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Australia – Sydney

chanman · Mar 25, 2009 · Leave a Comment

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 “As it is useful that while mankind are imperfect there should be different opinions, so is it that there should be different experiments of living; that free scope should be given to varieties of character, short of injury to others; and that the worth of different modes of life should be proved practically, when anyone thinks fit to try them.‟

John Stuart Mill, On Liberty

AUSTRALIA IS AN enormous country; it‟s the smallest of the seven continents and, at a more than mighty 7,600,000km2, it‟s the sixth biggest country by land-mass in the world. Australia shares no land borders; it‟s surrounded by New Zealand to the southeast, by Indonesia, East Timor, and Papua New Guinea to the north, and by the Solomon Islands (an independent nation with a constitutional monarchy with Queen Elizabeth II as Head of State), Vanuatu, and New Caledonia (a non-self governing French Territory due to vote on independence between 2014 and 2019) to the north-east. Australia is a federation of six states and two major mainland territories, each with their own capital. The states are New South Wales (its capital is Sydney), Queensland (Brisbane), South Australia (Adelaide), Tasmania (Hobart), Victoria (Melbourne), and Western Australia (Perth). The two major mainland territories are the Northern Territory (Darwin) and the Australian Capital Territory (Canberra – the capital of Australia and the seat of the Federal Government). Australia has around 22 million people of whom around 92% are white (predominantly of European descent), 7% Asian (mostly of Chinese and Vietnamese descent), whilst Aborigine (mainland Aborigine and Torres Straits Islanders) and others account for around 1%.

We arrived in Sydney, on the south-east coast of Australia, on 22 January 2009. On the recommendation of another traveller, we stayed in Glebe, a suburb of Sydney. It‟s close to the University of Sydney and has the reputation of being one of the more bohemian areas of the city. It‟s quite far out of the CBD; about 25 minutes‟ walk to George Street in the centre. It was the first time that I saw long-termers in a hostel; Matt, a guy in our incredibly hot dormitory, had been there on and off for two months. Before that, he‟d been working on a fruit picking farm. The conditions there, he explained, had been borderline unbearable. Temperatures would rise to around 40 degrees Celsius in the summer months but it was the flies that he couldn‟t stand; they were everywhere. That would be another side of Australia that we‟d experience in the Red Centre; but for now we were keen to explore Sydney.

Sydney is a city of incredible vistas. The feel is truly that of a confident world city, with its high rise skyline, huge numbers of tourists, the world renowned and iconic Opera House, the huge Botanical Gardens in the very centre of the city, and the outdoorsy focus of the people who are always running, cycling or swimming.

It’s a great place to be a tourist as all of the major attractions are within striking distance of the central CBD. The Opera House is an amazing building that‟s stunningly original and dominates Sydney. Once you’re in front of it, looking across the harbour at it or standing right next to it, it’s impossible to imagine Sydney without it. We walked over the equally iconic Harbour Bridge and took in Luna Park and Kirribilli. From this side of the harbour, you can gaze back across the water at the Opera House. It‟s incredible to think that when this was commissioned and being built, there was strong opposition to it, whereas it‟s now recognised as one of the great buildings of the world. It‟s clear that the Opera House has an elevating effect on the city as a whole and it‟s powerful evidence that great, bold and innovatively designed buildings and public art can have an immeasurably positive effect on people‟s well-being. Nearby are the Botanical Gardens and the Domain, beautiful spots of green parkland right next to the CBD, which must have also been conceived with Sydneysiders‟ well-being in mind. It‟s beautiful, vast, and ambitious; it has fantastic views of the water and is filled with diverse trees and plant life and its very own population of fruit bats. It was here that the Sydney Festival had been running throughout the summer, putting on huge scale events such free concerts. We saw free symphonies one weekend and, on the next, free opera playing to around 60,000 people in open air arenas: spectacular stuff! To the south of the Botanical Gardens is the State Library of New South Wales (where I met some great staff who showed me great Australian spiders and bugs) and the New South Wales (NSW) Art Gallery, a stunningly designed building. I love this gallery and, in particular some paintings by the Australian artist, Sir Sidney Nolan, depicting the Red Centre. Seeing these made me yearn to go to the famous Outback.

