Reset search
A Sense of South AmericaA Sense of South America
SatelliteEdit route

A Sense of South America

August - October 2017
A 82-day adventure by What KT Did Read more
  • 17footprints
  • 7countries
  • 82days
  • 97photos
  • 0videos
  • 21.8kkilometers
  • 18.0kkilometers
Follow Calendar Share Bucket list
Date ascending
  • TravelerA Sense of South America
    Day 1

    Not long now

    August 11, 2017 in England ⋅ ⛅ 16 °C

    Exactly three weeks today, Chris and I travel to South America...

    If that all sounds a little sketchy, it's because our plans are not in fact much more detailed than that. We have return flights to Argentina (outward journey 1st September, inward, 31st October). We have the first 4 nights accommodation booked in Buenos Aires, and a volunteer placement at Picaflor House, Peru (organised for 2 weeks at the beginning of October). Hotel in Cusco. We have key sights and sites in mind, and plans to travel through Argentina, Chile, Uruguay, Paraguay, Bolivia and Peru, but the rest is 'when and where the fancy takes us'. We hope that this will give us the freedom to explore, to experience the real South America. Not exactly Magellan, but as intrepid as you can be at 50 odd, one of us with a dodgy back and the other with a "manky mouth".Read more

  • TravelerA Sense of South America
    Day 23

    "Don't leave the mam up a mountain"

    September 2, 2017 in Argentina ⋅ ⛅ 22 °C

    The first of September is a memorable day for us. The start of our adventure - well, the South American one at least. We finally flew out of London at 11.45pm yesterday, headed for Buenos Aires on the only delayed flight out of Heathrow. We still arrived on time though - strong tail winds. Even the babies in our section were 'flying high' in their wall-mounted cots. Exactly 8 years ago this day, a Tuesday, I began working at MHS. Chris was still encarcerated in the LRI following major surgery (although I broke him out a day later) and we were at the school barbecue together on the Friday. There were hotdogs, and he had brought beer and a bottle opener, despite the fact that he was 'nil by mouth' and couldn't partake of any of it. He didn't like to think that I would be missing out on anything! We talked to Mary who I had known all of three days, about supporting a student in a cookery lesson where the ingredients were 'all via mouth' on the way to the bowl, and occasionally up the nose as well. We are hoping that this journey will not be short on such contrasts, and we are definitely not going to be holding back on savouring the experience in full on this trip, preferably with all of our senses.

    This morning we have checked out our new neighbourhood of Recoleta, an up-market area of Buenos Aires, full of cafes and small restaurants, homeware stores, beardy hipster barbers, and best of all, panaderias full of cakes and patisserie, all of which seem to contain custard. This afternoon we visited a local cemetery - oh yes, he knows how to show a girl a good time. It is a pretty spectacular cemetery though, the second most popular tourist attraction in Buenos Aires apparently, like a small city - reminiscent of Pompeii I thought, with similar width 'streets' between the tombs. Of course, the most famous resident is Eva Duarte Peron, but she rests in quite an unassuming family tomb, off the main tree-lined 'plaza'. Nextdoor is the Church of Nuestra Senora del Pilar, described in the guidebook as a 'jewel of colonial architecture'. It was a cool resting place before we explored the craft fair opposite. It has been very warm this afternoon, unseasonably so for early Spring. Tonight we are staying local to eat - the Parilla Laureana comes recommended. Central Buenos Aires and San Telmo tomorrow.

    No mountains so far, but Olivia knows my record on getting lost and the heights we've climbed.    Read more

  • TravelerA Sense of South America
    Day 24

    War! Revolution! Liberty! Demonstration!

    September 3, 2017 in Argentina ⋅ ☁️ 13 °C

    As promised, we visited the Plaza de Mayo today, taking in the terracotta Casa Rosada (Evita on the veranda). It was virtually deserted mid-morning, save for a family with mountains of luggage, killing time before their flight home. Even the ramshackle encampment of 'Malvinas' veterans which surrounds an ancient palm tree on the edge of the square showed little signs of life, the newspaper articles from Argentinian and British sources pinned up opposite almost unreadable since the thunderstorm earlier in the morning. The 'exotic dancers' (pictured) practised their routines, with direction, but without music.

    After attending a singing mass in the cathedral, and, following lunch, we went on an expedition. Wandering through the craft stalls, antique emporia and gift shops of San Telmo, we watched street performers and listened to a band singing rock classics in the middle of a barbecue. We're definitely going back for the beef, but would also recommend the delicious Spanish Omelette at the Cafe Poesia, where we had already eaten.

