tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60323846961163184622024-03-05T02:45:06.902-06:00Cal's TravelsBrianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16505219268780172428noreply@blogger.comBlogger72125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6032384696116318462.post-8525268114699212812014-03-29T14:38:00.000-06:002014-03-29T14:38:16.646-06:00The Colchagua Valley<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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During the September 18 <i>Fiestas Patrias</i> last year, we decided to take a train to the Valle de Colchagua. Several of Chile's central valleys have been given over to vineyards, and the Colchagua Valley in particular has gained international renown due to some award-winning wines that have begun to emerge in recent years from this region. September in Colchagua is the last month of winter, and during the first day of our stay we had overcast skies and cool weather. Also, being the end of the rainy season, we were able to enjoy the valley at one of its greenest times of the year. Much like southern and central California, for many months of the year, central Chile receives very little rain, and as a result the valleys, hills and mountains are rarely as green as they are at the end of winter.<br />
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Conversely, being the very beginning of the agricultural season, the vineyards themselves were still barren of leaves. As the progressively drier spring and summer wear on in this part of Chile, the landscape changes from green to golden, and ultimately, brown. At the same time, the irrigated basins of Chile's valleys stay a radiant green, ultimately producing much of the fruit that the rest of the world enjoys throughout the northern winter.<br />
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Central Chile, bounded by the Cordillera de los Andes to the East, the Atacama Desert to the North, Patagonia to the South, and the Pacific Ocean to the West, enjoys what may be a unique natural isolation compared to any other agricultural zone in the world. Due to this, many of the pests and diseases that have ravaged various types of grapes and other produce have never been able to reach this part of the world. Now that the country is ever more open to global trade, Chilean customs officials work very hard to prevent foreign agricultural products from entering the country, even those brought in by tourists arriving across borders by air or land. As a result, there is for example a variety of grape known as <span class="st"><em>Carménère, </em>which was almost completely devastated decades ago in its native France by a type of fly and is now almost exclusively produced in Chile.</span><br />
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<span class="st">The first vineyard we visited was, as you can see, Viu Manent. We've visited vineyards <a href="http://www.calwalks.blogspot.com/2013/07/autumn-in-vineyard.html">before</a>, and to a certain extent, once you've toured a vineyard and seen the various stages in the wine making process, the information you receive on subsequent tours will start to become a bit repetitive. That said, each visit to different vineyards during our time here in Chile has continued to hold our interest and reveal more to us about the subtleties of different methods and scales of production. Every vineyard is unique not only in its wine-making practices, but also in the treatment of the tourists who come to visit.</span><br />
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<span class="st">Vineyards are large places, necessarily occupying many hectares in order to grow enough grapes for commercial production. So how to provide a close-up look for tourists of both your facilities and your fields, especially if they are located far apart on your estate? One solution several vineyards have adopted is to plant a selection of vines bearing all of your different varieties of grapes in one place for tourists to see and sample conveniently. Others, like Viu Manent, have found another way. If you have to move people across a long distance, why not move them in style?</span><br />
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<span class="st">Rather than show you the fermentation tanks and barrel room of Viu Manent, I'll refer you to the experience we had in the <a href="http://www.calwalks.blogspot.com/2013/07/autumn-in-vineyard.html">Cachapoal Valley</a>. After all, while there are difference in production methods, barrels and tanks end up looking much the same. What is always distinctive in each vineyard, however, is the tasting of the finished product. From the presentation of the wine to the wine itself, it's always a joy to sample a bit of the wine that you've been learning about during the tour, and to afterwards, to select a few choice bottles to take home with you as well.</span><br />
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<span class="st">Another treat inherent in the visit to a vineyard is the fact that you are exploring what is, in essence, an expansive rural estate, often graced by historic buildings and the beautiful landscapes that are synonymous with the Mediterranean climate necessary for good wine production. Modern vineyards, while embracing the technology associated with commercial wineries, also invariably have one foot firmly planted in the past. From vines cultivated over the course of decades to wines aged in the controlled climate of a good cellar, the wine making process is steeped in time.</span><br />
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<span class="st">We'll save the rest of our trip for another post. Until the next time!</span><br />
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Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16505219268780172428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6032384696116318462.post-49690078260352097422014-02-22T17:08:00.001-06:002014-02-22T17:18:40.522-06:00Last stop: Piriápolis<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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No trip to the South American Atlantic coast would be complete without a trip to the beach. Sure, <a href="http://www.calwalks.blogspot.com/2013/12/across-rio-de-la-plata.html">Colonia</a> and <a href="http://www.calwalks.blogspot.com/2014/01/unwinding-in-montevideo.html">Montevideo</a> had beaches, too. But both of those cities have plenty of other attractions to lure you away from the seaside. It's something else to go to a town where the beach itself is the reason to be there.<br />
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By the time we got around to visiting a resort town like Piriápolis, the weather wasn't very beach-worthy. To be honest, though, we didn't mind too much. With a few exceptions, the majority of the travels we've taken over the years have not tended to include the beach so much. We've instead favored historic and cultural destinations for the most part. When we do choose to head for the sand, however, the first choice is typically far from coastlines crowded with people and highrise hotels. In fact, the fewer people, the better. Better to walk that ever-shifting line where land meets sea, and to feel a little closer to nature, rather than being too close for comfort to waterskis and speedboats.<br />
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That said, it was nice to take a stroll through the yacht harbor, a short walk around the bay from the beach. While I'll probably never spend much time on one, I won't deny the attraction of a ship at sail, or the way a view over the sea from land is somehow completed by the sight of sailboats cutting their way gracefully through the water. Most likely because the weather wasn't conducive to it, we didn't see any ships out on the water while we were there. In fact, quite a few of yachts in this harbor were out of the water and sitting up on blocks. I began to wonder how often these boats got used at all.<br />
