French Lessons

I know, I'm a slacker! It's been two whole months since anything new has appeared on the pages of this blog, but, in my defense, I have been quite busy. A lot, and nothing at the same time, has happened since my last entry about our not so triumphant return to Quito and the bus ride from hell. In short summary, I present the following: upon arrival, a brief bout with tachycardia and a 100 degree temp were unable to do me in (though they put forth a pretty good effort), I got a new job teaching English to spoiled-rich brats at a private high school (and, after two months of torture, promptly quit after getting a newer new job), I will be starting as an English Instructor and Vice Director of the English Department of the Universidad Central of Quito in September, and, lastly, I've been spending these past few months regularly taking non-traditional French lessons. Hopefully, at this point, I've got your attention and you're wondering, "What are non-traditional French lessons?" If not, the main subject matter of this blog entry has already been lost on you and you may want to stop reading now.

In 1936, a man name Pierre-Jules Boulanger, at that time the CEO and head engineer of a French auto company called Citroen, decided to design and create a new lightweight, efficient and revolutionary car that would later become an iconic classic, perhaps the most famous of the Citroen Company. The primary and principal design requirement that Boulanger had for this new automobile of his was as follows: "A French farmer, accompanied by his loving wife who is carrying what else, but a basket of eggs in her lap, should be able to cross a freshly plowed field in the 2CV without a single egg breaking." As you might imagine, the resulting suspension would put the best that Cadillac or Lincoln had (or have, for that matter) to offer; you feel next to nothing in this ride. The suspension is almost comically smooth. Aside from the ride, the lightweight materials employed in its manufacturing, the 2 cylinder flat twin engine (the CV in 2CV, means "horses") and the aircraft-inspired design of the 2CV make it a truly unique feat of the worldwide automotive industry.   

While this is all very interesting, you're probably wondering why am I giving you a history lesson in French car-making. Well, since returning to Quito, back in May, I've been dedicating a considerable portion of my time to restoring a Citroen Dyane 6, a later, more "luxury," version of the 2CV. Daniela's family came into possession of this little blue machine several years ago. After several years of faithful service, taking the whole Báez clan, Daniela, her sister and their two cousins, to and from school daily, the car faced, as classics often do, a period of sitting, non-use and fell into disrepair. There began my non-traditional French lessons, which continue to date. 

This is what I started with. Surprisingly low exterior rust, with some holes and spots, a cracked headlight and signal light and some very old tail lights. 

The engine ran fin, after replacing the fuel lines, but, cosmetically speaking, it needed some touch-ups. 

The interior, by far, was in the worst shape. The floor board, as you can see here, had rusted through, from water penetration, the dash and upholstery was cracked and falling apart, from water and sun exposure and there were several water entry points (cars are not boats, you shouldn't have water!)

Interestingly enough, the Dyane 6 was never released in Ecuador, which means that this particular car, at one time during its life, took a boat ride across the big old ocean and found itself here in the middle of the world. I wish we knew the history behind its arrival, but all Daniela's mother knows is that she purchased the car from a gentleman from China who owned a local Chinese restaurant. The Citroen 2CV and AMI (known popularly as the 3CV) were produced and sold in Argentina and Chile, but the Dyane never made it to the South American market. All of this means that replacement or spare parts specific to the Dyane are impossible to find in the Latin American market. I've been personally using this nonexistence of parts as an analogy for the transitions and processes I've been going through since returning to Quito.

Needless to say, the restoration of this little car has been a slow, at times frustrating, process, which is still not completely over. The Dyane, just as much as an immigrant as I in this country, has been giving me French lessons. My transition into my new life in Quito has been very similar to the fixing-up of my new French friend. Many parts, such as the floor board had to be fabricated anew, while other parts required a lot of TLC, glue and new paint, since they couldn't be replaced. Dedicating my time and attention to the restoration process of this vehicle has helped me tremendously in dealing with the very similar difficulties of visa processing, paperwork filing, and job acquisition in Quito. Just like the parts, I've had to create or repair documents, paperwork and forms to stay legal in Ecuador, and the process is still not complete.

This is part of the pile of parts that I had to rework into something that looked decent and was, once again functional. Pretty damn similar to the small stack of documents I've been putting together for my Visa and new job. 

It's kind of funny, but when I got the job I mentioned earlier, at the high school, I was a bit upset that I would be spending less time working on the car. The few months I spent at the high school turned out to be more frustrating than not being able to find parts for the Citroen. This might sound awful, but I came to the conclusion that I would rather spend time working on this car than trying to teach English to a bunch of hormonal, irritating and distracted teenagers with senses of self-entitlement. Fortunately, a new employment opportunity came up and I found myself, again with some free time that would allow me to finish up Project Citroen, as I have come to fondly call it. 

Little did I know, starting my new job, just like continuing the restoration of the car, would prove to be more frustrating than I imagined. Getting things done in Ecuador, similar to repairing a French car with no replacement parts, is, in one word, SLOW. I've spent over a month communicating with the director of the language department at the university that's hiring me, finding out what documents I need to be employed and obtaining said documents. All the while, Citroen has been reminding me to take it slow, be patient, don't break anything and be delicate. The result, both for the car and the job, has been rewarding.  