    A return trip on the way home later in the afternoon, and the central square looked somewhat different. The large police presence visible earlier (riot vans included) was explained by the large-scale demonstration now taking place, with banners, placards and petitions to sign. Yes, you've guessed it, it was a Harry Potter Convention. Scary!

    Further info re. Falkland veterans protest:
    http://en.mercopress.com/2016/02/27/malvinas-co…    Read more

  • TravelerA Sense of South America
    Day 31

    Buenos Aires to Puerto Madryn

    September 10, 2017 in Argentina ⋅ ⛅ 19 °C

    We left Buenos Aires on Wednesday. We had to check out of our apartment at 10am but the 'overnight' bus to Puerto Madryn did not leave until 3pm. So, after a little confusion with the concierge about timings (I need more practice telling the time in Spanish), we left our luggage in reception and headed into town for a quick whizz around the Botanical Gardens. You can never see too many exotic plants (long pink dangly things and large bushes) in my opinion. After collecting the bags, we had an early lunch in a very friendly cafe - before we left, the solicitous proprietor asked if we were ok and supplied us with bottles of water for the onward journey. Perhaps we looked a little frazzled after the 'broken backpack strap incident' earlier. A swift but difficult tube trip (same backpack problems) saw us emerge into the area around the station. The main street was lined with alleyways of corrugated tin shanties and was full of fast-moving commuters and street vendors. The homeless lay sleeping across the pathways, chunks of bread still clutched in their hands. I soon noticed that all the women were wearing their backpacks on their fronts, and quickly switched the position of mine too. We entered the haven of the station building to await the announcement of our bus platform number. We waited, and we waited, then we waited some more. At 2.50pm, we were worried enough to head out to the bus points, armed only with the information that it could be anywhere between numbers 10 and 25. After a frantic half hour of pigeon-Spanish with anybody who looked official, and running up and down the platform (to cover all numbers), our coach finally left at 3.30pm.

    In the early part of the journey, we passed through a pleasant landscape of flat scrubland and marshes, with the occasional highlight of an egret or a roadside shrine. This, and the Bingo kept us entertained until about 8pm. The bus host even sent down two English-speaking teenagers to explain the rules of the game. He probably didn't realise that we both speak fluent Spanish. But by now we were hungry. I hadn't got enough strength to pierce the holes in the numbers with my little plastic stick, especially since it was taking me so long to work out said numbers. If you remember back to the beginning of this saga, we ate early. We were finally fed at around 11.30pm. We slept quite well, but woke early. I opened the curtain at around 5am to see an eery terracotta landscape, lit by a perfect silvery moon. We watched the sun come up over the ridge of the horizon, and I passed the time by taking photos of anything that interested me (anything that moved, and anything that didn't). Around 7am, I noticed a policeman and a traffic cone. I didn't get a picture of the policeman, or the traffic cone. I daren't. We were being pulled over. The policeman got on the bus. Chris had a better vantage point from his aisle seat, and kept me posted when policeman two, and then policeman three, got on the bus. The first policeman visited us down in our 'first class' boudoir, spending a worryingly long time looking at the stamp pages in our passports, but was very polite, and smiled at us before he left. Phew! Visions of Midnight Express evaporated.

    We arrived at Puerto Madryn bus station around 10.30am and after a brief reccy at 'Informacion', headed towards the front to find our hotel. As he reached the sea, Chris stopped to take in the view. When I finally caught up, he said, "Are they whales out there?!" We had read in the guide book that you could see them from the hotel windows, but didn't expect to see, and hear them (they boom and snort-blow) cavorting in the bay from the prom.    Read more

  • TravelerA Sense of South America
    Day 32

    The Tail

    September 11, 2017

    On Friday we went on a spectacular trip to the Peninsula Valdes, a nature reserve that was once under the sea. The earth there is made up of sand and grit, and volcanic ash that drifted from distant places when the water still covered it. There is no fresh water - drinking water has to be pumped via pipeline from Puerto Madryn. Consequently, the flora and fauna is quite unique, in that the plants and animals have to survive on limited rain water, or be able to eat salty stuff. To enter the reserve, we had to pay a fee, in the same way that you have to pay to get into the Sacred Valley in Peru, but here in Argentina, foreigners pay double. As a result, the area is completely protected and sparsely populated. There is the occasional building, but mainly of an agricultural or scientific nature, and the ranch style restaurant where we ate lunch.

