Cinco. Santiago - Bariloche

As much as I loved Santiago, with its charming appeal and its appalling coffee, I'm going rush through it a bit so I can get to my final journey to Bariloche, Argentina.

Charming isn't it?

Finally, some fish.

and plenty of Ice Cream

Actually, the most interesting part about Santiago was its history. To understand more about Chile's struggle to become a democratic power, I would recommend watching the film 'NO!'.

Subtitled in English, the film demonstrates the significance of a huge campaign to vote NO against the then dictator General Pinochet. Having eliminated all his political competition he declared that voters had two choices; to vote YES to keep him or NO to overthrow him. The outcome NO changing the course of Chile's history for years to come.

A visit to the Human Rights museum while I was there also helped me understand more about the effects of this time on the people of Chile, where lists of names of those murdered or disappeared were endless.

Next I went South by coach to a small town named Pucon, where I stayed for two nights to break up my journey back across the border to Argentina. Once I arrived in the town I quickly decided there was no way I was going to leave without setting foot on this beauty.

El Volcan Villarrica.

And so I did. Here we are walking up it.

And here I am. On it.

El Volcan

As I did, you may be wondering how we made our way back down. We used these of course.

It may have been hell getting up there, but we soon realised it had been well worth it.

Finally, on the 12th of February I reached Bariloche in Argentina. In hindsight I wish I had left myself more time there, but I still managed to squeeze in a 28km cycle ride to explore and get an idea of just how picturesque it was. 

Argentina's Lake District:

View from the hostel

El Extremo. Sad to say that this brings me to the end of my travels, aside from the hell of a journey I had getting back to Rio in order to fly home. A flight which involved a strange Indian man on his way to Dubai, who claimed he had been living on the streets of Argentina for months after having all his belongings robbed. After he told me he hadn't eaten in three days, I kindly offered him my plane food to find he did not like beef. Following this I spent the rest of the flight leaning into the isle as he rested his head on my shoulder and began watching the movie I'd started on my tv screen.

India I'm afraid to say will not be my next backpacking destination, not alone anyway. 

Cuatro. Mendoza

Ending the week in Buenos Aires I was keen to get going and begin my real adventure. My end goal of the trip was to make it the South to Bariloche, Argentina's Lake District which brags unimaginably beautiful scenery.

I would make a few stops along the way to break up my journey. Firstly, Argentina's wine region, Mendoza, West of Buenos Aires. Fortunately Marlene, a German girl in the same residence as me was heading there too. 

Once settled in the hostel, we set off to explore Las Bodegas (wineries) straight away. We hopped on a bus and found ourselves a bike rental and a map, and joined up with a bigger group of Israeli's also leaving at the same time.

Our first stop, a distillery for spirits and not wine, was alcohol nonetheless. So we entered apprehensively into what was really quite an eery building, and out came the owner.

A middle aged man, who appeared to have got smashed on his own liquors that night, proceeding this with a couple of lines until his nose bled. Splendid.

There was no going back. He quickly lined us up 6 generous shots, each 40% alcohol. Flavours ranging from Dulce de Leche to well aged and various fruit based ones. Mandarin flavour was my favourite. I even took his card, having given the impression I was interested in ordering online.

With not quite the experience we were expecting, we then left and wobbled along onto the next place.

At lunch, we had yet again more wine, this however not being the highlight, but the food.

The basic chicken dish with a portion of veg I ordered was not your typical Argentinian food. It was seasoned. Really, in Argentina. 

The friendly, lone woman living out on a vineyard used local wines and spices as well as well as a gorgeous twist of lemon and coriander throughout her food. 

This was as one of my top 5 meals I had during my entire travels. Another was also in Mendoza, in a restaurant situated in the centre of town called el Mercadito. This was the type of place that makes you want to drop your normal life to go and open up your own restaurant in a foreign country to start a new life.

Unlike the Israeli stereotype, this group of ex military fellas we cycled with were really fairly friendly. 

Which brings me onto this link. Seventeen stereotypes you meet in a hostel:

http://blog.wehostels.com/people-at-every-hostel/

Also I thought I would just add two of my own to this list here.

1. Die hard Beatles fan.
Liverpool is their favourite city despite never having been there.

2. Disco lover American.

Stop calling it a disco. And you're 27! You've been travelling for 6 years?