It was a definite change of pace in Sydney. From two months on a continent where almost no-one spoke English, suddenly we were surrounded by everyone speaking English. It was like being transplanted back to the UK, except that here it’s about 35 degrees everyday! This wasn’t “real‟ travelling; it was just too easy! A big shock, though, was the price of everything. In 2007, 1 Pound Sterling (GBP) could buy nearly 3 Australian Dollars (AUD). Now, in January 2009, 1GBP could only buy 2AUD; a wallet-tightening, deeply depressing drop in purchasing power of 33% in less than two years! My preferred measure of purchasing power parity is the pint: a pint or schooner of beer costs around 9AUD or an exorbitant 4.50GBP (as opposed to 3GBP on average in the UK). Living costs are high in Australia and that’s not great for backpackers. We watched the cents and cut down on the boozing and lived off cheap sushi rolls and pasta. The prices also helped explain the popularity of boxed wine amongst backpackers in Australia; unlike boxed wine in other countries, here, it isn’t really proper wine, it’s weak (around 9-11%) and is rumoured to contain some type of fish extract/protein. It tastes pretty rank and delivers brutal hangovers, but, given its relative cheapness (4 litres for next to nothing), it was perfect.

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Sydney was a shock to the system in other ways as well. The outdoorsy and sporty lifestyles of Sydneysiders brought into sharp relief that two months of good South American living had taken its toll on our waistlines: we‟d become fat bastards! Too many lunchtime beers and too many empanadas! We couldn‟t help but absorb the healthy outdoorsy lifestyle of the Sydneysider with daily jogs; how much more picturesque can you get for a run; past the Harbour Bridge, up the steps of the Opera House (a la Rocky), past the Botanical Gardens to Mrs Macquarie’s Chair looking back across the harbour. Sydneysiders are also obsessed with swimming and, in Wooloomooloo Bay, we went to probably the best swimming pool I’ve ever been to, the Andrew (Boy) Chorlton. It’s open-air and suspended over the sea on a decking and glass structure with water that had a slightly salty tang; just spectacular.

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Sydney was definitely different to my expectations. I expected the Aussie stereotype: party people with healthy appetites for alcohol and barbeques etc. so I was surprised by the slightly puritanical attitudes to boozing that I found in Sydney. There are now recently passed strict laws as to serving alcohol in pubs and bar-staff are obligated to refuse service if they believe the customer is too drunk or else they face a heavy fine. One evening, I was having a few drinks with two guys from Brisbane; it developed into tequila shots at the bar and, whilst they were a bit drunk, they weren‟t at the stage where they were falling over. Despite this, they got thrown out by overzealous bouncers and barstaff at the laughably early 8.30pm. Even worse than this, the bar’s last orders were at the ridiculous time of 10pm!

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However, one of the biggest surprises for me was the multicultural nature of Sydney. Of course, with Sydney being a world city, I expected diversity of sorts but definitely not on this scale. In particular, there’s a huge number of Asian people (in Australia, oriental people are called “Asian”). I‟d say that maybe 20% of people in Sydney‟s Central Business District (CBD) were of Asian origin. Having just flown in from South America (where I probably saw a total of three Asian people), this was a welcome change. In particular, from a personal point of view, it meant that I could enjoy some Chinese food for the first time in two months in the extensive Sydney Chinatown (classic backpacker territory, where we also watched Rafael Nadal win the Australian Open Final).