    First stop on our minibus tour was Puerto Piramides, a tiny town with a small bay (Punto Piramide) where we caught the boat, or 'sheep', as the guide liked to refer to it, to see the whales. And we certainly got up close and personal with the gnarly beasts. I remarked to Chris before we set out, that the 'money shot' would be a tail out of the water, not really expecting this to happen. The first picture I got was just that, and it seemed all too easy to see this awe-inspiring sight. The captain of the ship would spot them from his cab and gently motor up to them, before turning off the engine. According to the guide, the whales are just as curious about us as we are about them, and so it appeared, because they happily continued splashing, diving, swimming, and generally 'enjoying themselves' as close to the boat as we thought it possible for them to get, given their great size - almost close enough to reach out and touch, so close that we could count their barnacles, see up their nostrils and feel the mist of their spout spray. The whales only travel to this area to breed. The adults do not even interrupt the fun to eat - they have stocked up for months elsewhere before swimming to the bays of the peninsula. Consequently, we mainly saw families - mothers and babies, and even saw two mating. "Can you see the penis?" the guide kept saying, "It's pink". Chris said he did. He fibbed - you wouldn't think you could miss something as big as a whale penis, but we did! What we did see however, was an unusual, grey-coloured family pod, one of which had darker spots on its fin, like an haricot bean.

    Next we drove along the stone road that runs horizontally across the south of the peninsula. Here the 'bus ranger guide' pointed out the most amazing wildlife. We saw the guanaco, the largest of the camelid family (the group that includes alpaca, llamas and vicuña), herds of them. They have the colour and elegance of a vicuña, but the height and breadth of a llama or alpaca. We also saw the mara, an animal that is a little like a guinea pig, but has long back legs that give it the appearance and movement of a rabbit, and they are large, bigger than a hare. The first one the guide pointed out to us happened to be running by a tiny white owl that was perched on a bit of scrub nearby. See pic.

    We briefly stopped at a viewing point, to see the sand spits that connect the peninsula with the mainland and to see the elephant seals that live there from afar, but our final stop was for lunch, at a beautiful farm restaurant, surrounded by a ground cover of autumn-coloured succulents and saw-edged cacti (with a model of a dinosaur out the back). Here we ate the most delicious lamb stew, before walking across a moorland ridge, and over the edge of a sand dune, to a shelf like area a few metres above the beach which was crowded with elephant seals - sunbathing, or covering themselves in sand with their flippers. We slowly made our way back up the steep sand cliff before heading home in the van - first across another stone road higher up the peninsular, and finally, the main road, back to Puerto Madryn.

    What a tale to tell!    Read more

  • TravelerA Sense of South America
    Day 34

    Puerto Madryn to Ushuaia

    September 13, 2017 in Argentina ⋅ ⛅ 5 °C

    The Town of Puerto Madryn

    Last Saturday we had a domestic and chill out day. We did our laundry. Chris had the obligatory haircut. Then we spent the rest of the day walking around Puerto Madryn, a really lovely seaside town, mainly watching the whales in the bay. Everybody else seemed to be doing the same at the weekend. There was a jamboree of Scouts having some kind of ceremony, gathered round a series of tripods hung with red banners, singing. Some people were sitting on the beach having picnics with their children, admittedly wrapped up, but one father and daughter had actually brought their own deckchairs. Others were strolling along the prom, stopping for drinks and cake at the beachfront cafes and restaurants, or calling at a particularly old fashioned food hut - all very British. The place was in fact founded by the Welsh (hence the name of the town), 150 of them, who arrived on the ship Mimosa in 1865 - the area was very sparsely populated and needed the man power. The cafes even offer a type of fruit cake called torta negra galesa or Welsh black cake, which we sampled. In the distance, the fishing vessel that had caught fire on Thursday was still smouldering. It had made the local news - a man had been trapped and they had had to launch a large coast guard ship (The Prefecture) from the main pier to help cut him out and rescue him. We had seen this whilst watching the whales, but thought it was a drill. In the evening we returned to the fantastic fish restaurant that has the locals queueing from a minute before it opens at 8pm. By a stroke of luck, it was virtually opposite our hotel. So, we didn't have to stagger far to get home.

    I'd travel to the ends of the earth with you...

