Villa Gisel and the Hippy Bus

Now back to Argentina where I have left our heroin hanging while in real time I have been working on my rise to fame at a radio station...

“How do you think you’re going to be a famous writer at this rate,” you may ask? Just read my blog and don’t worry about things like that! Now for the Argentinean coast Gringa Trail style...

I like to think my Spanish is pretty good but there I was in a car heading to an unknown location on the Argentine coast with no idea where I was going to be sleeping. All I knew was I needed to bring a sleeping bag and I was going to an Artesania feria. This lack of information is due to my inability to understand my friend Paula’s Argentinean accent over the phone and my stupid tactic where when I don’t really understand someone I smile and nod.

Not knowing where you are going always makes for a good adventure. My friend Max drove up and Paula’s brother came along for the ride. We passed around Mate in the car stopping several times to fill up the thermos with hot water and to curb our hunger with alfajores. The Argentines are somehow unaware that these chocolate covered biscuits with dulce de leche lack any nutritional value but are a popular meal replacement on long distance buses.

We arrived to a beach at 2:00am, I was exhausted but the Argies wanted to drink and eat...of course. They also tried to convince me to go out partying with Paula’s 20 year old brother but to the disappointment of the kid I just wanted to go to bed...or go to bus?

I finally discovered where I would be sleeping, in an old and very classic hippy van. Well I had always wanted to follow around some travelling Argentinean hippy types and document their way of life and this was finally my in, it doesn’t get any more authentic than this!

The next morning I decided to peruse the souvenir shops to discover where I was. Although I was unable to locate myself on a map I discovered I was in a beachside resort called Villa Gisel. Apparently this place is trendy and more upscale than Mar del Plata. There were no hostels to be seen and most properties are holiday rentals and resorts. The beach is a lot nicer than the photos I have seen of Mar del Plata and a lot less crowded. Set back away from the glitz and glamour of the shopping district with teenagers spending all of their Christmas money was the little neighbourhood where my hippy van parked at night with streets ankle deep in sand. We were parked in the driveway of the guy who owned the van and he had several artisans staying with him in his little house during the two month long Feria. They all made incredible and original works of art from glass work and jewellery to kaleidoscopes, paintings and tie-dye clothing.

During the day we would sleep in then spend the entire afternoon making lunch and eating it. The Argentineans packed up the hippy van (my bedroom) and set up their stalls at the feria for 5:00pm while I hung out on the beach and browsed the shops. At night I got to know most of the vendors and became the unofficial mate server, which in Argentina is a very important title!

In addition to the feria was an acrobatic cirque du solei-esque circus that I took in while waiting for my bedroom to return. I was also entertained by a cute painter who had a stall beside my friend Paula and turns out is also an elementary school teacher. It seems most Argentineans have some sort of artistic talent. My friend Paula has incredible talent with glass you can check out her work at:

http://burbujasvitrofusion.blogspot.com/

She works very hard for months to set up in ferias all over Latin America and even has sold her pieces in Spain and the USA. During my time on the coast and in Luis Guillon I got to know Paula quite well. She is such a lovely girl with a true bohemian soul. I was able to have a glance into the traveling Argentinean artisan’s way of life thanks to her and her friends who asked for nothing in return, in true traveller fashion though I left them with a full fridge of wine and beer as a thank you before I headed back to the city.

Bohemian Ideals; Artesanias of Argentina

Traveling through Central and South America I always came across and was drawn to the hippy artesian types. They travel in packs and can usually be found on beaches selling their macramé jewellery. They stay a while until they have made enough to move on. Most I find are Argentineans; I have come across a few Colombians, some Spaniards and the odd Frenchies. Some try to sell other items than the ever popular macramé backpacker collectables. Some are found roaming the strangest places I even found one in the Northern town of Matagalpa Nicaragua selling paper flowers to fund his journeys. Some may say that they aren’t really artisans and they are just homeless wanderers with dreads and baggy pants but being the nomadic gypsy type myself I have always been intrigued by them. Plus they always seem to know where the cheapest hostel is and the best beaches. It’s an interesting way of life and a sub culture in the backpacking scene. I myself have been tempted to ditch the gringo scene and join the next Argie group to make money by reading tarot on the beaches and writing about the lives of Argentinean Artisanias.