Whilst Sydney is multicultural and diverse, I saw very few of Australia‟s indigenous people, the Aborigines. Before arriving in Australia, I‟d heard that Aborigines had the longest continuous culture in the world (some 40,000 years) and I expected to see some Aboriginal people in the city. I knew that the Aboriginal people and the settlers from Europe had had a very troubled past; so much so that the Australian Prime Minister, Kevin Rudd, had recently issued a formal apology to the Aboriginal people for past suffering inflicted upon them by the settlers. The relationship between indigenous and non-indigenous people is still very much at the forefront of national debate here, as illustrated by the controversy surrounding Australia Day on 26th January; an annual national holiday intended to celebrate the concept of Australia as a nation. From where we were in Sydney, there wasn‟t much in the way of partying on Australia Day; in fact, it was a complete wash-out. There‟s an element of the population (primarily a section of Anglo-Saxon Australians) that aggressively waves the Australian flag (it‟s blue with a Union Jack in one corner and the stars of the Southern Cross on the remainder. The Southern Cross (also known as Crux) is a constellation of stars most easily visible from the Southern Hemisphere, of five stars, the brightest four of which form a kite-shaped cross. The Southern Cross also appears on the flags of Brazil, New Zealand, Samoa and Papua New Guinea) on Australia Day and gets involved but most people appear more reticent when it comes to beating the drum for “Australia Day”. The next day in the major newspapers (the excellent The Australian and The Sydney Morning Herald) I saw an indication as to why this might be: The date chosen for the national holiday to celebrate the concept of the nation of “Australia” happens to be the date that the British First Fleet arrived in Sydney Cove and is the date that the British flag was first raised in Australia. Amongst many Australians, particularly many indigenous people, this date is known as “Invasion Day” (an emotive nickname if ever there was one!) and it‟s clear that they‟re not going to be whooping with joy to celebrate anything on this date. With this kind of controversy, polarity and high-profile debate over just one issue, it’s clear that the healing process between the indigenous and the non-indigenous peoples of Australia still has a very long way to go.

After about 10 days in Sydney, we were spending far too much money on just accommodation and food alone, so we decided to leave as soon as we could and kick-start our Australian travels. Before leaving, we met with my sister’s boyfriend’s brother, Luke Benedictus (who had moved to Australia some years before. He’s a journalist for Men’s Health in Australia and was in training at the time for a feature on white-collar boxing.) and his girlfriend, Anja, and they very kindly had us round for a lovely dinner in Elizabeth Bay, on the Sydney coast.

Some Brief Thoughts on South America

chanman · Mar 25, 2009 · Leave a Comment

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The South American leg of our trip was over. Looking back, South America is a continent of huge extremes and, as such, makes for fantastic travelling. I was warned by Emma after the Inca Trail that I had started my travels in such an amazing way that it might never be equalled, let alone surpassed, on the rest of my travels. With several months remaining on this trip, I could only hope she was wrong! Peru was incredible. The people, the trekking, Machu Picchu, Cusco, the music, the history, the culture, the food all combined to make for some truly memorable experiences. Bolivia was no different – I loved La Paz, the Salt Flats around Uyuni and also the deserts in the South West of the country. Before I left the UK, a friend suggested that I might find a place which would make a lasting impression on my soul. I think this place for me could be the Salt Flats and volcanic deserts of Bolivia. It‟s stark, otherworldly, stunningly beautiful and largely untouched, even with the large numbers of travellers passing through. I‟ve never felt more moved by a place. The area is highly conducive to thought and reflection; it‟s a place where the feeling of extreme solitude is exhilarating. The most enjoyable part of my South American trip was in the highlands of Peru and Bolivia; I fully enjoyed the culture shock. Not being able to understand the language, tasting unfamiliar foods, meeting new people, feeling new climates, and seeing different ways of doing things are invigorating.

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Further culture shock results from the poverty that‟s all around, particularly in Peru and Bolivia. It‟s difficult as a traveller to reconcile your relative wealth with the extreme poverty of some of the countries you visit. For much of the time, you don‟t think about it (perhaps in itself evidence of my indifference, ignorance and apathy as to the world and to the terrible conditions that most of the world‟s people live in). You do notice poverty, however, when the porters on your trekking tour don‟t have proper footwear to trek on rocky terrain at 4,000m (I know! Porters! On a trekking tour! What a sign of the dripping decadence of travellers!), when your mountain guides have to lead three trips a week to 6,000m to make a living, when people in La Paz have to hunt through rubbish bags at night for things to eat and things to recycle in return for tiny amounts of money; where children in Buenos Aires have to beg in restaurants for food and are begging on the streets instead of being at school.

Despite the poverty, I was struck by how people remain cheerful and even maintain their culture under such harsh conditions. I was constantly amazed by the ceaselessly entrepreneurial nature of the Peruvians and Bolivians that I encountered along the way; fashioning clothes, selling homemade food everywhere, encouraging photographs with tourists for a few coins, the constant stream of mobile shoe-shine workers etc. Having seen the conditions so many people face, it makes it far harder to complain about life in the developed world, when, for example, you have to take a shit in a hole in the ground (not always even with running water and, hopefully, you‟ve remembered to bring tissue paper in your pockets!) and realise that, of course, this is normal, everyday practice for hundreds of millions of people.