    The following morning, we headed to the airport for the luxury of a flight, rather than the usual bus journey, this time to Ushuaia, a town right at the Southernmost tip of South America, on the archipelago of Tierra del Fuego, which is quite literally half Argentinian and half Chilean. It looks like somebody (probably a nasty British man) has got a ruler and a pen and drawn a line vertically down the map. The transfer to the airport took us through a dull, flat landscape (most of Patagonia is a semi-desert) until, quickly spotted by Chris, we reached the large modern prison, and I was quite taken by a smart wooden house, completely surrounded by brightly coloured gnomes. Then, on rounding a bend, just before turning into the airport, a large dinosaur - a bit like the Argentinian version of the Angel of the North (for those of us who head to Newcastle regularly). As soon as you see it, you know you're nearly there.

    The airport itself was a shiny, modern affair, with a laid back North American feel - long and low with stonework features, and so glossy inside that you could see your face in the floor tiles. A very polite barista served up freshly squeezed orange juice, cake and coffee, and the plane itself was so clean, and had such smartly dressed, genteel flight staff that I felt like I was flying for the first time, back in the 70s, when air travel was a special event. The last part of the flight was a fairy tale - snow covered mountains, royal blue sea and hundreds of sharply etched islands.

    In contrast, Ushuaia itself is god-forsaken - it was too far for him to go. It has the feel of a border town, except the frontier is the end of the line, just sea, or nothing at all. How frightening it must have been to travel bravely, thinking that you might just sail off the edge into oblivion. The Belgrano set sail from here during the Falklands Conflict, and the sailors on that ship sadly didn't make dry land either. There is still a naval base here, and there are large, grey battle ships in the port, as well as the rusting hulk, creating picturesque foreground interest for the many photos we took of the bay.

    The taxi ride from the airport to the centre of town was dramatic - same snowy mountains, and the pristine Beagle Channel, seen by Darwin on his travels, when he accompanied the navigators who originally charted it in the 1800s. He liked the icebergs. In conversation with Miss Wardle on FB chat, it was suggested that I was like Phinias Fogg, and the whole area does have that sort of atmosphere - a rich history of daring (or mad) adventurers, trying to go where nobody has ever gone before in the whole history of mankind.

    On Monday we took a half hour taxi ride to the Ferrocarril Austral Fueguino or Railway Line of Southern Tierra del Fuego. Originally built as a freight line to transport timber to the prison of Ushuaia, this is where you ride the little steam train which takes you to the edge. We went for the upgrade. You get food - cordero (which is lamb) and sweet beetroot relish in a baguette, and sparkling wine and biscuits. Only one other couple went for this service so we had a plush (in an old fashioned and slightly cramped way) carriage virtually to ourselves. Think Judy Dench as Queen Victoria, being taken on a train ride through the Highlands. This was a very narrow gauge railway (only 500mm) that trundled through a weird landscape - an ancient forest of weather-whitened, petrified stumps of trees, through boggy marshes and past leafless trees (there don't seem to be many evergreens), draped with an Argentine version of mistletoe which doesn't have berries, in shades of bright green and autumn peach. The final view, before uncoupling, and shunting the engine for the return journey, is of mountains - sheer cut, super smooth, ice-faced, Eiger type peaks.

    The weather here is cold, very cold, with a biting wind, a strong gusting wind. We tried all day on Tuesday to get on board a boat to a couple of islands in the channel, so that we could see the wildlife (cormorants, sealions etc) and to trek across one island to see the plants up close. The morning boat was postponed until the afternoon - the captain said the wind was supposed to drop later. The wind in Ushuaia did not cooperate, and the whole port was closed by 3pm.

    We didn't really do anything in Ushuaia after the train trip, apart from eat, and wait, and be slightly disappointed. The snow, and even colder weather came on Tuesday morning, just before we set off down the hill at 4.45am to catch the 5.15 coach out - to anywhere else. The place we were headed was Chile - Punta Arenas for just one overnight, and then onwards the next morning to Puerto Natales so that we could see icebergs - our own voyage of discovery, and an eventful one at that.    Read more

  • TravelerA Sense of South America
    1
    Day 43

    The Epic Journey

    September 22, 2017 in Chile ⋅ ⛅ 5 °C

    Ushuaia to Puerto Natales

    The 5.15am coach to Punta Arenas was on time but we were early, so we waited in the cold at the shut-up bus station in Ushuaia for about 25 minutes - we had spotted a taxi at the top of the hill near to our apartment, although we had had to knock on the car window to wake the lady driver. "Disculpe" did the trick though. At least we hadn't had to walk. We had been on our way for just ten minutes when the coach came to a standstill - it had got stuck on the hill in the snow. We weren't even out of the Ushuaia boundary at this point. An hour of tapping and shunting and boiling of hot water for tea by the 'Chuckle Brothers' as we named the driver and his mate, and a further half hour for them to summon a replacement bus, and we were finally on the move again, through a very snowy and very hilly landscape - a bit dark for photos, but I captured some interesting lighting effects with the sunrise which caused the snow on the mountains to turn a delicate shade of pink. We also passed by a large lake - steel grey next to a golden sky and snow streaked hills.

