A fortuitous end to our trip occurred when--for no reason we can figure--LAN transferred us to the nonstop to D.C. out of BA! Our original flight would have required a 3-hour layover in Miami. The UAL flight was leaving in an hour. We could not believe our luck! We and bags arrived at Dulles 11 hours later, seven hours sooner than planned. We're thrilled to be home--greeted by gorgeous cherry blossoms!
POSTSCRIPT
1. The Argentine people are simply great! Ours was the most delightful of vacations because they made us feel at home.
2. One should absolutely NOT travel without an iPhone and IPad. Though we switched off roaming and new data, we accessed our mail and sent photos in places with WiFi, which most hotels offer for free. I used my iPhone at other times for picture-taking, making notes on the trip, currency exchange, flashlight, crosswords and Angry Birds. I had plenty of downloaded books on my iPad, plus Bridge Baron. It's easy to download my Canon photos onto the iPad for sharing.
3. Fodor's was disappointing as a guide to Argentina generally and Patagonia specifically. Incomplete, confusing layout, bad maps.
4. It was easy for Richard to organize this trip, using Expedia, hotels.com and trip advisor. He confirmed most arrangements by email, and by phone in a couple of cases. We had no complications. Organizing activities was easy to do on site, and we got some good tips (and gave some)from other travelers.
5. Best Restaurants: La Cabrera in BA for steak, La Tablita in El Calafate for mixed grill, La Cassis in Bariloche for food, location, atmosphere, price!, Sottevocce in BA for Italian, Cafe Tortoni in BA for coffee and atmosphere. For dinner, make reservations!
6. Best Hotel: Charming, in Bariloche, for location, service, food, price, everything!
7. Best Experiences: hard to choose but we think it was our day to Upsala Glacier, organized by Estancia Cristina--$150 each and worth every penny!
8. Books on Patagonia: Chris Moss (better than Bruce Chatwin), Darwin (annotated diary noteson Beagle voyage available), W. H. Hudson, Sylvia Iparrequire, Antoine Saint-Exupery, Paul Theroux.
9. Reading on Argentina: V.S. Naipaul's The Return of Eva Peron, Francisco Goldman's New Yorker piece "Children of the Dirty War," on 3/19/12, Scott Metcalf's NYT piece in 2009 on BA bodegons, online site Good Morning Buenos Aires, online CIA World Factbook.
10. Money: you get better deals paying cash. Crisp dollars always welcome. Avoid credit because of the fees. ATMs give good rates but often have lines in small towns. Bank tellers are hard to find--hours are limited, and locals line up to use them to pay bills.
11. Best Shopping: Prices are like the U.S., but there are sales everywhere. We did not shop so much but recommend Tramando at Rodriguez Pena 1973 for very cute clothes by designer Martin Churba, Plata Nativa for silver, antiques and textiles in Galleria del Sol at 860 Florida, and the family-owned leather store right across the hall. Malls off Alvear are great. Great shoe and handbag stores are easy to find.
12. Wine was excellent almost everywhere. You can get a very nice bottle in a restaurantfor $30. Mostly, it's 100% malbec, which complements steak so well.
A fun trip!
Friday, March 23, 2012
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Day 18--Last Day
Our last day in BA was classic Argentina. The Teatro Colon is one of the world's best opera houses, certainly among the most beautiful, and it's acoustics are legendary. We took a tour of it today, 18 months after a long renovation period, and really swooned over the marble, gilding, chandeliers, posh box seating. Of course, everything in it was imported, and it took 20 years to build under 3 architects, opening in 1908. The opera and concert performers were all European, as there was no such training in Argentina at that time. Not until 1925 did local companies develop. That was under President Alvear, who several years before had married--against the advice of everyone in the elite--a Brazilian Portuguese singer. Alvear cultivated the arts and the Teatro Colon, but BA never accepted his wife. In those days, women were supposed to stay home and have kids. Even widows could not show themselves for two years after their husbands' death.
