It is the end- the end of my Peace Corps service. Honestly, I'm not really sure how to react. How does one sum up 2 years of one's life that have been so fundamental and life changing in the way she views the world? I'm not even sure where to begin on feelings, a mixture of sadness, excitement, and even relief.
My last day in site was lovely. I visited the comedor one last time. No big parties, we'd already had the farewell party, so just a pleasant and normal day of operations. Everything felt virtually the same as always until the end when I had to say goodbye to my volunteer serviadoras. My eyes watered up and I stumbled away from the big wooden shutter doors of the institution I helped to create and for so long had made a home for myself and over 400 kids in Yuty. The girls caught up with me before I could get very far and helped me hold back the tears. I'd already resolved that morning as I tore down my bed and packed the rest of my house to not even bother wiping the tears- more would come.
I walked to barrio Maria Goretti and had planned to spend a few hours with my boyfriend before my evening activities. The chat was short-lived as our time together was coming to a close. I bid farewell to his friends and family, "a pleasure to know you" was all I could manage. This would be the last time I would ever see his house, family, or friends... and all there was left to do was walk away. I greeted people in the streets the entire walk to my barren home almost in a trance. No text messages, no calls. in the plaza I sat down on a brick wall and cried. I called my site-mate to come and find me for some terere. No bother wiping the tears, still more to come.
We headed back to my site-mate's house for our terere date, then to my house for a nap. Hard to siesta with so much on the mind! By mid-afternoon a good friend showed up in another friend's car to take me on one last trip to San Antonio to the home of my best local friend. We watched the sunset in the west over the herds of cattle coming in from the fields afar, we joked around at the pool and snapped photos. My friends took videos of my final moments visiting the baby bunnies, pigs, and alligators at Estancia San Antonio, even my goofing around on the old organ at the chapel onsite. Soon enough it was dark and we headed back to my house for a final goodbye. I had to say goodbye to many things in that one moment. For one, I had to give up my cat Lloron who'd been my best friend and confidant in the animal world since my very first day in site. Two, I had to say goodbye to my close friends. We wrapped Llorn in a towel and his wriggled and cried at his "girlfriend" as my neighbors dog chased her around the house. My friends hopped in the car and rolled way down my dirt road. No bother wiping the tears, still more to come.
I packed up the rest of my house and as requested stopped at my landlord's house for a surprise goodbye party with neighbors. We drank mate and eventually got to pizza and soda. Another close friend with a truck pulled up in the middle of the party to join, signalling that it was time to leave my barrio and more specifically my house for the very last time. After tearful goodbyes with my neighbors, especially the kids, I went and picked the final swiss chard and squash in my garden and loaded the last of my bags in my friend's truck. One last run through, and it was time to close the door on my home and my life in San Luis. No bother wiping the tears, still more to come.
The ride away was tough but once we got to my friend's everything was so new and bright it was hard to be too sad. I had a dinner invite at my host family's house, so I headed over just as the new volunteers coming to replace me rolled in on the bus. The spread at my host family's was HUGE with chicken, beef, and chorizo, salad and mandio too! Yummy! My "nieces" ran around the table, we played with our food, and talked about future plans. Most of all, we laughed and joked about our years together. Sooner than later, it was all over and I was saying goodby to my host brothers, sisters, family and my first home in Yuty. No bother wiping the tears, still more to come.
I then had a final dinner at my friend's house with the new volunteers to tie up all lose ends and turn over my projects. I laughed- MORE meat and salad. Yikes! We laughed, my jaw was hurting already from all the chewing. My new travel adventures with a friend from the UK in mind, we told travel nightmares and hoped for the best. We wandered into bed rather dazed, all of us embarking on new lives. I slept very little that last night and woke up a zombie to the world, staggering to the shower and nearly falling asleep in the luke-warm water. I pushed on to breakfast with my last goodbyes to follow. It was a long morning until that 9am bus. First, bye to my follow-up volunteers with "good lucks" all around. I felt good leaving my projects in capable hands. Then bye to my friend as she dropped me off for a final goodbye to my site-mate. I ran to visit my host sister and roommate on the way to the bus terminal where my best friend, boyfriend, and coworkers from the comedor waited for last hugs goodbye. Final gifts exchanged, hugs and kisses to everyone, and there I was on the bus passing the plaza... the commercial center... the yerba factory... the fields... one last time. By now the full-fledged tears were running down my cheeks. I couldn't bear it any longer as I peered out the windows through my self-produced blur at my little spot on the map- My YUTY. I burst into sobs as we drove away on the red, dust-filled highway north. For the next hour or so I continued to reminisce and wish this wasn't a real goodbye. The bus driver, clearly concerned was sweet enough to give me a free ticket to the capital, "Don't worry," he said, "You just need to relax that's all." Tranquilo, indeed the only way forward. My mood was somber until after 3.5 long hours we hit the pavement and the modern world of Latin America. I finally dried my eyes.
The saddest bits over, time to move on.
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Sunday, July 22, 2012
Omnibus Adventura Gua'u
In preparation for my new job in Northern Ireland, I have been quite busy with visa paperwork and related errands. As there is no UK Embassy in Paraguay, I was required to go all the way to Buenos Aires (20 hrs via bus one-way) to do my biometric data and turn in paperwork... which would then be forwarded to Brazil for further processing and approval/denial. Odd that it takes the collaboration of 5 countries (UK, USA, Paraguay, Argentina, and Brazil) to get one temporary work visa. Goodness!
Anyhow, while all that has been a somewhat anticipated and yet rather ridiculous investment of time and effort- I did not expect it to get near as absolutely crazy as it eventually did. Thank you Latin American buses for my wildest travel story ever:
I should have known that my travel experience was going to be riddled with awkward problems when even before we got out of Paraguay (only 45 minutes to the border), we hit a cow. Yes- a COW. Luckily, the damage was apparently minimal because we stayed mostly on schedule for our border crossing and document check. Once on the other side, however, we hit something else!!! It was too dark to know what it was, but all the accidents meant we spent two hours from 11pm-1am in a repair shop. We managed to make it to Buenos Aires in under 24 hours, though, in the end.
All went off without a hitch in BA. Paperwork submitted and mailed to Brazil. No problems finding the hostel. A great visit with my friend Nahuel walking the centro and eating out. Lovely really.
