I'm on a boat!

Thursday, 26th of March

I board the the Navimag ferry Eden at 21h00 unsure of what to expect of this 150 passenger cargo ferry that will take me and about 90 other travelers and 10 truck drivers (their trucks being transported to distant Puerto Montt) I locate my 3 man cabin on the 6th deck of the passenger ferry and meet my Australian roommate, whose parents both emigrated from Chile during the dictator years. Dawid is a great guy who has also traveled extensively and worked with renowned NGO, Amnesty International. We talked until 2am before finally settling in for the night.

Friday, 27th of March

After breakfast at 08h30 go out to the stern (Learned the sailor's lingo whilst at sea!) of the boat to see us cast off

Puerto Montt sunrise

Some of my fellow travelers

Rocking the sunrise pose

I went inside to write a bit on my travel journal and I meet an American girl called Ashley. She is a feverent environmentalist and health conscience person (a bit to much as I would later learn) and what what I would describe as 'an american fraternity girl accent'. We got a new roommate, a large Kiwi called Ben, and the 3 of us have a nap just after lunch. After my nap I went down to the dining area and get invited by an Irish couple and Ashley to join them in for a card game called 'switch', they are also kind enough to share their rum and vodka with me while we play. Alcohol products are actually prohibited, because apparently some years ago teenagers drank, as they usually do, too much and decided the best possible activity they could do at that moment would be to start a full fledged barbeque in their cabin. This led to the ban on drink, which the navimag company is apparently quite lax on enforcing as one of their officers, the paramedic to be precise, got roaringly drunk and physically semi assaulted a bolivian passenger for being, well, bolivian (Bolivia and Chile had a war some 120 years ago or something) He was semi confined/detained to the boat's detention centre for the duration of the journey. I played cards with them until well after dinner, but my considerable patience was slowly being eroded by the American's constant health and environmental preaches... Lines which would include

"You know you're poisoning yourself right?" She would rethorically ask as I was drinking my coffee from a styrofoam cup. "Really?" I would respond, taking another big sip of my beverage. She shared this tad-bit of information with me 25minutes before her hourly smoke break.

Just before midnight she advised/accused the irish couple (who just 30 minutes ago were informed that they "were her favourite couple" and that "she had stopped believing in couples before she met them" and were her personal heroes) of using to many plastic cups. I made a joke about the cups being sure to be recycled, I got the cold eyes. The man, Darren then made the mistake of of saying there were thousands of cups on board and the crew would feel hurt if they werent all used accordingly. She went on to say that you should only use ONE plastic cup for the entire duration of the journey and that their children won't one day be able to visit  Pantigonia, see dolphins, hug penguins etc., because of their youthful misgivings about the environment.. It is at this stage that I left the converstaion and went to bed.

Saturday, 28th of March

After the morning breakfeast I watched American Sniper, which was ok but not as good as I thought it would be. The meals on the ship are really well prepared and I heard many a passenger complain that that their hard earned kilojoule-burn achived from the previous days' hiking in the Tierre del fuego region is being ruined by the ships steady and ample supply of food. Most of the days I spent on the ship the activities I did can be described as eating, sleeping getting to know other passengers, walking the bow of the ship, walking back from the bow of the ship and just as you contemplated a second journey to the stern to check up on the cows you'd get involved and/or invited to a card game (around dinner time) and spend the rest of the evening at that table. The card games played would be switch or one of two versions of shithead or arsehole. It so happened (inevitability) that I got caught up in one of these games shortly after dinner with a Brit and his dad, my roommate Dawid and an Indian fellow called Mishbah. We played the South African version of shithead well into the night with yours truely dominating the playing field.

