One Last Day in the Vineyard

The last you heard from us was about our final legs of the W, but truth be told those postings have been written from the wine haze of Mendoza. There are some stories to come about the ghosts of Nazi hideout villages and hippie towns, but those will have to wait.

It is harvest time here in the Southern Hemisphere (fall, not spring) and in vino country that is a big deal. Today we took in our last ladies lunch in the valle de Mendoza. After our cab driver finally admitted he was lost and stopped and asked for directions (yes, an Argentinian man can ask for directions) we landed at the 100 year old Clos de Chacras and enjoyed wine, lunch, tour and tasting. We did our last day quite big.

As you can witness from the following video, Chrissie is finding her inner sommier. For the last week we have: wandered the small streets of Mendoza, we have explored the deep valleys of Lujan y Maipu, we had an old woman beg change off a punk rock kid in Chacras to fund our bus ride that lurched and stopped throughout the outskirts of Mendoza and we ran frightened by the cacophony of American voices in the local wine shop. Mendoza has been tranquil and restful.

What must be said, before we fall into our sleep and cover our heads so the buzz of the mosquitoes doesn't drive us mad, is that we have loved our time in Argentina more than words can say. It is with chiquita lagrimas that we say goodbye to Argentina--her cities, her waters, her glaciers, her montanas, her winds, her uvas, her cafe con leche, and her gente! Muchas gracias grande pais!

Manana we hop a small van and careen over the Andes into Santiago for semana santa-holy week. I can't wait to go to mass on Sunday!

Enjoy Chrissie's eloquent description of the chardonnay! Ciao chicos!

Words speak louder than words

Rather than blabber on to you about the last three grueling days of the W (not really that grueling), I thought we'd offer you the following slide show. The audio is a bit low, so turn up the volume on your computer, put your ear close to the speaker and enjoy Chrissie's mileage count of our trip--nearly 43 miles!

But before we end things here on the infamous W, we thought we'd offer a few bits of advice:

If you pay for the best you don't necessarily get the best. Sure the mega-expensive cabana on that stormy night was wonderful, but the truth is the best dinner and the best ambiance came with the cheapest, most "rustic" Refugio Grey. It was a great way to end our trip!

Don't pretend to be what you're not. Chrissie and I are walkers, sometimes hikers. But we soon realized on this trip that we are not trekkers. Trekkers walk faster and they don't look at the views until they get to the mirador. I recall one day when we spotted a rainbow and pointed it out to a gang of trekkers headed the opposite direction, they turned, glanced quickly and moved on as we stood in silence and enjoyed. And as Chrissie noted for both of us, we didn't realize how "bloody feeble" we were. On day 4 Chrissie confirmed that she was NOT going "trekking" at 4,000 meters in Peru! I concurred. Leave that for the sherpas!

Travel light. "I could never carry my house on my back...all those blasted implements hanging off those rucksack. Shell out a few dollars and stay somewhere!" says the Lady of the Trail.

You never need as much as you think you need. Truthfully you can wear the same clothes day after day and no one really minds, not even your bunkmate. When I get back I plan to cut my wardrobe in half. But Chrissie wishes she brought one more pair of platform shoes on the trail!

It's about the journey not the destination. I know this is contrary to what I said the first day, but it really is true. I can say this with complete confidence as I sip on a big fat glass of crisp Argentinian Chardonnay/Voigner!

Here's to our slow walk through the W--Thank you Patagonia!

PS, if the slideshow doesn't play at first, let it buffer and then drag the play marker a little to the right to get the slideshow started.

The Rainbow Connection

A wise frog once sang a song about rainbows, visions, illusions, and "the lovers, the dreamers and me." Well I can honestly say that Patagonia likes to parade rainbows in front of you to draw you further down the trail.