 I successfully restored the damaged interior pieces and they ended up looking just like new, or better! With some patience and perseverance, I have also been able to get all of the paperwork finished to start at the university in September. Unfortunately, this is not where the frustrations end and I am still a little way from finishing the Dyane as well as the paperwork.

To put the wraps on the Citroen and my migratory status in Ecuador, I've had to resort to calling in some help of the overseas variety, the Citroen Spare Parts Club of France and my mother, to be specific. At a cost, the Citroen club has taken charge of sending me a brand new headlight and signal light, which have arrived to the states and will be returning with Daniela's mom who is there visiting. On the other hand, my wonderful parental unit has been hard at work obtaining my criminal background checks (turns out that I am not a crook, after all) and having them notarized and Apostilled so that I can apply for a visa that will make me a permanent and legal resident. Just like my new job prospect, the Dyane is looking pretty good, but it still needs some minor adjustments. Here's how she sits now:

 

 
 

I'm playing the waiting game with the parts and the paperwork that my mom is taking care of. In the meanwhile, I've just been continuing with my French lessons. The Citroen still keeps me busy, requiring minor tweaks here and there. The brakes were locked up and oxidized after so many years of sitting, so that required a week-long careful dismantling and adjustment. The earlier Dyane 6 came from the factory without a reverse light, which is something that the Vehicular Revision of Quito requires, so I spent a few days designing a switch that engages a button next to the shift column when the car is placed in reverse. Then I wired up and installed some new reverse lights that I bought. Now, time to wait some more.

What is the most important French lesson I have learned thus far? I think this photo answers that question perfectly:

On the Concept of Common Sense in Latin America: Over-entertained and underfed

Picture the following, if you will: a bus full of ladies with screaming children, seats that were meant to fit no one bigger than Santa's elves, viewing options, should you choose to oscillate your head, that go from an endless desert to the latest Death, Shoot and Kill action flick dubbed en español, which you are forced to listen to (on board entertainment), some idiot blaring non-stop reggaeton on his cell phone sitting directly behind you (complete with machine gun sound effects), lost bus drivers who stop in the middle of the highway to read the road signs and food options that include a healthy dose Hep A in every bite along with sketchy, if not questionable, roadside vendors. If you have been able to visualize all of this, then you are sitting right where Daniela and I found ourselves last month, traveling for 4 nights and 5 days, non-stop. on a bus from Sanitago, Chile to Quito, Ecuador. I bet you are starting to catch onto why I have titled this blog entry the way I did. 

How much is a plane ticket from Santiago to Quito in April? $650.00 usd, would be the answer to that little trivia Q, and it is worth every little penny, trust me. Daniela and I, a bit strapped and feeling cheap after a full tour around the South American continent, thought we would save a little cash and bus it; you should always make the money suffer before you do. There is a "lovely" little Peruvian bus company called "Cruz del Sur" (The Southern Cross), and they just started a service that goes from cities such as Santiago and Buenos Aires, all the way to Bogota Colombia (passing through Ecuador on the way, of course). What the hell were we thinking? Cruz del sur is, apparently, the nicest bus line in Peru. The company's slogan is literally, "Cruz del sur, the pleasure of traveling by bus!" I couldn't make this up if I tried! What a farce. After busing most of South America, I can safely say that "luxury bus" is a gross oxymoron. 

Inside the luxury bus, complete with on-board entertainment and they guy in front of you practically laying in your lap!

Now, you all know by now that I love Latin America, but that does not mean that my love is a blind one. The South American culture and society is not without its faults. First off, why does the whole bus have to be exposed to to the latest rendition of Rambo? Would it be too much to provide some cheap headphones? As I typed that last question, I answered it to myself, "The headphones would likely wind up destroyed or conveniently misplaced." Honestly, if people want to watch Duke Nukem, maybe they could bring their own headphones. Common since in my country, not in Latin America. It would have been really nice to have been able to read, or sleep even, but I got to listen to Vin Diesel screaming in Spanish instead!

Next on the list, the jackass sitting behind us with his Blackberry who insisted upon impressing the entire bus with the volume range of his device and the vastness of his reggaeton collection. For those of you who don't know, reggaeton is a sort of a merengue, salsa and rap mix. A lot of it is really not bad music, assuming you're out at a night club for some suggestive dancing, but 3 in the morning on the bus buss from hell is a whole different story. I kid you not, the only time this guy turned off his music was during the lovely films. He even listened to it at night! Did it occur to anyone to say anything to him? Daniela and I both asked, Daniela politely, I not so politely, various times for the young man to turn it off or down, he kindly obliged for five minutes and then returned it to its original volume, for the whole bus to share in. It wasn't until we finally reached Quito that the woman siting behind him decided to go off, thanks for the backup! Once again, this is a common since question in my country. I guarantee this kid would have been asked nicely the first few times, then he would have been kindly thrown off the bus later on up the road in the States. 