By midday the ship had reached the open ocean and although the boat's crew manager said that 4-6m waves were not nearly as bad as it could be, a lot of the passengers disagreed, if not vocally then by being absent from the dinner table and the next morning's breakfeast, having failed dismally at keeping the previous meals 'below deck'

Sunday, 29th of March

Durning the night none of us three could've slept more than 3hs. The boat's incessant rocking had rendered it impossible to lie on your your sides. You had to either lay on your stomach in the starfish pose, with your arms and legs spread wide for stability, or on your back with arms and legs similarly spaced. At about 6am, Ben's huge backpack fell from his top bunk and onto the floor, in the process knocking over my cup of water onto it. When Dawid, who awoke bewildered and unhinged from the thunderous crash, felt the dampness on his rucksack from my spilt cup, he shot up and shoted in his delirium that the boat was sinking, the boat was sinking! It took both me and big Ben to calm him down, afterwards we jokingly went to bed.

The last night a couple of us gathered, including Ben, myself, Darren and Carla, Carlos (the Bolivian who got assaulted by the medico) and two other swiss guys, to play a final night of cards while we aimed to finish all of the remaining smuggled alcohol, which wasn't much by Irish, NZ and South African standards, but it was hearty all the same. Being quite the ruckas bunch, the jokes soon turned inappropriate, but the jokes' hilarity was dwarfed in comparison to having to explain the jokes to an english-impared Carlos using pictionary techniques and body language! 

Puerto Natales

I stood up bright and early on the 25th, ate the last of my Quaker oats gleefully and left to catch my bus at 08:30. The countryside was once again barren. It's quite eerie seeing so much flat landscape, well watered flat landscape unworked and unfarmed, but I quickly remembered that these plains must be snow-covered for at least half a year.

I located an additional 50Pesos in the shorts I was wearing and not wanting any useless Argentine pesos in Chile I proceeded to treat myself to a mango juice and two Argintine speciality dobble decker cookies. Pitty, I could have used my newfound riches to buy myself 1 night's worth of cutlery back in El Calafate. The border crossing went by quicker than I expected and I arrived in Puerto Natales shortly after lunch time.

I made my way to the sleeping lamb hostel - which came highly recomended by several sources. Upon arrival I enquired as to the availabilty of dormitory rooms. I was informed that there were none available, but seeing as there was some sort of mix up with a booking - if I was willing to settle for a double room, luxury, ensuite room (usually $80) they were willing tio set me up in it for the dormitory price of $22. I would be sharing the room with an Irish girl who had a similar run of good fortune, as is the habit of the Irish. I already liked Chile way more than Argintina.

That evening I proceeded to get quite merry over a few beers with an British bloke and when I retired I noticed that the room was abandoned. I vaguely remembered that she informed us that she was going to meet up with an Argintine park ranger with whom she thought she shared a mutual attraction. When I woke up at 07:30 and noticed that I was still by myself, I concluded that the attraction must have been very mutual. When she returned half an hour later jokingly enquired as to what could possibly make her give up her $80 a night room that she got for near a quater of the price? I thanked her none the less for granting me the room and letting me sleep like a king.

Tonight at 20:00 I get on the ferry for Puerto Montt. Tis a 4 night, 3 day trip. We set off early tomorrow morning at 06:00, so we are allowed to sleep on the ship tonight.

Special edition #1

For my first special edition blog post - here is the route I traveled since leaving Buenos Aires southwards!

The total distance traveled is just under 3500km of which roundabout 55hrs was spent on a bus

El Calafte

Two quick remarks before I set off with my usual rant -

1 - I wish to congratulate the Proteas on their excellent world cup effort, I stayed up until the wee hours of the morning on cricinfo to follow each and every single ball. I wish I could have seen it first hand!

2 - Jy weet jy begin nou rerig die huis mis as jy opgewonde raak om n swart man in die straat sien!

I got up at 06:30 yesterday and started my day with a good old bowl of oats, bought my ferry ticket, packed my bags and bid El Chalten farewell as I got on the bus to El Calafate. It was a 3 hour bus - most of which I spent sleeping. I sat in the front of the bus once again, so the views of all the nothing was spectacular!