For me there is a silence that fills me when I see a rainbow, a kind of wonder about science, nature and spirit. I think rainbows are about 90% science and about 10% mystery, myth and mysiticsm. On Day three of our Torre del Paine hike, about 30 kilometers into our 60+ km hike, we were in good spirits and despite the previous night's storm, the day was cloudy but bright, and the rainbows were on parade.

In our time in South America we have probably seen over two dozen rainbows--the light, the sun, the ice, the wind, the rain...all of these ingredients mixed with the latitude and longitude, produced numerous rainbows that had us jaw dropped and mesmerized.

What didn't have us mesmerized on the trip were the sack lunches. You can see below Chrissie's surprise when we sat down, rainbow in view, to have a little lunch on day 3 to find soggy cheese, canned mushrooms and hearts of palm lining her stale bread! But as we've learned on the trail, gratitutude is always a thought away. Good thing we had those peanuts and chocolate!

That's it for now. Maybe we'll do a line or two tomorrow about our last day on the trail and the fantastic stuffed zucchini prepared by a refugio chef in the wilds of Glacier Grey on our last night on the trail. But what you'll probably hear more about in the coming days is the complete gluttony that has taken over in Mendoza! Good lord they can make wine here!

Dia Dos del W

Chrissie and I look pretty fresh here as we begin our second day of the W. I know I was secretly praying to los dios de trekking that the next 11 kilometers were nothing like yesterday...and I know my hips and knees were also whispering small prayers.

This is a short post because it was a short and lovely hike. No straight up, no torrents of wind (a guy told us that Patagonia is the nacimiento del viento -- the birthplace of wind), and we enjoyed a long rest by a quiet lake and we drank in some wonderful vistas of the Los Cuernos montanas.


As we slowly made our way to our next stay at Refugio Los Cuernos where we had booked the cabanas rather than dorm it up with the youngin's, I began day dreaming about the massage I might receive upon arrival.

The massage never materialized, but truthfully what followed after we arrived in the late afternoon was better than any massage--refuge from the storm. No more than 15 minutes after we pulled off our boots and braved the showers, did the white caps fill the lake and the rain pounded the hills. That night at the refugio there were people begging to get in and out of the rain. It was an incredible storm. Chrissie does a nice reenactment for us below.

Oh, and now I remember one of the more remarkable people we met along the trail. He was a brasilian who was probably in his early 30s and as we passed him on the trail he challenged me to try on his pack. As I slipped it on my legs buckled and shook. He said it weighed more than his two kids. He also admitted he was loco. We agreed. We saw him later that night at the refugio, soaking wet, but happy to be in shelter. In the middle of the night as Chrissie magically slept (must be the earplugs) I was reminded of how lucky we were when it felt like our little cabana was going to go Dorothy on us and blow away to the land of Oz. I was incredibly happy to be without pack and not in a soaking wet tent about to be blown off the mountain! Ah to be a princess....that cabana was not the Ritz but it cost just about the same and it was worth it!

Towers of Paine

(ed. note: The stories that will follow about the adventures of Chrissie and Ingrid hiking the "W" (see map to the left) in the Torres del Paine nacional parque in South America have been written a week later than their actual occurrence which may lead to the conjuring of memory being more fiction than fact, so consider yourself fairly warned.)

Dia Uno

Sometimes it is best to begin something with no idea of what you are getting yourself into. This can be said sometimes of relationships, jobs, and often adventures. Chrissie and I are not sure whose idea it was to trek in Torres del Paine in South America, but perhaps it is better left as a mystery.

The “W” circuit in Torres del Paine is, it appears, quite popular with the trekking types. Kids from all over the world, and let me affirm here, kids, like to load up their backs with tents, sleeping bags, hot dogs and grits and hit the trail. Thanks to amigo Bob, we learned we could trek like proper ladies and manage with a small daypack while spending our evenings in the refugios along the way and be given a hot meal and a place to sleep. Not exactly camping, but obviously not the Four Seasons, these refugios ranged from small cabins to small hotels with co-ed sleeping dorms and, sometimes, a warm shower, which most often required you to to tip toe in and out with your eyes narrowed so you couldn’t see what the shower really looked like.