    A particular ambition of mine is to take a good picture of a road-side shrine (sad I know). There are many different types - wooden shed like affairs, white stone chapel-shaped ones, even model village style groups of shrines. They can be decorated with flowers or have offerings of food and water ranged around them. We had also noticed that a lot of them were decorated with red flags, so we looked for an explanation on google and found the following tale:
    In the 1840s a Robin Hood type figure called Gauchito Gil was going around Argentina robbing the rich and giving to the poor. Just before his beheading for his 'crimes', he told the executioner that if he went ahead and killed him, his son would be stricken by a deadly illness, and that the only way to save him would be to give Gauchito a proper burial. Legend is that this came true, and ever since, the Argentinian people (and the Chileans) have built shrines to his memory and hung them with red flags (either to represent his blood, or his political leanings).

    Travel continued again through a pretty barren landscape, but this time with views of the sea, as we hugged the East coast as far as Rio Grande where we were to change for Punta Arenas. Our planned, leisurely, 3-hour breakfast had now become a 'snatch and grab' pastry and tea from the station cafe, but just a few more hours and we were at the border with Chile at San Sebastián. Prior to arriving, we had been given forms to fill in, in preparation for crossing into Chile. I had (I think quite reasonably) thought that leaving Argentina and entering Chile were one and the same thing, but apparently this is not the case. You leave the bus, to enter a building, to give in your passport, just to leave Argentina. There is then a journey across a 'no man's land' to the border with Chile where the bus assistant (having obsessively shuffled and sorted the forms) goes into Border Control. You await his return before again leaving the bus. You enter the building to have your passport checked off against the list created by the forms and are given a visa, before everything is unloaded off the coach, including your checked luggage which you then put through a scanner for customs. Add in a biting, arctic, gale force wind tunnel in the unloading bay between passport control and customs, and you get a vision of pain, and that is before the 2 hour wait for the woman escorted to Customs for bringing in too much food - fresh fruit and veg had to be offloaded (or eaten) before entering the new country, or (as we were advised on a later border-hopping trip) carried in coat pockets because border control don't check! This did lead to a 'hairy' moment on said trip when a dog came down the line jumping up and sniffing. Luckily, the 'sniffer dog' turned out to be a 'border pet'.

    We could tell we had finally entered Chile because the road had turned to a dirt track. It did eventually improve to a very narrow concrete road (you could feel the draught and the threat of oncoming traffic) until a sign saying 'FIN DE CAMINO' or 'End of the Road'. We had reached a *body of water*, and the road had became a slipway for a vehicle ferry. We had just missed one ferry, so briefly got out of the coach for a bit of 'fresh air', or a battle to remain standing against the gale. The next ferry couldn't fit us on (too many trucks). So, third time lucky. We were instructed to walk onto the ferry, where we sat in closed-in side areas, whilst LARGE waves crashed (making beautiful salt patterns) against the windows!

    *The area of water that separates Tierrra del Fuego from mainland Chile*

    Just a 'few more hours' and we eventually arrived in Punta Arenas around 8pm. A quick dash in the dark and rain with our bags, via a couple of hotels for directions, and we were in a lovely, traditional, very cosy and warm, and quite grand hotel, just off the main Plaza de Armas. Our balconied window was in sight and sound of the bell tower of the main church. In under an hour we were eating one of the best meals of the trip in a French restaurant nearby - guanaco! for me and beef for Chris, with delicious merlot and a shared trio of flans, including calafate berries (a national seasonal delicacy).

    The following morning, after a quick tour of the banks to get cash (money is a whole other blog!), a photographic circuit of the Plaza, and a church visit, we were off again - on the 12.30 (las doce y media) coach to Puerto Natales, our ultimate destination for the next few days, to see the glaciers and the wildlife.    Read more

  • TravelerA Sense of South America
    11
    Day 49

    Puerto Natales

    September 28, 2017 in Chile ⋅ ⛅ 3 °C

    Thursday 14th Sept, late afternoon...