My spirits high, I hopped on my return bus just one day after I had arrived for the long trip home. Four hours into the trip, things took a very precarious turn. A young lady and her 4-month baby were traveling with us alone back to the lady's home in Asuncion, Paraguay. Along the road and possibly aggravated by the rather uncomfortable travel situation, the lady's appendix burst. Dealing with the sharp pains and misery, she was unable to care for her baby as she vomited in the bathroom and sat rocking back and forth on the double-decker's stairs. Thus the passengers of the bus started to take turns rocking the baby and collaborating bottles and formula to help him calm down. The passengers pressured the bus drivers to take the lady to the nearest hospital, but being in an unknown area they did not want to leave the main road. They said they preferred to call an ambulance to wait for us at the next toll booth. However, once we arrived at midnight, there were no services available and the drivers were not even sure of the local emergency number. The passengers began to get online on their phones and look up hospital and ER information. Finally, after numerous calls and pleading, the police were contacted and an ambulance sent... after 1.5 hours on the side of the road. Thankfully, the baby had gone to sleep and the mother was still with us albeit in waves of pain.
The ambulance took the mother into the truck to do a preliminary checkout and within minutes realized they needed to get the lady to an operating room immediately. We bought out the baby, but the paramedics would "not take responsibility" for the child. The drivers asked a passenger to give up their seat and stay in who-knows-where Argentina to take the baby to the hospital and care for the baby and mother at least until the operation was over and a contact could be reached. Understandably, I feel, nobody offered. The ambulance, meanwhile, was anxious to go and finally without warning took off- without the baby!!
So, there we were a bus of 70 strangers with a 4-month old baby in the middle of the highway. Now what? We found some numbers in the lady's purse to call potential family members, but not even they were willing to come and pick up the baby. We suggested to the drivers that we go to the hospital said to be only 3kilometers back on the road, but they refused. We called the police, but when they arrived the accused the bus of kidnapping the baby complicating the matter even more. We were told that we could not actually hand the baby over to a family member unless a judge determined the family member could be verified. They also would "not take responsibility" for the baby and get him back to mom. The passengers and drivers were at wits end, what could we do then? Finally a break-through. The mom had to be transferred to a new hospital and would pass by the bus on her way in the ambulance. The hospital director in collaboration with the police agreed POR FIN to take the baby with the mom to the operating room. But, we still needed a judge to make it all legal. By this time it was 4am- we had been on the side of the road for over 4 hours. The police started calling around to judges and the passengers started pulling out their identity cards and giving witness accounts to the police describing the situation. They debated taking us to the local police station and requesting everyone's statements... luckily that idea was shut down. Another hour went by and finally, we sign baby over to unconscious mom on her way to the Rosario hospital at 5am. Needless to say, we didn't make it back to Paraguay in under 24 hours.
When I got on the bus, I had a lovely chat with another young lady passenger. We talked about my task in Argentina and discussed some of the things that we knew to be different between Paraguay and the UK/Ireland. In addition to food and weather, one of the things I mentioned was bureaucracy, risk assessments, etc. They just plain don't exist or seem to matter in Paraguay, but in the UK they definitely do. Most of the time, I like that the rules are rather lax in Paraguay. It is much easier to start things up and get things done. But, after incidents like this I remember that a lot of bureaucracy was born out of necessity. If only the bus drivers had proper emergency information, much less a first aid kit which was also lacking. If only there was a standard operating procedure for emergency cases. If only the ambulance was required to take the baby in the first place. If only... I can think of nearly 10 different ways in which a little prior thought and preparation for emergency cases could have solved this situation without 5+ hours of hassle and confusion.
All I know is, thank the heavens that it was not my appendix that burst on that bus.
Monday, June 25, 2012
El Siguiente Paso- Irlanda del Norte
As I near the end of my Peace Corps service, I have been deeply engaged in developing and confirming my plans for the future. Sometime during my first year of Peace Corps service whilst taking advantage of time for self reflection, I decided my new goal post-PC was to work next with Corrymeela post-conflict reconciliation center in Northern Ireland. After my first couple of interviews, I wasn't so sure that the dream would become a reality. I had turned in my application back in November 2011, looking to apply for the Long-term Volunteer position. I'm sure you are thinking I'm a bit crazy... another volunteer stint?? I guess the best way to explain is to say it's the experience that I'm after. Anyhow, the staff came back with a second position they wanted to consider me for as well. So, I interviewed for it all. In the end, though, I was both over and under-qualified for the positions available. My spirits a bit deflated I started to change gears and look elsewhere, but in late May was given another shot at a new type of work with Corrymeela. Three times a charm, it seems, as I was offered a position as Training and Facilitation Assistant starting in September 2012!
Frequently prior to joining the Peace Corps, I was told by professors, friends, and family alike that the experience may not be all that relevant to my life goals and plans. Determined however to fulfill my childhood dream and see it through, I took up my volunteer service in Paraguay with gusto. After 2 years, I feel I must report back to the neigh-sayers: Peace Corps is an awesome step to boost one's career. During my interview(s), particularly the last, my answers to virtually every question from dealing with ambiguous situations to conflict resolution to constructive criticism techniques could be backed up with real life examples from my work in Peace Corps Paraguay. It wasn't only that I could speak in broad strokes about my service over the last 2 years- I was giving examples of work and life from that very same week. I know that my service with Peace Corps has opened more than one door to me that were previously closed. I have learned endless new skills both for my personal and professional life and development. Thank you Peace Corps!
Now for the Next Step: Northern Ireland.
Frequently prior to joining the Peace Corps, I was told by professors, friends, and family alike that the experience may not be all that relevant to my life goals and plans. Determined however to fulfill my childhood dream and see it through, I took up my volunteer service in Paraguay with gusto. After 2 years, I feel I must report back to the neigh-sayers: Peace Corps is an awesome step to boost one's career. During my interview(s), particularly the last, my answers to virtually every question from dealing with ambiguous situations to conflict resolution to constructive criticism techniques could be backed up with real life examples from my work in Peace Corps Paraguay. It wasn't only that I could speak in broad strokes about my service over the last 2 years- I was giving examples of work and life from that very same week. I know that my service with Peace Corps has opened more than one door to me that were previously closed. I have learned endless new skills both for my personal and professional life and development. Thank you Peace Corps!
Now for the Next Step: Northern Ireland.
Monday, June 4, 2012
Enfermedades... o sea?
So back in the States, when you hear that a kid at school has lice there is a temporary panic amongst parents with lots of finger pointing and even some major embarrassment on the part of the accused. We have to call in the parents for an information session about how to get rid of such pests in our kids' hair, send home notes with the kiddos to explain the mishap, and call in the school nurse to check all kids for similar health concerns. A school disaster if there ever was one.
Well, in Paraguay, there is a much less rigid view on the the tolerable health of kids and adults alike. Lice is perhaps the least of one's worries. Heck, that's an easy fix- we just have hair washing days at school with anti-lice shampoo. Ringworm? Oh yeah, I've already had that twice and a little tube of cream does the trick. Parasites? Giardia? No biggie- only a week's worth of anti-parasitic pills. Worms? Knock them right out with some dried papaya seeds. Disease is such a common-place reality of life here, it is hard to find a disease that really gets people going. Ok, now that I've said that dengue comes to mind- but even the Vice President was diagnosed so I guess it can't be too bad, right?