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Across from the harbor was a chair lift leading to the top of a hill overlooking the town and the surrounding coast.<br />
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It was starting to look like rain! Despite the ominous skies, you can get a feel for both the smallness of the resort town, with only about 8,000 permanent residents, and the beauty of the surrounding forests and hills. I imagine the beach packs out quite a bit more on sunny days, but even then, Piriápolis has been eclipsed by the popularity of nearby Punta del Este. There, you've got your beachfront hotel skyrises, bronzed beachgoers, all-night clubs, and high-speed watersports. I have no doubt that it's exciting, if you like the energy of crowded beaches. What can I say? Secluded beaches are much more my thing. Thankfully, there are still as many of those as there are places like Miami Beach and Punta Cana.<br />
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The view over the other side of the hill. If you zoom in closely, far off on the horizon, you can see the tall buildings poking up from the peninsula of Punta del Este.<br />
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What goes up, must come down. The chair lift was, naturally, a round-trip ticket. Also featured, a view of the harbor, and a better perspective of the boats of various sizes/levels of ambition.<br />
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What a long day! The <i>rambla</i>, the picturesque Hotel Colonia with wooded hillside in the distance, slender palm trees, and, if you look closely, a modern white hotel with a cluster of solar panels on the roof. Not that they would be doing much on a day like this.<br />
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A close-up look at the Argentino Hotel, completed in 1930, by Francisco Piria, the founder for whom the town was named. Judging from the name of the hotel, Uruguay in the 1930's was as much a destination for vacationing Argentines as it is today. It's still in operation today, but with the rain starting to fall, we didn't take the time to inquire how much it cost for a room.<br />
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Besides, we had our own place to stay, a two bedroom house with a comfortable patio complete with a <i>quincho</i> for outdoor grilling. We didn't get a tan, but Piriápolis made for a relaxing experience on the green, tranquil and scenic Uruguayan coast. It was the end of a trip that included several busy days of visiting the cities of Buenos Aires and Montevideo, as well as the historic town of Colonia. Ahead of us lay a bus ride back to Colonia, a trip on the ferry across the <i>Río de la Plata</i> to Buenos Aires, and finally a flight across South America, through the turbulent air over the <i>Cordillera de los Andes</i>, and finally landing in Santiago. But for the time being, we were very much enjoying the peace and quiet of Piriápolis.Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16505219268780172428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6032384696116318462.post-57569921308502023852014-01-26T18:00:00.002-06:002014-01-26T18:18:18.530-06:00Unwinding in Montevideo<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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In addition to the time we spent in <a href="http://www.calwalks.blogspot.com/2013/12/across-rio-de-la-plata.html">Colonia</a>, we made a point to visit Uruguay's capital city of Montevideo. We found accommodations in the beachfront neighborhood of Punta Carretas, a quiet, residential area at the city's southernmost tip. In fact, if you look at the photo above, the thin vertical line next to the palm trees on the horizon is a lighthouse. It lies at the end of a narrow peninsula where the city ends and the Atlantic begins.<br />
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Turning to face the city, you see that mid-rise apartment buildings have come to dominate the oceanfront property. Head a block inland and this ambitious construction quickly gives way to one- and two-story homes, but walk in either direction along the city's long, winding <i>rambla</i> and you'll find these ten-floor buildings to be a constant feature.<br />
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Despite the number of these buildings along the coast, and the fact that many of them must be given over to vacation rental, Montevideo was the one destination on this trip where we ended up staying in a private room in a hostel rather than a rented apartment.<br />
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For most of the time I've traveled in South America, whenever I've visited a new place - whether alone or more recently, with family - staying in a hostel had always been my favorite way to spend the night. Being able to cook up a few meals in the shared kitchen is a great way to save money on the road, and inevitably, you'll end up meeting some interesting characters as well.<br />
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But as time has gone on, we've learned that for about the same price per night in a private room in a hostel, you can rent an apartment in most cities. This was an accidental discovery made during our trip to <a href="http://www.calwalks.blogspot.com/2012/07/beautiful-bariloche.html">Bariloche</a> the year before, but once we saw the benefit of the space and privacy of a temporary apartment rental, it's quickly become our preferred accommodation away from home.<br />
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For whatever reason, however, as I was contacting people while we were still in Buenos Aires, in anticipation of our stay in Montevideo, I had a hard time pinning anyone down on the phone. The only person I managed to get in touch with and make a reservation was the owner of a hostel. What we got was a room in an old house two blocks from the beach, not so bad!<br />
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With the exception of a young man from Córdoba, Argentina and an older woman from Buenos Aires, all our fellow guests were from Chile, despite the fact that Chile is much further away. Evidence perhaps of the direction the fleeting winds of economic prosperity have been blowing in recent years. Interestingly, none of the Chileans batted an eye at the higher prices to be found in Uruguay, while both of the Argentines were incredulous. Indeed, a visit to a restaurant or supermarket revealed most food to be about double the price of what we'd seen in Argentina.<br />
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Our second day in the city was spent in the urban center. What we found was a peaceful downtown, with quiet streets, orderly commerce, and - with some notable exceptions - modest architecture compared to what we've seen in Buenos Aires or even Santiago. Montevideo has always lived in the shadow of Buenos Aires across the Río de la Plata. Maybe as a result, the people of Montevideo are a laid-back bunch. While sharing a virtually identical accent with their Argentine neighbors, and steeped in a history deeply connected with that of Argentina, the pace of life here is decidedly slower.<br />
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In a place where even the top politicians intermingle with the public in the street with little fanfare, the Uruguayan people generally seem to ignore pretense and just get on with their daily business. That said, Uruguay has been in the news of late, with President José Mujica making headlines for his unassuming lifestyle, living on a flower farm with his wife rather than the Presidential Palace and driving his old VW Beetle. And more recently, Uruguay seems set to become the first country in South America to legalize the recreational use of marijuana.<br />