It was such an elitist venue 100 years ago that when anarchists exploded a bomb in the building, which did no damage, the orchestra was instructed to play the national anthem to ease everyone's nerves--but the orchestra did not know the tune! This, 100 years after independence.
The acoustics are so good that no amplification is needed for voices or instruments. We got to sit in on an instrumental rehearsal.
Then we walked over to the Plaza de Mayo in time to see the Mothers demonstrating for the disappeared. As these old women walk around the square, they recite the names of those missing or dead during the military junta's rule in the late 1970s. Unexpectedly, a second group of marred was lending their support to a demonstration for the return of the Falkland Islands to Argentina. Concurrently, veterans of the Falklands War with Britain were demonstrating in from of Pink House demanding more attention. Interesting afternoon!
We are heading to the airport for an evening flight through Miami. That will make nine different planes for us on this trip by the time we get home tomorrow morning!
It was such an elitist venue 100 years ago that when anarchists exploded a bomb in the building, which did no damage, the orchestra was instructed to play the national anthem to ease everyone's nerves--but the orchestra did not know the tune! This, 100 years after independence.
The acoustics are so good that no amplification is needed for voices or instruments. We got to sit in on an instrumental rehearsal.
Then we walked over to the Plaza de Mayo in time to see the Mothers demonstrating for the disappeared. As these old women walk around the square, they recite the names of those missing or dead during the military junta's rule in the late 1970s. Unexpectedly, a second group of marred was lending their support to a demonstration for the return of the Falkland Islands to Argentina. Concurrently, veterans of the Falklands War with Britain were demonstrating in from of Pink House demanding more attention. Interesting afternoon!
We are heading to the airport for an evening flight through Miami. That will make nine different planes for us on this trip by the time we get home tomorrow morning!
Day 17--Buenos Aires
The primary goal today was to visit the Ethnographic Museum, near the Place de Mayo--closed for renovation when we passed through two weeks ago. Much to our dismay, it was STILL CLOSED! Hardly a substitute but still interesting was the Museum of the City around the corner, a beautiful 19th-C home furnished as it had been in 1900-- much of the furniture, fashions, toys imported, and the decor and tile art nouveau. Then we had to stop again for coffee and pastries at the wonderful Cafe Tortoni, opened by Italians in 1885 and still gorgeous with its high ceilings, wood columns, stained glass and elderly bow-tied waiters.
By 1885 Argentina had been independent of Spain for 75 years, the natives in Patagonia were being exterminated under General Roca, and European immigrants were coming in droves to settle the newly vacant land in Patagonia. BA had recovered from the yellow fever epidemic of 1870 and was growing outward from the oldest areas of San Telmo, where these museums are, and La Boca, the old port area.
Walking the cobbled streets as far as we could we finally took a cab the rest of the way to La Boca. It is the seedy part of BA, where the tango in all its beauty, sexuality and violence had its origins. We had empanadas near the water in a sidewalk cafe where a young couple
danced the tango and then passed the hat. Tourists flock to this 4-block square area in the
daytime, known also for its gaily-painted buildings. As we were leaving, four huge tour buses pulled up, disgorging their passengers into the various tango souvenir shops. A taxi back to our area passes through the saddest-looking slum I've almost ever seen,by the water and under the highway going to the airport, one flimsy tenement on top of another.
We have realized the Argentine art we've been looking for that might reveal the Argentine identity is mostly in private places-- wonderfully diverse and expressive. Cafe Tortoni, our hotel, restaurants, private galleries all have art on their walls. These artists are the ones born here, not transplants. They have lived through Peron, the dirty war, the disappearances, hyperinflation. The paintings show people, street scenes, still lifes in sensitive ways with loads of color but full of intelligence. The political art that's most noticeable is public graffiti everywhere, often critical of Cristina.