Mendoza

chanman · Mar 25, 2009 · Leave a Comment

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From Buenos Aires, we took an 18 hour bus ride west to Mendoza, a small city at the feet of the Argentinean Andes, on the other side of which is the Chilean capital, Santiago. It was fantastic to see the mountains again; after three weeks of cities, I was getting restless to see some new landscapes. Mendoza is famous for being in the heart of Argentina’s major wine producing area, for being the drop off point for mountaineers attempting Cerro Aconcagua (at 6,962m, the highest mountain outside of the Himalayas) and now for the being the setting of the inaugural Mendoza Cup.

Mendoza has a nine-hole golf course founded in 1926. It’s a mature, tree-lined parkland layout with narrow fairways and possibly the truest and fastest greens I have ever putted on. As we hadn’t played in over two months, we were desperate to play, and, to give the game some extra significance, we obtained permission from our society chairman, Dave Macaulay, to play the first overseas meeting of the C.R.A.P Golf Society – the first and, very probably the last, Mendoza Cup. We hired some clubs and set off with our mandatory caddy, Dario, for a hard-fought game in the blazing sunshine. Grant and I are evenly matched for sheer golfing mediocrity. Therefore, we played straight match-play off scratch. What followed was probably one of the most memorable rounds of golf I have ever played.

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Me and Grant after the match with the shadows getting longer

From parts of the course, the snow-capped mountains are clearly visible; the sounds of crickets are ever present; hardly a soul was on the rest of the course and we played very reasonable golf enjoying the advice and tips of Dario, a truly top bloke. Affable, with a huge belly that hides the fact that he’s actually a five handicapper, he consistently teased us for some terrible shots and applauded our few good ones. Every time, we left a putt short, he would whisper loudly, “Lady!” For all his banter, we didn’t believe he was actually any good. “Go on then Dario, show us how it‟s done…” So he pushed a tee into the ground, waggled a driver a few times, swung the club around his body, and smashed a well struck shot 280 yards drawn around the apex of the dogleg. He seemed pretty pleased with himself!

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Booming drive! (probably not)

We broke for a long lunch under the trees and played the second nine holes in the late afternoon sun. On the 17th, with a putt for par, I completed a 3 and 1 victory to win the inaugural Mendoza Cup for the Nihontos.

 

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Winner of the inaugural Mendoza Cup

We met some interesting people in the hostel in Mendoza, in particular a lively guy from Northern Ireland called Jonny Kyle. Jonny had already been there a week by the time we arrived; he‟d come to attempt Cerro Aconcagua and had trained for months whilst working to save the money for his trip. Jonny had flown into Mendoza via Santiago from the UK and, unfortunately, the airline lost his main bag with around 2,000GBP worth of mountaineering kit, which he’d been unable to replace. He‟d been waiting for his insurance company to make compensation and was planning his next move. He eventually went south to Patagonia.

Unfortunately, on the morning of the day we were due to take the bus back to Buenos Aires, Grant had his small rucksack stolen. We were in an internet café when suddenly he jumped up and said he couldn’t find his bag. I‟ve never seen him so ashen-faced. I immediately had a sinking feeling that it had long gone and that everything of value that he owned was in that bag; his wallet, credit cards, passport and phone, they were all gone. It was a tough moment; luckily there were two of us to deal with the problem, and not just one person, all alone on the other side of the world with no money and no identification. Instead of wasting time trying to obtain crime reference numbers in Mendoza, we decided to speed back to Buenos Aires to the British Consulate to try and get an emergency replacement passport issued; we were supposed to fly out of Argentina to Sydney two days later! We almost weren’t able to get on the bus back to BA as Grant’s bus ticket was also in the stolen bag; and South American bus protocol demanded that the physical, paper ticket was more important than anything; without it, you couldn’t board. Our lack of Spanish was never starker than in those last few hours in Mendoza. Eventually, I managed to persuade some local policewomen to help us with our negotiations with the bus company. With just minutes to go before the bus (the last of the day and the one we had to catch if we were going to get an emergency passport issued in time) was due to leave, the entire bus company and station police were able to hold the bus for us and wave us off. I couldn’t work out who was more unlucky: Jonny for losing his luggage or Grant for having his bag stolen.

