Adventures in Photography and Travel

With only one day left in South America, I wanted to make the most of it, but was unsure of how that would be best accomplished.  The winning choice for my final day was actually an hour train ride outside of Buenos Aires to the city of Tigre on the banks of the Rio Tigre.  I expected that Tigre would be a rural and most probably impoverished area, but to my surprise it was quite the contrary.

Tigre is a clean, neat and vibrant tourism center which despite its vibrance has a contradictory laid back slower pace appeal that is a much welcome change from the hustle and bustle of Buenos Aires.

The train depot is located adjacent to the Rio Tigre, the life blood of Tigre; a walk over the bridge and along its banks reveals scores tour boats of all sizes, offering trips up and down the Rio Tigre past the island cottages and homes which offer an escape from “rush” of Buenos Aires.

I booked a three hours cruise up the river that (sadly) seemed like five hours.  The cruise took us by homes, cottages and a number of sculling clubs, but proved to be rather dull and disappointing.  In fairness, while the guide was fluent in English, I was the only English speaking person (amongst 15 or more other tourist) and as a consequence the dialogue heavily tilted in favor of the Spanish patrons.

Despite my disappointment with boat trip I left Tigre wondering why anyone would choose to live in Buenos Aires when Tigre was so close at hand.   I couldn’t help but be reminded of the beach cities of the Great Lakes of my native Michigan; for me Tigre had that same appeal.      Once back on land, however, I quickly boarded the train for the return to Buenos Aires (I had no desire to be stuck on the night train).

In contrast to the sugarcane of Salta and the soybeans and corn of Paraguay (and la pampas region of Argentina), the Iguazu region (province of Misiones) is timber country.  On the bus trip back to Buenos Aires the logging trucks were a frequent sight as they plied the highway en route the lumber mills (which were also a clearly visible sight).  It was yet another long trip, but I relished knowing that it would be the last (at least for this trip).

The return trip would take me back to the Colonial Hostel.  Being a bit savvier at this point in my travels, I chose to return to the Colonial Hostel for its location and the acquired knowledge that I could make the lodging affordable by choosing a dormitory room and locking up my gear.

The Colonial is located on Avenida Tucuman just off the corner of Avenida San Martin.  It’s ideally located just a short walk to Puerto Moreno, Avenida Florida and the Plaza San Martin areas; from the Plaza San Martin you can catch the subte (subway) to almost anywhere in the city.

The one place that I wanted to make sure to visit on my return to Buenos Aires was the Recoleta area and in particular La Recoleta Cemetery.

The Recoleta is the “Hollywood” of Buenos Aires, and the Recoleta Cemetery is like no other; the entire cemetery is filled with family crypts of prominent “dearly departed” citizens of the “upper crust” (not intended to sound in anyway disparaging).  The statuary is outstanding; it’s like walking through an art museum.

Tourists visiting the site are, quite naturally, drawn to the crypt of the Duarte family, “Evita” Peron’s final resting place.  Surprisingly, the crypt, although very nice, is less grandiose than one might expect when contrasted with other more inspiring crypts.

After returning to the hostel I decided, on a whim, to explore the Pacifica Gallery; the massive four story shopping mall that was less than 3 blocks from the hostel.  It turned to be a great decision.  The dome ceiling in the center of the mall is like a mini Sistine Chapel (doubtful that they true frescoes, but nonetheless – very impressive).  As the photos show the rest of the Pacifica is equally impressive.

I had been told repeatedly that Paraguay was an impoverished and backward country of little interest to most tourists.  Perhaps this is true for the most part, but I can only report that Asuncion is GREAT city.

Asuncion itself is a very clean and friendly city.  In contrast to what I expected everyone I talked to had nothing but good things to say about Paraguay.

My time was limited to only a couple of days and unable much of surrounding countryside which would likely have greatly changed my opinion.

It’s true that the road from the border to the first paved road was treacherous; so treacherous, we were never able to over 10 km/h during the entire (say) 7 mile route, and along the way we repeatedly had to stop to allow free roaming cattle to cross the road.

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The bus trip from Asuncion, Paraguay to Encarmacion, Paraguay a southern city on Argentina border just across the Rio Parana was, sadly, a midnight departure.  I had wanted to travel by daylight a capture some of the Paraguayan countryside, but the daytime bus did not depart until 1 PM and such a late departure would have cost me a full day of travel time.