I listened to a NPR broadcast the other day about the e. coli outbreak on pre-washed spinach a few years back, and they blamed it on animal access to the crops and lack of washing. By the way- we wash our spinach and lettuce in chlorine 3 times over before it makes it into a pre-wash bag where it is air-sealed and transported in refrigerated trucks to our grocery store. The spinach farmers felt obligated to apologize for the inability to stop crows flying overhead. Listening as I stared out to my backyard, I couldn't help but giggle a bit. My spinach comes right out of my garden where my neighbors chickens and my own cat are constantly running through and is washed in my well water in my questionably clean concrete sink. I don't feel obligated to say sorry even when I can't get all the dust out.
I remember when I first arrived in Paraguay, I was concerned about all the sharing of drinks, lack of water/soap for hand-washing, and cleanliness in general from the kitchen to the bathroom. Maybe I've been here too long now, but I'm not all that phased any more. In fact, I have somewhat begun to like the ease of which I can talk about illness and deal with it. Given that sickness is so common to all, I don't worry too much when I am sick. Of course, I treat it- but isn't that just a part of life? Sometimes I wish we could all see illness this way- we are human and are thus not invincible- but hey, we get better!
Sunday, May 13, 2012
No recibí el Memo
I totally did not get the memo.
It is a freezing cold Sunday night in Paraguay, and I have been casually invited to a quinceanera- a big party in celebration of young lady's 15th birthday, the day she becomes a "woman." I put on my black pants, a nice green sweater, and even bought a new checkered scarf for the party. I wander my way over the church for the confirmation and walk past the 15 girls and 15 boys handing out bulletins for the event. The girls are in little hot-pink tube-top numbers and all the guys are wearing pink ties. I think nothing of it- clearly these are kinda like the bridesmaids for the evening. Lovely!
I take my seat at the side of a pew in the middle of the long sanctuary awaiting the start of service. As I look around, I start to feel a bit odd. Maybe I am just paranoid- but people seem to be looking at me strangely. Why would that be? I take another look around... since when were all the saints dressed in hot pink? As people arrive, naturally 30 minutes late as goes the hora-Paraguaya, I notice that everyone is in pink. Not just pink, they are all wearing full-out gala gowns! Oh geez... I am obviously underdressed. I send a text message of panic to my boyfriend asking what to do, "Just hold your head high, dear- nobody will say anything." I shoot off another text to my site-mate and fellow Peace Corps Volunteer for an American point of view, "Don't give in to the objectification of women- wear your pants proudly." I smile to myself and make sure to stand extra straight and tall throughout the service. Yeah- I am making a statement about a woman's right to wear warm clothes and my favorite color on this chilly eve.
The service is over, and I head to the reception. Never have I seen the municipality event hall look so lovely- pink and white hanging from ceiling to floor, every chair adorned with a pink bow, and floral chandeliers hanging like disco balls over the tables. There is a massive banner of the birthday girl posing in various ways as I walk in the entrance. I greet a family I know and pick my seat at a neighboring table, they shoot me a sideways glance... I see they are not in favor of my silent women's rights statement. The room starts to fill, and the only people brave enough to sit at my table are several 15-somethings that are too busy flirting to notice my poor choice of evening wear. Three hours later, we are still waiting on the birthday girl (I guess they decided to wait till midnight to start the party- technically her birthday starts at that hour). So far, I have seen a whole parade of people I know but hardly any have overcome the verguenza to come and say hello. I feel more and more out of place, this party is way more high class than I'd prepared for. The birthday girl's mom finally says hello and jokes, "Oh, sorry, I thought I told you we had a theme color. Don't you own a dress?" I can't take it any longer- my protest is over- it's time to escape. I gradually inch toward to back door and wait for someone to run in or out with some appetizers. Finally, I catch a break and make a literal run for it.
Around the corner and safely on the other side of the plaza, I run into a friend. I tell my embarrassing story and he laughs, "I can't believe you went to that quince dressed like that. I mean, they spent like 30 million on the party!" Really??? Gosh, some days I think I have totally integrated in the community... others not so much. One thing is for sure, as Americans we feel guilty when we act out of place or have done wrong, but a Paraguayan feels outright shame. Tonight, I may have pulled a faux pas reminding me that I am still US-American, but I sure feel the Paraguayan shame.
Next time, I would appreciate a copy of the memo. Thank you.
It is a freezing cold Sunday night in Paraguay, and I have been casually invited to a quinceanera- a big party in celebration of young lady's 15th birthday, the day she becomes a "woman." I put on my black pants, a nice green sweater, and even bought a new checkered scarf for the party. I wander my way over the church for the confirmation and walk past the 15 girls and 15 boys handing out bulletins for the event. The girls are in little hot-pink tube-top numbers and all the guys are wearing pink ties. I think nothing of it- clearly these are kinda like the bridesmaids for the evening. Lovely!
I take my seat at the side of a pew in the middle of the long sanctuary awaiting the start of service. As I look around, I start to feel a bit odd. Maybe I am just paranoid- but people seem to be looking at me strangely. Why would that be? I take another look around... since when were all the saints dressed in hot pink? As people arrive, naturally 30 minutes late as goes the hora-Paraguaya, I notice that everyone is in pink. Not just pink, they are all wearing full-out gala gowns! Oh geez... I am obviously underdressed. I send a text message of panic to my boyfriend asking what to do, "Just hold your head high, dear- nobody will say anything." I shoot off another text to my site-mate and fellow Peace Corps Volunteer for an American point of view, "Don't give in to the objectification of women- wear your pants proudly." I smile to myself and make sure to stand extra straight and tall throughout the service. Yeah- I am making a statement about a woman's right to wear warm clothes and my favorite color on this chilly eve.
The service is over, and I head to the reception. Never have I seen the municipality event hall look so lovely- pink and white hanging from ceiling to floor, every chair adorned with a pink bow, and floral chandeliers hanging like disco balls over the tables. There is a massive banner of the birthday girl posing in various ways as I walk in the entrance. I greet a family I know and pick my seat at a neighboring table, they shoot me a sideways glance... I see they are not in favor of my silent women's rights statement. The room starts to fill, and the only people brave enough to sit at my table are several 15-somethings that are too busy flirting to notice my poor choice of evening wear. Three hours later, we are still waiting on the birthday girl (I guess they decided to wait till midnight to start the party- technically her birthday starts at that hour). So far, I have seen a whole parade of people I know but hardly any have overcome the verguenza to come and say hello. I feel more and more out of place, this party is way more high class than I'd prepared for. The birthday girl's mom finally says hello and jokes, "Oh, sorry, I thought I told you we had a theme color. Don't you own a dress?" I can't take it any longer- my protest is over- it's time to escape. I gradually inch toward to back door and wait for someone to run in or out with some appetizers. Finally, I catch a break and make a literal run for it.