Back in Buenos Aires, the British Consulate in Recoleta was staffed almost exclusively by Argentines; part of an outsourcing drive I suppose. Unbelievably, the Consulate was only open until 2pm; we needed that passport before 11am the next morning and we’d aim to collect it on the way to the airport. Alfonso, the official in charge of reissues, assured us that he’d deal with it but with no promises made. I thought the best course of action, should Grant not get a new passport in time, was to fly without him and leave him my credit card. After, an angst-ridden evening, luckily, the next morning, Grant was issued an emergency replacement (shows what’s possible) and, the next day, we flew the 15 hours westwards to Sydney, across the International Date Line and the Pacific Ocean.

Buenos Aires

chanman · Mar 25, 2009 · Leave a Comment

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After Iguazu, we jumped on a 17 hour bus ride southwards to Buenos Aires, a city that we longed to see, and travelled south into Argentina proper. Argentina is the second largest country in South America (behind Brazil) and is the eighth largest country in the world by land-mass, stretching all the way down to the southern tip of the continent at Cape Horn. It lies between the Andes mountain range along its western border and the Atlantic Ocean to the east. It‟s bordered by Paraguay and Bolivia to the north, by Brazil and Uruguay to the northeast, and by Chile to the west. It has around 40m people and around 86% of which are of European heritage (mostly Spanish and Italian), 8% of Mestizo stock, 4% of Arab or East Asian and nearly 2% are Amerindians.

We planned to be in Buenos Aires for around ten days before jetting off to Australia. The city is well known for its epithet “The Paris of South America” It certainly has that Parisian feel, with its huge, wide avenues (some at least ten lanes wide one way), its plethora of statues, museums, cafes and for its undoubtedly European style of architecture. One of the first things you notice in Buenos Aires is the frenetic pace of life; it‟s full of traffic, smog, noise and people who just don‟t seem to work! The various districts or barrios are clearly demarcated and each has their own distinct feel: Palermo is bohemian with cafes, art galleries, book shops and wide open spaces; San Telmo is historic and largely unchanged from its origins as the first settlement area of Buenos Aires; Puerto Madero is the business district of the city on the waterfront in a regenerated dockslands area; La Boca is the largely working class neighbourhood with the world famous stadium, La Bombanera, home of Boca Juniors; and San Nicolas is the commercial, administrative and cultural hub of Buenos Aires. All these barrios combine to make Buenos Aires a hugely lively and invigorating place to be. Add to this mix the ever-present and generation-crossing magic of the tango and the beautiful women that Buenos Aires is famed for and you have a great city to see with masses to do.

One of the very first things I did, in the very centre of Buenos Aires off the Plaza Mayo, was to try that Argentine staple: mate (pronounced ma-teh). This is a type of tea, a blend of yerba (a small tree or shrub related to the holly family) leaves packed into a gourd (a guampa), a small, spherical vessel that fits satisfyingly in the hand. This mix is covered with hot water and the resulting liquid brew is sucked through a thin metal straw (a bombilla) with a filter in it, acting as both a straw and a sieve. It‟s very bitter and has mild caffeine and tobacco elements; not surprisingly, it‟s very meditative and relaxing, and the experience is not unlike smoking cigars. The Argentines are obsessed with the stuff! Everywhere you look, people have their flask of hot water and mate. The practice is considered conducive to strong social bonds with friends and family gathering for a drink of mate and the experience has strong accompanying ritual elements; people will share the same guampa and bombilla. One person is designated the server, who is responsible for packing the guampa, and will take the first drink, considered an act of kindness because you‟re testing the quality of the overall brew before anyone else. Passing the drink to another without tasting it first is considered to be very poor form.

