Jaded Travellers

I was back to my indecision and lack of direction, somehow I ended up on a bus to Salta, why the heck was I going to Salta which is North of Cafayate when I was trying to get south to Mendoza? I was in search of a random adventure but the reality was I didn’t have time for a random adventure. My friend from Tucuman had to return back home so he could work on his music so I was left hanging in Cafayate on my own. A town which I had adored but all of a sudden I was alone again so when a German guy told me he wanted to further north to a place he would have to hitch hike to get to I decided to join. This was my chance for a crazy adventure hitch hiking around South America. I always liked the idea of hitch hiking but knew I would only do it with a guy.

Unfortunately our plan of taking off and hitching the north of Argentina was squashed by the bane of my travelling existence; Christmas. For some reason even though Christmas doesn’t really mean that much to me, especially when I am travelling there is still always this pressure to be somewhere on Christmas and to not be alone. I know I am never alone when I travel, never. When I tell people I travel alone they are shocked but honestly when you’re backpacking you can’t get away from people. When I come home I feel a bit odd because there isn’t a bunch of bunk beds in my room. So you would think I wouldn’t worry about finding people to spend Christmas with but I always do and my travel plans have to revolve around being somewhere on that one day. In the end I decided to spend a few days in Salta then head down to Mendoza which I should have done in the first place and the German had booked a hostel in La Paz for Christmas.

The German had decided to take off from Salta and bypass 90% of Bolivia and go straight to La Paz. To this day I regret not seeing more of Bolivia, the highlight of most travellers’ South American tour is the Uyuni salt flats, and yes I know I can’t believe I didn’t go either. I didn’t want the German to pass it up either and have the same pang I feel whenever I see someone’s photos of this majestic site. The German didn’t care though, I realized him as well as the only other non-Israeli guests in the hostel were “Jaded Travellers”. The German and this Portuguese-English/ German couple had just been travelling too long and it had gotten to them. The German booked his hostel in La Paz because he wanted to do a paragliding course, he didn’t want to be traveling anymore. He missed working; he missed “doing” something. He wanted a course to keep him busy. He didn’t care about seeing anything more in Argentina, Bolivia or South America for that matter. He had worked in Australia 6 months with his girlfriend, travelled Australia and Asia then they bought a motor bike in India travelled there before saying goodbye to his girlfriend then he hopped on a flight to Buenos Aires. He didn’t want to see another waterfall, beach or jungle; he was comparing everything to what he had seen before. His big round the world expedition was mushing together. I have travelled a lot in the world seen many churches, waterfalls, beaches, colonial towns, jungles, desserts but this has been over time and never in one long exhausting round the world trip so I am still able to appreciate a beautiful site. The German seemed to be burnt out.

The couple in the hostel were even worse. They were “complainers” I have never met travellers that complained as much as them, I couldn’t take the negativity. Sure some things in other countries don’t work as well as our countries and things can be a hassle but you aren’t home you get over it and deal with it. They spent the first part of their long winded journey traveling in a camper in New Zealand. They were obviously novices at this traveling thing because you don’t go from shinny green, clean and friendly New Zealand to Lima, Peru. For people who like clean eco friendly, safe, under populated, calm places I advise you Lima might not be for you. They spent the rest of their travels comparing everything to New Zealand. They didn’t like Peru they complained out Machu Picchu, they hated Bolivia and thought it was a shit hole and then they met me in the same shitty Israeli hostel in Salta. I think negative people are drawn to shitty places so they can have more to complain about. They were jaded they had travelled too much and seen too much, they were burnt out and exhausted. They didn’t see Bolivia for how amazing it is the landscape the culture and how frozen in the past it is. When you are in Bolivia you know it, you couldn’t be anywhere else in the world, it is so distinct and unique and those qualities are what makes it so appealing. When they saw Bolivia they saw the filth, they saw how backwards it is and how far behind New Zealand it was.