A Three Hour Tour

(note: See small people walking up long, steep trail in photo to left)

Dia Uno we arrived at the park around 11:30 am and quickly unloaded a few items at our first refugio, conveniently located at the base of the trail, before we began what we had been warned was a long day, about 6 or more hours of hiking. This first leg of the trip led us to the main attraction: the Torres del Paine. One hour into it our legs were burning and I think both Chrissie and I were seething at each other, wondering how we could blame the other for this crazy idea. We kept silent and kept going up, up, up. We would pause for breaths and also for views, and often agree our month in Buenos Aires of cakes and cocktails may have dampened our fitness. However, oddly enough, neither of us had the wherewithal to maybe suggest that Concussion Chrissie might want to rest a few more days before climbing mountains.

The sun shone, the wind was mild (for now), and we rested at one of the campsites to enjoy our first meal on the trail (the standard queso y pan) and listened to the rush of the river.

The odd thing about South America and it’s “manana” mindset, is that when it comes to hiking times on the trail, it appears Chrissie and I are a little slower than average. When they say 3 hours, we take about 4-5. So when the trail map suggested 3 hours to the top and we were 2 hours in and only a third of the way there, well, we just assumed a translation error.

45 Minutos

We finally arrived to a junction where it said "mirador 45 minutes" which means the Torres (meaning towers) are only 45 minutes away. Sigh of relief.

The scramble up is just that, a scramble, and at this point Chrissie and I are simply just silent. Others are beginning to descend at this point, and they affirm to us, perhaps our weariness painfully apparent on our faces and with our slow pace, "It's not far, and it sure is worth it." I'm not sure what could be worth this, but I know from years of hiking, this little bit of pain is truly often worth the achievement and the view, but for some reason for both of us, we were having a difficult time remembering this important part of trekking--it's about the destination not the journey!

As we headed up the boulder-covered, slope the wind kicked in to a point where it nearly knocked us down, but we persisted.

Summiting the Summit

An hour and 15 minutes later, we hit the summit! And yes, the view at the top and the accomplishment were worth it. The colors of the towers mixed with the milky green water of the glacial lake remarkable and the vista breathtaking. A few bits of chocolate and some photos and we knew we needed to head back before darkness fell (given our timing vs. posted timings we had a good 4-5 hours down the mountain). And down we did go complete with a few gusts of wind that almost took us over the edge. That night we enjoyed a tall vaso de cervesa y mucho pain in our legs, but we slept like babies!

Again, muchas Gracias Herm for your words of encouragement and the ability to enjoy the summit!

Please enjoy viewing Dame Elgar's silent film debut, which will showcase the environs of the summit! More to come about Dia Dos en Torees del Paine manana!

This one's for you Herm!

Dear Dad,

We survived our trek of the infamous "W" and this first post after our adventure in Torres del Paine is for you. For the past five days we have climbed (and stumbled) over boulders, buckled down under fierce winds, traversed roaring rivers, pushes ourselves up scree slopes and eaten more pan y queso than I'd prefer to remember (and not enough pepperoni).

We have gazed at granite spires, we have weathered pelting rain, we have admired giant glaciers with blues unnamed, we have rested near peaceful glacial lakes, and every night I have thought of you, my bones and joints aching and weary.

It is your voice that urged me on to one more vista when my legs wanted to come to a dead stop. It is your love of nature that you infused in me that allowed me to sit in silent wonder amidst these grande montanas. So thank you--thank you for giving me the passion to explore, admire and respect nature and thank you for teaching me to keep going just a little further, even when I wanted to stop.

Con mucho amore,
Ingrid

PS. More stories to come...including Dame Elgar's silent film debut (it is silent only because the wind is blowing so hard you can't hear a word she's saying!)