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Uruguay had long caught my attention as being the home of one of my favorite writers in Spanish, <a href="http://www.calwalks.blogspot.com/2010/11/how-i-learned-spanish.html">Eduardo Galeano</a>. As we roamed the streets of Montevideo during our short visit, I did a double take in the direction of every bald-headed man I saw, hoping I might have the luck to cross paths with the author of the first books in Spanish I managed to decipher.<br />
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While I never saw Mr. Galeano, I did plenty of double takes. Uruguay has a small population with a low rate of growth, meaning an aging populace, and lots of bald heads. That notwithstanding, here we see the next generation of Uruguayans casually soaking up some fine literary tradition during their summer break.<br />
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Of course, no visit to Montevideo would be complete without a visit to the Plaza Independencia and the Palacio Salvo. Far and away the city's most iconic landmark, the Palacio Salvo is one of South America's original skyscrapers. At 100 meters in height and with its distinctive architectural flourish, it stood as the continent's tallest building for many years. Today, some lucky citizens even call it home.<br />
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The man on horseback is José Artigas, a native to Montevideo turned <i>gaucho</i> (read: South American cowboy). He became something akin to the George Washington of Uruguay. He helped battle both the Spanish and the British as South America began to assert its political independence, and later was instrumental in carving out the Uruguayan identity as separate and independent from what would become Argentina.<br />
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As I reflect on our days in Montevideo, I can't help but think that we peeled back very little of the surface of this understated city. While it may never equal the excitement and energy of Buenos Aires or the tropical beauty of Rio de Janeiro, Montevideo is quietly waiting to be discovered. The patient traveler who spends the time to fully explore this well-organized and comfortable capital city of 1.8 million is bound to be rewarded for his effort. With some luck, another trip to this part of South America will be in our future.<br />
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<br />Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16505219268780172428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6032384696116318462.post-56819381024960781872013-12-25T19:08:00.003-06:002013-12-25T20:18:00.144-06:00Across the Río de la Plata<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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There was more to our time in Buenos Aires than I've reported in the last few posts. The time we spent roaming Palermo and other residential neighborhoods. The various parks and green spaces, the pizza, grilled meats, and traditional Argentine dishes. The trip by train to the nearby river town of Tigre.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_7zCjDNrFf3whxC_BnREqe-zkgGXYsx7Iq8b_D_mVfTjaBuvM_v0I8E9gggCvkOFMCvgkYhLU10we3L9LdBI34ovnH0w8DPifYGKEiCkN86iBInctJ7X2PmG8mpSIqF_BkF8ZT9xzQfa1/s1600/IMG_3662.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_7zCjDNrFf3whxC_BnREqe-zkgGXYsx7Iq8b_D_mVfTjaBuvM_v0I8E9gggCvkOFMCvgkYhLU10we3L9LdBI34ovnH0w8DPifYGKEiCkN86iBInctJ7X2PmG8mpSIqF_BkF8ZT9xzQfa1/s400/IMG_3662.JPG" width="400" /></a>But we'd better keep the story moving forward. After a week in Buenos Aires, we boarded a large ferry boat and headed across the estuary separating Argentina from Uruguay. It's famously called the Río de la Plata, or as it is sometimes translated into English, the River Plate. But let's be realistic, it's really more estuary than river. As we headed out onto the water, we were granted a nice view of the city we were leaving behind.<br />
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There are two kinds of ferries you can take across the border. There's a smaller, faster boat that takes an hour and has seats much more like an airplane's to relax in during your short voyage. The other option is a slower vessel designed more like a cruise ship, with an open air deck on the top, a bar and café, and even live music on the lower deck. That's the one we chose to take. We weren't in any hurry, and it was still morning, so why not enjoy a laid back trip across the water?<br />
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Crossing the Río de la Plata by boat is one of those essential moments for any traveler trying to have a full South American experience. While the River Plate is not quite a river, it's also not quite the sea. Calm water, brown from the sediment pouring off the continent, all silent proof of the sheltered waterway you're sailing across. And just as you lose sight of land and the metropolis of Buenos Aires behind you, you see another coast coming into view ahead. As your ship presses onward, the shroud of summer humidity gives way and you catch your first glimpse of the historic city of Colonia, your port of entry to Uruguay.<br />
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There's nothing like being in a seaport town in the summer. Looking out onto the expanse of water from the vantage point of a quiet beach, blue skies, hot sun, cool breeze, boats sailing in and out of the harbor. Tropical music provides the right ambiance to complement the sound of the gentle waves lapping up onto the shore. What a fantastic way to spend your days. At times like this, you start to wonder why you live so far from the seaside.<br />
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But Colonia is famous not for its beaches or its port. Its port does receive quite a few cruise ships and ferries, like the one we arrived on, and a beach like the one in the photo above. But Montevideo, Uruguay's capital city, is the main port city for the country. And if you're in Uruguay for its beaches, cities like Punta del Este are much trendier destinations. Instead, the main attraction in Colonia is its historic center.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixNV9rweE1DWyr4xrWH5SlaKDxcyqGJS5inAXIE9XkNp240e1xSTXHOeyI2OVwJLyMW0jllNE5Ke75o0o1pmX9Vz2GDrnPjssO_JppVkHje-1WHkOW-TRKe4JN2POag6ok7PlaVy4EXoPX/s1600/IMG_4055.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixNV9rweE1DWyr4xrWH5SlaKDxcyqGJS5inAXIE9XkNp240e1xSTXHOeyI2OVwJLyMW0jllNE5Ke75o0o1pmX9Vz2GDrnPjssO_JppVkHje-1WHkOW-TRKe4JN2POag6ok7PlaVy4EXoPX/s400/IMG_4055.JPG" width="400" /></a>Founded in 1680 by the Portuguese, the settlement changed hands between Portugal and Spain several times throughout its history. This constant push and pull has left an indelible architectural mark on the city, as the Portuguese and Spanish both imparted their own legacy on the varied street plan and buildings to be found there today.<br />
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Uruguay itself, a tiny country sandwiched between the two huge countries of Brazil and Argentina, was forged as an independent nation mainly in order to create a buffer zone between the ambitions of those two larger countries, which had fought to a stalemate in a war in the region. And while this small territory has a border with Brazil as long or longer than the one it shares with Argentina (depending on how you want to define the border along the Plata River), culturally speaking, Uruguay is much closer to Argentina.<br />
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Uruguayans speak Spanish in an accent (for me) indistinguishable from the famously characteristic dialect of Argentina. The Uruguayan people also share Argentinian's appreciation for the drink <i>yerba mate</i>. It could even be argued that Uruguayans surpass Argentines in their fanaticism for the beverage. While we saw plenty of people drinking mate in the streets and parks of Buenos Aires and other cities we've explored in Argentina, we typically saw them drinking it in the afternoon, presumably as an excuse to spend some time relaxing outdoors, after lunch.<br />