    A taxi from the bus station at Puerto Natales took us to the Wild Hostal and a warm welcome from Yari, our Finnish host. Hijo (Son), the dog, was looking out for us on the back of the sofa in the window of the reception bar. Yari's Chilean partner was on the late shift. Our room for the first two nights was one of three, in a chalet in the garden, very influenced by the owner's Scandinavian roots - coat hooks made out of tree branches, wood floors, and all hand-made fixtures and fittings. A lovely view of the white blossom tree from the stepped verandah. Very cosy. After a trip to the bank, and then to the travel agents to book our onward flight (too tortuous to describe! - maybe later), we 'stayed in' and had home-made beef burgers made by Yari and his daughter (working there for the season), local (and free) beer, and alfajores (a biscuit filled with dulce de leche).

    On Yari's advice, we had booked trips for the next two days. The first, to see the massive Perito Moreno Glacier was the following day, and involved a very long journey. After a speedy breakfast at the hostal, we set off at 6.30am and didn't arrive until about 2pm in the afternoon. We had taken bread, cheese and fruit but were grateful for the hot chocolate & croissant and empanada stops. The glacier is at a place called Calafate and is part of the Parque Nacional de Los Glaciares which melt to create Lago 'Argentina'. So, unfortunately, this also meant that we had to endure another border crossing(s), because the huge Glacier is just into Argentina and you may remember that Puerto Natales is in Chile. Sigh. We actually had to wait for the border (a series of huts) to open at 8am. This is where our 'hairy' moment with the 'mascota mut' took place. Luckily, he obviously hadn't got a taste for apples and oranges stuffed into pockets.

    The Moreno is much visited because of how close you can get to it - the walkway and viewing points are suspended above it. It is a spectacular size and colour - its edges are like the White Cliffs of Dover, and it is true, ice-blue. Small sections had broken away, or calved, to form ice flows. The glacier moves, and we heard the great boom and groan as it came into contact with and was compressed against the capes. The weather was 'apocalyptic, torrential rain', and even though we were wearing over-capes, I have to admit that we virtually jogged the route over the walkways, frantically snapping pics and trying to use small dry bits of my clothing (there were none after the first five minutes) to wipe the lens. By the time we reached the cafe we were drenched, but others of the party were wet down to their underwear. It was only Chris' internet ponchos that saved us the same fate. We made the long trek home, drying scarves and socks on the bus heaters as we went.

    The next day, we went on a much more relaxing mini-bus tour, with a guide who took us into the Torres del Paine National Park, searching for wildlife, and stopping as and when we found anything :) Again, we paid foreigners' rates to get in. There was just one easy trek, to one of the two waterfalls that we visited. We stopped for a 'panorama' of a lake. We saw an American eagle. We were able to get close-ups of guanaco, and we saw a long distance puma - as the guide said, "probably better long-distance". At a lunch stop, where we ate our pre-prepared lunch in a picnic shelter at a chalet site, we also saw cara cara birds. Actually, I think they were after our bread and cheese. The best bit for me though, was a walk across a beautiful beach, situated at the foot of a swish hotel, with misty views of the 6km wide and 30m high Great Grey Glacier in the distance - it could just be seen as a pure white area connecting the two promontories of the bay. The beach itself was water-colour and charcoal, in tonal greys. Finally, a trip to a wide-mouthed cave (not a frog) in an area where dinosaurs had roamed free. There were even dinosaur sized guanaco and horses in them days, but the main character was a massive sloth/bear, which was re-created for visitors at the cave entrance.

    A reasonable return time meant a leisurely meal at the 'Wild' place, again with free beer, and a move to our new room (very large) in the main house, with shared washing facilities with the true hostellers in the dorms. We don't even share a bathroom with each other at home, but it was ok. We survived.    Read more

  • TravelerA Sense of South America
    Day 54

    Independent Chile: Santiago

    October 3, 2017 in Chile ⋅ ⛅ 14 °C

    We left the Wild Hostal early on the Sunday, to catch the bus back to Punta Arenas for our flight to Santiago. It was a beautiful afternoon as we approached the city - a silver pool of molten silver in the river delta, and blue waves of mountains under the wing as we came into land. The 'boutique' hotel was 1930s deco, with a black and white tiled hall leading to a wide, winding, concrete staircase. We were at the very top, in a large room with very very creaky floorboards, extra wide bed, and antique furniture. We could hear that next door had the same flooring. Breakfast was at chintzy tables overlooking the courtyard garden, and I had my daily fight with the avant garde fruit juicing machine to the sound of 30s and 40s dance band music. Following check-in, we walked across the bridge into an area recommended by the hotel and had dinner, high up on an outside terrace, looking out over a lively mall of restaurants bars and shops. It was Independence Day weekend, so whole families were out celebrating.