I felt like telling them maybe they had been gone too long maybe it was time for them to go home. The odd time you do come across these jaded travellers, the ones who have burnt out and I admit I have probably been there as well but we hate to admit it’s time for us to go back. It’s like giving up but travelling is not a marathon. It’s not a competition to see who can stay away the longest. You are not throwing in the towel and admitting defeat if you go back. You won’t get stuck in your home country forever and not be able to travel again. If you want to do something you will you left this time didn’t you? If you are a traveller you will always travel but sometimes you need to go back and recharge your batteries.

Perhaps I didn’t recharge my batteries long enough before leaving for South America again. Maybe that’s why I was lacking this sense of direction and have this constant indecision and anxiety. I hoped not, I decided Mendoza was going to change things for me. I was heading back on the Ruta de Las Vinedos.

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.

Back to the Blog

Ok so I have let my blog go to the wayside, I haven´t written anything is two months and I left myself hanging in Cordoba Argentina with a knob pertruding out from my elbow. I went on about me being a writer and needing to "write now" so what happened? Well life happened and traveling happened, my other passion. I wasn´t traveling open ended I knew at one point I would come back to this ice cube of a country so I let myself get swept away in the wirlwind of travel. At first this really bothered me that i wasn´t writing I felt like I was failing myself but a good friend reminded me I didn´t have that extra reflection time that I would normally have with my long winded open ended travels. As well sometimes you need just live in the moment take in what is happening and enjoy. Its like when an incredible moment happens and you have two decisions; One, you can pick up your camera and hope to catch the moment so you can save it for all time or the second option you can leave your camera, just be in that moment and let your senses take it all in; the smell, the sounds and the sights. You didn´t miss the moment reaching for a camera and trying to take a great shot. You may not have that incredile picture to show off but the memory will always be with you. I paused for a while and didn´t pick up my pen, I didn´t miss any of the incredible moments I experienced in Argentina or Brazil but I am still a writer non the less and I have come back to the blog to fill in on every crazy thing that happened. So I am going to pick up in Argentina where I left off...

The reigning Queen of Klutz; Cordoba, Argentina

I stayed in Luis Guillon long enough to meet up with my future traveling partner Tracy. She is a girl I worked with in Mexico for a brief period of time and developed a very strong bond with, basically we are the same person, and there are so many similarities its unreal. She is the Australian equivalent of me. They say everyone has a doppelganger in the world, a twin someone who looks just like them but perhaps we have a different kind of doppelganger as well, someone who has led a parallel life, someone who thinks and acts the same as you. This other Tracy my twin from across the globe even has the same name as me, our middle names are almost the same and we both have French last names. The similarities don’t stop there. The only thing is although Tracy is a year younger than me she is one year ahead of me in our Latin American lives. I was frustrated with Buenos Aires when I met up with her after two years and felt bad because she is in love with the city; she lived here for a year before we met in Mexico. She wanted me to love the city as much as her and insisted that I must leave so I can come back and stay in the city. You can’t come to Buenos Aires and not stay in Buenos Aires. So it was decided I needed to see Argentina so I could come back and fall in love with Buenos Aires. I had plans to meet a friend in Tucuman so I picked a place that was in the middle, I headed off that night after seeing Tracy to Cordoba.

I took a night bus and arrived groggy to the bus station. I had a few hostels written down and took a taxi to the first. It seems ever since I left Colombia I have been second guessing myself...actually it’s been since I left Canada which isn’t good. I usually travel by using my gut instinct and it has always worked out but I feel like now I am always at this crossroads I decide one thing then second guess it and then it turns out all wrong. Something is working against me in this travel but I am trying to remain positive. When I approached my first choice hostel it didn’t look so nice and I noticed a sign saying it’s closed between 11pm and 4am and you can’t bring in alcoholic beverages. This was completely ridiculous. I wanted a cool chill place but this was up tight. I asked a taxi driver to take me to my next choice which I should have gone to in the first place but he told me it was just down the road, an honest taxi driver in Latin America...Argentina really is different isn’t it? When I entered the hostel it was bustling with people checking in and out and I recognized other backpackers from the bus station. I was greeted by the nicest three guys. They looked like proper lads all with heads shaved, I later found out this was a graduation ritual and I was in a full on student city. I also learned they weren’t really the owners of the hostel yet. They had bought the hostel and were due to take it over in January 2011. They were there learning the ropes and getting used to it before it becomes theirs.