When I initially began thinking about making a trip to South America my major impetus for the trip was to see Iguazu Falls.  But the closer I got to Iguazu the more I began to fear that the romanticized vision that I had painted in my mind would be more than even the “GREAT IGUAZU FALLS” could fulfill.

Since I was approaching the end of my travels and the intended final “hurrah” at Iguazu Falls, I wanted to not pass up any opportunity to see the falls at their very best.  In that effort, I chose to go on the Great Adventure tour; mostly in the interest of getting the best out of my time at Iguazu Falls, but also due the fact that the cost of the full tour was a very reasonable $90.

As it turned out my fears were all for naught; Iguazu fulfilled its billing – the “Falls” were fantastic!  (Don’t miss the videos of Iguazu Falls).

The first part of the tour was boat trip up the Iguazu River to “Garganta del Diablo” (The Throat of the Devil).  In preparation for the boat ride, we donned life jackets and were given a waterproof bag and told to remove any extra clothing that we didn’t want to get wet; because, as we were told, “you will get wet!”

They didn’t lie!  Before going into the “Throat of the Devil” we approached very close to the smaller (but still substantial) falls and received a thorough “dousing.”  It was great fun!

From the smaller falls we proceeded in the direction of the “Throat of the Devil”, but it was obvious that we (thankfully) would not go anywhere nearly that close to the tons of water that poured over “Throat of the Devil”.

The videographer on the boat was fully prepared and held a camera fully protected from the elements in order to capture, as best he could, the full effect of the majesty of the falls (how, I envied him).

It is obvious that the falls have been major Argentine tourist attraction for number of years.  They have done a tremendous job of providing great access for visitors to the falls and allow one to be able get very close to the falls without having destroyed the integrity of the falls in the process.  There are thousands of feet of metal walkways that even cross hundreds of feet of water in an effort to bring one as close as possible to the “Throat of the Devil” as well as other areas of the park.

After choosing to opt-out of the second day of the tour north of Salta, there was no time to waste; and so, I booked a bus for Asuncion, Paraguay to leave that afternoon.  It was a seven hour bus ride made shorter by the good fortune to set next to a fellow traveler from Germany.

Actually, although Werner was indeed a German, he was now living in Switzerland and had been a Swiss resident for a number of years.

A surveyor by trade, he was returning to Asuncion to meet a friend whom he met on a previous visit he had taken to Asuncion to learn Spanish.

He spoke perfect English and once again I found myself feeling like the “dumb” American.  When compared to Europeans we Americans come far short of the competition.  The European’s of course have an unfair advantage; for them two or three languages is often not even a choice, but occurs quite naturally and is almost a matter of survival.

We arrived at Clorinda the Argentina side of the border crossing into Asuncion, Paraguay early in the morning.  Werner had said that we could walk to Asuncion and I was happy to have someone familiar with the territory to guide the way.

Unfortunately, it was not to be; as “Ugly American” I was required to obtain visa before entering into Paraguay.  This is a major frustration when traveling in South America, as most (if not all) the countries of South America require US citizens to either obtain a visa or pay a “reciprocity fee” before entering the country, while other foreign travelers simply cross the border with little or no “hassle”.

This whole matter is pretty understandable when you consider that the US requires all residents of Central America, South America and the Caribbean Islands to obtain a visa before traveling to the US.  (It’s the “Brave New World” that we live in and I am not advocating that we further “loosen” that policy at all).

The cost of the visa was $160US; but since I had no US dollars, it cost me almost $240 in Guarani’s (once again illustrating the importance of traveling with US dollars in South America).

It took me over four hours to find the Paraguay Consulate, get the required “passport type” visa photographs (hint: take extra passport photos, they may save valuable time and ease your burden) and complete the required forms.

After passing through customs I wandered cluttered streets searching for the route of passage to Asuncion.  Even though Werner had stated that it was a short walk to the city proper, everyone I asked pointed me in a different direction.

Confused, frustrated and weary from the weight of my backpack, I asked one more time for directions to Asuncion; this time I was shown a city bus and told that the bus was indeed bound for Asuncion.

I boarded the bus and stood amongst the crammed passengers and their “vast” assortment of food and merchandise purchased from the cluttered border crossing markets.

As we departed I caught a glimpse of the Asuncion skyline no more than two miles in the distance.  It was about 5 PM when (expecting a twenty minute bus ride at most) we departed; more than 3 hours later I disembarked – at last in Asuncion proper.