For this reason I was excited to go to Argentina the origin of these bohemian travelers but to my surprise it seemed that these cool traveling Argentineans had all left Argentina. That was until I got to know my friend Max’s girlfriend Paula. I discovered a large majority of Argentineans are in the arts and very talented. I guess like me they come back and camouflage themselves amongst the crowd before heading off on adventures again. I got introduced to Paula’s friends who were painters, pottery makers, jewellery designers, tango dancers and musicians. They are all similar to my Tucuman friend who is passionate about his music and dedicated to preserving the Bohemian ideals. This may sound like a cheesy line from Moulin Rouge but Wikipedia describes the Bohemian as;

“...the practice of an unconventional lifestyle, often in the company of like-minded people, with few permanent ties, involving musical, artistic or literary pursuits. In this context, Bohemians can be wanderers, adventurers, or vagabonds. Bohemians were associated with unorthodox or anti-establishment political or social viewpoints, which were often expressed through free love, frugality, and/or voluntary poverty.”

Society frowns upon people who have a hunger for the unknown and wish to lead an unconventional life. Is society just envious of people able to free themselves of the burdens of a stable life where one’s money goes towards paying the bills, ensuring dinners in restaurants, money to go out on the weekend and the same home to sleep in every night. While people are working the hours away earning money to keep them in an endless cycle are they really going after their passion and seeing the world around them.

I have met amazing people through my travels that I admire for going after their dreams of seeing that there is more to the world by having less and changing lives along the way, people who passionately live freely through their art.

I enjoyed Buenos Aires so much more once I discovered it through different eyes. Paula took me to Plaza Francia on a Saturday to see the Artisan market. I also checked out San Telmo on a Sunday which is a massive open air market of artisans, antiques, souvenirs, musicians and dancers that spans to Parque Lezama on the way to La Boca. I was in awe and in my element. I could have stayed for days browsing the unique finds.

After New Years while I was waiting for my next Brazilian visa appointment, I got the opportunity to do what I had dreamed of since hanging out with the Argentineans in Nicaragua. I was off to the coast to join an artesania feria. The location...I had no idea, a slight language barrier.

“Truth, Beauty, freedom and love.”

New Years Eve part two; Buenos Aires rooftop party

I have this love hate relationship with New Years Eve. I love the idea of starting off new in a new year where anything is possible. However I hate how it’s the one evening of the year where you are forced to have an amazing time. The one night that is supposed to represent how the rest of the year will unfold. There is way too much pressure. Parties are the best when they are spontaneous but with all the pressure how can New Years be spontaneous and fun? Plus most people spend the two months following up to New Years going to Christmas parties, work parties, seeing friends from out of town, seeing family, getting drunk with creepy relatives and overstuffing themselves on treats and Christmas dinner. When it comes to New Years you just don’t have much left. Then there is that awfully depressing New Years Eve song, Auld Lang Syne. I know this is a blasphemy to my Scottish roots to be saying but I’m sorry Mr. Burns could you not have written something just a little more upbeat to bring in the New Year.

Years ago I swore I would never listen to that song on new years and I wouldn’t worry about what party to go to or who I would be with because if I was traveling in the world all of that wouldn’t matter. I have spent the last six New Years in a different country and each one has been unique and memorable. Even if I only drank hot chocolate it was more because I drank hot chocolate at Cleopatra’s path in Egypt. It didn’t matter if I had a date or not because I was with friends in Mexico spraying them with foam in the central square.

This New Years I was in Buenos Aires Argentina. I didn’t go to a hostel that was hosting a party or to a night club. I was invited by my friend Tracy from Australia to a quiet intimate rooftop party at her friend’s apartment. It was a potluck so I brought my infamous Guacamole and bottles of Chandon. I got to meet her friends from when she lived in BA and other random foreigners. I really hit it off with a Colombian couple due to my obsession with their country.

We had the host of the party conduct our countdown to midnight and when we finished the sky lit up with fireworks from around the city. We all stood on chairs to see over the rooftop walls.

After it was over and done a few people left to check out some more happening parties. I helped my friend clean up and we walked together back to my hostel and to her apartment. I only had two drinks I was completely sober, I woke up without a hangover and in my own bed. To some this may have been a boring New Years but I was with great people and one of my closest friends, I saw the night sky of Buenos Aires light up, I had no regrets and I was going to the coast. I am a traveller and every day of my life is an adventure and memorable this was just another evening on my journey.

A Bicycle built for two; Cafayate, Argentina

In Santa Marta I was changing my mind about where to go and what to do every 5 minutes. I had planned to fly to Argentina then I decided to stay and work in Colombia then I was certain I would go to the Amazon and take a boat to Brazil. In the end after finding a decent flight to Buenos Aires I was teetering on that and the boat idea I was having problems making a decision and knowing what to do. I wrote earlier, “the obstacle is the path,” thinking Colombia was my obstacle but as I was staring at my computer screen with the Gol flight in front of me tempting me I looked up and saw in the hostel restaurant a group of people eating pasta and sharing a bottle of red wine, right then and there I knew what I had to do. I was going to Argentina for the red.