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Unfortunately we didn't get any demonstrative photos of Uruguayans and their prodigious consumption of mate. But we were impressed to see people there drinking it in the morning with breakfast, as well as at lunch, and after dinner. And it was not uncommon to find people walking around with a leather pouch across their shoulders, custom designed to hold mate, gourd, and hot water thermos, for easy consumption whenever you want. I can't blame people for enjoying it so much, it's a great way to spend a leisurely afternoon in the park. If you're not sure what mate is, you can easily investigate online. But, I digress...<br />
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During our stroll through Colonia's historic district, we happened upon this group of men in old-timey hats and suspenders. For obvious reasons, film crews regularly descend on the town, to take advantage of its ready-made colonial backdrop. By the time we came upon the group, the filming for the scene was coming to its conclusion, and for the rest of the afternoon the actors went loitering about town in their own various directions, still in costume. They lent an extra air of history to our afternoon, the sight of people casually walking by in their old-fashioned vests and trousers, roaming the streets around us.<br />
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South America has no shortage of historic neighborhoods and cities. There are Unesco World Heritage sites to be found in just about every country in Latin America, and many more whose colonial buildings and other storied locations deserve international recognition. I've been fortunate to have the opportunity to explore and even live in or near several of these beautiful places over the past few years. Colonia, though, for its superb summer climate, lush foliage mixed with lovely cobbled streets and well-maintained old buildings, all facing a quiet inlet on the Atlantic coast, made for one of the most peaceful historic locations I've had the chance to visit. Sit in the shade of an old tree, taking in the fresh sea breeze amongst its silently aging walls, and its history begins to descend serenely upon you, leaving an impression of timelessness. Timeless, in the sense that your short stay starts to extend into one of those eternally lasting, long, sunny afternoons we've all enjoyed in the midsummer. And timeless, because at that moment you feel at one with history, at one with the place you're in, a place you already know you'll never forget.<br />
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<br />Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16505219268780172428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6032384696116318462.post-9782521730560846972013-10-27T14:14:00.001-06:002013-10-27T14:14:11.908-06:00Buenos Aires for export<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Another of our days in Buenos Aires was dedicated to exploring the neighborhood known as La Boca. No trip to Argentina's capital would be complete without visiting this place, with its colorful buildings and equally colorful history, characterized largely by its Italian (mainly Genovese) influence. Today its streets are given over to the overwhelming amount of tourism the neighborhood receives.<br />
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Drawn to the neighborhood mainly for its picture-perfect, brightly colored walls and art situated on cobbled streets, tourists have many places to rest and take in their surroundings. The varied colors of the houses apparently date back to the original days of the neighborhood, when the immigrant families moved into <i>conventillos</i> as they did in <a href="http://calwalks.blogspot.com/2013/09/san-telmo.html">San Telmo</a>.<br />
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Here in La Boca they painted their homes with the leftover paint they used to paint the boats they used to make their livelihoods. As this paint consisted of whatever colors and quantities remained after their boats were painted, the houses ended up with a mix of colors.<br />
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In more recent times the painter Benito Quinquela Martín, who was a resident in the neighborhood and found inspiration for his art in the port working-class character of the area, encouraged his neighbors to revive the tradition of assorted colors on their houses and buildings. So it is him we can probably thank, not only for the colorful and artistic character of the neighborhood, but also for the amount of tourists who flock there to see it.<br />
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The conventillos are still there, but their original purpose, as blue collar tenement houses, has given way to antique and souvenir shops.<br />
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And the huddled masses yearning to be free have been replaced by bustling tourists yearning to have lunch.<br />
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Dark, narrow alleyways have become well-appointed, well-lit thoroughfares. It may have lost its authentic flavor, but La Boca has been transformed into something of a cultural playground. Buenos Aires, for export.<br />
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More than a colorful mural, this wall painting illustrates a moment in history when La Boca asserted a very temporary secession from the rest of Argentina at the end of the 19th century. The Genovese flag, whose influence can be seen in the shield of La Boca pictured here, was raised in rebellion against outside authority. It was almost immediately taken down personally by the Argentine President, who took it upon himself to address the demands of the inhabitants of the neighborhood.<br />
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The neighborhood of La Boca, at least the part given over to tourism, consists of only about six narrow blocks, each heaving with visitors at peak hours. Some efforts have been made to expand the tourist zone beyond its current borders. As we were seeking our own place to have lunch, a couple of promoters pointed us in the direction of a restaurant only a block away from the dense pack of outdoor patios.<br />
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A palpable change in atmosphere overcomes you when you walk out of the tourist playland. La Boca, like many of the neighborhoods south of Buenos Aires, is a low-income area. With the blocks around El Caminito being a notable exception, tour guides will advise you not to wander far from those colorful streets. Perhaps for that reason, we felt wary enough to heed that advice and have lunch in the more populous zone.<br />
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If we had gone to that other restaurant, maybe some ill fate would have befallen us. Or maybe we would have gotten a cheaper lunch. As it was, we found a tasty, but very expensive meal at a restaurant that charged us even for the <i>cubierto.</i> I understand that word to refer normally to the silverware, but in this case was a general fee just to partake in the restaurant, beyond the cost of the food and the tip expected from the waiter.<br />
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With such a high demand from the clientele in such a small neighborhood, any business in the area is in a good position to ask for more money than you would usually expect to pay. Closer to the old docks while we waited for the bus to take us downtown, we saw cheaper fare for sale: <i>panchos</i> (hot dogs) and other fast food sold from pushcarts. But with bellies full of Argentine <i>asado</i>, even at an inflated price, we were content.<br />