Let's talk Cruz del Sur services, assistance and the knowledgeable staff. Upon purchasing our tickets, we were informed that we would be receiving a meal service from Santiago to Lima and a reduced snack service from Lima to Quito. Santiago to Lima didn't turn out to be that bad in the food department. We stopped at a few decent cafes to eat, we got some nice sandwiches and drinks on-board and I can't complain much. Lima- Quito, however, was an entirely different story. We received 0 of this so-called "snack service," stopped at places that, if I had one, I wouldn't let my dog eat at and lived off of stuff we bought at a gas station (Oreos, Pringles and some nasty Hostess like bread for three days). Before they decided to start their new "international service," would it have been to much to ask for the bus company to come to some sort of an agreement with a few halfway decent restaurants on the way from Lima to Quito? Apparently that is thinking too far ahead. 

Included in the category of "thinking too far ahead" would also be providing your drivers with proper directions to the places they are driving. Once again, I could not make this stuff up. Upon arrival at the border of Peru and Ecuador, during a restaurant stop, the driver casually mentions to me that they are not familiar with the highways in Ecuador and asks me, the gringo, if I know the way and if I could sit with them in the cabin to help guide them! The funny thing is that I know the way much better than they did and I wrote them some directions with the highway they should take. Did they use my directions? No, no they did not. We were, instead, subjected to the most terrifying night of the entire trip, complete with these idiots getting lost various times, stopping in the middle of the highway to check the signs, slamming on the brakes periodically and taking the extra 3 hour "scenic route" through the curvy mountain pass. In my country it would be absurd to think that it would be okay to send drivers with a bus full of passengers on a trip to a place they've never been without even a paper map. Forget a GPS, forget Google Map's directions, these people didn't even have a freaking map! 

Really, I could go on and on, but I'm guessing that you get the point by now. What this all boils down to is a lack of what I would consider common sense. As part of this Common Sense Crisis in Latin America (CSC for short) comes a real need in Latin America to work on basic concepts like, customer service, honesty, common courtesy, respect for personal space, punctuality, etc. etc. I understand that some things are culture, I've been here enough to tell the difference. For example, a relaxed sense of time is culture, a laid-back way of thinking is culture, a love for music is culture and a kiss on the cheek when you meet someone is culture. Driving like a dumb-ass down mountain roads you've never been on in the middle of a rainstorm with a bus full of people is a lack of common sense. Sharing Daddy Yankee with everyone in your vicinity during a week long bus ride is idiotic and lacks common sense. Lying to your customers and telling them that they will have plenty to eat during 5 days is inhumane, stupid and should be against the law. Really, most of the "customer service policies," or lack thereof, of Cruz del Sur and many more companies in Latin America just like them are inhumane and lack common sense. It's really quite sad and awful to see that services exist in this sort of state. 

I honestly think that, at the root of all of this, there is a tremendous need for education. That is primarily and principally the real problem, a lack of education. We need to continue to work on these problems here in Latin America, starting within the family. If the children don't see there parents throwing their trash out the window of a moving vehicle, they likely won't. If parents teach their children to respect others, if the same parents respect others, if laws are in place to protect consumers, if common sense practices are instilled, things will slowly change. What's more, I think some of these changes are coming about, but it is definitely going to take time. 

  

Part 7: Unmoved in Chile

I'm going to be honest about Chile, though it pains me to do so. On the other hand, before I do put forth my opinion, I would like to also state that I do not make it my business to generalize about a country, it's people or cultures. That said, Chile did not awe me. Sure, the country did impress me with it's very modern infrastructure, apparent cleanliness (apart from Santiago's smog problem), and fairly well organized transit, but I was left wanting more. There must be, somewhere, a Chile that inspires, with culture that shocks and surprises and out of the ordinary happenings that pleasantly interrupt the norm, but I can't say that I found it. Daniela was, at least, much more satisfied with the apparent ease of life and the vast improvements in comparison to the standards of living of most of Chile's Latino brothers, but I wanted more!

For that reason, I will not be dedicating much space of this final entry to Chile. Let me just say this, and I repeat that I am merely stating my very modifiable opinion, much of what we observed culturally in Chile was merely a form or modification of an original culturally element from another country. I hope someone will correct me if I'm wrong, but, in the gourmet alone, I felt that many things were simply "chileanized": Chilean variety of Pisco, a Chilean Malbec, a Chilean Alfajor (big, dulce de leche filled, cookies) and Chilean maté. In terms of sites, I was none the more amazed there either. Given, we did skip Torres del Paine, which I'm told is simply amazing, but. from Ancúd, Chiloé (though we did find a gem of a Hostel in Ancúd, the best we've stayed at), to Santiago, we didn't seem to see one thing that impressed us the way the Argentine Patagonia did. Puerto Montt and Chiloé appeared to be simple fishing ports, Valdivia is a nice little university city and it was fun to watch the sea lions up close, Viña del Mar gave me a very Miami-like impression and Santiago is a big, modern and well-organized city, but I couldn't find much character there. All I can say is, "Gracias Débora and Fran!", a wonderful Spanish couple, now friends, that we met and traveled with briefly in Argentina. It was thanks to them that we stayed at "13 Lunas Hostel" in Chiloé.

Best Hostel Award!

"Dalka," the best hostel's doggy. 

Hanging out in Valdivia

Beach Side, Viña

Modern Santiago

If two things did impress, they would have to be Valparaíso and "Café con Piernas"! First, Valparaíso. Who wouldn't be impressed by a city crammed into a port, with quaint colonial style constructions, built one on top of the other, countless hidden passages, steps and halls and an active ship harbor that you can literally watch all day? If there's a city with personality in Chile, this is it. 