We're tired of cabs so walk to a parrilla near our hotel for dinner. The food is not as good as last night's but the place is packed. We learned today that portenos, as BA's residents are known (becuase most of their forebears arrived here by ship), don't cook at home, preferring to go out--such a contrast to their European ancestors.
By 1885 Argentina had been independent of Spain for 75 years, the natives in Patagonia were being exterminated under General Roca, and European immigrants were coming in droves to settle the newly vacant land in Patagonia. BA had recovered from the yellow fever epidemic of 1870 and was growing outward from the oldest areas of San Telmo, where these museums are, and La Boca, the old port area.
Walking the cobbled streets as far as we could we finally took a cab the rest of the way to La Boca. It is the seedy part of BA, where the tango in all its beauty, sexuality and violence had its origins. We had empanadas near the water in a sidewalk cafe where a young couple
danced the tango and then passed the hat. Tourists flock to this 4-block square area in the
daytime, known also for its gaily-painted buildings. As we were leaving, four huge tour buses pulled up, disgorging their passengers into the various tango souvenir shops. A taxi back to our area passes through the saddest-looking slum I've almost ever seen,by the water and under the highway going to the airport, one flimsy tenement on top of another.
We have realized the Argentine art we've been looking for that might reveal the Argentine identity is mostly in private places-- wonderfully diverse and expressive. Cafe Tortoni, our hotel, restaurants, private galleries all have art on their walls. These artists are the ones born here, not transplants. They have lived through Peron, the dirty war, the disappearances, hyperinflation. The paintings show people, street scenes, still lifes in sensitive ways with loads of color but full of intelligence. The political art that's most noticeable is public graffiti everywhere, often critical of Cristina.
We're tired of cabs so walk to a parrilla near our hotel for dinner. The food is not as good as last night's but the place is packed. We learned today that portenos, as BA's residents are known (becuase most of their forebears arrived here by ship), don't cook at home, preferring to go out--such a contrast to their European ancestors.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Day 16--Buenos Aires again
We are back in BA where the palm trees grow and it's gotten a little cooler since we left two weeks ago. the Claridge is our 6th hotel, and while my clothes are getting a little tossed around in the suitcases, Richard pulled out a clean, pressed shirt for the city.
We are in a much busier part of town right off the main pedestrian shopping street of La Florida. Walking is the best activity, and we browse through a number of leather, shoe and clothing stores, and track down a wonderful antique store a friend has recommended. For resuscitation after that tough shopping, coffee and pastries at one of the many old-fashioned Italian cafes is an absolute must.
Dinner is not until late, so we walk to the National Museum of Fine Arts, which like everything else is open till 8:30 pm. It's disappointing--2nd-rate European art mostly, though some nice Goyas, a Rembrandt, a couple good Impressionists and several stunning 16th-17thC Gobelin and Flemish tapestries. Not much from Argentine painters. We thought we might get a handle here on the Argentine identity, but it eludes us. MALBA, the Museum of Latin American Art largely from late-19th to 21st C is so much more exciting and revealing of where this continent, if not Argentina, is going.
La Cabrera is our choice for dinner tonight--a well-known steak house in Palermo Viejo that turns out to be absolutely fabulous. It's good we made reservations, because when we left At 10:30 every table was taken and there was a line outside. Lots of tourists go there, but also many locals. The atmosphere was fun, and the service, the food, and even the prices were great.
We are in a much busier part of town right off the main pedestrian shopping street of La Florida. Walking is the best activity, and we browse through a number of leather, shoe and clothing stores, and track down a wonderful antique store a friend has recommended. For resuscitation after that tough shopping, coffee and pastries at one of the many old-fashioned Italian cafes is an absolute must.