Around the corner and safely on the other side of the plaza, I run into a friend. I tell my embarrassing story and he laughs, "I can't believe you went to that quince dressed like that. I mean, they spent like 30 million on the party!" Really??? Gosh, some days I think I have totally integrated in the community... others not so much. One thing is for sure, as Americans we feel guilty when we act out of place or have done wrong, but a Paraguayan feels outright shame. Tonight, I may have pulled a faux pas reminding me that I am still US-American, but I sure feel the Paraguayan shame.
Next time, I would appreciate a copy of the memo. Thank you.
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Maraton Radial No. 2
This week we had the second annual radio marathon for the local soup kitchen. With a lot less on the line this year than the last, our planning and execution left a lot to be asked for. Here are some of this years bloopers:
1. After many discussions about preping our radio audience with background on the soup kitchen's progress in the last year, we almost didn't end up getting into the radio even the day before the marathon for an overview. In a last stitch effort, I called in our most guapo volunteer for a mini rundown but didn't realize he would have trouble reading off our donor names and skip a few. Opps!
2. We were supposed to start at 9am, but nobody arrived until 10am.
3. Our radio host became pretty frustrated waiting for people to arrive, so he ended up going on a rant about punctuality. Then he made this really awkward statement about how Peace Corps volunteers are really the ones moving the town and proposed they put a statue of me in the plaza. What?!? I declined.
4. Once we finally got started, we called in my site-mate that often reads with the kids to talk about activities at the comedor. The poor thing was cut off no less than 7 times before she could even get out a sentence. By that time, we weren't even sure what we were talking about anymore.
5. One of our volunteers I now know has a stutter when he is nervous... I felt terrible for asking him to talk about his help every Saturday. He was an outstanding bookkeeper though on the day, so everyone had a place and a job.
Good news is, even with all the minor errors, we still earned quite a bit in funds, food, and supplies and had a great time!
1. After many discussions about preping our radio audience with background on the soup kitchen's progress in the last year, we almost didn't end up getting into the radio even the day before the marathon for an overview. In a last stitch effort, I called in our most guapo volunteer for a mini rundown but didn't realize he would have trouble reading off our donor names and skip a few. Opps!
2. We were supposed to start at 9am, but nobody arrived until 10am.
3. Our radio host became pretty frustrated waiting for people to arrive, so he ended up going on a rant about punctuality. Then he made this really awkward statement about how Peace Corps volunteers are really the ones moving the town and proposed they put a statue of me in the plaza. What?!? I declined.
4. Once we finally got started, we called in my site-mate that often reads with the kids to talk about activities at the comedor. The poor thing was cut off no less than 7 times before she could even get out a sentence. By that time, we weren't even sure what we were talking about anymore.
5. One of our volunteers I now know has a stutter when he is nervous... I felt terrible for asking him to talk about his help every Saturday. He was an outstanding bookkeeper though on the day, so everyone had a place and a job.
Good news is, even with all the minor errors, we still earned quite a bit in funds, food, and supplies and had a great time!
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Argentina y Chile
I have conquered the South American southern cone!!! Yippee!!
Over the last several weeks, I have been on travel in my last two countries south of Paraguay- Argentina and Chile. Although I had been on a vacation rather recently to Brazil, I really needed the break. It had been a very long Thanksgiving to New Years season- full of sadness, celebration, excitement, and action. So, after getting stuck in site one last time due to mud, I made it to Encarnación to start off my adventure south-bound with an overnight bus in the rain to BA.
Buenos Aires- The Revolution
After 15 hours beside a young Argentinian- I was already getting used to the "che" and "ja" thrown in all over their accent. My first day in the Paris of Latin America was rather shot due to my late arrival but I managed to meet a friend at the hostel from Patagonia and we went out for the most delicious salad I have had in well over 2 years. That night I hung out with the hostel crowd eating asado on the parrilla (BBQ) which proved that indeed the meat in Argentina is of the highest quality. Free wine with dinner, no carnival surprisingly as it was the season- so off to bed. Day two proved to be quite fun with a long walk and exploration around Polermo- the recolecta, museum of fine arts, paddle boats and the city rose garden. The best part was hanging out with a friendly English fellow which whom I could debate and discuss anything from artificial intelligence to development critique. Truly a fun day! My last day, I headed down to the Chacarita and then went out with an Argentinian friend I had met in Uruguay for a tour of downtown. Although a rather rushed visit to the capital- I feel I had a real whirlwind tour of the key spots!
While I was not near as impressed with the Parisian architecture of BA as I had presumed, the city was delightful in many ways. The people, for one, were unbelievably friendly. Although Argentinians are typically regarded as selfish and egotistical throughout South America, I did not at all find that to be the case. Everyone was more than happy to have a chat! Second, I was inspired by the Argentinian spirit of revolution. Given that everyone was so open for discussion, it was easy to get into the psyche of a Latin country with a strong belief in the opportunity of the future. Young Argentinians I met were hopeful and whether educated or not seemed to feel they had control over their futures. So very different from my Paraguayan friends rather doomed or struggling view of life. I ventured to ask the older generation if they felt the same, and although they were less bright-eyed, they talked of revolution and one's right to protest to get and maintain what is theirs. Indeed, virtually every day I was in BA there was some sort of demonstration in the plaza in front of the Casa Rosada (the Argentinian version of the White House). I thought of my life in the USA, too comfortable to feel a need to protest. I thought of my life in Paraguay, we didn't have water all summer due to a political disagreement and nobody wanted to say anything much less fight for one's basic right to the very water they pay for and need to sustain daily life. Not in Argentina- I left the capital with my heart on fire, wanting to start a revolution too.
Patagonia- Wilderness of Wildlife: Heaven
There are few places in the world where I want to be able to call my home. Patagonia makes it onto that list. For some crazy reason, I had not realized before getting onto the plane (my first plane ride in nearly 2 years) that Patagonia is in large part a desert. From the sky it appears an endless sea of brown, a large plain only broken by the occasional river running down from distant mountains and the crackled coast of the Atlantic Ocean. Having lived practically my entire life in New Mexico, Patagonia looked like home. My first pit-stop, and really only a touchdown in the plane was at Ushuaia at the "bottom of the world." Although I didn't get to stop in at the time for a gander, I already know I want to go back. Gorgeous snow-covered mountains and deep blue and celeste ocean inlets, beautiful birds, and a quaint little town- why not? Then to my first real destination- El Calafate.
