Argentina - Rosario

29th - 30th September ´08

Rosario... the birth place of Ernesto Che Guevara... was a natural stopover to get to Buenos Aires from Cordoba. After our previous 2 excessively long bus journeys, we wisely decided to split our 16 hour road trip to the capital. Having spent only 1 full day in Rosario (mainly because of our eagerness to get to Buenos Aires) it was difficult to acquire a complete picture of what the city could offer... albeit that our initial impressions were that it didn´t quite share the same charisma as our other Argentinian visits. In that single day, we created our very own walking tour around the perfectly grid-shaped avenues. Heading several blocks eastwards from our hostel we arrived at a promenade where the river-view benches were filled with canoodling couples... the Argentinians were affectionate people and they obviously not shy to show this... we (unintentionally ;-) witnessed a huge array of erotic postions during our brief coffee break there. Following our criss-crossed street map southwards brought us to the apartment at 480 Entre Rios, where in 1929 Che Guevara was born... unfortunately the building had been closed to all but people of importance, meaning that our memory of this site was closed shutters and a board bearing the face of Che. We completed our circuit at night passing the colossal ´Monument to the Flag´lit up in patriotic colours and home to the first risen flag of Rosario... before being spoilt for dining choices at the endless Ave Pelligrin. Next stop... Buenos Aires.

Argentina - Cordoba

26th - 28th September ´08

Our early morning arrival in Cordoba brought us to a surprisingly busy bus terminal within walking distance of the nucleus of the city... Plaza San Martin. After 3 unsuccessful attempts at checking into a hostel and with our tortoise-shelled backpacks feeling heavier with each step, we stumbled into an Apart hotel... having the standard services of a hotel and the amenities of an apartment with its very own kitchenette, this was our opportunity to briefly break from the addictive carnivorous culture. Tired from yet another overnight journey of broken sleep we gathered some energy and performed our exploration ritual. That evening we greased our pots and pans, and stirred up a vegetarian curry before catching a glimpse of the outdoor performance at Patio del Tango.

The following afternoon the time had finally come to spread our wings and parapent through the skies. A 30 minute jeep ride through a remote trail and we found ourselves on top of a hill a few hundred feet above the city heights. Under the experienced guidance of an instructor we leapt from the cliff edges to begin our tandem flight... and for 20 minutes we were at the mercy of the wind. Circling through the chilling air there were nerving moments where any lack of windforce created a vulnerable floating sensation. However for those few minutes at peaceful heights it was a liberating and contemplative experience. A few years back the city of Cordoba was given the title ´Cultural Capital of the Americas´... each evening the city would spring to life with people taking to the streets for films, festivals and fiestas. So accordingly, that night we wandered through the fashionable area of Nuevo Cordoba where it appeared that everyone´s sole purpose was to have a good time.

Our last day in Cordoba was a sunday and after a fittingly lazy morning at a plaza cafe, we took to the clay courts... if you can imagine Rafa Nadal vs Maria Sharipova, then you´ll know exactly how this story ended... 6-4, 6-2 Pattni Y. And we completed our short stay in the midst of a well renowned handicrafts fair where the setting sun brought the city night to life once more. Next stop... Rosario.

Argentina - Mendoza

22nd - 25th September ´08

The 18 hour bus ride from Salta to Mendoza was our longest journey to date and the one that broke our cumulative 150 hour barrier of road travels. We immediately took a strong liking to the seductive city of Mendoza, also considered the tango and wine capital of the world... wide tree-lined avenues, spacious eye-catching plazas, and an unrivalled casual pace that placed it within our top 5 favourite cities. After a devastating earthquake in the mid-19th century, the city had been strategically rebuilt with wider roads and larger plazas in anticipation of another rumble... fortunately they are still waiting. After our long drawn out arrival, we located some decent accommodation in the heart of the city before wandering through the charming handicraft stalls that decoratively lit up Plaza Independencia.