Ice Queens

Thanks for all your well wishes for our Lady of the Poolside Acrobatics! The good news is the stitches are out and the greenish yellow that covers half of Chrissie's cabeza has a word of its own in spanish that I can't even remember even though the doctor said it three times!

BTW, it's only 150 pesos (less than $30 USD) for a house call in El Calafate. The US could learn a few things from the cowboy medicine of Argentina. It may seem archaic, but it's affordable and it works.

So we've gone from the jungles and hospitals of Iguazu to the steppes and glaciers of Patagonia. And yes, this is our Lady of the Poolside Acrobatics taking a try at ice climbing sin helmet!

I'm not sure words can describe what we've adventured over the last few days. We arrived in a town that reminds me of the reservations of New Mexico complete with half built houses, lots of roaming dogs, wind, lots of touristy shops and very friendly people.

The next day we hopped on a boat with about 300 other people to see "todos glaciers." We headed across Argentina's largest lago and up one of the arms of the lake to slowly see bits of ice floating and then come upon an entire ice field. Part of our journey to the largest glacier, Uppsala, was blocked because of the ice flow.

But what we saw were a magnifient field of sparkling blues and azules. We even saw a small piece of glacier (about the size of a house) turn on itself, which means it did a summersault for us.

 We then toured to the front of Perito Moreno's north face. Once again, no words but remarkable. We watched large chunks of the flow fall into the lake with a crash and make waves big enough to body surf! Perito Moreno is as large as Buenos Aires.

Yesterday we hit the road early with about 50 of our closest friends and visited the south face of Perito and then took a nice trek on the ice complete with crampons (ice shoes). It was magnifico!

In about 4 hours we're off to Puerto Natales for our trek into the W. Please check out amigo Bob's blog about the hike. We're really looking forward to it.

No more from us for about a week. Until then, enjoy a few photos from our time here in the glaciers!

PS. I thought my photography of food had ended in BA until we ordered this lemon cake last night. Best I've had in ages. Perfect crumb, perfect curd, perfect in every way and made by a chica! Que rica!

PPSS if you eat the calafate berry, it is said you that you will return to Patagonia. Chrissie and I ate many! Very yummy...kind of like a blueberry.

Iguazu and other falls

Okay, Ingrid has said I need to participate more actively in the blog. So, I'm going to give you the highlights of the past week or so ...

Iguazu: Water (see video below) - & other falls (see photos below)

If you ever get the chance to go to Iguazu, go. Be sure to stay at the Sheraton (it's in the National Park so easy access to everything) & insist on a Falls View room (well worth the extra few quid as the view is incredible).

Also, sign up for the boat trip (see small boat in photo to left near large falls) - the one where the captain is a madman & you come back to shore absolutely soaked to the skin after 20 minutes of skirting round the falls & darting up to the Devil's Throat & back. It's one of those experiences where you're laughing so hard & being bombarded by so much water that you spend most of the time gasping for breath. I suspect the captain could see that we were willing victims & decided to just go for it, i.e. I didn't notice punters from any other boat wringing out T-shirts or even, in some cases (step forward Ms. Maltrud), removing them altogether (although perhaps she should have rethought the choice of bra?)

Anyway, that first day was topped off by a near-death experience. Well, okay, let's call it a little accident. Having cleaned up a bit after our boat bonanza, we (Ingrid, Anthony - a friend from Australia, & I) were having a drink at the poolside bar. I'd had one margarita (yes, it really was only one) & at some point, while Anthony & I were chatting, I started swaying from side to side, fell from the bar-stool to the ground & cracked my right temple on the concrete. Poor Anthony had turned round for a second & hadn't seen a thing, Ingrid was fetching something from the room so wasn't there at all & I only know a little about what went on because we subsequently met up with someone who had seen the whole thing - my memory conveniently excludes anything between looking at photos with Anthony & finding myself lying on a sun-lounger surrounded by people asking me questions). So, off we all went to the hospital &, after an X-ray (am keeping it as a memento - Ingrid tells me I was moving around so much it couldn't possibly have shown anything useful), I got three stitches in the side of my head.

