The land of Patagonia

I've been in Patagonia for over 2 weeks now. It has felt like both a blink in time and a lifetime has passed. It's been really hard at times, particularly with regard to my current volunteer position (as a caregiver for a woman with quite advanced Multiple Sclerosis). At other times, it has just felt so right.
There's a lot to say, and I will catch up eventually. For now, it's the land here that impresses me most.

The land and climate here can best be described as relentless. It's the height of the summer and we're in the middle of a drought in El Huecu. Up until a few days ago when we arrived in Junin de los Andes (the site of a state fair, some 6 hours drive from El Huecu), I had not seen any rain - and few clouds, for that matter. Temperatures were reaching around 30-35 degrees daily, with hot, strong sun and constant, impressive winds. I've been given strict orders to save all outside work for the mornings and evenings, and I'm coming to understand the value of the afternoon siesta.

There's something about the land here, perhaps its well-worn yet extreme composure, that makes it so easy to picture as once being an ocean bottom. Sucked dry now, however, it is only the skeletal remnants.
Rivers are etched into parched earth, permitting small oasis' of lush greenery, small breaths of cool air. The mountains range from desert hills, speckled with both spiny and surprisingly delicate flora, to grand snow-capped volcanoes. Some of the scenery is reminiscent of the Okanagan, and some hills glow yellow much like the Canadian prairies in autumn. All seems somehow more extreme, however.

The road to Junin de los Andes showcased this variability well. We climbed in and around and down many gentler desert hills. We saw dramatic peaks with rocky spines that wind and settle like dinosaur tails. We had spectacular views of the distant iconic Andes.
And all the while the Patagonian wind never fails. And there's always dust. Lots of dust.

Growing sideways, this tree reminded me much of Newfoundland!

Volcan Lanin (near Junin de los Andes)

The Road to Patagonia Part 2

From Buenos Aires, it was an 18 hour bus ride to Zapala. I anticipated that I might be feeling tired, anxious, and in need of comfort for this stint of the journey, so i had purchased a ticket for the best seat I could online ahead of time. I had a hell of a time finding my bus, not realizing that the main station is massive and primarily made up of public transit terminals. At least 4 times I enterd a building to find railway tracks (Buenos Aires has an extensive underground). Each time the ticket person looked at me, very confused, and instructed me to go out of the building and left. Beet red and sweating perfusely, I eventually found my way to the bus terminal.

Leaving Buenos Aires gave me a better idea of just how big the city is. Many areas were much like other South American cities I´ve been to before, but with more prominant remnants of grand but deteriorating stone buildings. I was struck by the people´s use of green space, particularly along the highway. Any hint of grass, no matter what size, state, density of waste, or promiximity to the highway, was highly populated with picnicing families and young lovers. It was nice to see those places which I assumed to be an after thought so deliberately sought out and enjoyed. We take for granted our green spaces, us Canadians.

My bus was luxurious. I had fully reclining chair, almost in a cubicle, with a curtain I could draw half way across for privacy. I was on the second story of the bus, with a great view of the scenery along the way. In true Argentinian fashion, we were fed dinner at 10pm or so. First they serve an array on individually packaged crackers and cakes, with a small portion of potato salad. Of course I assumed this to be the extent of dinner and so filled up on leftover lunch I had packed with me. When they came around again with hot mashed potatoes and chicken, I unfortunately had no room left! We were offered wine, coke or water with our dinner, and whisky or champagne at midnight. I had wine (served elegantly in a tiny glass bottle...and a styrofoam cup), but was already hunkered down for the night by the time the second round of beverages arrived. While I wanted to take advantage of these luxueries, I realized how much more fun it would be to share them with others.

A couple of observations along the way:
1. The stray dogs here come in ALL breeds (I seeem to remember them being a homogenous type in other places. You know, midsize, dingo-like. Maybe I remember incorrectly.). It´s pretty pathetic to see those little white fluffy, yappy things typically owned by old ladies, trying to fend for themselves. Clearly they are not built for survival.