There was of course much more to Mendoza than wine. A quaint and friendly town, not far from the Andes which divides the country from Chile also offers spectacular scenery. It sure was nice to get out of the city.

After reaching the border to Chile I decided to change my route to Bariloche. Instead of heading South through Argentina, I was advised that there was a lot more to see if I went down the Chilean side.

Next stop, Santiago, Chile.

Tres. Buenos Aires

I arrived in Buenos Aires by overnight bus on Monday, 27th at 8am and went straight to Spanish classes once I had been tested for my level. My class was small, with only my teacher Pablo and three others.

I soon learned that what I had walked into was not really Spanish classes, but global affairs. With two Brazilians and Pablo an Argentinian; Julien, Swiss, may have been relieved to have a fellow European join the group.

If I recall correctly Julien was being interrogated on how Switzerland can be a neutral country. A concept Pablo admitted, as an Argentinian, he couldn't quite relate to. I made no attempt to bring up the Falkland Islands.

Class ended on the topic of football, where claims were made that the atmosphere in the UK is boring because of high crowd security. Of course it can't compare with Brazil. Something about decapitation of referees. Exhilarating.

And off we went to have lunch and enjoy a free afternoon in the city.

As the week passed we continued to interchange between brushing up on our Spanish gammar, and bonding over pure mockery of our home countries. Even Pablo said it himself, that if you rearrange the letters 'Argentino' you get un 'Ignorante'. Not that I had thought this about the Porteños I had met so far.

There were times when hours of intense discussion in Spanish did not come easily, especially with Argentinian pronunciacion; Ssshhh. However, it was always extremely inciteful and gave me confidence to get involved in the Argentinian lifestyle.

Brenda and Nico, brother and sister, were owners of the flat where I stayed. With a mother who lives in the UK, they survive by letting out spare rooms to foreign exchange students. I sure felt at home. 

Many times a day they would prepare mate to be passed around and get conversation going.

A popular Argentinian drink they claim is not tea. But it is related. Only it's not as healthy. Actually it's as addictive as coffee. So I bought one to try out at home.

Wednesday my parent's cruise stopped off in BA for the day, so I joined them as tourists. We ate meat for lunch and then went to see the sights. Followed by a late night tango show that evening. 

Friday night I had the pleasure of being invited to a real Argentinian asado (BBQ). A farewell to Julien in my class who had been in BA studying Spanish for 10 weeks.

Unfortunately I did not get a photo of the food, but take my word for it the meat was incredible and in no way limited.

I found it surprising to learn that despite indulging in a pretty unhealthy diet, meat being far cheaper than fruit, Argentinians are actually very beauty conscious. Botox is highly fashionable and included as part of standard life insurance. Many expressed concerns about getting wrinkles when in their 20's and most already had breast implants. Meanwhile shops selling diet and weight loss pills, which can contain unknown quantities of speed, are thriving.

Saturday was my final day before I left for Argentina's wine region, Mendoza. So I got up early and went to explore bits of the city which I had not yet managed to see. Unusually, the city's cemetery was highly recommended. So despite awful heavy rain, I went.

I soon learned the word for cemetery after asking for the CEMETARIO instead of the CEMENTARIO. "You know, where the dead people are buried." Ah ya, cemeNtario, por aca!

Y valio la pena...

Cementario

Cementario

I enjoyed my stay in BA so much that I decided to cut the end of my trip short in order to stay with Brenda again for my last weekend in South America. Until next time!

Dos. Las Cataratas de Iguazu

For those who don't know, Iguassu has three parts where bordering countries Brazil, Argentina, and Paraguay all claim ownership to the falls. 

The argument continues over which country offers the best experience, and after staying on the Brazilian side within the National Park itself, it's hands down Brazil for me. 

The sister hotel of the Copacabana Palace in Rio, named Hotel das Catatatas was our home for the next two nights. Both part of a larger group of Orient-Express Hotels. A company inspired by the original train service, running from Paris to Istanbul which was stopped in 2009.

Who'd have thought that our stay here could be an improvement on the last, but this was special. What is now the Hotel was once the first ever house to be built within miles of the falls, in the days when to get there took months on horseback. Now it remains the only Hotel which sits within the National Park. Except for on the Argentinian side where they have built one which looks like a cruise ship.

