazy Chileans). To be fair Charlie would have slept through it if I had not woken her at 4am to ask what was "Stop snoring" in Spanish (she replied asking do you mean as a verb or noun) and then at 5am to ask what was "quiet." (I did not bother translating the universally spoken phrase of "shut the f*** up" at 5.30am).
5 January
- We undertake whistle stop tour of Santiago involving 101 great squares, cathedral, and a seafood lunch to die for in the central market which looked very like Borough Market and was soon explained by the kind waiter who told us the building was in fact made in 1868 in Birmingham of all places. We then got a furnicular railway up cerro San Cristobál, another hill in the middle of the city, to see where Pope held mass for Santiago in 1984. It affords more (higher) stunning 360 degree views of the city and is the home to the 36m high Virgen which is Santiago´s answer to Rio´s enormous Christ. The Virgen can be seen from all over the city and is pretty cool for a religious statue. From there we caught a hideously high bubble car (or at least Charlie thought so) to the neighbouring hill to the 75 metre outdoor pool which has similar views and is surrounded by lush grassy verges and has a huge rock in the middle of it. It is by far the best pool on the planet, and a perfect way to cool off after a hectic day. The day was rounded off by a visit to Pablo Neruda´s house in Barrio Bellavista where we were shouted at by a stroppy Señora for being 10 minutes late for our tour despite the fact we were the customers. Unbeknown to me Neruda was a Nobel Prize winning poet, who has a rather eclectic (messy) house. Charlie walked round with a metaphorical notepad jotting down ideas for the flat (I suspect in years to come the visit will cost us a large multiple of the two pounds entry fee).
- Subsquent sundowner drinks around a local square, followed by more drinks plus too little food brought an abrupt, if timely end, to Friday evening as a heated debate ensured the 25 meter gap between us when walking home was resurrected from New Years Eve. The source of the argument? The rampant inequality between rich and poor everywhere in South America, no. The refusal of Argentina and Chile to face the state killings of the 1970´s and 1980s, no. In fact, it was who made the best mashed potato - in the red corner I give you, Charlotte, the whippy (Ed: seasoned and creamy) queen, in the blue corner, Ben the textured (Ed: lumpy and tasteless) king. A mash-off has already been sketched out when we let the people decide in blind tastings on our return.
6 January
- Given the abrupt end to the previous evening, we decided we are the victim of too mash time together and have a day doing seperate things. For me (Ben) this involves a wine tasting tour 50km out of town, which involved 1 train and 2 buses. Fortunately, I managed to negotiate this due to help from 2 bus drivers, 1 school girl, 1 old lady and a builder, in conjunction with my 17 words of Spanish, added "lost" to the list. The tasting at the Concho y Toro vineyard, largest Chilean exporter to UK, involves more red wine than is decent in 30 degrees heat. Charlie´s day involved doing all the chores, visiting the remaining Santiagan sites (La Moneda; a wholly uninformative National History Museum, which managed to ignore the last 50 years and celebrate both the indigenous peoples and the Conquistadores in the same breath - we´re not sure how that is possible) and from local markets she picks up a pouf for only.....95 quid - our days of doing seperate things are at an end.
- The German hostel decided we are not of pure enough blood and discovered an overbooking means they have moved us into another hostel. We have last laugh as they hideously undercharge despite us, tentatively, suggesting they could be wrong.
7 January
Getting the hell out of the smoke and heading La Serena 7 hours north. Here I hand back the reins to Charlie who will fill you in on our exploits since then as it is now the 16 Jan. However that will be in a few days time.