Dinner is not until late, so we walk to the National Museum of Fine Arts, which like everything else is open till 8:30 pm. It's disappointing--2nd-rate European art mostly, though some nice Goyas, a Rembrandt, a couple good Impressionists and several stunning 16th-17thC Gobelin and Flemish tapestries. Not much from Argentine painters. We thought we might get a handle here on the Argentine identity, but it eludes us. MALBA, the Museum of Latin American Art largely from late-19th to 21st C is so much more exciting and revealing of where this continent, if not Argentina, is going.
La Cabrera is our choice for dinner tonight--a well-known steak house in Palermo Viejo that turns out to be absolutely fabulous. It's good we made reservations, because when we left At 10:30 every table was taken and there was a line outside. Lots of tourists go there, but also many locals. The atmosphere was fun, and the service, the food, and even the prices were great.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Day 15--Mendoza Bodegas
We chose three vineyards to visit today and hired a car and English-speaking driver to take us around. Nothing is close--each place is 10-15 mins by car from the next. The other catch is that reservations are necessary for the tastings. Our first choice, Catena, the bodega behind the growth of the Argentine wine industry, is not available. The three we visit are all bodegas whose wines are available in D.C.--Luigi Bosca, Nieto Senetiner and Achaval Ferrer.
They're all small Bodegas and gave great tours. Luigi Bosca did not charge, but the other two asked $10-15 each. There are gates and guards and no getting in unless you're expected! Most of their small production is from the malbec grape, which Argentines, Brazilians and Latin Americans like, but Americans and Europeans don't as much. So it's their blends that they export, which nevertheless can be 85% malbec. Achuval Ferrer's 2009 wines are getting raves from Robert Parker--the Altamira won an amazing 99 points. We declined buying it, at a bargain price of $1000/case. Unfortunately, they weren't offering it at the tasting either.
Choosing places to eat is tricky here, as most places look seedy with locked gates or swanky with guards. We just haven't been here long enough to figure it out. Our driver takes us to a lunch place, Casa de Caban, home of a former governor that serves traditional cold plates. Our table (in a private room) was covered with tons of tapas--goat cheeses, sausages, and a myriad of vegetables and fruits roasted or marinated in olive oil, vinegar or wine. If that weren't enough, we were then served a small bowl of spaghetti followed by a meat stew. We could hardly stand after that meal.
On our way this morning, looking for a bank, we found the town center of our area, Chacras de Coria. It is very cute, about a mile from our posada, and we ended up there for dinner at a small Italian place, Piacere. (Somehow we found the power to eat again!). We have learned that our area is where all the well-to-do people who work in Mendoza live--that this is the best place to stay because the city of Mendoza is too noisy and busy. Alas, we won't get to see Mendoza, as we are leaving in the morning for BA.
Money note: managing it is crazy. First of all, it goes quickly! One can often pay in dollars, getting change in pesos, but the more official the recipient ( say, our glacier
tours), the worse the rate. The scuttlebutt from other travelers is that you get the best rate at ATMs, which ends up covering the fee ATMs charge. We have brought lots of dollars and have only been to the bank once--usually there is a huge line!
They're all small Bodegas and gave great tours. Luigi Bosca did not charge, but the other two asked $10-15 each. There are gates and guards and no getting in unless you're expected! Most of their small production is from the malbec grape, which Argentines, Brazilians and Latin Americans like, but Americans and Europeans don't as much. So it's their blends that they export, which nevertheless can be 85% malbec. Achuval Ferrer's 2009 wines are getting raves from Robert Parker--the Altamira won an amazing 99 points. We declined buying it, at a bargain price of $1000/case. Unfortunately, they weren't offering it at the tasting either.
Choosing places to eat is tricky here, as most places look seedy with locked gates or swanky with guards. We just haven't been here long enough to figure it out. Our driver takes us to a lunch place, Casa de Caban, home of a former governor that serves traditional cold plates. Our table (in a private room) was covered with tons of tapas--goat cheeses, sausages, and a myriad of vegetables and fruits roasted or marinated in olive oil, vinegar or wine. If that weren't enough, we were then served a small bowl of spaghetti followed by a meat stew. We could hardly stand after that meal.