    After breakfast on the Monday, we walked through the Parque Forestal which connected our hotel in Providencia with downtown Santiago. The sun was shining, and even though it was early, it was pleasantly warm. Created on reclaimed land from the Mapocho River, the park consists of a central walkway, edged with lines of plane trees and small grassy areas dotted with sculptures, including the imposing German Fountain. With a large boat at its heart and surrounded by numerous Roman sea gods, the fountain symbolises the different aspects of Chile's Independence and was commissioned by the Germans in the run up to the centenary of the event. This led us, up a steep slope, to yet another park, on a hill, with a palace at its peak. After signing the visitor's book at the entrance gate, we strolled around the flowerbeds and took photos of the views, before heading towards the Plaza de Armas where we were hoping there may be a parade. We were not disappointed. People had already started to gather at the gated railings which had been closed under the colonnades, to prevent access along the near side of the square, and soldiers with white plumed helmets had begun to line up on the far side. We stood with a very diverse and extremely friendly group of people. In fact some may say that we were accosted. There was the man who (once he realised we were English) gave us a running commentary of the event, a large amount of which we didn't understand. This was after he had shown us his identity card to prove his own English heritage - his surname was Taylor. Another man told us in which direction the soldiers would march. He informed us that the open-topped limo (presently parked outside the cathedral and flanked by security) had been used to transport the Queen around Santiago when she went on her tour of South America in 1967. He must have been a mere child in the 60s, so we were aware of how significant this event must have been for the Chileans. However, on this occasion the car was waiting to transport the president, who was attending a service in the cathedral. Another man who had obviously prepared for the occasion with a few drinks, told us where we could find food - most shops were closed for the day. When we got stuck on one part of the conversation, he asked his partner to help because, he said, he spoke good English. He promptly replied (in English), "Oh I don't feel like speaking English today". Front view 'seats' at the railings were taken by the lady in a wheelchair wearing full arctic weather gear (remember it was warm), and her friend, who was slumped asleep at her feet. The open car, the sniper on the roof of the tower block, the high ranking military with gold lanyards and epaulettes, dripping with medals that they couldn't possibly have lived long enough to earn - I couldn't help thinking of President Kennedy and the grassy knoll, or The Day of the Jackal. I was very wary of using the telephoto on my camera in case the man on the roof mistook it for a gun, but I summoned the courage and I shot him.

    In the afternoon, we crossed the bridge to explore downtown Providencia, a grungy area over the bridge from our hotel, with dramatic, slightly militant street art and numerous cafes and restaurants. Santiago's funicular is in this area, and the foot of the hill is full of stalls crammed with essential items for the tourists to buy. The merchandise was very similar to the stuff on sale at Goose Fair - sugary drinks and greasy snacks and brightly coloured, fluffy, shiny things. You know it's a fiesta day in South America when there's a man with a llama (decked out in pom-poms and embroidered saddle cloths) walking through the market - selling photos. There were massive queues for the lift, so we walked up part way to get misty views of the bottoms of the mountains that surround Santiago. We returned for dinner to this area - a barbecue restaurant where we sat outside (in our coats) to eat charred chunks of meat on sticks, called anticucchos. Rather chewy, but very authentic.

    On Tuesday, we returned to the Plaza de Armas, which was now open for viewing - a lovely square with large, protected trees, a cathedral, and a grand, iced, wedgewood-blue building, and three felt hobby horses (without the rockers), mummy, daddy and baby sized, decorating the central space?! Chris had his hair cut by a hairdresser who seemed to specialise in wigs, which were hanging from every available space in the tiny salon. Fortunately Chris decided to opt for the razaradora, rather than the rug. We had lunch in a fish hall - rather cold, but good fish in sauce, with fried potatoes. In the afternoon, we caught the metro out to O'Higgins Park for the main Independence Day military parade, with floats and flags and feathers in abundance, and the president's head, just visible above the crowd, in that car again. We had had to work for this spectacle - at least an hour queueing, resisting the obligatory food and drink from the impromptu street vendors, and a dodgy scrum at the end when late arrivals tried to push in. We were entertained though, by a man carrying a can of beer, with rouged cheeks, false eyelashes, and wearing a plaited wig and a flowery dress, probably shouting 'Up the army!', but we weren't sure.