"Café con piernas," literally means, "Coffee with legs," but I'm guessing you're going to need much more of an explanation than that. First off, you're going to think I'm a perv for being impressed by this, but it really is a very unique cultural element and I appreciate the reasoning behind it. Chile is a country that lived, until very recently, under the shadow of a very conservative dictator, Augusto Pinochet. As a result, Chile, even at present, has a very conservative culture and society. "Café con piernas" is one of the answers to this conservatism, and it's excellent. These are coffee stops that don't appear to be that out of the ordinary until you walk in, upon which you notice two very strange things, 1. all of the clients are standing, and 2. the baristas' uniform is far different from your traditional Starbucks drab, you can expect to see high-heels, high miniskirts and low cut tops (and this would be a more conservative joint). Many "Cafes con piernas" feature baristas wearing bikinis, lingerie and next to nothing. 

Still confused? Check out this cool little video I found:

If you are a bit let down by my Chile coverage, don't worry, Anthony Bourdain has the answer! Check out his episode on Chile on Vimeo, he did a much better job than I:

http://vimeo.com/24366762

Part 6: A New Face of Argentina, Patagonia

I lived in Buenos Aires in 2008, and visited again in 2009; I thought I knew Argentina, I had no clue. Buenos Aires is Buenos Aires, it's a whole different world compared the the rest of the Argentine nation. The Argentina that we have been travelling and getting to know during the last month is an incredible wonder of nature, with breathtaking views and scenic paths around every bend. Not one place has let us down and I can safely say that the only complaint I have is about the food.

I'll get to Patagonia, but let me exxplain a little about Argentine culinary culture first. Argentine cuisine consists of a rotation of a carb overload of about 5 different plates, which are as follows: empanadas (little pastries filled with meat, cheese, ham, and/or chicken, which, while they sound delicious, are rather flavorless), milanesas (tenderloin), pastas with flavorless salsa, pizza (overloaded with mozzarella) and, the only thing that saves them, asado (some of the most delicious meat you can eat in the world). I suppose that I conveniently forgot about my study abroad days, when I carried around a a bottle of Tabasco as if it were a flask, and whipped it out at every meal. It's really quite unfortunate because everything looks so delicious until that first bite, then there's the tremendous let down of another flavorless mouthful. Most of our Argentine friends insist that their food is inspired by the Spaniards and Italians, which may very well be the case, but my have they dumbed down the tastes. I am not exaggerating when I say that the most seasoning an Argentine can handle is a pinch of pepper or salt, but not both. This is one cultural element that remained quite unchanged throughout our explorations. Bland main dishes aside, Patagonia dazzled us with artisan cerveza, amazing chocolate and calafate jam, the berry from which the city, El Calafate, derives its name. 

We began our journey through the lower lands of Argentina with a flight into Ushuaia, known as el fin del mundo because it is the southernmost city in the world. Believe it or not, the plane ticket cost us just slightly more than what we would have paid to travel; bus travel in Argentina is incredibly expensive (kind of makes me miss those torturous, but cheap, bus rides through Ecuador). Landing in Ushuaia is a very unique experience, I'm sure people who fly into Alaska may have a similar feeling. As we took in the views of pristine lakes, the dark blue waters of the Beagle Channel and snow capped mountain peaks from our tiny little airplane window, we wondered if it was real, if we were actually arriving to the end of the world. The southernmost province of Argentina, of which Ushuaia is the capi-

tal is known as Tierra del fuego (Land of Fire), but it was originally appointed the title Tierra de humos (Land of Smoke). Both titles are references to the fires that the Yaghan peoples (the original and now extinct indigenous population of these lands) created for warmth, which were visible from the ocean as European explorers and conquistadors began to "discover" this territory. 

Ushuaia was both sad and interesting for us. It's sad, because of its unfortunate past. The European colonizers decided to "civilize" the Yaghan people by introducing them to shelters and clothing (these people survived in the frigid lands of Tierra del fuego naked or nearly naked by having their bodies covered in the fat of the sea lions and other animals they lived off and taking in the warmth of their fires in the crouched position. When these people were introduced to clothing, they were overwhelmed by the heat it produced, that combined with the introduction of previously non-existent diseases brought over by the Europeans, assured that the entire population of the Yaghan tribe was completely wiped out within less than one hundred years. Today, there is only one known speaker of the Yaghan language and full blood Yaghan person living (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cristina_Calder%C3%B3n). 

These big barrels were the only heat source in the place.

The sad story of Ushuaia doesn't end with the extinction of its indigenous peoples. The territory was later to be utilized a penal colony, a sort of Argentine version of Russian Siberia. The prison at the end of the world is now on display to the public as as sort of "Alcatraz-like" museum. I say "like" because the Argentines have put quite an odd twist on the place, they utilize many of the wings of the museum as a sort of art gallery, with model ships and paintings on display in many of the former cells, disturbing to say the least. Dani and I didn't really know what to think of the place; it was really sad to think that people were imprisoned in this big cold stone structure at the end of the world (imprisoned in the building that they themselves were obliged to construct) and bizarre that paintings and boats were on display here. We kind of just frowned at the oddness of the place and the decoration decisions of the current administration and soon moved on. 