If from the air I could draw similarities to my home in the US, on the ground things became even more drastically similar. The first thing I noticed were the trees- poplars much like the aspens of the Jemez mountains, then the big glacier lakes like many back home surrounded by rocky brown hills, then the endless blue sky. Wow, simply amazing in every way. The people, though, were in indeed different. There appeared to be a rather big emo movement amongst the youth at the time and also a small but big town feel. Most of the population, I would later learn, only lives down this far south for half the year while the tourists are in. The main attraction in this particular part of Patagonia is the Perito Moreno Glacier about 80k outside town. I headed out my first full day in town for a peek- and I was completely taken away with the sheer power and mass of this still growing wall of ice. Gorgeous... Spectacular... Breathtaking... it was the most gorgeous site I've seen only even remotely comparable with Iguazu Falls and possibly even beyond that level of beauty and awe. Towering spires of crystal-blue ice cascading over blue-green waters, fresh air and sun-rays reflecting off your cheeks. My heart was racing practically from the moment I stepped off the bus. With truly ideal weather, I could see the mountains clearly in the distance. With hours to spend waiting for the ice to crack and fall into waves on the lake, I had much time for self-reflection and chats with strangers and fellow travelers on the trail. When the ice finally did break-up slightly, the sound resonated throughout the canyons and off the surrounding mountains. I felt unbelievably alive. At times I sat and listened to music, just breathing an air so light and fresh that I could almost float. On the ride home, I thought of all the ways I might somehow move to Patagonia. I spent the next days chatting, hiking, dancing, and prowling the city with the hostel employees almost imagining what life could be like in such a world.
My next stop was just over the border in Chile at Puerto Natales. A long bus ride with rather wild border checks brought me into the small tourist and fishing town at nearly midnight, just enough time to plan a wild adventure to Las Torres in the morning. At 5:30am, I was up and stretching for the first leg of my adventure which was sadly shorter than I had wanted due to my travel delays on the border. That day, I opted to go on a bus tour of the park to get the "big picture" of the scenery and understand more broadly where I would be staying and hiking the next day. Rather sleepy, I managed to scrape together food for the trip (thank you to all the campers and hikers that contributed!!!) and met up with Nino the tour guide. We headed around to the park's western entrance, viewing the mountains and glaciers from afar, taking small hikes, and snapping pictures of the wildlife. The condors, guanacos, and foxes were out in ridiculous numbers some even more than happy to pose for a pic or occasionally steal your lunch. Sadly, the park had burned in December due to a tourist-started fire outside the designated areas. It had spread across much of the western sections of the park, charing the hillsides and ravines. Another similarity to my home in NM, I too have lost my mountains to fires. As we crossed the park from west to east, I felt more and more at home. Finally, we arrived at the end of the tour and I hoped off with two ladies from Holland to start my backpacking/hiking adventure inside the park. I snuck in at a refugio with, by the way, the most comfortable beds on the planet and practiced some centering yoga before climbing in to sleep in preparation for the Las Torres "I" trek the next day, up and down from the Torres del Paine all in one sweep. With an early start the next morning, I was off hauling fast of the mountain. The first stretch was hot and hilly for about 2 hours but left me motivated when I reached the first campsite Chileno. From there it was a slight grade with greenery and trees across a canyon connecting two mountains. I was so pleased to see moss covered trees and to listen to the rustle of the wind through the seasonal leaves, I literally went tree hugging. Finally, I hit the last 45 minute straight upshot to the look-out, tough but thankfully short so manageable in the end. The prize- a beautiful view of Las Torres, three rock spires shooting to the sky with a pristine green-blue glacier lake below. Oh yes, and a confidence booster as I may actually be in shape for the first time in my life- I was not even all the tired for lunch at the peak. Too bad that on the way down my knees felt about to go- darn, maybe I am getting older after all. On my way back to the bus stop to leave the park, I was most kindly picked up by a lovely young French couple headed out to a section of the park I'd not yet visited. They were ever so gracious in offering to allow me to come along for the ride before my bus pulled in that evening to Lago Azul and Salto Paine. While the scenery was indeed beautiful, the highlight and real thrill of the trip was a chance sighting of a puma family! Most people come to the park and never manage to see pumas as they are fairly rare in the area- but this was my lucky day to not only see them but watch the cubs bat and play, and even take a few photos. The perfect ending to my wilderness venture.
My last day in Patagonia was very tranquil. I slept in at my hostel back in Puerto Natales and enjoyed the hot showers, chatted with fellow campers, and attended some talks at the base camp on the best way to tackle the "W" and "O" challenge on my next round. Yes- I will be back to Patagonia. It's like home, but even better!
Santiago and Valparaiso- It can't be Reined
My first impression as I came into Chile's political capital and central hub was that Santiago is HUGE. The only reason this city will ever stop growing is the mountains surrounding it on all four sides. My second impression was that Santiago is in many ways more the real 'Paris of Latin America' than Buenos Aires with its frequent and well preserved colonial architecture (albeit not particularly Parisian in style). Even with earthquakes and battles every few years, they have maintained the feeling of an old colonial city like Europe but with great public services. Maybe it is for this reason that the city is full of European (usually) exchange students, many of whom were staying in my hostel and searching out apartments. It gave my experience of the city a whole new twist, as often I got involved and interested in the search as if I too were moving in.
My first full day in the city, I decided to take a walking tour of the center to get my bearings. This ended up being a great way to get to know the history (much more so than visiting the museum which strangely ends its version of history in 1973), food, and culture of Chile. For example, I learned that Chile was actually a very hard base to conquer for the Spanish due to the extraordinarily strong Mapuche people. Although not originally well organized, these indigenous groups fought tough psychological warfare not giving in for over 200 years to occupation. Impressive, this is not how most Latin American indigenous groups fared. The statues in the main Plaza de Armas show the 1st Spanish governor on a horse without reigns juxtaposed with the faceless indigenous leader that struggled so valiantly against the invaders from the inside out. I found myself routing silently for the Mapuche as present day drums of protests beat in the distance. We also checked out the presidential palace that was bombed in 1973 in the US-backed coup to overthrow the communist Allende by future dictator Pinochet and his fellow generals. Sadly, the memory museum was closed during my visit, but our tour guide revealed that Chile's inhabitants are still not really dealing with what happened during Pinochet's rule... disappearances, torture, and the like. On the fun side, I got to try Chile's mote con huesillos, honey-roasted peanuts, the teremoto, every-flavor ice cream, charrillo, pastel de choclo, and the best beer I have had since I left the US. There are many fun avenues to eat out and party in Santiago: BellaVista for the students, Provedencia for the high class, and Brasil with a family feel. After a few more days in the capital, I realized the city was not all that outstanding for tourism but I love Santiago's vibe.