Thank goodness for State Registered Nurse I. Maltrud; incredibly calm in a crisis & magnificent in her refusal to move from the Emergency Room (or whatever they call the place in Iguazu General where the doctor does the needlework) - I remember her repeating "Yo prefiero aqui" each time the doctor tried to move her on. Many thanks also due to Anthony for pitching in with his brilliant Spanish (if it were down to Ingrid & me, I hate to think what organs I might have unintentionally donated) & for not taking a photo of my bandaged, swollen face & blood-soaked clothing for FaceBook purposes.

Strangely enough, I'm feeling fine although I look a bit the worse for wear. For the last few days I've been sporting a massive dressing which covers practically the whole of the right side of my face so I'm sure everyone thinks I'm some saddo who went to Argentina for cut-price cosmetic surgery & couldn't afford the whole package.

Anyway, let's move away from me & my desperate attempts for attention. The Falls at Iguazu are totally incredible. Ingrid & I decided to stay on at the Sheraton for another night so that we could make sure we saw all that was on offer. We left Iguazu for El Calafate, at the other end of the country in Patagonia. More to come soon on this amazing part of the adventure.

(note from Nurse I Maltrud - thanks to Nurse Nan for her concussion evaluation tips from afar..so glad all is well and dear Chrissie is verticle again and eating chocolate)

Chrissie After "The Falls" and Chrissie after "The Fall"

Bye Bye BA

Goodbyes
Goodbyes remind me of a kind of regret I have when I finish that last bite of a Gioa slice of pepperoni pizza or when my new favorite song ends before I have a chance to belt out the last phrase. This is what goodbyes are like for me. So when Chrissie and I left BA on Tuesday, both of us a bit tearful, I was reminded about goodbyes. Goodbyes are endings on the edge of beginnings, which is maybe why they feel so uncomfortable. But this time, when I said goodbye from the back of the cab to the sunny morning skyline of BA, I paused and held my goodbye for a moment, before moving on to the beginning of our next adventure.

Insatiable
This last month has been remarkably tranquilo. I don’t think I could have asked for a better place to be. To be somewhere that asks nothing of you is rare. We all want so much—we have bottomless appetites for more, more of what we know or what we like or what we want to feel. The usual suspects are power, money, sex, food, drugs…the list goes on. The truth is, I have an endless demand for more and for that more to continually satisfy me, and for that pursuit of more to go my way and be perfect. Buenos Aires is far from perfect, but it satisfied me. It lulled me into a pace of life where I found that if I didn’t like my helado because it was too sweet, it didn’t really matter. There was always manana, or there was always Esmerelda.

Muchas gracias
We lived for a month in a beautiful, comfortable apartment thanks to Monette. Jorge our “super” charmed us daily with tests of our Spanish speaking capability. Night doorman Mr. Bean smiled and joked endlessly and ushered us home on late nights safe and sound. The woman at the lavanderia always graciously reminded us of the ultimo time we could pick up our laundry.

The young woman at Nucha came to know our orders and brought us café con leche with a silent, gentle smile. Angel Angeles charmed us with her laughter and commitment to get us to speak at least un poco espanol. Norman at Bar Danzon spoiled us by speaking English and delivered our drinks with flare. So many people amidst some 10 million others helped us, guided us and gently lead us through this last month without a lot of effort on our part…So many many thanks to all of you!


Our favorites
Chrissie and I agreed on our favorites of our month in BA:

El ciudad esta muy agreeable y tranquil por a busy busy city
The futbol matches were a thrill
Estudiamos espanol was muy muy enjoyable
Esta personas were delightful
Eating was always an adventure and often delish
A month wasn’t enough!

Enjoy a few more photos. More to come soon from Iguazu Falls!