We discovered a lot of natural beauty exploring the national park of Tierra del fuego and walking up the the Martial Glacier, but we were not prepared for the tremendous amount of trekking required to explore Patagonia. Daniela came with some worn out Pumas and I wasn't much better off with my Asics (great for running, not for mountain trekking). There was no other option but to buy some trekking boots for Dani and I made due with my Asics. 

From Ushuaia, we made our way up to El Calafate, the jumping off point to explore nearby Glacier Park. Getting to El Calafate was a humorous experience that put on display, front and center, years of political ad territorial disputes between Chile and Argentina. In order for us to get to El Calafate by land, we first had to cross the Magellan Straits, Chilean territory, before heading back into Argentine lands. Even though we stayed on the bus the majority of the time, we were still required to go through customs, have our bags scanned and be ran through immigration, twice! All of that aside, crossing the Magellan Strait  was a dream completed.

El Calafate is a giant tourist bear trap, one which I would rather not have fallen in, yield one thing, seeing the Perito Moreno Glacier. The Glacier Park region of Argentina is full of amazing and much larger glaciers than the Moreno, but it is the most accessible and the easiest to build walkways around. Another really interesting aspect of the Moreno is that it is advancing, rather than receding like most glaciers. Sitting around staring at a giant chunk of ice is much more rewarding than it sounds, the experience is an audiovisual sensory enchantment. As the glacier advances, giant chunks of is face halve off and fall into the Lake Argentina, creating an amazing spectacle, if you're lucky enough to catch it. Fortunately for us, we were there and waiting with the camera, right when a tremendous berg came crashing down off of the face of the Perito Moreno. 

After experiencing the wonder of the Perito Moreno, I wondered if much else would be able to impress us, I was to be pleasantly surprised. 

We made our way up to El Chalten, a much more quiet little town that serves as the point of embarkation for, what else, a whole lot of trekking. The attraction of the treks available in the northern region of the glacier park are, given you have the luck of limited wind and fog, stunning lookouts and dazzling views to the Fitz Roy Range, one of the most famous mountain climbs in the world. No, we did not scale the slopes of the Fitz Roy, but we did get one nice day of hiking to a nearby waterfall and a beautiful lookout point to check out the spectacular jagged teeth of the surrounding Andes. 

The next day in El Chalten was so windy, that you could literally stand diagonally as the bluster held you up. Needless to say, we quickly moved on, always northward. 

Our next stop was the Cueva de las Manos, apparently featured in one of the Indiana Jones films, I am having a hard time remembering which. The Cave of Hands is located near a tiny little one horse town known as Perito Moreno, just like the glacier, but ten times less exciting. We were lucky enough to only spend one night in this place. We got in, arranged everything for one day, saw the cave, and got the hell out of Dodge. When we bought our bus tickets for Bariloche, the salesman let us know that those were the last two seats, oh thank God. We were, on the bright side, completely enthralled with the Cueva de las Manos. It is a wonderful site, filled with history and mystery. It was really fun to be in front of artwork that you know was made by some of the earliest inhabitants of the land, the same ones that crossed the Bering Strait land bridge, and not have a clue what purpose it served or the significance of the designs. It's mind boggling, really. They used their hands as stencils, rather than dipping them in paint and printing the walls, and the paint they used was so good that it has lasted thousands of years. Quite simply, it's pretty damn cool. 

Since the Hand Cave, we've pretty much been on a four day chocolate binge in the ski resort city of Bariloche (San Carlos de Bariloche). We really didn't know what to expect out of Bariloche, honestly neither of us had a clue about what we were going to do there, but it had dozens of great little surprises for us, mostly of the sweet kind. Bariloche has to be a really cool place in the winter, I would love to see it all full of snow and skiers, but it was still really fun. The city is kind of like the Aspen of Argentina. I had heard that they had some chocolate, but I didn't know that this place was the chocolate capital of South America! I would have really been content just sitting around in the quaint little cafes all day, eating chocolate and sipping on coffee, but Bariloche is also full of natural wonder as well. We visited a nice park that was surrounded by a giant lake with crystal blue waters, rode a chairlift up to one of the best views in the world (according to Nat. Geo. and, now, us too), and explored a cute little Swiss Colony hidden in the nearby forest. On our last day in Bariloche, beyond done with trekking, we rented a little French car, a Peugeot 206, and sped north towards St. Martin de los Andes to check out the Route of the Seven Lakes. Dani spent most of the time yelling at me to go slower and be careful, but I was just having way to much fun taking the highway's mountain curves and rallying over a stretch of gravel road. I felt bad in the end, and went much slower around the Circuito Chico (the Small Circuit) a circuit just outside Bariloche that offers up incredible views. We were rather happy to have completed the circuit in car rather than by bicycle, which was the original plan, the ups and significantly steep uphill and downhill stretches of the circuit would have made for an unholy and completely unrewarding torture. 

Really hard to argue with National Geographic about this view. 

It's a giant chocolate egg, come on now!

The architecture in Bariloche is German inspired and unique for Latin America. 

Who could resist this?

Another amazing lake view. 

Our little French baby car. 