On my way out of the region, I decided to take just a day trip to Valparaiso. This city is a totally different story, full of tourists and artists clinging to the magic of a city enveloped in winding roads and staircases with old ascensores. Yes, it was beautiful- perfect for a picture from every angle. That said, with its open air markets on many streets spilling out into traffic, people yelling and haggling you at every corner, cat calls, and all the tightly packed buildings... it was pretty overwhelming. I visited a few sites around town such as the Neruda Museum, the Open Air Museum, and of course took an ascensor ride. I even modeled for a portrait artist randomly, until I guess he got frustrated or something and rather stormed off. Weird. The highlight of the trip was a big meal of ceviche right there looking out to the water. Full and tired, I was happy to get on a bus for a mountain adventure across the Andes and back to Argentina.
Mendoza- Wine Country
Returning to the eastern side of the Andes was a shock to my system initially as the culture here is much more akin to the Latin America I know. Odd how one begins to miss that laid-back and tranquilo culture. My first night in Mendoza was the last night of the Fiesta de la Vendimia, so I got together with a friend from Holland who I'd met in Santiago and started the long walk to the venue. Warned that the tickets were sold out, I'd learned that in typical Latin fashion we could still go and watch from the amphitheater's surrounding hills. By the time we reached the far side of San Martin Park and followed the flow of people to the event, we had already missed some of the cultural dances and such, but we did make it in time for the rock bands! Passing by the main entrance, we started to climb up the steep and crumbly hills to join a crowd of literally thousands of excited fans outnumbering for sure the people in paid seats below. And what a blast the crowd was! We snuggled up between a few camps of locals and perched on some rocks in the sand, immediately in neighborly fashion we were included on the wine circle with the group beside us. Perfect. My favorite part was watching everyone dance, jumping around with hands in the air. THIS is the Latin America I am used to. My friend from Holland was both shocked and thrilled by the scene, "I can't believe they even set up a screen for the masses in the hills... if this place was at home there'd be hooligans and police all over... look at how friendly people are!" Funny, this type of thing I've just come to take for granted. Isn't it great though?
The rest of my trip in Mendoza was pretty standard and high fun. I visited many wineries in Maipú on a biking tour. Not sure who thought up that idea... bikes and wine. But hey- you can't beat drinking wine at Tempus Alba, Mevi, and DiTommaso right out above their wine fields. My favorite wines were fresh Malbecs, Tempranillo, and the usual Syrah and Cabernet. Mendoza is known for its red wines, so the white were really not so spectacular. I learned a lot about processing wine from fermenting to oak barrels (French vs American) and then back to stainless steel. A couple that came along for the ride is hoping to start a winery in Washington, so there were loads of questions and strategizing. I also learned something really neat and pretty useful- the longer a wine is in oak the stronger the flavor and the longer you can store it. So "young" wines should be drank within 2 years, "old" wines left in oak for 6 months should be drank within 4-5 years, and wines in oak for a year should be drank in 7-8 years. Check that out! So maybe we shouldn't be all about the 1942 vintage bottle after all. I didn't just stick to the wine scene though in Mendoza, I also headed out to the PreColombian mountains for a half-day of hiking and rappelling. We got to the base camp in the dry, desert, mountains- again a flashback from home- after an hour or so of driving. The plants were actually greener in NM and the mountain runoff a welcome and continuous trickle. We trekked out to a small waterfall surrounded by Andean hills, above the frontal Andes and below the rushing Mendoza river. I rappelled a very small drop, the hardest part just getting over the cliffside. Not the adrenaline rush I'd expected, but great natural beauty and exploration. More wine back at the hostel and an interesting discussion about mate culture in Argentina vs Paraguay, and I was ready to head out.
Córdoba- Jesuit Life
Approaching the end of my trip, Córdoba was my last destination. I had heard that the place was quite fun by other PCVs and thought I should give it a chance although I really had no idea what I was getting into. I should have known that Córdoba is all about the nightlife when I got into my hostel at noon and practically everyone was still asleep. Hmm... not really my style. So then, what else could I do but check out all the Jesuit ruins and sites in and around the area? What is really impressive about these sites in Córdoba is the outstanding architecture and the present day use of churches, schools, town halls all build back in the 1600s. The Jesuit College in the center of town seems like something out of Harry Potter and ancient English history books versus a modern Argentinian city. On one of my day trips out to Alta Garcia, I toured a Jesuit church and homestead/ranch. Two things shocked me about their culture in particular: 1) how technologically advanced they were- a fresh water reservoir built beside the church with pumps, a flushing toilet (you must see it to believe it- kinda Roman style), and ironworking, and 2) their use of slave labor at a 200 slave to 5 Jesuit rate. All this made me think to the Jesuit culture in Paraguay near Encarnación. It is amazing to see how such things manage to thrive in Argentina but in Paraguay go forgotten.
Reflections
All in all, my trip was a much needed vacation and the perfect balance of wildlife and cities. There are still many things I want to see in Argentina and Chile. One day I must go back.
Over the last several weeks, I have been on travel in my last two countries south of Paraguay- Argentina and Chile. Although I had been on a vacation rather recently to Brazil, I really needed the break. It had been a very long Thanksgiving to New Years season- full of sadness, celebration, excitement, and action. So, after getting stuck in site one last time due to mud, I made it to Encarnación to start off my adventure south-bound with an overnight bus in the rain to BA.
Buenos Aires- The Revolution
After 15 hours beside a young Argentinian- I was already getting used to the "che" and "ja" thrown in all over their accent. My first day in the Paris of Latin America was rather shot due to my late arrival but I managed to meet a friend at the hostel from Patagonia and we went out for the most delicious salad I have had in well over 2 years. That night I hung out with the hostel crowd eating asado on the parrilla (BBQ) which proved that indeed the meat in Argentina is of the highest quality. Free wine with dinner, no carnival surprisingly as it was the season- so off to bed. Day two proved to be quite fun with a long walk and exploration around Polermo- the recolecta, museum of fine arts, paddle boats and the city rose garden. The best part was hanging out with a friendly English fellow which whom I could debate and discuss anything from artificial intelligence to development critique. Truly a fun day! My last day, I headed down to the Chacarita and then went out with an Argentinian friend I had met in Uruguay for a tour of downtown. Although a rather rushed visit to the capital- I feel I had a real whirlwind tour of the key spots!
