What to you after you see more aussies in a week than in four months.... Sorry Mum and Dad

An economic powerhouse of the late 19th and early 20th centuries, the capital of Argentina, Buenos Aires has the culture, architecture, and style of a French, Italian, or Spanish city. Magnificent monuments of conquistadors, generals, independence heroes, and presidents; Gradiose european styled buildings and apartments; Vendors and markets hawking the latest fashion; and an elite that would make a burnsidian feel like a dirty old aussie derro. This city proper, far removed from the poverty of South America, and even the poorer suburbs of Boca and the like is firmly orientated to Europe.

After awe inspiring beuaty of South America, endless hikes, and a thousand old churches, what can I say....

Take BA, add backpacker hostel, add bar, add ten aussies, add heat, add the festive season and you can probably guess what happened next. With special mentioned to Blue and Ryan, a seven day bender, shaming any footy trip weekend at Melbourne with a litany of steaks, brews, vino´s, music, and parties. A traditional Christmas Eve dinner of Chinese takeaway at the hostel was followed by at a dance party that started at two, got kicking at three until we left after five. The after party, starting at 8am Christmas day held captive two of our aussies mates who duly arrived for Christmas lunch around 2pm.

Joined by Johana from Finland and our aussie bretheren, we dragged ourself towards Recoletta for a hearty Christmas steak and then afternoon / evening at a chilled little wine bar.

Today a BA lite, the impressive, but slightly run down city of Rosario is a pretty city holding a smiliar population to that of home. With a cost of living a third or a half of BA, the riverside city loses only a little culture, with a cafe of every street, street vendors and buskers in the main, monuments, impressive buildings, and the first house of Che Guevara.

It´s like a hurricane. You can see it coming from a mile away, you see the storm building on the horizon, you can feel it´s breeze before it get´s there, and when it gets there, it rains down on you. It´s as simple as that.
I always knew this feeling was invetiable. The night before it was going to come. Several hours in the shade, waiting your turn you know it is just around the corner. On your way up, your thinking it should be here by now. But then, the door is opened at it is time. It grips you like it never has before, you try to conceal it with a wry smile to little effect. These guys do this and see this every day after all. This fear, this gut wrenching fear is unsurpassed as you are about, or are expected to jump 3000 metres out of a moving plane.

Thankfully, these guys are old pro´s, even if they only provided a three minute safety talk prior, after all, what can you expect for $OZ150 anyway? Asked to move my feet out the door momentarily laspses my panic, but now I am truly scared. However, my partner grinding me into position, I realise the choice to jump is now not mine. The first seconds contain only panic, the next few joy with a scream of elation, then I can relax as I´m falling screaming and shouting down to earth over the next minutes. Absolutley FANTASTIC. Before I know it, the shoot is pulled and we float and I guide our parachute over the city, with a couple of spins and turns until we land on the field about five minutes later. I must say, that much adrenaline is coursing through your veins causes the concept of time to become meaningless. I could have last one minute or ten?!?! It was fantastic, you must do it and do it soon!!!

Cable tv, thongs, and parilla

Described as far from the world cup of tourist destinations in the lonely, we were far from disappointed or suprised by our stay in Rio Gallegos. At worst, it´s a bus stop. At best, it was a chance to sit on the bed, watch a bit of cable, and enjoy a bottle or two of vino with cheese.

Entirely beyond me are the reasons for the only flight out to Buenos Aires leaving weekly at 1:30 in the morning on a Tuesday.

After a day in Buenos, you get the impression this is a city anyone could live in. Perfect weather for t-shirts and shorts, nipped down the mall for a new pair of thongs. You pinch youself when even the bad cuts of beef are cooked with the tenderness and dedication of a $30 steak. A couple of nice regional beers to soothe the heat and decent cheap argentinian and chilean wine. The streets are home to fabulous 19th century architecure and ample shopping and markets to keep Beth happy for weeks. It´s a world away from the stunning landscape and often brutal weather of patagonia.

Plastic fantastic, Belinda Carlisle, and the return of the Wayanns Brothers

Location, location, location. Fortune surely smiles of the citizens of El Calafate. Strategically located between three pristine tourist attractions, the majestic El Chalten, Torres del Paine parque nacional, and it´s own Perito Mereno, it is a major Patagonian pit stop on the gringo trail. Unfortunately, this all comes at a cost, the plastic boardwalk is surrounded by fancy restaurants, tacky and over priced souvenirs, over zealous hotelier's greeting every bus arrival, more good old fashioned southern cone price fixing, and enough gringo´s to make you vomit in your cafe prepared Cesar salad. Stay one night, see the glacier, and hit the road.

One of the few remaining advancing glaciers in this carbon addicted world, the three hour visit of ¨just¨ a simple old glaciers is sublime. The setting is both beuatiful and peaceful in los glaciers parué nacional. The sounds of the glacier cracking under the enourmous pressure of the 60km glacier and the anticipation of witnessing the crumbling and disintegration of the edge provide for a magnificent afternoon.