Once I got into my room I met my dorm mates, two very friendly guys from England. They were traveling South America before heading off to Australia to work. We instantly got on and they invited me out with them to explore the country outside the city where there was some swimming. Cordoba was dry and steaming hot so I jumped at the chance to go where ever there was water and at making some new friends. I was happy because these two reminded me of my English boys I hang out with in Santa Marta.

We picked up an Irish girl along the way so the four of us were on our way to Cabalango. The one guy Chris tried to use his internal compass to guide us in the right direction of the bus station. When that failed him he tried asking for directions but not in Spanish in Portuguese which he was trying to get by on. Eventually I took over the map and asking directions this was getting us nowhere. We found the mini bus terminal which was chaotically busy with one man orchestrating it all, telling people where to go sending buses off and directing traffic. With his help we got tickets but buses pulled in and out without us seeing the name of where we were going everything happened so fast and time slipped away as we looked on confused. Eventually the bus station ring leader saw us and realized we missed our bus he put his hands to his head and we could all translate what he was thinking. With his help we were whisked onto another bus that took us to Carlos Paz (which I later found out is a beach resort village on a lake) from there we waited at the bus station half an hour for another bus to Cabalango. When we got off the bus we were in the middle of nowhere in a very dry land with pools of water and small little waterfalls. It was the closet to nature we could get with water to cool down in. I was happy to finally be in nature even though there were tiendas alongside the river; I wasn’t in a city bustling with shoppers and cars.

We enjoyed the water relaxing and sunning ourselves, this is what I needed after a long bus ride. We bought food from a tienda and made ourselves a picnic lunch the Argentine way. That’s when Tracy the Queen of klutz returned to the scene. I thought I had left her behind in San Gil but apparently that wasn’t the case. My worn down havianas slipped on the sand covered rock and I fell scrapping my leg up. All was good though I washed myself off in the water and continued to enjoy the sunshine.

On our way back to the city we decided to make a group meal with us four and the other Irish girls in the hostel (I swear there are no Irish left in Ireland). After getting settled and changed we headed off down the hard marble stairs of the hostel to buy groceries when my havianas let out on me again I slipped and the whole weight of my body landed on my elbow with a loud crack. It hurt like hell and I couldn’t move but I knew nothing was broken. I was going to carry on but everyone else was much more concern than me and talked me into resting and putting ice on it.

People don’t realize when you’re traveling everyone is in the same boat as you, you are all away from home and when something happens or if you get sick there is always a fellow traveler that wants to help you out and make sure you are ok. We have this unspoken traveler bond, someone will always have your back and help you out of a shitty situation as you would for someone else.

The hostel owners of the Baluch hostel were very sweet as well; they bought me ice and were very concerned. This could be partly because my accident happened on their property but none the less I was impressed with how attentive they were.

I was feeling fine and lapping up being the centre of attention when I removed the ice from my arm it seemed the whole kitchen dropped their jaws at the sight of my elbow. From my angle I couldn’t really see what was going on but after some inspection I discovered my elbow had swelled up and it looked like I was growing a new arm, I had a huge knob coming out of my elbow. I wasn’t the prettiest sight in the world but the worst was seeing people’s reaction when I showed them, this is what made me start to worry. I showed the hostel owners, the three lads and they immediately called in a Doctor who they paid for then took me to a nearby public hospital which was free. They paid for the taxi and my anti inflammatory pills. We were all in good spirits going to the hospital joking around that I had three body guards but I had to pretend I was in a lot of pain to get ahead in line at the hospital.

I taken in by the most beautiful doctor, I have seen a lot of attractive men in Argentina, this does seem to be the land of gorgeous men I have been in search of and I discovered even the doctors are stunning. I was x-rayed and then returned to beautiful doctor who was accompanied by a second equally as gorgeous doctor, both agreed I had no broken bones and I was going to be ok, I just had a lot of fluid billed up.