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<br />Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16505219268780172428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6032384696116318462.post-47178123196494241912013-09-29T13:11:00.000-05:002013-10-06T16:41:35.956-05:00San Telmo<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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During our visit to Buenos Aires, we did our best to explore as many of its diverse neighborhoods as we could. In addition to its trendier and more modern areas like Palermo and Belgrano, other sections of the city reveal its deeper history. In the case of San Telmo, one of its oldest neighborhoods, we found a community that once housed the city's dock workers who earned their keep in nearby <a href="http://calwalks.blogspot.com/2013/08/first-day-in-buenos-aires.html">Puerto Madero</a>.<br />
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In the past as much as today, working class society did not have the resources necessary for many families to prosper in a house they could call their own. Instead, these laborers, often first generation immigrants from Europe, lived communally in <i>conventillos</i>. These large buildings stretch far back from the front door to street, deep into the city block, often enclosing as many as three interior patios with two stories of separate dwellings packed around each one. With shared kitchens and bathrooms, and the patios serving as common areas as well, life in close proximity to one's neighbor was the reality for Buenos Aires' working poor.<br />
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Much like Puerto Madero, San Telmo has had its renaissance in recent years. Enough of its historic buildings have survived the turbulent years of the 19th and 20th centuries to attract attention from both tourists and locals, and a slow but steady regentrification of the neighborhood has been taking place. Located just blocks from the Casa Rosada and the Plaza de Mayo, San Telmo is a living reminder of Buenos Aires' past, in the heart of the city's urban center.<br />
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Also like Puerto Madero, San Telmo is home to plenty of cafés and restaurants. But here you can find meals at less than half the price of those you'll find listed along the port's fashionable bistros and grills, all the while taking in the arguably more authentic surrounds. We chose to have lunch in a wide, deep hall with worn wooden floors and high ceilings. It bore the name <i>pulpería, </i>a reference to the old, working class general stores that had anything you might need for the home, and also had a bar ready to pour you a glass of your alcoholic beverage of choice. The restaurant, true to its name, had a classic, long, wide bar over which you could imagine any class of sundry good or after work imbibe sliding into the waiting hands of its clients. The place was also decorated with an assortment of antique furniture and domestic products, immersing you into an induced nostalgia of Buenos Aires' imagined past.<br />
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The neighborhood was also once the home of Argentina's beloved Quino, cartoonist and creator of Mafalda. Mafalda and her friends are as well-known and loved around the Spanish-speaking world as Charlie Brown in the US. Here she can be found sitting a few doors down from the building where Quino had lived. Now she brings delight to countless children and adults who find her waiting with a smile on the corner of Chile and Defensa. She marks the beginning of an short and entertaining walking tour of Argentina's tradition of comic strips and cartoons, punctuated by appearances of many of its most famous characters.<br />
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There's quite a bit of shopping to be done in the neighborhood as well, where you can find everything from antiques to modern fashion, plastic souvenirs and original artwork plied in well-appointed stores and open-air markets alike. The people of Argentina, and Buenos Aires especially, are famous for their gregarious spirit. This translates into a natural predisposition for salesmanship.<br />
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The sellers have another advantage to begin with, as any visitor to Argentina invariably has some special purchase in mind during their stay in its most famous city, be it well-aged malbec, jewelry, leather, literature, clothing, local pastries, or simply a token reminder of their time there.<br />
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San Telmo, only about 10 blocks long and even fewer wide, is one of Buenos Aires' smallest neighborhoods. You could walk from one end to the other, have lunch in one of its restaurants, and feel as though you'd seen it all in just a couple of hours. Nonetheless, this neighborhood of many layers of history and as many hidden corners and corridors will reward the more patient explorer with a more profound understanding of what the city is, what it once was, then leave you to imagine where it might be headed, and when you might return.<br />
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<br />Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16505219268780172428noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6032384696116318462.post-28064103910151063562013-09-11T11:54:00.000-05:002013-09-11T11:54:17.984-05:00#8<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Winter in the pre-Cordillera de los Andes, Lo Barnechea, Chile</td></tr>
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<br />Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16505219268780172428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6032384696116318462.post-4174491999206463002013-09-03T16:48:00.003-05:002013-09-03T16:48:52.184-05:00#7<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Old man in traditional clothing, young men playing soccer. Quinta Normal.</td></tr>
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<br />Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16505219268780172428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6032384696116318462.post-83266366539451008502013-08-25T21:38:00.001-05:002013-08-25T21:38:12.680-05:00First day in Buenos Aires<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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In February we planned a bus trip, across the Andes and then across the rest of the South America, with the goal of reaching Buenos Aires, the Pacific Ocean, and Uruguay. On the way we had looked forward to seeing the vineyards of Mendoza, the Jesuit architecture and countless universities of Córdoba, and sweltering city of Rosario and the mighty river that flows past it.<br />
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After competing with the thousands of other travelers the summer before in the South of Chile for transport and accommodations, this time we micromanaged our agenda, estimating how many days we ought to spend at each place. We called ahead to rent apartments for specific dates at each destination, only to discover that the pickings were already pretty slim in each city. Adding to the complication, the majority of the people and agencies we spoke with wanted deposits made in advance, requiring Western Union-style cash transfers since we were moving money internationally from Chile to Argentina.<br />
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Fortunately we ended up making only one such deposit after all. On the night of our departure, we boarded a sleeper bus with wide, well-cushioned, 1st class seats that recline horizontally. We were hoping to sleep through the ride, waking only to present our passports at the border high in the Cordillera between Santiago and Mendoza. We traveled at night because the mountain pass was under construction and was down to one lane, with traffic heading from Argentina to Chile by day, and from Chile to Argentina only at night. But rather than wake up to the anticipated bustle of everyone getting off the bus to wait blearily in line at customs, we heard the ticket-taker walking down the aisle, informing us that we were heading back to Santiago.<br />