Cena Fiesta y Never go to Boca ala Noche

Wow, what a week. There hasn't been a moment to sit here and tell you all about it. Mi novio DL arrived a week ago--a completely impromptu visit from the land of Healdsburg and it was a delightful visit. While the mosquitoes dined on the fresh new blood from California (they had already tired of ours) Chrissie and I quickly trained Dan on the on the ways of BA--sleep late, Nucha breakfast, espanol classe (we sent him off to different assignments during our classe), cocktails, dinner, maybe more cocktails and then maybe sleep. It was wonderful.

Even more wonderful was our most memorable meal in BA thanks to Lucia International. Dan cooked a delish meal for our espanol profesora, Angeles, and Chrissie's friend from London/Australia, Anthony. What an amazing night of many accents, many views and the fantastico experience of our global world realized around a mesa of comida y laughter.

Our espanol professora started us off with a yummy bottle of Argentinian champagne that Dan paired with a bright crostini of peppers and olives. We then sat down to the traditional Argentinian Lomo (bife tenderloin) atop a "San Telmo" potato cake, topped with an amazing pepper/tomato/fennel sauce.

It was truly our best meal in BA. The lomo melted in our mouths, the potato pancake was both local and international, the sauce tantalized our tongues. It was remarkable, as were the bottles of wine--malbec, cab, and a chardonnay that was oaky but tangy. We ended the evening with the best helados in the world topped with macerated strawberries. Que lindo! We were up until 3:30--a record for us in the town that parties until 8am.

Stories speak louder than the written word. Please forgive our amateur filming, but it was really a great time. Enjoy the video below, but please do read on for the next night's adventure that again kept us up and atom until 3am!

La Boca A La Noche

OK, so we did what every guidebook, every local, every tourist tells you not to do: We went to La Boca at night, and we went there on a Friday night, and we went there for a Boca Junior's futbol game...perhaps the riskiest of all. The bad news is that we don't have any photos as proof of our attendance of a Boca futbol game, the good news is that we lived to tell the story.

8pm Friday night: Dan and I are napping after a long day of shopping and late lunching; Chrissie arrives home from class after a few hours of shopping.

"Did you get my text?" Says Chrissie. I tell her--No text received.

Breaking news: The Boca Juniors game we hoped to attend Sabado dia was actually tonight, in 1 hour 15 minutes.

Reponse: I wake up Dan, we conference and we all agree, let's give it a go.

Action: Stripped down to jeans and jumpers (no makeup and no jewelry) we go downstairs to grab a cab. Three times we ask, each cabby shakes their head furiously, which means NO WAY I"M NOT TAKING YOU TO THE BOMBONERA STADIUM FOR THAT MAD HATTER OF A FUTBOL MATCH. But they tell us we can take the bus.

Result: So we do. We have no idea where we're going, but we brazenly take our first bus ride directly to Boca Bombiera Stadium. One bus that passes us is rocking with music, rowdy fans and arms out the windows. Old women in the bus are rolling their eyes but we are getting more excited.

We have no idea how to get into the stadium without a ticket, but we do (those of you willing to ask how to scalp a ticket for a boca game can email Chrissie separately, she'll have a story complete with switchblade and back alleys). It was risky, but it was worth it and we had an amazing time. The fans were screaming, playing loud brass and drums, and shaking the entire stadium. We went along with it all (sans the cursing, well, maybe a bit of that but in English vs the espanol Puta puta puta). We did this all from way up in the nose bleed section where we were told, by the chico who sold us our "entrance" that we "could sit anywhere." Low and behold this was not true as we sat right in someone's season ticket seats. He was kind, we apologized and we eventually found seats of our own. It was an unforgetable evening. When they put three mnutes on the clock at the end and the score was Boca 1, Estudiante's 0, Lucia predicted, "a lot can happen in three minutes." And sure enough it did--the game ended in a tie 1-1. We made it home safely, managed a few cocktails at our favorite local Bar Danzon, and hit the hay by 3:30am. Muy fantastico!