In the end I was fine, my knob magically disappeared the next day but I suffered severe bruising for a few weeks afterwards. I was able to explore the city of Cordoba and get out and see the Che Guevara museum. The guys at the Baluch hostel treated me very well and I believe they are going to do a fantastic job running the hostel, as long as they are there I recommend the Baluch hostel to stay in Cordoba Argentina. It has a beautiful view of the city from the rooftop patio and delicious asados with lots of wine for an amazing price.

www.baluchbackpackers.com

One week in Luis Guillon

When I arrived at the airport in Buenos Aires I was greeted by my Argentinean friend Max and his little boy Manuel. It was so nice having someone waiting for me on the other side. I didn’t have to figure out buses, hostels, taxis, I just jumped into his car and we were off. I met Max in 2007 when I was in Egypt. My boyfriend at the time and I arranged to do a Felucca trip on the Nile, which is an old wooden sailboat with nothing much to it. There was Me and the boyfriend, a Canadian/German couple who were kind of hippyish (we picked them up along the way when we admired how they rented bikes to Philae Temple), two Asians who only spent one night, a girl in her mid 30’s who was either also Canadian or Australian I can’t quite remember and then Max the crazy Argentinean. I remember having chats with him on the boat, hearing his crazy travel stories and borrowing his lonely planet which my boyfriend refused to buy. The one thing I remember most about Max was his batteryless flashlight which you were only supposed to wind up once and it would last for 24 hours but you could constantly hear his flashlight during the night grinding.

I had kept in touch with Max and during my time in Mexico, Central and South America he always asked when I was coming to Argentina. This time I could finally answer him. I would be in Argentina in December and he told me I could stay with him in Buenos Aires.

What I didn’t quite realize was he didn’t actually live in Buenos Aires...well he lives in the province of Buenos Aires and close to the airport but very far from the centre so I was staying in a suburb and had to commute into town. At times this was frustrating and it seemed every time I went into the city I didn’t get there until the late afternoon and I got completely lost. The nice part about staying in Luis Guillon was it was quiet and relaxing. I got to experience real Argentinean life staying with a couple. Max’s girlfriend is a beautiful talented woman, I got to practice my Spanish with her and meet their friends. One evening we were invited to her friend’s apartment for drinks and dinner which started around 11:30pm. It seems everyone does some sort of art form in Argentina, Max’s partner Paula makes bubble glass art and her friends make ceramic and paint. I had always admired the Argentinean artisan lifestyle whenever I had seen them traveling in Latin America.

I was happy to be able to wander around the city and come back to Luis Guillon with Max and Paula to have a nice late dinner with wine, conversations in Spanish and learn about what they do, Buenos Aires and Argentina in general. I helped Paula with her website for the items which she sells so she can see who is looking at her site and have it translated. We spent a while discussing how she could better sell her products but I was thinking more so business minded and she thinks more like a Argentinean Artisan traveling to different ferias in the country and sometimes in Spain. Her products definitely have a niche and would sell very well but she needs to get into the high end market and away from hippy markets.

Most people come to Buenos Aires for the parties and huge night clubs I came to see the real life as I do everywhere and just be. Instead of Pacha I spent a Friday night at Max and Paula’s personal film festival with just a few friends, drinks and homemade sushi which was fantastic. We watched the most bizarre movies till late in the night and discussed them a little afterwards which I didn’t need an enormous Spanish vocabulary for all I really needed was “Que malissima!”

I enjoyed my time in Luis Guillon with Max and Paula but I wasn’t really experiencing all that Buenos Aires had to offer and I wasn’t really getting to know Argentina or so I thought, so I decided I would leave to come back and really know Buenos Aires. I knew I would be back to visit Max and Paula they were amazing genuine people and were becoming very good friends. There was a reason I had stayed in contact with Max he is one of the those special people you meet when traveling that you can meet up with after years and it’s just the same if not better. It was a very different Buenos Aires experinces than most would have but it was my one week in Luis Guillon.