On our way this morning, looking for a bank, we found the town center of our area, Chacras de Coria. It is very cute, about a mile from our posada, and we ended up there for dinner at a small Italian place, Piacere. (Somehow we found the power to eat again!). We have learned that our area is where all the well-to-do people who work in Mendoza live--that this is the best place to stay because the city of Mendoza is too noisy and busy. Alas, we won't get to see Mendoza, as we are leaving in the morning for BA.
Money note: managing it is crazy. First of all, it goes quickly! One can often pay in dollars, getting change in pesos, but the more official the recipient ( say, our glacier
tours), the worse the rate. The scuttlebutt from other travelers is that you get the best rate at ATMs, which ends up covering the fee ATMs charge. We have brought lots of dollars and have only been to the bank once--usually there is a huge line!
Monday, March 19, 2012
Day 14--Mendoza
Our posada is charming and quiet, only 8 rooms, surrounded by trees and birds, and there is a delightful buffet breakfast (as usual in our hotels) of homemade breads, fresh fruit, yogurt, cheese, ham, cereals, jam and the obligatory dulce de leche (caramel--featured everywhere, in candy, ice cream, sauces, puddings). And the coffee, always wonderful, but this morning we get cappuccinos, as many as we like. The vineyards are mostly closed today, and Richard's head cold is slowing him down, so today is a day of rest.
Unlike Patagonia, Mendoza is flat. A couple-mile walk reveals we are in a nice area of "haves"--one nice low bungalow after another, often with pool and tennis court, sometimes with grape vines, behind hedges, walls, concertina wire and barking dogs. We experienced the dogs on our horse ride in Bariloche as well--fierce and scary, even from the back of a horse. Each house has several--cheaper than a security system, we guess. When they are not behind fences, dogs are wandering around docile and sweet, never leashed. The exception has been in BA, where as in NYC hired hands walk the dogs. One walker we saw had nine dogs at once of all sizes. The dogs walk in formation without getting all twisted up on the narrow sidewalks--how is it possible?
The posada finds me a bike and I toodle around for a couple hours on flat, straight, tree-shaded roads, trying not to get lost or run into. There are few sidewalks and of course no bike lanes on these narrow rural roads, and it seems safer to ride with the traffic than
against it. Intersections are fascinating--there are no stop signs. In Ushuaia we figured
out that the cars going up and down the mountain have the right of way over those traveling parallel to it--but here the protocol is not clear! I discover some fancy vineyards, a couple of restaurants, a gated community going up with 2-story brick homes, two schools, and a little town center, but it's pretty quiet. There is an impressive open-air grill on my way home, and people are lined up to get some, so I do, too. Lamb on a cross-type skewer so it's marinated by its natural juices, and beef, beef innards, blood sausage, whole chickens, roast vegetables, all on an open-fire grill. Plus packaged pies, salads, olives--this is Sunday
lunch in Argentina! It's all take-out, so I wheel home with an enormous bag of goodies to surprise Richard with a midday feast, and it is delicious.
There is only one other couple staying here and we have the lap pool and courtyard to ourselves. Tiring of the new-age music the're playing here over and over, Richard talks them into putting on his Hawaiian slack-key guitar, which the staff of two like a lot. We both finish our books, have a pizza and empanadas for dinner, some cribbage, and bed!
Unlike Patagonia, Mendoza is flat. A couple-mile walk reveals we are in a nice area of "haves"--one nice low bungalow after another, often with pool and tennis court, sometimes with grape vines, behind hedges, walls, concertina wire and barking dogs. We experienced the dogs on our horse ride in Bariloche as well--fierce and scary, even from the back of a horse. Each house has several--cheaper than a security system, we guess. When they are not behind fences, dogs are wandering around docile and sweet, never leashed. The exception has been in BA, where as in NYC hired hands walk the dogs. One walker we saw had nine dogs at once of all sizes. The dogs walk in formation without getting all twisted up on the narrow sidewalks--how is it possible?