The following morning we caught a local bus to the wine region of Maipu where we hired a couple of mountain bikes, found ourselves a map, and began a 16km circuit through the captivating vineyards. Our first stop was El Museo del Vino where we learnt about the wine making process and how extraction methods had evolved over the centuries (from crushing grapes with feet to modern machinery)... we even picked up some tips on determining the quality of wine. The Italians had founded many of the bodegas (wineries) around Mendoza having discovered that the region shared a similar climate to their homelands... with 70% of Argentina´s wine now being produced by this city´s immediate surroundings. After indulging in some wine tasting activities, we continued to cycle for a further 7km through the tree-arching roads and field plantations to Familia di Tomasso... a romantically quaint bodega. Against a picturesque backdrop of vineyards and mountains, we lunched on its terrace before naturally sampling the overpowering grapes of this winery. Two glasses of wine and we were beginning to feel the effects as we mounted our bikes once more... a markedly slower 3km in the scorching sun brought us to the 2 adjacent vineyards of El Vino del Cuero and Tempus Alba - apparently the oldest and newest within the region, and noticeably so. After some further exploration and wine tasting our tastebuds for fermented grapes were failing to respond... we gladly turned our attention towards Dulceria La Marta - a chocolate and liqueur factory where we ended our combined cycling and sampling tour with some potent alcohol.

The following evening we completed the 2-piece jigsaw of this city by experiencing a passionate tango show. It featured 2 traditional singers, a live quartet of musicians, and 4 sexy and inviting dancers... apart from the smooth intertwining steps from the 2 dance couples, the performance was too cornily geared towards the tourist but it had enticed us enough to consider a tango class in the future. And on our final day, we created our very own hamper from a vegetarian buffet restaurant before heading out for a picnic at the immaculate Parque San Martin. Consumed by a serene lake, several museums, a zoo, and hundreds of hectares of forestry; this park was filled with fitness enthusiasts and provided the ideal setting to lose all concept of time. Laying on the shady green banks of the surrounding lake we could easily have drifted into another day had we not had to catch our overnight bus. Next stop... Cordoba.

Argentina - Salta

18th - 21st September ´08

Crossing the border from Bolivia to Argentina had literally transported us onto another continent, one that had a striking resemblance to western Europe, and in particular Spain. It was eye-opening how we had transitioned from an environment where security measures were near non-existent to one where smartly groomed officers regularly performed stop and search routines... after already emptying our backpacks at border control our 7 hour bus journey was interrupted twice more forcing many passengers to repack again and again (suspicion of coca-leaf imports), before continuing to our destination. And upon our late arrival, we found ourselves immediately adapting to the local culture by dining at a parilla at midnight.

Lounging within the umbrella filled terraces, we spent most of the next day absorbing the infectious moods, drinking beer and tasting a variety of crispy empanadas. Reminiscent of Madrid (and representative of Argentina), most of the city ceased to function between the siesta hours of 1pm and 5pm... a ghost town... signifying the calm before the stormy night of partying ahead. We ended the evening in the lively avenue of Balcarce in which rock bands and dance shows enticed people into the four blocks lined with restaurants and bars... we took front stage seats at a traditional peña cafe where costumed entertainers gracefully danced to live music and rhythmic clapping from the limited audience. The following day continued along the similar empanada theme to the previous one as we familiarised ourselves with the surrounding neighbourhoods... having arrived during youth awareness week, break-dancing teenagers performed acrobatics on the streets to the beat-bopping sounds of their own voices.

On our final day in Salta and on the recommendation from a friend, we decided to venture to Virgin del Cerro... a forest filled hill which as well as hosting decent views of the city was also the setting for a weekly pilgrimmage. Hundreds of devout catholics would ascend the 40 minute trail to seek blessings from the ´Special Virgin´... some believed she was a spiritual healer with the power to cure with her touch whilst others deemed she had an extraordinary connection to God. Following the winding path to the top it was interesting to see men and women of young and old congregating with emotion in anticipation of her appearance. We spent some time immersed within the tranquil surroundings of the slopey hillbanks before heading back to the city centre. Unfortunately due to time contraints from catching our next bus we were unable this mystic healer amongst the masses, however just being there was a unique and worthwhile experience in itself. Next stop... Mendoza.

Bolivia - Tupiza/Villazon

15th - 17th September ´08

Although we treated the southely towns of Tupiza and Villazon as mere overnight stopovers, they´re worth a brief mention in order to appreciate our road to Argentina. The initial 8 hour bus journey from Uyuni to Tupiza followed a similar hair-raising experience to our previous one... more cliff-winding roads, more bumpy terrain, more Bolivian odours, and more relief when it was finally over. Having arrived in sparsely populated Tupiza (approx. 20,000), the town offered little more than its wild-west´esque countryside (also the famous setting for the demise of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid). With tranquil surroundings and comfortable hostels, it would have been easy to sleep off a couple of days here... however, in our current frames of mind we were eager to reach Argentina.