The highlight being of course unique access to the falls during hours when it was closed to the public. Yes that's right. Early morning runs without a soul in sight for miles. Only toucans. And the sound of thundering water. My idea of heaven.

Realising I had made a smart move going with my parents to Iguassu, I was soon proved right when I got to take this shot from the front seat of a helicopter flying directly over the falls.

Devil's Throat

If it means visiting less countries in South America, it doesn't matter. Just get yourself on a helicopter.

We did also go to the bird sanctuary, where we saw lots of birds.

This one chose to chew on Mum's shoelace, and not mine.

That evening we made our way down to the falls from the Hotel just before sunset. This was breath taking and has definitely been the highlight of my trip so far.

As for the Argentinian side I thought it didn't quite capture all the commotion from the 'Devil's Throat', as it's called. Whilst it owns the biggest side, it trails along the top of the falls, missing the dramatic, thundering of water going on down below on the Brazilian side. Of course still magnificent.

Typically before I parted from Brazil on Sunday night to head down to Buenos Aires alone, I had already managed to fill the remaining space in my rucksack with Havaina flip flops.

Uno. Sao Sebastiao do Rio de Janeiro

It has been requested that I keep a log of my movements abroad, and make you all green with envy at my adventures in South America.

Well maybe not too envious. A word of advice for any of you who would make the same assumption I did, that Air France might provide half decent plane food, and more importantly decent wine. In fact. Non. C'est faux. Tastes like piiiss. 

Nonetheless, I chugged it down hoping it would help me sleep. And it did. Until I woke up three hours later with serious dehydration, a banging headache and a strange man next to me who had decided to move into the empty seat because his tv didn't work.

Luckily, this sheer disappointment did not last too long. Once I arrived in Rio safe and sound, Nei the cab driver, informed me that I had arrived on a bank holiday Monday. A day for Saint Sebastian, the first Portuguese to arrive in Rio. Hence the original name of the city, Sao Sebastiao do Rio de Janeiro. Janeiro - January the month he arrived. Oh right, no way.

Where roads were closed along the sea front, cars were replaced by people celebrating. And so it all began.

I must admit, that after having spent so much time making my own travel plans for Argentina, I had not taken any interest in where I would be staying with my parents for the first week in Rio. So there was me, smelly and tired backpacker dropped outside of THE Copacabana Palace, dumbstruck and insisting in Spanish at the reception that my parents were expecting me here.

And so week one in Brazil, Rio de Janeiro was pure bliss. Please see below to begin feeling envious.

Ignore my thumb

Despite being your typical holiday (eating and sleeping and eating), a lot of exercise was involved. Including an accidental 10k bike ride one scorchingly hot afternoon. Dad came out like a beetroot.

Then of course visiting Sugarloaf Mountain was sweet. And was only a taste of some of the views we would be getting over the next few days. Absolutely increible.

Oh and look at this monkey!

El Mono

Down the back alleys of Rio was a whole other experience. Particularly good was the famous Escadaria de Selaron, where in 1990 Selaron, an eccentric Chilean artist, began covering some 300 steps leading from Santa Theresa to Lapas in mosaic like fashion. By the time of his death last month, thought to be suicide, he had become known for his work world wide and was able to complete it with tiles sent to him from travelers from over 120 countries.

I even found one of Northern Ireland, which has been so artistically hand drawn it puts the rest of them to shaame.

Sadly my Sportuguese often failed me; I gave up pretty quick after asking a waitor for ice cream, to instead receive cheese strings. All the more reason to look forward to reaching Argentina. Thank God, a Spanish speaking country.

¡Pues que nada!

Having heard such great things about the nightlife in Rio, I am afraid I may have missed out a tad. But I can't complain. I've never felt more spoilt after drinking from Copacabana branded straws and having a chocolate placed on my pillow each night. Not to mention having pool towels replaced whilst I was still sitting on it. Err no thanks. Don't make me move while I'm sleeping.

I must also admit that on Thursday, the last night, we did make our way out to a late night Samba bar, where we got pissed and tried to shake our asses with local Brazilians.

Luckily we left for Iguazu the next day and never saw these people again.