Perhaps the 80´s pop star playing loudly in my sister´s room was
right.... Heaven truly is a place on earth, it´s the humble country village of El Chaltén, only slightly tainted by the trail of the gringo´s. A haven for trekkers and climbers alike, the scenery is magnificent, dotted with ample glaciers, lagoons, mountains, valleys, rivers, and waterfalls. By far not a winter desination, the populations plummets by half to 800 with the threat of six hour days and endless wind, snow, and rain. The imminent paving of the road to El Calafate threatens to reduce this town into a heartless, money hungry town, reminiscent of El Calafate.

With the sun shining and the wind at a minimum, the twenty hour days were enjoyed a minute at a time. Starting with a six hour hike, our travels provided unparalleled beauty with only a trickle of tourists. A gruelling twelve hour day of hiking, ice trekking on the glacier, and climbing ice walls rewarded a unique experience and ample views. A little sympathy, home cooked pasta, and another quality bargain basement Argentinian vino went along way to recuperating those sore and tired old joints.



Finally, our trip to Rio Gallegos was greeted by the return of a Wayanns brothers on the fantastic Tasqa bus.

Glacier heaven, the mother of all assumptions, and a vampires worst nightmare

Certainly by Andian standards, the ten hour trip to Puerto Monnt was deluxe to say the least. Semi reclining seats, blankets, heating.... we almost had it all, but for a lack of a vintage van damme movie. Arriving at the small harbour city with a thriving salmon industry and the gateway to pictureque Chiloé islands one would think it´ll all be fairies and apples. However, with our wallets trembling against a resurgent Chilean economy we ate simple and small and caught the next place to Bariloche.

Now, assumption being the mother, I´d assumed that Balmaceda was simply the airpot name for Bariloche, ala Schipol or Heathrow..... How wrong one can be. Hmmm....I think I took a wrong turn at albuquerque. Anyway, picturesque as it was, Coyhaique (Blamaceda) was not Barilcohe, an hour South instead of east landed us in a backwater, and offseason at that. Flustered, cold, and in distinct need of a beer, we regrouped at a local hospedaje before booking the next flight to Punta Arenas relinquishing the fading plans that were Bariloche.

Well below Australia and South Africa, and a smidge south of New Zealand, Chile and Argentina host the beuatiful and often inhospitable land and waters of tierra del fuego and Patagonia. Vibrant fishing, petroleum, and tourism industries are the mainstays in the midst of never ending summer days and endless winter nights. Rising at 04:00 and setting at 20:30, only a devoted clubber or night worker would ever see the sun. The tempreature hovers between 10 and twenty during summer with a howling wind, contant threat of rain, hail, and even snow. On that information alone, you´d wonder why hundreds of thousands visit each summer. Well, we will start with penguins, antartica, hundred´s of thousands of untouched beuaty, 60km wide glaciers, ski, fishing, and trust me, loads and loads of hiking.

Only the third most southern city in the world, Punta Arenas lacks that killer attraction of it´s surroundings but more than survives as the major port and tourist hub for the region. Featuring a stunning colonial heart but surrounded by dull city of 100,000, the signs of affluence are appearing.

Now, these ain´t my finest hours of travel planning, but anyway, we hit the road to Puerto Natales the next day for storied Tierra del Paine parque nacional. Oh... and we did enjoy a nice but expensive dinner with stunning chilean wine, krill, lama paté, a bit of cervicher, and the pun inducing beaver ... mmmmmm

I do miss the nicities and humour of the good Andiian folk.

Housing a whole lot of tin sheds with a few nice brick buildings, Puerto Natales was not much more than supper, planning our hikes, and squelching on a few promises of business to a hostales and a tourist operator.

Never forgetting a promise, I take Beth up on three nights camping in Tierra del Paine parque nacional; Apparently the seven prior nights without electricity in the jungle and the andies were not enough. Like everything Chilean, the parque was expensive and the advice given by Path@gone was anything but handy.... Neverthless, over three days, we camped, cooked our own food, and hiked the W over sixty kilometres up two mountains, viewing several glaciers, many lakes, and some of the most stunning scenary I have ever seen. It was fantastic, but oh my god, it was tough. Day two alone involved hiking 27 kilometres in 9 hours.... After our recent travels, the timing was perfect for nature and your own thoughts.... Although I kept disturbingly getting late 80´s and early 90´s songs stuck in my head.

The Argentinin Peso, how I do love currencies pegged to the stumbing american dollar. Next stop, El Calafate.

The last of La Paz, a two buck fitty haircut, and a dodgy vindaloo

Our last days in La Paz succumbed to the temptations of cheap touristy travel in one of the world´s cheapest destinations...... Artesenal shopping galore, continental delicacies, and a hotel room with cable TV and an en-suite. Street vendors offer their wares at any time and any place, rarely defined by the boundaries of a market.... Prices are so cheap, you barely raise a sweat in only knocking them down a dollar of the miniscule price. Genuine FC Barelonca for $15 with a fake made to custom fit for $5. A finally, a hair cut to match my father´s for world cheapest due..... $2.50 numero dos para todo de mi cabeza



After the Chilean economic miracle, Santiago can truly combine the bueatyh of rich colonial past with a modern city of subways, sky scrapers, and a standard of living unsurpassed in South America. Unfortunately, that´s all I can say, as after a particularly hard night on the turps and a bought food poisoning, little experience or knowledge was garnered.... luckily, we´ll be back in a month.