The famous Llao Llao Hotel, we did not stay here. 

Part 5: Tough Times for Argentina

Welcome travelers to Argentine territory

It has been a little over a month since we set foot on Argentine territory in the north, La Quiaca, Argentina, border town with Bolivia. Some incredibly obliging friends, Mari and Pablo, that we will never be able to pay back, have been giving us refuge at their home in La Plata, the capital city of the province of Buenos Aires, for about a month now. La Plata is about an hour outside of the city of Buenos Aires (the Federal Capital of the country). We came with the idea and hopes of settling down, ending our travels for a while, and establishing ourselves in some type of educational employment, English teaching perhaps. Things have changed. As I sit here typing, sipping down yerba mate from a metal straw, I am thinking about next week, when we will find ourselves at "the end of the world." We cam to settle, and we settled on further travels. 

There are a lot of factors that have led to our decision. The inherent pessimism of the Argentine people has become even more understandable to me as we've been struggling to find employment and establish ourselves in a very economically unstable environment. In the United States, people are complaining about an "economic crisis," but the U.S. citizens know nothing of a true crisis. First off, economically speaking, Argentina is going through a really bad time right now. The government is lying about inflation, pitting itself in a one-on-one fight with the IMF. Cristina Kirchner and her government insist that inflation is at 12%, when, in reality, it's at about 30%. As a result, everything is expensive, the value of the peso is low (officially $1usd = 5 ars, unofficially 1usd = 8ars) and food, above other things, is perhaps the most expensive product. Prices have tripled since I lived here in 2008/2009. This type of economic instability is all to familiar to the people of Argentina. Their history is full of market crashes, coup d'etat after coup d'etat, years of military dictatorship, which involved the disappearances, kidnappings, torture and murder of thousands of people labeled "political dissidents," a real economic crisis in 2001 that resulted in the collapse of the monetary unit, the freezing of bank accounts and mass riots in the streets of Buenos Aires, a forfeiture on the country's foreign debt and rocky up and downs ever since. 

The cathedral of Salta's beautiful center. 

As we came traveling down to Buenos Aires, telling people about our plans, everyone was unrealistically optimistic and sure that we would have no problems in finding well-paying work in no time. We stopped first in Salta, a beautiful colonial city in the north. There we were greeted by the owner of our hostel who had done quite a bit of traveling himself. This guy gave us a toothless, mate-stained, smile and said, "dale, dale, no habrá problema," (go on, you won't have a problem). One thing that is certain, Salta is a very nice a tranquil place, maybe that's why people were so optimistic. 

From Salta, we took a short bus ride to the south, to the next major city, San Miguel de Tucumán. We have since been told that there are amazing gorge desert formations in the north of Argentina that we should have visited while we were there, but the truth is we were incredibly exhausted and had seen quite enough desert in Peru and Bolivia. Tucumán is really just another city, there is nothing of especial interest to mention about it. On the other hand, the hostel we stayed at in Tucumán was simply impressive. The owners had acquired the place for a song and took this incredible colonial mansion, which was once owned by the mayor of the city, and converted it into a residence. 

Our new friend from A La Gurda Hostel 

The family that owns the hostel was incredibly nice to us. They also had nothing but good things to say about our plans and had all kinds of great stories to tell us about successful English teachers´ experiences. They told us all about how they knew this young Japanese girl who went to Buenos Aires and made money hand over fist teaching private English lessons. They had great intentions, but their stories painted us a picture that was far different from the reality that awaited us. We began to make have a series of unfortunate revelations upon after arriving to Buenos Aires and starting our job search. 

Education is accessible for everyone in Argentina, which is great, but this has also led to unforeseen issues. It seems like education is actually devalued and rather under appreciated here because everything is free! It has been my impression that the Argentines take education for granted. Anyone in Argentina has a right to free access to the state universities and a degree, which means almost everyone has a degree  of some sort. It's not unusual to meet engineer taxi drivers or economist bus drivers. When you tell people about your education, they seem to react, "And?" As a result, having an advanced degree doesn't necessarily make you marketable. 

Language courses are considered a bit of a luxury item as well, but they are not a well-paid luxury. In order for someone to make a decent living teaching English, you have to work teaching back-to-back English in private lessons and work for different language institutes, 8-10 hours a day. English lessons pay around $60 pesos the hour, which is around $7.50. In comparison, private tutoring pays around $30 an hour in the U.S. 

From Tucumán, we boarded a train bound for the Federal Capital City, Buenos Aires. I've traveled in train in Argentina before, and I knew what to expect, but I couldn't anticipate the problems that the summer weather would bring. The last time I traveled in train in Argentina was a trip from Buenos Aires to Bahia Blanca, just 400 miles to the south of the city. A trip that should take around 4-5 hours is a 14 hour experience in train. Our trip from Tucuman to Buenos aires lasted no less than 28 hours! Once upon a time, the rail system of Argentina was one of the most prosperous and extensive systems in  South America and the world, but my how things have changed. The stations, trains and railways that were established in the late 1800's have been updated very little since then. The National Train Company, FA, was dismembered in the 90's and things have only gotten worse since then. We traveled all of that time in from a station and a train designed by the Brits around 1890/1900; travel in style!