While I was not near as impressed with the Parisian architecture of BA as I had presumed, the city was delightful in many ways. The people, for one, were unbelievably friendly. Although Argentinians are typically regarded as selfish and egotistical throughout South America, I did not at all find that to be the case. Everyone was more than happy to have a chat! Second, I was inspired by the Argentinian spirit of revolution. Given that everyone was so open for discussion, it was easy to get into the psyche of a Latin country with a strong belief in the opportunity of the future. Young Argentinians I met were hopeful and whether educated or not seemed to feel they had control over their futures. So very different from my Paraguayan friends rather doomed or struggling view of life. I ventured to ask the older generation if they felt the same, and although they were less bright-eyed, they talked of revolution and one's right to protest to get and maintain what is theirs. Indeed, virtually every day I was in BA there was some sort of demonstration in the plaza in front of the Casa Rosada (the Argentinian version of the White House). I thought of my life in the USA, too comfortable to feel a need to protest. I thought of my life in Paraguay, we didn't have water all summer due to a political disagreement and nobody wanted to say anything much less fight for one's basic right to the very water they pay for and need to sustain daily life. Not in Argentina- I left the capital with my heart on fire, wanting to start a revolution too.
Patagonia- Wilderness of Wildlife: Heaven
There are few places in the world where I want to be able to call my home. Patagonia makes it onto that list. For some crazy reason, I had not realized before getting onto the plane (my first plane ride in nearly 2 years) that Patagonia is in large part a desert. From the sky it appears an endless sea of brown, a large plain only broken by the occasional river running down from distant mountains and the crackled coast of the Atlantic Ocean. Having lived practically my entire life in New Mexico, Patagonia looked like home. My first pit-stop, and really only a touchdown in the plane was at Ushuaia at the "bottom of the world." Although I didn't get to stop in at the time for a gander, I already know I want to go back. Gorgeous snow-covered mountains and deep blue and celeste ocean inlets, beautiful birds, and a quaint little town- why not? Then to my first real destination- El Calafate.
If from the air I could draw similarities to my home in the US, on the ground things became even more drastically similar. The first thing I noticed were the trees- poplars much like the aspens of the Jemez mountains, then the big glacier lakes like many back home surrounded by rocky brown hills, then the endless blue sky. Wow, simply amazing in every way. The people, though, were in indeed different. There appeared to be a rather big emo movement amongst the youth at the time and also a small but big town feel. Most of the population, I would later learn, only lives down this far south for half the year while the tourists are in. The main attraction in this particular part of Patagonia is the Perito Moreno Glacier about 80k outside town. I headed out my first full day in town for a peek- and I was completely taken away with the sheer power and mass of this still growing wall of ice. Gorgeous... Spectacular... Breathtaking... it was the most gorgeous site I've seen only even remotely comparable with Iguazu Falls and possibly even beyond that level of beauty and awe. Towering spires of crystal-blue ice cascading over blue-green waters, fresh air and sun-rays reflecting off your cheeks. My heart was racing practically from the moment I stepped off the bus. With truly ideal weather, I could see the mountains clearly in the distance. With hours to spend waiting for the ice to crack and fall into waves on the lake, I had much time for self-reflection and chats with strangers and fellow travelers on the trail. When the ice finally did break-up slightly, the sound resonated throughout the canyons and off the surrounding mountains. I felt unbelievably alive. At times I sat and listened to music, just breathing an air so light and fresh that I could almost float. On the ride home, I thought of all the ways I might somehow move to Patagonia. I spent the next days chatting, hiking, dancing, and prowling the city with the hostel employees almost imagining what life could be like in such a world.
My next stop was just over the border in Chile at Puerto Natales. A long bus ride with rather wild border checks brought me into the small tourist and fishing town at nearly midnight, just enough time to plan a wild adventure to Las Torres in the morning. At 5:30am, I was up and stretching for the first leg of my adventure which was sadly shorter than I had wanted due to my travel delays on the border. That day, I opted to go on a bus tour of the park to get the "big picture" of the scenery and understand more broadly where I would be staying and hiking the next day. Rather sleepy, I managed to scrape together food for the trip (thank you to all the campers and hikers that contributed!!!) and met up with Nino the tour guide. We headed around to the park's western entrance, viewing the mountains and glaciers from afar, taking small hikes, and snapping pictures of the wildlife. The condors, guanacos, and foxes were out in ridiculous numbers some even more than happy to pose for a pic or occasionally steal your lunch. Sadly, the park had burned in December due to a tourist-started fire outside the designated areas. It had spread across much of the western sections of the park, charing the hillsides and ravines. Another similarity to my home in NM, I too have lost my mountains to fires. As we crossed the park from west to east, I felt more and more at home. Finally, we arrived at the end of the tour and I hoped off with two ladies from Holland to start my backpacking/hiking adventure inside the park. I snuck in at a refugio with, by the way, the most comfortable beds on the planet and practiced some centering yoga before climbing in to sleep in preparation for the Las Torres "I" trek the next day, up and down from the Torres del Paine all in one sweep. With an early start the next morning, I was off hauling fast of the mountain. The first stretch was hot and hilly for about 2 hours but left me motivated when I reached the first campsite Chileno. From there it was a slight grade with greenery and trees across a canyon connecting two mountains. I was so pleased to see moss covered trees and to listen to the rustle of the wind through the seasonal leaves, I literally went tree hugging. Finally, I hit the last 45 minute straight upshot to the look-out, tough but thankfully short so manageable in the end. The prize- a beautiful view of Las Torres, three rock spires shooting to the sky with a pristine green-blue glacier lake below. Oh yes, and a confidence booster as I may actually be in shape for the first time in my life- I was not even all the tired for lunch at the peak. Too bad that on the way down my knees felt about to go- darn, maybe I am getting older after all. On my way back to the bus stop to leave the park, I was most kindly picked up by a lovely young French couple headed out to a section of the park I'd not yet visited. They were ever so gracious in offering to allow me to come along for the ride before my bus pulled in that evening to Lago Azul and Salto Paine. While the scenery was indeed beautiful, the highlight and real thrill of the trip was a chance sighting of a puma family! Most people come to the park and never manage to see pumas as they are fairly rare in the area- but this was my lucky day to not only see them but watch the cubs bat and play, and even take a few photos. The perfect ending to my wilderness venture.
My last day in Patagonia was very tranquil. I slept in at my hostel back in Puerto Natales and enjoyed the hot showers, chatted with fellow campers, and attended some talks at the base camp on the best way to tackle the "W" and "O" challenge on my next round. Yes- I will be back to Patagonia. It's like home, but even better!
Santiago and Valparaiso- It can't be Reined
My first impression as I came into Chile's political capital and central hub was that Santiago is HUGE. The only reason this city will ever stop growing is the mountains surrounding it on all four sides. My second impression was that Santiago is in many ways more the real 'Paris of Latin America' than Buenos Aires with its frequent and well preserved colonial architecture (albeit not particularly Parisian in style). Even with earthquakes and battles every few years, they have maintained the feeling of an old colonial city like Europe but with great public services. Maybe it is for this reason that the city is full of European (usually) exchange students, many of whom were staying in my hostel and searching out apartments. It gave my experience of the city a whole new twist, as often I got involved and interested in the search as if I too were moving in.