2. Also unlike my memories of Colombia, Ecuador, Peru and Bolivia, people walk for exercise here  - even those who live rurally. Perhaps this is uninteresting, but it´s something that I have paid attentions to in order to get a sense of how ridiculous I look if I go for a run.

After being served a breakfast of more packaged crackers and cakes, I arrived in Zapala around 8am. I had a 5 hour wait here before boarding my bus to El Huecu (the town nearest the ranch I am currently at). It was a long wait but made shorter by a cute old lady who patiently took on a conversation with me. It wasn´t much of a conversation, but she took care of me. She ushered me to patches of shade as the sun moved across the sky, offered to watch over my bags if I needed to use the bathroom, and shared her crackers and gum. When she boarded her bus she wished me luck and gave me lots of kisses. I figured she would ask me for money at some point (again, an assumption made from past experiences), but she never did. There is very little tourism here so I don´t think it´s become commonplace to as gringas for money. Regardless, I enjoyed this brief encounter.

I arrived at El Huecu 3.5 hours later, where Barb (the other volunteer here) was waiting for me. Boy oh boy was it nice to see a familiar face.

One more shot as I was leaving BA.

The best part of my overnight bus.

And it just kept getting better...

...And better.

The road from Zapala to El Huecu.

The landscape got increasingly more interesting as we entered the foothills of the Andes.

The Road to Patagonia Part 1

The road from Vancouver Island, Canada, to Patagonia, Argentina is long. 5 days of travel: 2 overnight flights, 23 hours on a bus, and I am here.

It began with a flight to Toronto, where I remembered why I don't like Toronto in the winter. Frigid winds, debilitatingly cold temperatures. What Toronto does not offer in the way of climate, however, it makes up for in warm departures. A mere 36 hours in Toronto and I was ready with some quality Jasmin time, and a belly full of Korean. 

The overnight flight from Toronto to Buenos Aires totaled 15 or so hours of travel, including a quick stop over in Satiago, Chile. On my flight I met a police officer from Chile who was returning after accompanying the deportation of a Canadian from his home country. He was kind enough to tell me that my Spanish was really bad, which I decided was not fair, given this was my first conversation in Spanish in 4 years. It was comforting to make a connection, regardless.

My flights were surprisingly painless, given the length of travel. I was shocked to find that I reached my destination without even one in-flight movie! The food was interesting. Lunch consisted of green beans, asparagus, and sweet corn, boiled within an inch of their life, and strewn carelessly on plain bread. I´m not sure when this sort of thing became ok, but I ate without complaint.

Upon arriving in Buenos Aires, I began my search for the bus company that I was told would take me to the hostel I had booked online (at half the price of a taxi). By some miracle, I did just this and voila! I was on a bus. And then in a smaller car that was delivering me to my hostel door step. And this was me successfully traveling on my own in a city of 9 million people. And I was pleased with myself.

Since arriving to Argentina, I have been surprised by how few people speak any English. At my hostel I communicated with the owner that I had paid online (which he didn't seem to know anything about...but luckily I had printed a receipt!), was given a key to my room, and was told nothing more. I was in a room with one other girl from Brazil, who was very nice and kindly answered the million questions I had. I went on a hunt for water, told Mom I had made it, and then settled in for the night.

Buenos Aires is, simply put, alive. With less than 24 hours there, it became quite apparent to me that it was a city of extremes. Lots of wealth, plenty of poverty, meat, meat, meat, meat, meat. It's pristine, and run down, and masses of people and cars wind in graceful chaos. There are lines marking lanes on the roads, but they have no purpose - it's better to just squeeze your tiny car between two double-decker buses and plough ahead! For my lunch out I ordered lasagne and was brought a pile of layers and layers of ham, drenched in a cheesy sauce. Needless to say my last 6 months of near veganism have not prepared my stomach for such a task.

When it was time to leave, I packed on my 50 pounds of belongings and took the worst and longest route to Estacion Retiro (the main bus station in BA). I arrived red-faced and sweating profusely (like a true gringa), and boarded the bus to Zapala.

It was only a wee taste of Buenos Aires, and I will certainly return for a few days more at the end of my trip.