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It turned out that some summer rain had washed out the road on the Argentine side of the mountains, stopping all movement across the border for a week. All our carefully arranged plans suddenly fizzled as the bus turned around and slowly wended its way back down the twists and turns between us and Santiago. I tried to sleep, but found myself endlessly going over new ideas in my mind, how we might be able to do something with our precious weeks off work.<br />
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Back home the next morning, we resolved that East across the mountains was the only way to go. We had already gone as far South and North on a bus across Chile as our constitutions could withstand, and West was a strip of crowded beaches so close to Santiago as to be surely booked full a month earlier.<br />
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If the mountains could not be traversed by land, the only way left to us was to go by air. A quick perusal of flights revealed prices at well over US$1000 per person for anything at such short notice. But since we already had one-way tickets back from Buenos Aires to Santiago at the end of our planned trip, I was able to speak with someone at LAN Airlines who turned our one-way tickets into a round trip, departing from Santiago the next morning, for only an extra $100 per person. In the end, a modest price to pay to salvage our trip. We'd miss Mendoza, Córdoba and Rosario, but we'd extend our time in Argentina's famed capital city, by some accounts South America's premier metropolis. <br />
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In the hours between booking our last-minute flight and boarding the plane, we managed to find an apartment for a week in Palermo, one of Buenos Aires' trendier neighborhoods. From there we'd have several parks to explore - as well as access to the Subte, the subway system - and from there, the rest of the city's diverse sections.<br />
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We also had a nice balcony from which to contemplate our warm, humid, urban surroundings. Buenos Aires in February can be very hot, not unlike Florida in the Summer.<br />
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Our first stop was to buy some tickets on the ferry over to Colonia in Uruguay for the next week. The ferry was located, naturally, at Buenos Aires' port, the historic and renovated Puerto Madero. Now largely a port dedicated to tourism and yachting aficionados, its canal is bordered on one side by the red brick storehouses of the area's original days as a commercial hub. Those buildings have now been transformed into one high-end, high-priced restaurant after another.<br />
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Those restaurants surely benefit as much from tourist traffic as much as from the new commercial district on the other side of the canal, where you can see new glass skyscrapers springing up and providing lots of new office space in what is already an expansive downtown area.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJF6qRMGb_SReVrFhL7kwMKFj8IEYtpeJHxl6_W1UrcMLRy607ganHpbDx9osCmC8YbFrxGrhPOGZZ9VmOAwJu9Yt47dv0Ekljk4ptIM0vjW_tYorEEq_zwCbjDq7G8HEUx3aoU82yrhhk/s1600/IMG_3358.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJF6qRMGb_SReVrFhL7kwMKFj8IEYtpeJHxl6_W1UrcMLRy607ganHpbDx9osCmC8YbFrxGrhPOGZZ9VmOAwJu9Yt47dv0Ekljk4ptIM0vjW_tYorEEq_zwCbjDq7G8HEUx3aoU82yrhhk/s400/IMG_3358.JPG" width="400" /></a>Taking advantage of the port's proximity to downtown Buenos Aires, we walked over to the Casa Rosada, Argentina's presidential palace, here seen in the distance across the Plaza de Mayo. The plaza, being public space so close to where many of the decisions affecting the country are made, has naturally been the staging ground for many historic protests. Perhaps due to this, a permanent-looking fence was in place during our visit, itself covered in dozens of signs rendering many of the common complaints of the Argentine public in vitriolic slogans.<br />
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The Plaza is also surrounded by a number of other stately buildings, from the Central Bank to this, the Municipal Cathedral. With its Greek columns and other pre-Christian design elements, I had it pegged as the Supreme Court or some other legal institution. But no center square in Latin America is complete without a Catholic church, and I later learned that the twelve columns represent the twelve apostles.<br />
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Our walking tour took us next along the Avenida de Mayo, one of the city's main thoroughfares. It happened to be Sunday in Summer on the day of our visit, and so we enjoyed a very laid-back stroll along what must be a heavily trafficked corridor on a normal working day. We also took the opportunity to have a late lunch, sampling for the first time the famed pizza of Buenos Aires.<br />
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Seeing as how this particular street is known for its many cafés and restaurants, and given the general prestige of the neighborhood, I expected such notoriety to equal overblown prices. But not at all, and the pizza was damn good, especially paired with a cold beer,. In keeping with the spirit of the experience and the avenue we were on, we couldn't resist a cup of coffee as a <i>bajativo.</i><br />
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While we were sitting at that restaurant, we casually watched the news and saw the announcement that the Pope would resign his position. I found it very fitting that we saw such news in a Buenos Aires restaurant, being as it was that the Pope's successor would turn out to be from that very city.<br />
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We also had the opportunity to witness firsthand what we had heard was so fundamental to <i>porteño</i> culture. At a table by the window, we noticed a gentleman reading a newspaper with an espresso on the table. He was there when we arrived, and he was still there when we left. He hadn't ordered anything else during all that time, as far as we knew, and there was no pressure for him to. And why should there be, especially since it was a quiet Sunday afternoon?<br />
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But even if the restaurant had been full, I imagine such a scene would still be common. Perhaps taken from the city's Italian heritage or Parisian pretensions, the custom of spending time outside the home, in public, in the park, in a café, is something embedded in the culture.<br />
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The monument itself was fenced off, but the gate was open and a few people were gathered at the top of the stairs leading up to it. So we walked in and climbed the stairs. And were promptly told by a guard that we needed to get out.<br />
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Apparently the other people were there to do some filming and had special permission to be there. Being another public space in front of another building where important political decisions are made, the Plaza del Congreso is as much a gravitational point for protests as the Plaza de Mayo, and this monument has been hit with a lot of spray paint over the years. The best way to keep it clean, apparently, is to keep people away from it altogether. But we were clearly not out to cause any trouble, and so the security guard kindly let me snap a picture from up there before letting us out and closing the gate behind us.<br />
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With the sun going down, we got back on the metro and back to our home away from home in Palermo. It was a fine first day in Buenos Aires. With a week to spend getting to know the city, downtown was an excellent place to start.<br />