We arrived at the station in Buenos Aires hechos mierda (in really bad shape). It's all about the experience. The city hadn't changed much from the last time I was here, but one thing that was quite notable was the quantity of people and the amount of trash in the streets. In just four short years, thousands of people more have immigrated into the city from different parts of Argentina and other countries. I was completely astounded by how many people there were since before. We spent a couple of weeks in the city and realized that even more people would soon be coming into the city; it was still summer and many of the usual inhabitants of the city were still gone on vacation. Being in downtown Buenos Aires always has made me feel a bit small. I suppose it would be like standing in the middle of Times Square, the Avenue 9 de julio is one of the widest in the world and the tremendous presence of the Obelisco (Buenos Aires' very own obelisk) in the middle of the avenue can't help but impress the passerby. 

The nostalgia of being back in Buenos Aires didn't take long the wear off. After talking with some locals and testing the waters a little, we realized that things weren't going to be quite as easy as we had planned. At the same time, we still had to keep in mind that we were in a pretty incredible place, so we had to be a little touristy while we had the chance. I took Daniela around to all of the tourist hotspots, Puerto Madero, the Recoleta Cemmentery, the markets of San Telmo, the Plaza de Mayo (the city center and plaza in front of the government building), etc. I was even surprised to experience something new myself, they are currently giving free tours of the Casa Rosada (the Pink House, government headquarters) and we had the opportunity to stand on the same balcony as Evita and Peron!

After doing all of the great touristy stuff, we began the job and living quarters hunt, and damn has it been tiring. We went to La Plata to stay with our friends and slowly began o figure things out. We found out that our degrees weren't as highly valued as we expected, realized that educators are even more poorly paid here than they are in the states, and that was just for starters. In terms of a place to live, we discovered it is extremely difficult for foreigners to arrange a living situation. The problem is that it's nearly impossible to get a place of your own if you're not Argentine, they double the price of rent for foreigners. The options that exist after that are either paying an exorbitant amount of rent for a small apartment, living in a University residence or a sharing a flat. Dani and I both felt indignant at the possibility of having to live like college students again after having graduated. 

After all, we have slowly come to the realization that our happiness isn't likely to be found here. Teaching English 10 hours a day, crammed in the subway, and traveling tirelessly all around the city sounded neither appealing nor fulfilling to us. We discovered that it is nearly impossible for a foreigner to acquire documented work conditions due to the fact that no one wants to deal with the kilombo (mess) that is the process of arranging papers for residency. Acquiring a job at a university is nearly impossible and finding something with a high school (yield that it be private) is equally difficult. So, Buenos Aires decided that we aren't for it and we decided that it isn't quite for us either.
What to do? Time to travel instead! 

Daniela is currently visiting Iguazu falls with a friend. I have already visited them personally, but I didn't want her to miss the opportunity to see such an amazing site. Come Tuesday, we're flying down to Ushuaia to visit Tierra de Fuego and the southernmost city in the world, "The End of the World". After that, we're going to travel up the western border of Argentina and, eventually, cross over to Santiago, Chile. Needless to say, great adventures await us and there will be much more to come!

Part 4: Getting Way Too High in Bolivia

My expectations and thoughts about the altitude in Bolivia were seriously represented an enormous lack of oversight and equivocations. For example, "Quito is in the Andes, Quito is high up, I've been in Quito and been okay, therefore I will be just fine in Bolivia." Another example, "I'm in great physical shape, I'll be fine in Bolivia, no problem." The truth is, I really had no idea what altitude was before visiting Bolivia, the country famous for the world's highest everything. I made the half-joke to Daniela that, while we were in Bolivia, everything that we were seeing was the world's highest everything. The list goes something similar to as follows: world's highest navigable lake, world's highest city, highest mine, highest salt flat, highest coke machine, highest sandwich, highest bus and bus station, highest Simpsons watching on TV, highest shower, etc. etc. The point is, no matter how great of shape you're in, little can prepare you for roaming around a country that is, on average, about 2.5 miles up in most places.

Bolivia is, in many aspects, a beautiful country, full of wonderful people, but it is also a very sad and depressing country, full of debilitating poverty, crumbling infrastructure, and very bad food. During our entire trip, few people have been as nice to us as the Bolivians, but the country itself, one of the poorest in South America, has suffered from years of economic setbacks, exploitation, dictatorships, and so on. One big factor in Bolivia's economic woes is the fact that it is landlocked; other than through Brazil or Chile, they have no port access to either the Atlantic nor Pacific. Bolivia is rich in minerals, mainly tin, but tin really isn't that valuable nowadays, is it? The saddest thing I've seen in these travels yet were the entrances to the mines of Potosí, the once silver mine that fomented the entire Spanish economy for years until the withdrew every single drop of silver from it. Nowadays, laborers, some children, work the horrible condition of these mines, excavating tin, and often die rather quickly, from silicosis (most die around the age of 40). Traveling through Bolivia was, at least for us, exciting and awing, but it was also a heart-breaking experience.

The world's highest landscapes we witnessed were breathtaking. Our first stop was Lake Titicaca; aforementioned, one of the highest navigable bodies of water. Our hotel, owned and ran by a German fellow, was very nice and inviting, plus it had an amazing view of the lake.