My first full day in the city, I decided to take a walking tour of the center to get my bearings. This ended up being a great way to get to know the history (much more so than visiting the museum which strangely ends its version of history in 1973), food, and culture of Chile. For example, I learned that Chile was actually a very hard base to conquer for the Spanish due to the extraordinarily strong Mapuche people. Although not originally well organized, these indigenous groups fought tough psychological warfare not giving in for over 200 years to occupation. Impressive, this is not how most Latin American indigenous groups fared. The statues in the main Plaza de Armas show the 1st Spanish governor on a horse without reigns juxtaposed with the faceless indigenous leader that struggled so valiantly against the invaders from the inside out. I found myself routing silently for the Mapuche as present day drums of protests beat in the distance. We also checked out the presidential palace that was bombed in 1973 in the US-backed coup to overthrow the communist Allende by future dictator Pinochet and his fellow generals. Sadly, the memory museum was closed during my visit, but our tour guide revealed that Chile's inhabitants are still not really dealing with what happened during Pinochet's rule... disappearances, torture, and the like. On the fun side, I got to try Chile's mote con huesillos, honey-roasted peanuts, the teremoto, every-flavor ice cream, charrillo, pastel de choclo, and the best beer I have had since I left the US. There are many fun avenues to eat out and party in Santiago: BellaVista for the students, Provedencia for the high class, and Brasil with a family feel. After a few more days in the capital, I realized the city was not all that outstanding for tourism but I love Santiago's vibe.
On my way out of the region, I decided to take just a day trip to Valparaiso. This city is a totally different story, full of tourists and artists clinging to the magic of a city enveloped in winding roads and staircases with old ascensores. Yes, it was beautiful- perfect for a picture from every angle. That said, with its open air markets on many streets spilling out into traffic, people yelling and haggling you at every corner, cat calls, and all the tightly packed buildings... it was pretty overwhelming. I visited a few sites around town such as the Neruda Museum, the Open Air Museum, and of course took an ascensor ride. I even modeled for a portrait artist randomly, until I guess he got frustrated or something and rather stormed off. Weird. The highlight of the trip was a big meal of ceviche right there looking out to the water. Full and tired, I was happy to get on a bus for a mountain adventure across the Andes and back to Argentina.
Mendoza- Wine Country
Returning to the eastern side of the Andes was a shock to my system initially as the culture here is much more akin to the Latin America I know. Odd how one begins to miss that laid-back and tranquilo culture. My first night in Mendoza was the last night of the Fiesta de la Vendimia, so I got together with a friend from Holland who I'd met in Santiago and started the long walk to the venue. Warned that the tickets were sold out, I'd learned that in typical Latin fashion we could still go and watch from the amphitheater's surrounding hills. By the time we reached the far side of San Martin Park and followed the flow of people to the event, we had already missed some of the cultural dances and such, but we did make it in time for the rock bands! Passing by the main entrance, we started to climb up the steep and crumbly hills to join a crowd of literally thousands of excited fans outnumbering for sure the people in paid seats below. And what a blast the crowd was! We snuggled up between a few camps of locals and perched on some rocks in the sand, immediately in neighborly fashion we were included on the wine circle with the group beside us. Perfect. My favorite part was watching everyone dance, jumping around with hands in the air. THIS is the Latin America I am used to. My friend from Holland was both shocked and thrilled by the scene, "I can't believe they even set up a screen for the masses in the hills... if this place was at home there'd be hooligans and police all over... look at how friendly people are!" Funny, this type of thing I've just come to take for granted. Isn't it great though?
The rest of my trip in Mendoza was pretty standard and high fun. I visited many wineries in Maipú on a biking tour. Not sure who thought up that idea... bikes and wine. But hey- you can't beat drinking wine at Tempus Alba, Mevi, and DiTommaso right out above their wine fields. My favorite wines were fresh Malbecs, Tempranillo, and the usual Syrah and Cabernet. Mendoza is known for its red wines, so the white were really not so spectacular. I learned a lot about processing wine from fermenting to oak barrels (French vs American) and then back to stainless steel. A couple that came along for the ride is hoping to start a winery in Washington, so there were loads of questions and strategizing. I also learned something really neat and pretty useful- the longer a wine is in oak the stronger the flavor and the longer you can store it. So "young" wines should be drank within 2 years, "old" wines left in oak for 6 months should be drank within 4-5 years, and wines in oak for a year should be drank in 7-8 years. Check that out! So maybe we shouldn't be all about the 1942 vintage bottle after all. I didn't just stick to the wine scene though in Mendoza, I also headed out to the PreColombian mountains for a half-day of hiking and rappelling. We got to the base camp in the dry, desert, mountains- again a flashback from home- after an hour or so of driving. The plants were actually greener in NM and the mountain runoff a welcome and continuous trickle. We trekked out to a small waterfall surrounded by Andean hills, above the frontal Andes and below the rushing Mendoza river. I rappelled a very small drop, the hardest part just getting over the cliffside. Not the adrenaline rush I'd expected, but great natural beauty and exploration. More wine back at the hostel and an interesting discussion about mate culture in Argentina vs Paraguay, and I was ready to head out.
Córdoba- Jesuit Life
Approaching the end of my trip, Córdoba was my last destination. I had heard that the place was quite fun by other PCVs and thought I should give it a chance although I really had no idea what I was getting into. I should have known that Córdoba is all about the nightlife when I got into my hostel at noon and practically everyone was still asleep. Hmm... not really my style. So then, what else could I do but check out all the Jesuit ruins and sites in and around the area? What is really impressive about these sites in Córdoba is the outstanding architecture and the present day use of churches, schools, town halls all build back in the 1600s. The Jesuit College in the center of town seems like something out of Harry Potter and ancient English history books versus a modern Argentinian city. On one of my day trips out to Alta Garcia, I toured a Jesuit church and homestead/ranch. Two things shocked me about their culture in particular: 1) how technologically advanced they were- a fresh water reservoir built beside the church with pumps, a flushing toilet (you must see it to believe it- kinda Roman style), and ironworking, and 2) their use of slave labor at a 200 slave to 5 Jesuit rate. All this made me think to the Jesuit culture in Paraguay near Encarnación. It is amazing to see how such things manage to thrive in Argentina but in Paraguay go forgotten.
Reflections
All in all, my trip was a much needed vacation and the perfect balance of wildlife and cities. There are still many things I want to see in Argentina and Chile. One day I must go back.
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