Like most people a wine tour of the famous Mendoza region was on my itinerary but I did not expect to be enchanted by the small village of Cafayate.

I had kept in contact with a young musician who stayed in my hostel in Colombia last year, we planned to meet up and travel together, so I left Cordoba spent one night in Tucuman and headed off on a bus to Cafayate in the state of Salta with my Tucu man.

We talked endlessly on the bus in Spanish about his music, my writing, Argentina, Canada and life in general. He can speak English but doesn’t and I was glad for it. He is one of the few people I can have a deep in depth conversation with in Spanish.

We arrived late to the village, while I showered and got ready for dinner he took out his guitar which he was dying to hold. He had been all day in the bus without being with his “Niña.” Depriving him of his guitar, an extension of his body is like taking away one of his senses. I had always had this fantasy of traveling through Latin America with my guitar on my back, playing it on beaches and passing it around in hostels. I wanted to be like those Argentineans I saw last year in Montanita, Ecuador lying on the beach strumming their guitars in sync, while the sun set and other Argies made macramé bracelets. Unfortunately my music skills are non-existent and my garage sale bought guitar has been sitting idle in my basement room in Canada for years. The next best thing to my gypsy, flowers in my hair, guitar on my back fantasies is to be traveling with a musician. I am awe inspired by his passion towards his art. I was even more taken aback when I overheard him singing Tango in the shower, there is something about a musician that drives women crazy. He came out shaking his wet curly hair saying he only sings Tango in the shower.

Later that evening, after quite a bit of wine we couldn’t stop giggling over the idea of renting a tandem bike and going on a wine tour of the vineyards. I had spent the summer working on a senior’s cruise where along with playing bocce ball I had to participate in sing-a-longs featuring songs from the war time era including the classic “A Bicycle built for two.” I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to actually ride one and my Tucuman friend made me promise I would sing the ridiculous song which he had never heard before. He was not impressed with the lyrics though, which do not agree with his bohemian ways about Daisy who wouldn’t marry her poor Michael because he only had enough money for a bicycle built for two.

I told my penniless guitar player I was quite happy with a bicycle built for two and we set off the next day in search of our wheels. He took the front and quickly learned how to steer while I tried to keep in sync peddling behind. Maybe I should have trusted Daisy’s opinion tandem bikes are a lot harder than they look especially when you can’t stop laughing and after several glasses of wine.

We circled the town raising the heads of locals and tourists as we zipped past laughing like children and headed off on the Ruta de las Vinedos. The backdrop was picture perfect with the Andes Mountains looming in the distance, green lush vineyards and dusty country roads. We parked our bike outside a few different vineyards with the plan to tell them I am a journalist from Canada writing about the grape varieties in Cafayate in hopes of scoring free wine but unlike the overly commercialized Bodegas of Mendoza Cafayate was willingly filling up our ready and waiting wine glasses and offered free guided tours. Argentina and Mendoza more specifically is famous for its Malbec and Cabernet Sauvignon wines but here in Cafayate they pride themselves on their excellent Torrontés. The dry region with its scorching hot days and cool nights are prime white growing conditions.

We checked out Nanni and Vasija Secreta then turned the now wobbling bike back into town to cool ourselves down from the hot Argentine summer sun.

What do you do when you’re in Argentina and it’s too hot to drink wine? Have some wine ice cream!

Helados Miranda is run by a very friendly elderly couple; the husband is a talented artist. You can see his master pieces in the back of the shop but his true works of art are the ice creams that are making him famous. The store front windows are plastered with blown up photos copies of what the most popular guide books around the world are saying about them. They are quite a humble couple, the husband was eager to talk our ears off while the Mrs. was taking care of my friend washing him up as he had grease stained hands from fixing our bike several times. She was a proper Argentine mama. They have many other flavours of ice cream but we came for the wine, you could choose between white Torronte and red Cabernet Sauvignon. I wasn’t disappointed the ice cream was dripping in alcoholic goodness.

Back in the hostel my Tucu man returned to his precious guitar and was immediately surrounded by other travellers who in turned played and swapped music with each other. I was happy and at ease in this little artsy town with a Bohemian Argentine musician. I am always in search of the small hidden travel gems and I found my first in Argentina; Cafayate.