Apon arrival I purchased a ticket to Puerto Natales on Wednesday, thinking that this lovely little town's sights would entertain me for a day. I made my way to the closest hostel, which charged me 174 Pesos per night... WITHOUT breakfast! You also have to put down a 50 Peso (R75) deposit to obtain cutlery so you can eat the meal you made for yourself in their sparsely furnished kitchen, which boatst a total of 6 gas plates but no oven or microwave oven. What a rip. I immediately felt hostile towards these people and only booked one night. I went in search of another, cheaper hostel. It quickly became appartent that El Calafate's entire economic framework, welfare initiatives, pensions and civic services are paid for by humble travelers such as myself. The next hostel I enquired at cost 190 Pesos, no breakfast, and the one after that 290 PESOS!? As I was making a retreat Pierre Spies would have been proud of I heard the girl calling after me that breakfast was included.

So it turns out I have been luckey with my first choice of accomodation. Begrudgingly I paid for another night's randsom. After my exploration I went to the supermarket and bought myself some food and a liter bottle beer. After finishing the bottle life seemed a lot better - I didnt feel cheated anymore and the throbbing in my left knee had subsided, tis truely a miricle potion!

I stayed up until 3am local time following the proteas' semi final against New Zeeland, even reading the live feed gave me the chills.

El Chalten phodieeees

El Chalten#2

I appologize once again for being MIA for the past couple of days. Once again it was completely not my fault.

The whole of southern Pantagonia experienced a total internet blackout of sorts, leaving me with my sorry excuse for a left knee to hobble around this small town in search of some form of distraction. It wasn't easy... El Chalten is hiking town through and through - so for someone, in this case me, who couldn't hike, let alone reach the end of the street without a cane and who couldn't spend hours exploring the vast ocean that is the internet, my life became boredom. I would spend the mornings until 10am in the hostel and when cabin fever drove me out I would lend a hiking stick from the friendly owner and hobble into town. I would start my day at a cafe and order a coffee while I 'tracked' my expences, which is a complex problem if you have none.. So I would venture into every supermarket and buy budget food such as pasta, tomatoes and oranges so that I can write down those expences later. I went to the doctor one morning to try and establish what the hell is going on around my kneecap, to my delight he told me that all of my ligaments are in place and that no bones are broken. I just need to rest and keep using a walking stick while my muscles recover from its tantrum. This piece of consolidation cost me R500. 

In the evenings I would make myself some pasta and improve my spanish with the help of a spanish-english dictionary present at the hostel. In my limited experience of this spanish continent you'll get by a lot better in the first few weeks if 

1. You're a pictionary champion.

2. Can use illustrative and humourous hand and body signals.

3. You have winning, friendly and warm smile.

4. Focus on 'complimenting' and 'thankful' spanish first i.e. "You have a nice shop" "You're town is very pretty" "Thank you, you are very friendly" people here I've found are 4 times as eager to understand and teach you once you've dished out a compliment or two.

5. Most importantly make it known that you are a spanish noob but display an zealous urge to learn.

These will serve you much more than a 3 or 6 month course in the language.

Tomorrow I will be moving along further south to El Calafate where I'll spend a night or two depending on the sights available to the crippled population. From ther I hope to make my way to Porto Natales and catch a 3 day ferry to Porto Montt in Chille. El Chalten is really really beautiful, even if you cannot walk to the even better sights surrounding this small Pantagonian town. Every day That I walked/limped out of the hostel I did it with a smile and a light heart.

El Chalten

I woke up at 7am on Wednesday morning and immediately checked the news to see if today was going to be an okay or great day. As it turns out, the Proteas had smashed the Sirilankans in the ICC WC quater final - today was going to be a good day 😄. As I was eating a celebratory bowl of corn flakes. The hostel manager, Mattias, informed me that there were no beds available for tonight at his hostel and that I would have to move out or move on. I didn't see the point in moving into or to a less cosy hostel so I opted for the the 1261km, 22h bus drive to El Chalten. Once again the trip was not as tedious as I thought it would be. The on board movies were all in english, a fully charged ipod and I could thoroughly contemplate my next step - which at this stage would be to take a 3day ferry from porto natales in the very south of Chille to porto montt, which is a little more to the north in Chille. 

Here you can see 2 helpful bus passengers getting out to help free some strange long-necked sheep from a fence

El Chalten sits on the fork of a river and at the base of the Andes mountain range. It is quite cold all the down here, and I have to wear three layers of clothing at this stage. I have some time to kill until next friday when my ship is set to sail. Im sure Ill manage! The place Im staying at currently is the cheapest place I been to thus far. 100 pesos a night, but breakfeast is not included, so Ill resort to good old oats porridge in the mean time!