From Cafayate I caught an 8 AM departure for Salta. It was a beautiful ride, but I so wanted to stop, roam around and take picture. The photos posted are all compromised by being “window shots”, and I know that I missed a BUNCH!

Upon arrival in Salta at shortly past noon, I “trudged” the streets looking for a hostel with vacancy. This turned out to be no easy task and after an hour I gave up on the hostel and book a room in a hotel less than two bocks off the main center Salta (the cost was more, but so was the comfort).

Knowing that time was short and wanting to make the most of it I booked a two day trip to the north of Salta to see the Salinas Grandes (Salt Flats) and the Quebrada de Humahuaca.

This was my first experience with an Argentina travel agency and it might be my last. While trip was well conducted and partially in English, I found myself one again frustrated somewhat by my inability to stop when and where I wanted, but mostly by the amount of time dedicated to each stop.  In all fairness – “What was I expecting?”

In any case, I gave up the second day of the trip (even though was paid for) and chose instead to travel east to Asuncion, Paraguay.

The trip out of the Ruines De Quilmes was less fun; I walked (still burdened by my 60 pounds of backpack) a out a third of the way out before a motorist, after first ignoring my thumb in the air, actually turned around and came back to pick me up.

Unfortunately, once we meant the paved road he turned right and went I went left where I found myself a hitch hiking spot beside the Quilmes entrance sign.

I stood there for perhaps two hours before a native of a nearby town offered me a place in the back of his pick-up truck.

Once in town it was less than thirty minutes before I caught a bus to Cafayate and quickly found a hostel near “El Centro”.  Cafayate is another little jewel of a town. Not only is Cafayate itself known for its arts and crafts, wineries, colonial flavor, restaurants and spirit, but the surrounding area has a host of natural wonders well deserving 3-4 days of relaxed exploring.

As a side note, the largest golf course in all of South America is in the process of being built just outside of Cafayate; this is no good news for Cafayate, but the face of Cafayate will be changed forever.

That evening, perhaps in an effort capture a “taste” of Cafayate as it is today I roamed the art studio’s, photographed the lighted colonial church and finished the evening off with a great fish dinner.  (I know that Argentina is famous for its steaks, but I just can’t get away from the GREAT fish).

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The next day I bused from Cafayate to Salta and passed through the beautiful Valley of the Río las Conchas also known as the Quebrada de Cafayate.  I looked in awe at the beauty of the region and did my best to capture some photos, but I knew that at best they would only help to preserve my own memories and provide no real photos of quality (this not an apology, but rather a sorrowful statement of fact).

As Ben Franklin put it, “haste makes waste”, and in several instances (Cafayate being one of the most glaring among them) I have wasted great opportunities.

I have by choice always tended to steer away (as I have mentioned in the past) from doing a great deal of research; in favor instead, of discovering for myself and not being influenced by the writings and comments of others.  I still support this mission, but the strength of my cause is waning.

In retrospect, if I had it to do over again (and I just might!); I would make sure that I was in more control of my own destiny by driving a car, riding a motorcycle or renting either of the same.

In addition, I would encourage any of you prospective travelers to – do less and enjoy more.  By that I mean that I now believe that I would have better off to have limited the breadth of my travel and make to or three separate sojourns rather than try “cram everything into a limited amount of time.

The Europeans, Israelis are mega-leaps ahead travelers from the USA; it’s amazing how many of them tell me that they have been on the road for four to six weeks and are only a third to half-way through their travels.

It was a crazy day, but I guess that comes with the territory.  I started from Tucumán with a six o’clock “flight” by bus of course, but I missed my stop (WARNING!  Know your stops!).

Tafi Del Valle is a little piece of paradise and “absolutely beautiful” – and I missed it!

I had asked the lady across the aisle (in my best “broken” Spanish) if this was my stop.  She shook her finger and assured me that it was not!  Not her fault I am after all accountable for my own actions (Why didn’t I just show her my ticket?).

None the less, I will forever regret that I missed this little placid pastoral setting.  It was a small rural setting with cows and horses grazing placidly in the fields, riders on horseback doing their daily diligence and with a lake as a backdrop to complete the idyllic setting.  But it was the houses that set me back the most; they all, seem to be either newly painted stucco or (of course) brick, landscaped simply (yet effectively) and maintained with a clear sense of pride.  It was hard not to be taken aback – and I was!

I should have realized my error much earlier, but by the time I did, there was no going back.  I was now 25 kilometers from Quilmes Ruines (my planned destination for the next day), and about 50 kilometer beyond Tafi Del Valle.