    Wednesday morning, before our bus trip to Valparaiso, we got up early to avoid the competition for the funicular, and were first on the car to the top to see the statue of Mary, the outdoor church, the three crosses, and the magnificent views over the city. Quick trip on the metro again with our luggage, and onwards, by bus, yet again.    Read more

  • TravelerA Sense of South America
    Day 56

    Valparaiso

    October 5, 2017 in Chile ⋅ 🌙 13 °C

    We stayed at the Hotel Brighton, a yellow, clapperboard house, perched on the edge of one of the many hills upon which Valparaiso is built. Opinion varies - the poet Pablo Neruda said that there were no hills in Valparaiso, using the geographical definition of a hill as a separate entity. However, the general consensus is that there are at least 42. From our black and white tiled hotel terrace, there were views to the city, the sea, and to a small square, directly down from our bedroom window. When we stood in the square, at the beginning of our free walking tour, the hotel loomed garishly over the group, and we were simply able to point skyward when asked where we were staying. In fact, our walking route eventually took us past our accommodation, to take in the brilliant views from the promenade just beyond it.

    Valparaiso was once very grand, an important naval town because of its location, and has a number of fine buildings and monuments that indicate its former glory. However, the building of the Panama Canal put paid to all that - Valparaiso is no longer a stopping point for shipping, travelling between the Pacific and Atlantic oceans, and has gone into a steady decline ever since. For example, in its heyday, there were thirty one lifts dotted around Valparaiso, to assist with pedestrian transport up its many hills, but now only fourteen remain, most of which are out of service. When we were there, only two were in use. Another, the one nearest to our hotel, was under renovation.

    The walking tour we joined was led by Dani, a very knowledgable local who has lived in Valparaiso all his life, even attending one of the many universities in the city. I don't think there is anything he doesn't know about his place of birth - politics, street art, culture, history, and more politics, and he didn't leave anything out. We started about 10.15, and he said to expect his tour to last about 5 hours! Luckily there was a stop for lunch, at a cafe that sold great empanadas (South American pasties).

    Valparaiso is particularly known for its colourful houses, street art and graffiti and it did seem that every available space was decorated. Dani said that there is a section of Valparaiso society who feel that this is a bad thing, and that some of the culture of the town is being lost as a result. He took us to a gated alleyway that had once been his favourite tour stop because of the variety and ever-changing nature of its artwork. It was now painted in magnolia - the owner had decided that, although he appreciated the street art, he wanted things doing "the right way" and was only going to allow specially invited artists to decorate his walls. It is true that even the most traditional of buildings has not been spared the vivid decorative treatment. There is graffiti on walls, floors, doors, steps - one staircase was painted as a piano keyboard, and another with a message, "We are not hippies, we are happies". Not quite as profound as the 'poesia' that I saw written on Cusco's walls three years earlier, but very flowery and cheerful, nonetheless. A rare place without graffiti, a telegraph pole, was yarn bombed in protest, and bunting was strung in the gaps between houses. I personally think the wiring in the town is more of an eyesore than some of the less accomplished graffiti and tags (all of it visible, twisted like some Gordian knot, and often hanging within touching distance), and also a serious fire hazard - there was in fact a massive fire in Valparaiso in 2014 that killed 15 people and destroyed more than 2000 homes.

    Transport was interesting in Valparaiso too. We saw a VW Beatle, still in working order being driven round the cobbled streets near our hotel, and obviously there was the remains of the lift system for higher ground. My personal favourite however, was the slide that connected one level of ground to another on Concepcion HilI. I may even have used it if it hadn't been for my dodgy back. Chris didn't hold back though, despite the queue of school children waiting for a turn. Most interesting though were the trolley buses, many of which were relics from the 1950s. As we left the town, we deliberately travelled on one of the oldest of these vehicles, and were rewarded with a tune from a busker on a mandolin who serenaded us from the back of the bus.

    Would I recommend staying at Hotel Brighton? Probably not. Our room was quite dark and dingy, down some stairs in the middle of the terrrace. The bathroom was fairly grotty, with a Bleasby style 'killer shower' (personal family joke), and the bed was very uncomfortable, with shot springs - extremely painful on a bad back. However, the restaurant was excellent - the food was delicious, and the views from the terrace (where we could have taken the very good breakfast, if we were hard enough) were exceptional.    Read more

  • 2024© FindPenguins
  • Home
  • About us
  • Blog
  • Group Tracking
  • Press
  • Terms
  • Privacy Policy & Cookies
  • Support
  • Legal notice
  • English