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Because we had so much more time in Buenos Aires than we’d had in other places, we could take our exploration a little bit more slowly than our usual quick-fire sightseeing. For instance, we spent a whole day just strolling through the magnificently colonial barrio of Recoleta, with its impossibly wide, Parisian-styled boulevards, boutiques and elegantly imposing white houses. It‟s here in Recoleta that Buenos Aires’ famous cemetery is located, housing the late great and the good of Argentina. This is an extraordinary place; a mini-town of huge mausoleums, in a grid system giving the effect of real streets and avenues. The likes of Evita, Sarmientes and Borges all rest here in the town of the dead.

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On a Sunday, we walked to the San Telmo district to see the popular weekly market that runs for a kilometre along Defensa. The place was packed and it was an almost perfect afternoon: hot, sunny, ice-cold beer, the novelty of a new town, pretty, sexy girls, free tango shows and an air of merriment and delight.

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It was here that I bought a panama hat, the second I‟d ever owned. I know that panama hats originate from Ecuador but something of the elegance of Buenos Aires had rubbed off on me. Everyone dresses well here; shirts and flannels for the men; and dresses for the women. There’s a refinement to the people of Buenos Aires, the portenos (“People of the Port”) that’s not overdone, effete or starchy; it’s relaxed and worldly. I was reminded of a Hardy Amies quote: “A man should look as if he has bought his clothes with intelligence, put them on with care, and then forgotten all about them” – a maxim that portenos seem to follow unconsciously. From the trekking gear of Peru and Bolivia to the Bermuda shorts and flip-flops of Brazil, here in Buenos Aires, we’d started to wear proper shirts, trousers, and, on one occasion, in an absurdly fancy bar, a blazer I’d brought with me that up until now was stuffed in the bottom of my backpack. That evening, after another excellent parilla, we saw an open air milonga, an impromptu open-air tango dance floor in a gorgeous public square surrounded by trees and revellers. It’s a place where anyone can dance, and the dance floor is demarcated by crowds of spectators. Tango is a mesmerising dance form. Unlike the Chamame we saw in Puerto Iguazu, the man and the woman maintain almost full body contact throughout the dance. It’s hypnotically beautiful, searingly elegant and is just the expression of sex (with clothes on!).

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We also visited the La Boca barrio, known as the slightly rougher end of town and, of course, famous for La Bombanera, home of Boca Juniors, who along with River Plate, is the most famous team in Argentina, and of course legendary for being the first team of the incomparable Diego Maradona. In a clearly poor area, the team’s legend and global fame clearly provided a palpable sense of pride.

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Nearby are the colourful streets of Carminito around the harbour-front, a garishly coloured mish-mash of houses, shops and restaurants. We found a fantastic hole-in-the-wall restaurant a few blocks away with superb empanadas and salsa, a couple of bottles of lip-pursingly rough red wine and, of course, the ubiquitous Quilmes, all combining to help make this one of my favourite barrios in Buenos Aires.

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As expected, the food in Buenos Aires is excellent. One evening, I went to dinner on my own (one of the rhythms of travelling with other people is that you’re still able to find important alone time, whether that’s exploring on your own, finding quiet time to write in your journal, emailing friends and family etc) in an outdoor restaurant called Tabolango in a tree-lined lane off Peru street with a grill of offal (kidneys and intestines), steak and a bottle of malbec, all finished off with a stunning dessert I’d never had before, port salud (a sweet, creamy cheese) and a small block of sweet morchilla (a quince-type jelly), which worked brilliantly together.

Here in Buenos Aires, we also saw the phenomenon of “it’s a small world” in action: we bumped into Rhodine, a friend of ours that we met on the Inca Trail, randomly, in a bar in San Nicolas. We’ve given up trying to work out the odds! She was on a mammoth tour group going around South America that would last 56 days! We all ended up going to a club called the Crobar, a huge space where it seems that ploddy, progressive house music is very much alive and popular in Argentina.

One chance meeting is random enough, but a few days later Grant was out to dinner when, who should be at the next table, but Michel and Leonie from the Salar de Uyuni tour! We had a superb, languid meal with them in San Telmo; fat, juicy steaks with lashings of delicious red wine. What are the odds, on a continent this size, to bump into people you know, when the margins are metres and milliseconds? Absolutely mindboggling odds! These are the kind of odds that don‟t sit too well with our usual conceptions of what constitutes luck. We don’t balk when an 80/1 shot horse rides to victory; “It’s just lucky!” we rationalise. But what about a 1,000,000/1 shot horse winning? I think we‟d call it something different: Fate. Destiny. Concepts with their own complications.