El Bolson

A couple of things that disappear from your life when you are in Argentina: spices of any kind - even black pepper is hard to come by, feta cheese and baked beans.

I came into the 'hippie town', El Bolson yesterday at half past 4 from Bariloche. En route I sat next to a lady whose shape must have inspired and quite possibly led to the mathematical derivation of a sphere's volume. The hostel's manager was kind enough to come and pick me up from the bus station, a service they provide free of charge. The hostel, la casa del viajero, has a very real tranquil feel to it. There are only 4 dormitory beds, 1 double, 1 'private' double and a separate apartment that can sleep 2 people. All in all enough space to sleep 10 people. The domitory beds and the regular double are all packed in the loft of the main building, not unlike the refugio I slept in 2 nights ago, and the sections are separated by linens. Despite this Russian brothel sleeping arrangement, this is the first hostel I really got to know the people staying with me and they are all very friendly and welcoming as is its manager Mathias, who speaks fluent english. 

Tonight we all agreed to have a lekker braai together, which will probably be headed by yours truly. At the moment Im currently waiting for the carneceria to open again, the whole of el bolson comes to a standstill between 13h30 and 17h00 for their mid day nap also known famously as siesta.

See below the sleeping arrangements

Phodiesss

Here are some photos from the top of the mountain!

The Climb

Readers

Let me relay to you the events of the last couple of days.

On the evening of my skilift mini-adventure I found myself in the Bachmann microbrewery at 18:34 at happy hour. I was about half way through my second draft when I was joined by a British expat who worked in Kenya for 30 years as a structual engineer. He and his daughter had been doing, at least to my recollection, every imaginable hike in the south of South America. They suggested I do a 3 day 'non strenuous hike' near Bariloche called Cerro Catedral. In retrospect I should have payed closer attention to possible signs that would have exposed this entity as a prophet of doom - shrouded cowl, rotten teeth, barcode tattoos, cloven hooves etc. I blame the sweet sweet taste of the beer I was drinking on distracting me from these possible signs.

The next day I made my arrangements, packed my hiking bag and set off to Cathedral village, the starting point of the trek. It was a 4h trek, 3 if you walked fast and didn't stop a lot for the scenery. It started out pretty relaxed. The route was inclined but not a lot and I made swift progress, confident that I was going to brush this off as a 2h30min walk. I stopped for my first rest just after an hour and continued onward. And upward... Over the next hour I had to stop 3 times as the track got steeper and steeper all the time. As I approached my 2h mark I asked a fellow hiker walking in the opposite direction how far it was still to the night stop. He said it was more or less another hour, but that the last stretch was STEEP, bending his elbow in a 45degree manner to drive his point home. Indeed, for the next hour I cannot recall a time when my legs weren't bent in a stair climbing fasion in my torturous trek to the finish. This time it was 5min climb, 5min rest. As I finally (limped/crawed) reached the top I checked myself into the overnight stop - a stone hut with 30 or so mattresses laid out chrismas bed style, 2 levels on top of each other. It looked like the sleeping arrangement for a WWII concentration camp. I couldn't help but notice that I was hopelessly out of my depth when I gazed upon my fellow hikers, all of whom didn't in the least bit seemed fatigued or sore after the day's climb. They all had cliché hiking gear such as fibre glass walking sticks, small gas burners, polar-fleece everything and those sun glasses that you associate with Tour de France cyclists. The scenery up here however was amazing and almost worth the dislocated kneecaps. I decided to take some photos, only to realise that I lost my camera enroute to the top... I must have left it at one of the spots I stopped to rest at... 

The next morning I turned around in my tracks and headed back down the mountain, not in the least bit ashamed in throwing in the towel. The next day, by all accounts, would be steeper, longer and harder than the first day. I also had a faint hope that I might find my camera somewhere along the track at the spots that I stopped the prevoius day. It wasn't to be and I'll have to manage with my phone and tablet in the meanwhile.