The posada finds me a bike and I toodle around for a couple hours on flat, straight, tree-shaded roads, trying not to get lost or run into. There are few sidewalks and of course no bike lanes on these narrow rural roads, and it seems safer to ride with the traffic than
against it. Intersections are fascinating--there are no stop signs. In Ushuaia we figured
out that the cars going up and down the mountain have the right of way over those traveling parallel to it--but here the protocol is not clear! I discover some fancy vineyards, a couple of restaurants, a gated community going up with 2-story brick homes, two schools, and a little town center, but it's pretty quiet. There is an impressive open-air grill on my way home, and people are lined up to get some, so I do, too. Lamb on a cross-type skewer so it's marinated by its natural juices, and beef, beef innards, blood sausage, whole chickens, roast vegetables, all on an open-fire grill. Plus packaged pies, salads, olives--this is Sunday
lunch in Argentina! It's all take-out, so I wheel home with an enormous bag of goodies to surprise Richard with a midday feast, and it is delicious.
There is only one other couple staying here and we have the lap pool and courtyard to ourselves. Tiring of the new-age music the're playing here over and over, Richard talks them into putting on his Hawaiian slack-key guitar, which the staff of two like a lot. We both finish our books, have a pizza and empanadas for dinner, some cribbage, and bed!
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Day 13--Mendoza
We have short-changed Ushuaia in time, but it will stay with us. It has a magnetic effect, as remote and environmentally unfriendly as it is. Did I say that it was settled, like Australia, with convicts, who provided labor for logging and other enterprises in the last century? It has rained all night, then as we rise the sun comes out, and finally as we board ur plane it begins to snow, briefly. Overnight, it has snowed in the mountains and clouds have set in, as has cold weather. On the waynto the airport we see wild rheas, or Patagonians ostriches, in the distance. These were food staples once, hunted by the gauchos with their bolladeras.
To get to Mendoza, the wine country, due west of Buenos Aires, we have to fly to BA and change planes, so it takes us 6 hours. When we land in Mendoza it is hot, and I realize once again that I packed for fall weather. We are north of Patagonia now, back in the present, concerned about what's happening here and now-- but it's hard to shake the silent voices of Patagonia. The empty spaces, the bones of animals we found on the steppes, the memory of native peoples, the fossils of prehistory, the timelessness of mountains and ice--it is eery how these make such a deep impression.
We are staying in a small posada or inn which Richard found, about 20 mins from Mendoza town. It has an open courtyard with a small pool and very peaceful. The drive from the airport reminds us a lot of San Francisco. We settle in--Richard is nursing a cold. Over dinner we share a lovely cab. Wine has been a great part of this whole trip--we've tried a lot of different wines that will never be imported into the U.S. Wine-making has spread to the south and north, but Argentinians are still consuming more than they're exporting, unlike Chile!
To get to Mendoza, the wine country, due west of Buenos Aires, we have to fly to BA and change planes, so it takes us 6 hours. When we land in Mendoza it is hot, and I realize once again that I packed for fall weather. We are north of Patagonia now, back in the present, concerned about what's happening here and now-- but it's hard to shake the silent voices of Patagonia. The empty spaces, the bones of animals we found on the steppes, the memory of native peoples, the fossils of prehistory, the timelessness of mountains and ice--it is eery how these make such a deep impression.
We are staying in a small posada or inn which Richard found, about 20 mins from Mendoza town. It has an open courtyard with a small pool and very peaceful. The drive from the airport reminds us a lot of San Francisco. We settle in--Richard is nursing a cold. Over dinner we share a lovely cab. Wine has been a great part of this whole trip--we've tried a lot of different wines that will never be imported into the U.S. Wine-making has spread to the south and north, but Argentinians are still consuming more than they're exporting, unlike Chile!
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