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<br />Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16505219268780172428noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6032384696116318462.post-28966375508934642912013-08-22T14:54:00.003-05:002013-09-03T16:43:23.794-05:00For the dogs (#6)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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A row of public dog houses in Parque Forestal, with the Santiago Museo de Bellas Artes behind.<br />
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Chile has a lot of stray dogs roaming the streets. Unlike the US and many European countries, there does not seem to be a government program to pick up and adopt/euthanize dogs found on the street in most Latin American countries. That can be a problem as dogs sometimes form packs or attack unsuspecting people. But with a few notable exceptions (!), I haven't found the street dogs in Chile to be very aggressive, even to cyclists. In other Latin American countries I sometimes planned my bike route to avoid neighborhood dogs who had chased and tried to bite me in the past.<br />
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But in Chile that hasn't been much of a problem. Maybe that's due in part to dog houses like these, to the cardboard mats put down on the sidewalk for them on cold winter nights, and to bowls of water and even food given to them by store owners. They might not have a home or an owner, but the street dogs in Chile don't have it so bad. And they don't have to fear the dog catcher, either.Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16505219268780172428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6032384696116318462.post-58292678833816438132013-08-16T10:37:00.000-05:002013-08-16T10:37:39.637-05:00#5<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_UsLReZ2gsxiL2ikkUqrTjNkmg2pGrRZSEUIyXIeVsVO-2T8_u6kuWHi7oVEJMVHiCoSNuGqbZNEOy-aeKFIOAGoo_gDg66SXbDyl4rfSp-Gsh_edf9OnoyY6wr5VZv1aQpNvzD6rDvox/s1600/IMG_7382.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_UsLReZ2gsxiL2ikkUqrTjNkmg2pGrRZSEUIyXIeVsVO-2T8_u6kuWHi7oVEJMVHiCoSNuGqbZNEOy-aeKFIOAGoo_gDg66SXbDyl4rfSp-Gsh_edf9OnoyY6wr5VZv1aQpNvzD6rDvox/s400/IMG_7382.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Row of mausoleums, Cementerio General de Santiago</td></tr>
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<br />Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16505219268780172428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6032384696116318462.post-77722158010726804002013-08-07T10:15:00.000-05:002013-08-07T10:15:25.964-05:00#4<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyHdD17HsTCjSEye_S2m_WQiUUdiARVK1sgPoQC8qjfx6ht6mAaIr82-7XdceHnV2SSI9AaXpDh7B-5Z6OZSrAQtUwvehjS79fT7tOEqnCOeKSMf9WUMtXkCnSBY2uecwDnhxs6-n5nyB9/s1600/IMG_4292.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyHdD17HsTCjSEye_S2m_WQiUUdiARVK1sgPoQC8qjfx6ht6mAaIr82-7XdceHnV2SSI9AaXpDh7B-5Z6OZSrAQtUwvehjS79fT7tOEqnCOeKSMf9WUMtXkCnSBY2uecwDnhxs6-n5nyB9/s400/IMG_4292.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pablo Neruda's personal barroom. Isla Negra.</td></tr>
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<br />Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16505219268780172428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6032384696116318462.post-40414800540627627672013-07-29T15:28:00.002-05:002013-07-29T15:33:49.266-05:00Autumn in the vineyard<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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During the recent visit of my sister-in-law, we had the chance to get out of the city for a couple of days, and being late Fall at the time, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to visit one of the countless vineyards near Santiago, before all the grapes were gone from the vines. We took a train to the Cachapoal valley, about 45 minutes south of the city. Our destination was the viña Anakena. Their wine is one of the more common ones you can find in Santiago, and over the years I've found myself buying it again and again for a consistently drinkable and flavorful bottle. At 3000 pesos ($6) their standard <i>reserva</i> is a great go-to wine for dinner or a party.<br />
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One of the almost universal qualities of visiting any vineyard is the chance to spend time in a rural setting, surrounded by wide open spaces. And since grapes thrive in a Mediterranean climate, that usually means blue skies and warm sun as well, even on a late Autumn day.<br />
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Many vineyards take advantage of this fact by setting aside some area on their property in order to enjoy the sublime setting. Anakena, for example, features a small pond with an open field next to it, in addition to an indoor space designed for events like weddings or business conferences.<br />
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Any tour of a vineyard naturally begins with a walk among the rows of grapevines. We went in May, quite late in the autumn harvest season, but we were lucky to find quite a few grapes left on the vines, which we were invited to sample. I can't say that I've tried many fresh grapes of the wine-making varieties, nor that I have anything close to an expert's palate when it comes to appreciating the finest subtleties of grape and wine flavors. With that caveat, I'll tell you that I was very surprised to discover that the several fresh wine grapes that we tried were, while delicious and varied, not particularly exceptional in their flavor for me, compared to other high quality table grapes I've sampled in the past. I don't know what I was expecting from a wine grape compared to a table grape, but whatever I was hoping to taste, I didn't quite get it.<br />
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Our tour guide for the day didn't go into great detail explaining what characteristics contribute to the selection and cultivation of the many wine grapes we enjoy today. But I imagine in addition to flavor are other qualities such as color, as well as various chemical compositions that contribute to good fermentation, and what have you.<br />
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We were taken along several rows of grapevines, each helpfully labeled to identify that particular grape we would be trying.<br />
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While I don't specifically recall the contrasts in taste, texture, color or juiciness of each grape that I tasted that day, I can say that I was impressed by the great range in flavors from one variety to the next. While some were exceptionally sweet, others were very acidic and even bitter. We were told that classic French reds such as the Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot,as well as the now distinctively Chilean Carmenere, did particularly well in the climate of the Cachapoal valley.<br />
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Endless rows of grapevines framed by woods and graced with the water runoff from the mountains of the <i>Cordillera de los Andes</i> on the horizon. A truly beautiful place to learn a thing or two about winemaking.<br />
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The second part of the tour took us to the commercial facilities of the vineyard. Here we saw a modern operation including the mechanized mashing of grapes.<br />
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We also had the chance to see these huge vats used for the fermentation of the grape juice, as well as an automated bottling facility, which was not in operation at the time. Our guide told us that the vineyard even leases their bottling operation to other vineyards lacking their own such machinery.<br />
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The last leg of the tour of the facilities took us to the barrel room, where you can see the wine reposing in oaken casks, full up to their purple-stained bungholes (that's what they're called).<br />