Bariloche

The supposed "22h" bus ride ended up being more like an 25h bus ride in the end. I departed from Buenos Aires' Retiro bus station - an enormous departure station for both trains and busses leaving the city, with the bus station boasting more than a 150 platforms and at least 25 bus companies to take you wherever you wish. My bus departed at 15:30 and arrived in Bariloche just before 16:30 the following day. I sat in the very front at the top of the bus next to another guy, despite the fact that there where only 12 people sitting at the top of the bus for the entire duration of the journey. I soon made my way an empy row and settled in.

The ride went by a lot quicker than I thought it would. I awoke to a landscape very similar to the Namabian landscape between Keetmanshoop and Mariental. Very flat and deviod of multicellular life forms. At about 14h00 we entered the lakes district and for 2h30 I was tormented by a continuous feeling of "Any moment now, I'll see the town!" When I arrived I took a taxi to the local HI hostel. Unlike its Buenos Aires counterpart, this one is completely filled with spanish speaking folk, instead of youthful, interpid, internatinal travelers. It makes you feel inferior and left out when all of them are speaking fancy-pancy spanish while you keep to your book in the corner!

Today I went to Campanario and took a ski lift to the top of the hill/mountain. it is not snowing at the moment, but it's still pretty chilly. The view from up top is amazing and I'll see if I can post y'all some photos tomorrow. Bariloche has quite a few micro breweries and Im currently missing happy hour (from 6pm-8pm, 50Pesos for x2 drafts) typing up this blog for you! That's  where I'll be heading shortly.

Relapse

I landed back in Buenos Aires without incident at about 18h00. Quite coincidentally I met my old travel companion Daniel on the Colonia express ferry terminal in Urugauy. Small world I guess! On the boat he said that he was planning to stay in a different hostel than last time so I followed him to a youth hostel intenational - a hostel franchise across the whole world. Enroute we decided to exchange money on the black market. You do this because the rate you get at banks and authorized exchanges are roughly 8pesos per dollar whereas on the black market you get more than 12.. More than a 50% increase. We followed a guy who promised us a rate of 12.5, he took us to the main man who even had a money counting mashine! Business is good for Argintine money exchangers it would seem...

When we arrived at the hostel I somehow managed to aquire a 4 bed dormitory all to myself and even without booking. I would really recommend this place! It's called hostel suites palermo. Three stories, communual kitchen, wifi and frosted corn flakes for breakfast included!

At this moment I am currently planning and getting my bearings together for the 22h bus drive to Bariloche farther south in Argentina

Typical South American beach town

Exodus

YesYes

My one week in Uruguay has come to an end and I am currently making my way back to the costal town of Colonia where I began roughly one week ago. Maybe I will even cross the border later this afternoon providing there is still a suitable ferry in the afternoon.

My days in the costal town of La Paloma were spent leisurely at my host Johannes van Eden's beach house. In the mornings at about 9h30 I would cycle the 3 or 4 km to my favourite petrol station, ANCAP, on a one speed Chinese bicycle - cycling on roads that could have just as easily have fitted into any stage of the Dakar rally. I did this seeing as it is the only place I knew of in town which offered free wifi and therefore the only time of day that I could speak to the girl I dreamt of the previous night. 

 During the day my uncle would take me to all the ajoining beach towns in the area and explain how the people lived and generally how they were, which was really nice. We had a 'picnic' lunch every day which consisted of bread, ham, cheese and tomato and in the evenings we would usually have a braai. In addition to that I usually spent most of my days reading a Ken Follett book - winter of the world. 

In summary of Uruguay I can say the following, pizzas are thick base everywhere, pleople place a 5l bottle of water on their car if they wish to sell it, ANCAP is a top hangout/bar/family hangout/romantic getaway/internet hub, People are friendly, the unions rule everything, the roads are not maintained once they have been paved and border gaurds prefer a good cabernet sauvignon to a sauvignon blanc

Urugauy

Naand span!

I sincerely appologize that I have been absent for such a long time, I know that for many of you tis the highlight of your day to sit down and read up on and stay informed on my South American mishaps, so here is an update on what has happened  so far...