The small town of Copacabana itself didn't have much to offer in the way of tourism. The village is overwhelmed by eateries with persistent waiters trying to get you to eat their variety of "international fare," which is basically really bad pizza. A little away from the shoreline and the tourist hot-spots, we came across one of the most interesting chapels I have seen in my life. It's called the Chapel of Candles, you can see why. Dozens of locals from Copacabana come here to light their handfuls of candles in prayer to their family members and loved ones. It was a very calming place to be; no one said a word, they just hovered around the emanating glow and warmth of hundreds of candles, sending up soot to the subjects of their prayers. Other devout candle dedicators found it more adequate to leave a tribute, not in the form of a pile of wax from a used up candle, but by wax graffiti on the walls of the chapel. This is certainly one of the more inventive forms of graffiti I've seen, and it sure beats the ugliness of that most "spray-paint Picassos" leave in public places. 

From Copacabana, we were able to make a day excursion to Isla del Sol, "Island of the Sun," which is said to be the Island where the Inca, the sun and the moon were created/born. "Island of the Sun," could not have been and more ironic name for the circumstances in which we visited the site, it was cold and rainy during the entire experience, and we were soaked to the bone. Needless to say, Dani was less than thrilled and took few pictures. As a result, you'll have to forgive the quality of the following images, as I took them myself. 

This is supposedly the first ever Inca site. 

This is the "creation rock," which they said has a lot of power and positive energy; I just felt a cold wet rock. 

After we passed a couple of days in Copacabana, being thoroughly soaked on Isla del Sol, gagged by the fumes of the slowest ferry/motor boat I've ever been on and witnessing the famous "floating islands," which turned out just to be docks with grass spread out over their surface, we were off to La Paz, but no before me experiencing a minor attack of altitude sickness the night before. I guess I overdid it a little during the Isla del Sol excursion, because that night I had the rather scary experience of feeling on the verge of a blackout and being entirely unable to breath properly or take in the sufficient amount of oxygen my body needed. From the stories others told me of their encounters with altitude sickness, my situation was nothing. Nonetheless, I felt thoroughly terrified at the idea that the best solution for my ailments was to go to a lower altitude when I was surrounded by the entirety of the Bolivian Andes and the worlds highest everything! 

The next day, after a night of sleeplessness, a big dose of sugar, coca leaves and tea, pills for altitude and taking in the aromatic effects of a strange herb that I don't recall the name of, we were busing off to La Paz (only slightly worse for the wear). We passed a few days in La Paz, mainly to recover from the altitude and relax a bit. La Paz has to be one of the saddest cities I've seen; you can tell that it was once a very beautiful place, but, at present, it has a dirty gloom about it. I was walked through the "market" area, the petrified lama and alpaca corpses and fetuses certainly didn't help me feel any better about the ambiance of La Paz. Fortunately, our hotel was very nice and rather inexpensive, so we spent most of the time in our room, admiring the mural on the wall. 

From La Paz, we headed south, to the real reason we were in Bolivia in the first place, the Uyuni Salt Flats. Yet again, I´m talking about a site that is so much better described through images. Can you imagine an endless desert covered with table salt and then filled with about two inches of water? Don't worry, in case your imagination is not that great (or perhaps my descriptive language leaves a bit to be desired), here are some amazing photos of this incredible place.

Train graveyard. May have just as well been our train to Argentina, as we had received the really bad news that there were no trains running to the south due to landslides washing the tracks out.  

The classic and oh so necessary airborne shot!

Structures made of salt blocks.

The mirror. Which is the ground and which is the sky?

The day before heading out to the natural miracle that is the salt flat, we had the depressive cloud of no train and the idea of the being trapped in Bolivia, but, once we rolled onto these landscapes in a Toyota Landcruiser, we forgot all else. This is about as close to heaven as you can feel while still standing on the ground; at some moment you forget that your feet are firmly planted and feel almost as if your stuck in the sky.

Once we returned to reality, it started raining again, and we were headed back to the miserable little town that borders the salt flats, Uyuni. The town of Uyuni is not much to speak of at all; all I really have to say about it is the world's worst pizza or pesto pasta made with Ramen (that's all the restaurants seemed to offer, the desolation of the wild west, and no train to Argentina.

Since there is not a paved highway to Argentina, direct from Uyuni, and we really didn't want to have the harrowing experience of weaving across the Andes, on the edge of cliffs and over flooded out bridges on mud roads, we opted to travel up to Potosí and back down, via the newly paved/created highway (brought to you by Evo Morales and his government). While the was a much safer option, it also meant that we spent eight hours in Potosí, an extremely high city at 4,000 meters, trying to catch our breath and not move much. Fortunately, Potosí has a new, and rather comfortable, bus terminal (all indoors), which made the wait much better.

Once we boarded the bus, we were off on an eight hour ride to the Argentine border. The bus ride, as we descended from 4,000 to 2,000 meters at the border, was yet another freezing mountain experience. The ride was topped off with a two hour wait at the end, colder still, as we slept off the last few hours of the morning stopped at the border, waiting for Argentina to open. We really didn't spend much time in Bolivia, but there were times when it felt like we would never get out. Needless to say, it was more than relieving to cross the border.

Traveler that walks on Argentine ground, welcome.