The bus driver dropped me off at Quilmes Ruines (in the middle of know where), with only a large sign indicating Quilmes Ruines and with no arrow the specific direction.

The bus driver dropped me off at the Quilmes Ruines (in the middle of know where with only a large sign indicating the Quilmes Ruines, but with no arrow pointing out the direction to the ruins.

After wandering around for about 30 minutes and already feeling the burden of my 60 pound backpack; I finally found someone who pointed me in the opposite direction and advised me that the ruins were 5 kilometers down the road.

Luckily, my thumb was working and I was able to hitch a ride after walking less than 50 yards (I felt blessed!).

The ruins are built into the side of the mountain and appear to extend about midway up the mountain.  Although this is true for the bulk of the ruins, there are actually trails leading to the very top of the mountain were a small number of the stone constructions are clearly visible.

There were perhaps 20 people visiting the ruins on that Sunday, and after carrying my pack about midway up the mountain, I abandon it at the side of trail (believing, incorrectly, that there was no one above me on the mountain).  Although, it was not hot (about 70 degrees Fahrenheit) and the climb was easy, the burden of the pack was taking it toll.

The site which is estimated to have once been the home to more than 5000 inhabitants was occupied from 800 to 1667 when the Spaniards moved to a reservation (Near to Buenos Aires, on 600 plus mile walk; not unlike the Cherokee “Trail of Tears” walk).

I spent fewer three hours at the site (it was clearly deserving of more).  With few provisions at the site (some artisans and couple of food vendors); but no hotels, hostels where I could get a room and leave my backpack, I felt that (regrettably), I had no choice.

Since leaving El Chalten four days ago my charted course has been all via bus (two overnights on the bus and two Hostel stops -Mendoza and last night here in Tucuman).

As I have implied before, the most difficult part of traveling in Argentina is the fact there are so few people who speak English and even fewer Americans.

In Ushuaia I met Brenda from San Antonio, Texas whose husband had given this adventuresome lady a gift of solo travel for her 50th birthday.  Although we talked for fewer five minutes, I no less relished the conversation.

On the tour to Perito Moreno National Park, I made acquaintance with John Brennan, a New Zealand banker who now calls London his home.

Perhaps, the only ones conversant in English, we enjoyed an opportunity to talk with some degree of fluency and share our appreciation of the spectacular glaciers.

After we returned to El Calafate we made plans to meet that night for dinner.

It was Friday night and the NCAA basketball final four were scheduled to play.  I had (earlier) found a bar where they could pull up the game and John kindly obliged me.  (Thanks John, if we meet again we’ll do “sushi”).

A couple of days later on the trekking trail to Lago Torre, I met Lee and Youngju (the male) from South Korea and we agreed to trek together.  Shortly thereafter, however, we separated; they went east and I went west (or at least in opposite directions).  It was friendly departure we just disagreed on the correct trail.  As it turned out we were both correct; the trails connected and we met once again to complete the trek (pretty cool!).        _______________________________________________

When was the last time you saw a skeleton key door lock?  Probably many (most?) of you don’t even know what I’m talking about; but, whatever, they’re annoying as he–.  I’m somewhat relieved to find that the Argentineans seem to have as much trouble unlocking the doors with skeleton keys as I do.  Probably most of the better hotels (or even the worst) have regular locks, but at $8-$18 a night my hostel is not the Hyatt!

Ushuaia is a much larger and more touristy city than I had anticipated.  It is (probably because its National Park status) a very clean city with lots of hotels, hostels, restaurants and shopping; but also a port city of considerable stature.

I quickly began making plans to not only visit the Ushuaia National Park, but to explore as much I could over the course of a couple of days.

On my first day I boarded Elizabetten (sic) to explore the see the lobos (sea lions) and penguins on the islands of in the Beagle Channel (the other passage around the tip of South America).

The Elizabettan provided spectacular views and provide perhaps best chance to appreciate the Andes as they trail off into the sea.  It was cold and breezy, but well worth the five hour trip.  There are a host of options available, so do your shopping.  Here again, as the day closed we were suited to more of the spectacular Patagonia sunset (This time over water!).  In any direction you looked the ski was “on fire” (witness the four photos).    . The next day was spent in the National Park where I hiked five miles through the woods and along the shore line.  It was pretty and enjoyable, but perhaps more of a trekkers forte.