I left Buenos Aires with a Canadian bloke called Daniel on one of the ferries between the city and a Uruguayen port town called Colonia. The ferry is called the Colonia express. We arrived in the old Portugese setlement at midday and proceeded to book into a very nice youth hostel called Che legarto. I then proceeded to go rent a bicycle and explore the town. When I returned to the youth hostel after my excursion I found that Dan had made friends with two Austrian girls and a very english German called Jocob. Daniel informed me of a great beer special in the super market around the corner - 2 liters for 100 Uruguayen pesos or roughly R35 - R40. It was then established that that the only course of action would be to become "blitzed" - as Dan called it, seeing as the beer price had forced our hand. 

After about 7 bottles, the bottles being 1liter each, Jacob and I made friends with a pair of British brothers - Fred and Harry, with whom we proceeded, along with a Danish guy and a british girl, to go in search of greener pastures in Colonia, as we had finished the youth hostel's supply of beer as well. We soon discovered that all the bars in town were closed except for an ANCAP 24h gas station near the ferry terminal which sold beers at a very good price as well all the chicken and cheese pies you would later wish for. The fuel station even had a nice outside patio with deck chairs and tables for us to sit on. It is undoubtedly one of the best bars I have ever been to, and it should be included in all traveler's guides as a top tip - If all hope seems lost, remember that ANCAP can serve you in any capacity at any time of the day.

Another curious thing that I took note of was, that appart from the occational desperate international traveler group seeking an early hour beverage, the fact that families and couples consider Gas stations to be a great excursion or romatic retreat. At 02h00 a family with their 2yo daughter showed up to enjoy the late night ambiance created by the BritsBrothers and at 03h00 a couple showed up for a beer, undoubtedly to bask in the electric atmosphere generated by the british duo and which is of course needed to foster a long and loving relationship.

By 10 o clock the next moring Dan and I set off for Montevideo where we split up and I headed farter towards the Brazillian border to a town called Castillos where it turns out I have some (very) extended family. My Grandmother's cousin's son, Johannes van Eden is a Bramaan catlle (appogies for the probable incorrect spelling) farmer outside Castillos, who emigrated from South Africa 10 years ago to live with his wife, Monica in her home country of Uruguay. 

He took me on my fist day to see the surrounding area and farms and every so often he would point out either that all the farms used to be rice farms, how big the New Zeeland milking opperation is in this area, how there are almost no hereditary Uruguayen farmer families living on their farms anymore or explain how most Uruguayens fear and distance themselves from any form of work. I would in turn tell him how my Namabian friend, Johan du Plessis, would wet himself if I told him that the grazing or carrying capacity of the farms in this region was more or less 3 heads of cattle per 4 hectares of land

At the border town of Chuy, a border town seperated into a brazillian half and a Uruguayen half by the main street, we visited several duty free shops to purchase wine and wisky. When we crossed the border back into Uruguay, the customs official took one look at the boxes of wine, asked "¿Un para nosotros?" (One for us?) and as soon as my Uncle replied "Sí" he took his choice red wine bottle and waved us through hassle free.

At this moment we are in La Paloma at his Holiday home at the coast close to the town of Rocha

Embarking (literally) on a new adventure

This baby is taking me to Urugauy! For free!

Last day

My last say in the Argintine capital started off with a Catholic service in its primary cathedral on the plaza del Mayo. The atmosphere was very much ruined throughout the service as throngs of tourists continued to to walk about the interior of the cathedral taking pictures as the service was taking place. It didnt feel so much as a place of worship as a sightseeing destination

On my way back to the youth hostel I mas almost swept and caught up in a political rally when I tried to cross the street. The masses of people were marching to the congress building to show their support for their presidentiá in her last year of office - a woman who from what I gathered is the best thing to happen to this country since Eva Peron.

Later that day I visited the cemeterio recollecta - a great walled cemetery filled exclusively with mausoleum type structures honouring the greatest and undoubtedly richest of Argentina's citizens. Tomorrow I venture across the waters on a ferry to Colonia - a Uruguayen and own just off the coast of Buenos Aires