Buenos Aires is a fantastic city; it’s romantic, elegant and probably the first place I’ve been in South America that I could see myself settling down for an extended period of time (apart from possibly La Paz). Even so, I wanted to see a bit more of Argentina before leaving for Australia.

Argentina – The Iguazu Falls

chanman · Mar 25, 2009 · Leave a Comment

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For, believe me, the secret of the greatest fruitfulness and the greatest enjoyment of existence is: to live dangerously! Build your cities under Vesuvius! Send your ships into uncharted seas! Live at war with your peers and yourselves! Be robbers and conquerors, as long as you cannot be rulers and owners, you lovers of knowledge! Soon the age will be past when you could be content to live like shy deer, hidden in the woods! At long last the search for knowledge will reach out for its due: it will want to rule and own, and you with it!

Friedrich Nietzsche, The Gay Science

 

FROM RIO DE JANEIRO, we took an 18 hour bus journey south-south-west to the Iguazu Falls, a mighty set of waterfalls on the border between Brazil and Argentina.

To access the Falls, we stayed in the nearby town of Puerto Iguazu. Here, in a superb open-air restaurant called El Patio, I enjoyed my first taste of that Argentine classic, the parrilla, essentially an enormous barbecue for an asado, a South American technique for cooking cuts of meat, usually consisting of beef alongside various other meats, which are cooked on a grill (parrilla) or open fire. Asado is the traditional dish of Argentina, as well as Uruguay, Paraguay, Chile and southern Brazil, and is a choice of meats such as chorizos (salamis), morcillas (black pudding), chinchulines (chitterlings or intestines; chewy, smoky with a faint taste of liver), mollejas (sweetbreads) and other offal. The meat isn’t marinated; it’s just seasoned with salt. This is classic slow cooking. It’s served with chimichurri, a sauce of chopped parsley, dried oregano, garlic, salt, pepper, onion, and paprika with olive oil. I’m happy to report that Argentine beef is excellent! Here, it’s like in Santa Cruz de la Sierra where people enjoy nose to tail eating. So it’s tripe, snouts, kidneys, intestines and hearts, all the off cuts – really delicious stuff! The local beer is called Quilmes and it’s easily the best lager I’ve had in South America: it‟s clean, smooth and actually tastes of lager! This region is called El Litoral and is famous for the musical genre chamame. This is a catchy and bouncy music and it’s great to watch the locals dance to it. We saw this in the same restaurant where we were enjoying the asado, where people just seem to eat steak, drink good, young wine and get up and dance. Chamame dancing is almost the opposite of the tango because the man and woman never touch during the dance; they simply mirror each other’s movements as close to each other as can be without contact. People here in El Litoral just randomly get up and dance in front of a packed restaurant without a moment‟s thought for embarrassment and showing none of the reserve of Northern Europeans; things should be more like this. I’ve loved the music I’ve heard on this trip so far, from Bolivian pan-pipes to reggaeton and I looked forward to the tango in Buenos Aires.

The Iguazu Falls (Cataratas) are waterfalls of the Iguazu River on the borders of Brazil and the Argentine province of Misiones. Legend has it that a god planned to marry a beautiful indigenous woman named Naipí. Instead, she fled with her mortal lover Tarobá in a canoe. Enraged, the scorned god sliced the river creating the waterfalls and condemning the lovers to an eternal fall. We visited from the Argentine side, part of a national park, the Parque Nacional Iguazu. We headed first to the falls known as the Garganta del Diablo (brilliantly named the Devil’s Throat), an absolutely huge waterfall; it’s semi-circular, a massive 82m tall, and a mindboggling 150m wide. It‟s impossible not to break out into grins just looking at it, wiping the spray from your face. The ferocity is unimaginable; truly awesome! The rest of the Falls are equally spectacular: the whole waterfall system consists of 275 individual falls along nearly 3km of the Iguazu River and these can be seen very close up because of an intricate network of bridges and platforms that crisscross the falls. The views are simply too spectacular to fully take in, the noise of the falls are deafening, and you always have the awareness of the butt-clenchingly, ferocious power of these natural wonders.

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