Our Bolivian road misfortunes ceased to disappoint the following afternoon... another 2 hour delay saw us patiently waiting on the dusty, half-broken benches of the bus depot... when we eventually set off on the final leg of our journey to Villazon our unmaintained vehicle had been filled to the brim (aisle included) with passengers from another broken down bus (notice a pattern here?)... And what should have been a straightforward 3 hour road-trip turned into 8 whilst we queued on the side of a carriageway for roadworks to complete. Continuing through the pitch-black rural lands, load-carrying locals would embark and disembark from some bizarrely remote sections of our trail... there was a real community feel to the whole episode with our driver offering rides to anyone requiring them (regardless of capacity), and selfless locals helping the hitch-hikers on board. Unfortunately, our delayed arrival into Villazon had seen the closure of the Bolivian Immigration Office, trapping in this haphazard border town for the night (our circumstance being the only excuse for spending a night here). On the flip-side, we had shared our enduring experiences with 4 other travellers (a Dutch couple and 2 Mancunians... United supporters... not so flip!) with whom we ended the night with refreshing beer and tasteless pizza.

The following morning more disorganised chaos ensued as the 6 of us attempted to cross the border into Argentina. After 1 hour of queuing for a Bolivian exit stamp (amongst a congregation of Eva Morales protestors) followed by 2 hours of endless queuing for an Argentian entry stamp, we congratulated ourselves on reaching our goal. With no time to spare we hailed down a couple of taxis for the bus station where we were relieved to board the next bus to Salta.

Bolivia - Uyuni

13th - 14th September ´08

Our unforgettable bus journey from Potosi to Uyuni was our clearest reminder of why Bolivia was the poorest country in South America. As we waited in an overcrowded bus office in Potosi surrounded by indigenous folk, some of whom seemed to be carrying their entire life´s worth within 3 or 4 bagloads, we learnt that our designated bus had broken down... 2 hours later we were forced to travel with another operator where we were the only foreigners on board. But the fact that strange smelling locals were being herded onto our cattle-carrier at an annoying pace was a mere distraction in comparison to the sweaty palms created by the cliff-winding roads... coasting through the scenic but unbarricaded valley trails, our driver confidently turned the narrow blind corners at a frightening speed. We were thankful that our worn-torn tin-can hadn´t broken down in the remote dustlands, and further relieved when we finally approached our destination. The town of Uyuni itself appeared to be quite run down and lacking in any character, but it boasted the largest salt plains in the world which was the only reason anyone would consider stopping there. A 3 day circuit around the salars which encompassed additional lakes and volcanoes was the norm, but we had decided to focus our attention on certain highlights in just a single day... which began the morning after another shivering night.

We were joined by 4 other ´condiment´ explorers within our surprisingly pristine 4x4 jeep to take us to our first stop... Colchani... a small frontier mill-village to the Salars where each day tons of salt went through a manual process of purification and packaging before being transported throughout Bolivia. After some simple demonstrations, we boarded our cruiser once more to head into the blanket of whiteness... at an amazing 12,000 sq km these salt plains were apparently the residual remains of 3 adjoining lakes that had dried up many years ago. As we stood watching the pick-axe labourers extracting salt on the horizon, we were continually blinded by the reflections from our 2 coloured scenery... rich blue skies and brilliant white sands. By further drowning ourselves in the salar we arrived at the illegally constructed Sal Hotel - a cold, secluded building made from and housing furniture of salt... the ideal surroundings for a night of undisturbed sleep under the stars. And our final stop on this well-defined circuit was the plant-filled Isla de Pescada (island of fish)... a rocky development that strangely projected out of the nothingness. Following the steep cactus-decorated (some as high as 3 metres) trail to the top revealed more striking views of the plains... with our final descent bringing us to a welcoming gas-fired barbecue with the rest of the group. That night, whilst back in the desolate town of Uyuni, we were refused entry into 2 internet cafes because the owners thought that we were Israeli! ...errm... we had been called many things during our travels but that was definitely a first (the Israeli´s had obviously created a name for themselves in this place)... Next stop... Tupiza.