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Here is where the wine mellows with age, and also begins to take on some of those deeper flavors imparted from contact with the oak itself.<br />
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The climax of the tour came with the tasting of some of the wine we'd been tantalized with throughout the afternoon. While far from a connoisseur of wine, I benefited greatly from a quick lesson on getting the most out of a glass of wine. From analyzing the color to noting the aroma in a gradual way before taking the first sip, we were shown a short list of simple techniques to aid in the appreciation of any wine that fills your glass.<br />
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We sampled three wines before being let loose in the obligatory gift shop where the tasting took place. We were also offered some very low prices on a few of Anakena's premium bottles, which we couldn't pass up.<br />
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All in all, a fine foray into the world of winemaking. With another trip planned to
visit some other vineyards in a valley a bit further to the south in
September, I hope to have a few more insights to share before long. <br />
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<br />Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16505219268780172428noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6032384696116318462.post-43626138275363963842013-07-23T14:53:00.000-05:002013-07-23T14:53:17.589-05:00#3<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-rP4glTdUQqoCjFs13j6iWSqK8uQ7Z4kKwvC32JSKjorQhYVkDGtsUg-gNu6SCypFltvXAZWLjImXB0FCK9PfrzuWTDqdY452MPTlkuRbBBbBqejJ13z_6LHSfBhNL39OOzi5XOvkFZR_/s1600/IMG_2850.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-rP4glTdUQqoCjFs13j6iWSqK8uQ7Z4kKwvC32JSKjorQhYVkDGtsUg-gNu6SCypFltvXAZWLjImXB0FCK9PfrzuWTDqdY452MPTlkuRbBBbBqejJ13z_6LHSfBhNL39OOzi5XOvkFZR_/s400/IMG_2850.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Palafito, "stilt house" of Castro, Isla Grande de Chiloé<br /><h2>
<span class="mw-headline" id="Cultura_de_Chilo.C3.A9"><br /></span></h2>
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<br />Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16505219268780172428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6032384696116318462.post-63028508557998032592013-07-16T18:51:00.001-05:002013-07-16T18:51:16.047-05:00#2<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPSlwp4rQREhUWE-fShJkLi1dEjYCpERTJomRJLybq0a2BwUPBwZB9wXwUEecuzZ8blnww9ZQeCzAModUwLs-ecjnxU8TQNiIC17HVoXmaeyYme2LASQIYLIdf-JwqqS8nFvXKpx7Zjw0-/s1600/IMG_4567.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPSlwp4rQREhUWE-fShJkLi1dEjYCpERTJomRJLybq0a2BwUPBwZB9wXwUEecuzZ8blnww9ZQeCzAModUwLs-ecjnxU8TQNiIC17HVoXmaeyYme2LASQIYLIdf-JwqqS8nFvXKpx7Zjw0-/s400/IMG_4567.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Procession in Plaza de Armas, Feast of Our Lady of Mount Carmel</td></tr>
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<br />Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16505219268780172428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6032384696116318462.post-63169913766253369862013-07-08T16:11:00.000-05:002013-07-09T09:32:47.331-05:00#1<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Qs1eVAGLowOznNHJ3AHY3zcK1iTN4jTkplvQTQPIELIxfTBRXllvbZ_UUPnG5SN6NJEJ71ipmY5kPpdSx39tte_RLfiTkKD6t02Wv5WKudWwMuTCRutwBgdtnm_2DwO2W3o0tGH7D9lo/s1600/IMG_7073.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Qs1eVAGLowOznNHJ3AHY3zcK1iTN4jTkplvQTQPIELIxfTBRXllvbZ_UUPnG5SN6NJEJ71ipmY5kPpdSx39tte_RLfiTkKD6t02Wv5WKudWwMuTCRutwBgdtnm_2DwO2W3o0tGH7D9lo/s400/IMG_7073.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cordillera de los Andes, taken from the terrace of the Santiago Library, Barrio Brasil</td></tr>
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<br />Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16505219268780172428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6032384696116318462.post-42016551981965424762013-06-30T19:09:00.001-05:002013-06-30T19:12:40.321-05:00Mystic valley<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Valle de Elqui was the last stop on our trip to <i>el norte chico</i> of Chile. As you travel north from Santiago the landscape grows drier and drier, punctuated by valleys made green by virtue of the rivers and resulting agricultural activity of the area. The Elqui Valley is famous for its production of pisco, a distilled spirit made from grapes, usually mixed into cocktails such as piscola (pisco and coke) or pisco sour. As you head up the long valley east from <a href="http://www.calwalks.blogspot.com/2013/04/la-serena.html">La Serena</a>, the dry hills are lined by the continuous strip of green vineyards whose produce is destined for the pisco bottle. So significant to the local economy is pisco that the town we were bound for goes by the name Pisco Elqui, changed from the less descriptive name of La Unión in the 1930's.<br />
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We rented a cabin about a kilometer outside of the town itself, with views over the irrigated vineyards spreading out across the valley floor. Being early Spring, many of them had not yet put out their leaves; I imagine by December the valley is quite a bit greener. The hillsides, by contrast, are perpetually brown and barren, belying the arid climate of the region. Sights such as this one demonstrate how essential the river is for life in this part of Chile. <br />
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Our cabin was one of several on a small property outfitted with some grills for barbecue, a pool (albeit with water a little too cold for swimming at that time of year), a bar, and some nice common areas to enjoy the sublime climate of the area. With its crisp, clean desert air, Pisco Elqui is a fine place to sit in the cool shade and contemplate the eternal hillsides. In fact, the Elqui Valley is at least as famous for its mystical qualities as it is for its pisco. Several communes are to be found in the area, and the various towns dotting the valley all have an undercurrent at times hippy, at others new age.<br />
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At night the temperatures drop quickly, and an impressive panoply of stars emerge in the clear, black sky. Due to its low humidity, low population and therefore low level of light pollution, the area is also well-regarded for its potential for astronomical observation. Several high-powered telescopes are located near La Serena, and some observatories even open their doors for tourism. We didn't manage to see any of them for ourselves, what with the late night tour schedules and our 3 year old companion's early bedtime, but we did enjoy the starry nights, all the same.<br />
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As time has gone on we've developed a preference for staying in apartments and private cabins during our travels. Both options give us access to our own kitchen during our stay, which is what has always attracted me to staying in hostels in the past. Going out to eat is one of the pleasures of vacation, but it's also nice (and much cheaper) to be able to cook in the comfort of your own accommodations when you choose to. But if you compare the cost of a private apartment or cabin to that of a private room in a hostel, at least in South America, the prices end up being about the same. All things considered, we've ended up appreciating the privacy we get from having a space to call our own while we travel.<br />
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The town of Pisco Elqui is made up of just a few winding, dusty roads lined by old, single story brick houses. A quiet town animated by tourism, especially the during the <i>fiestas patrias</i> of September. While we were there, the streets were decked out with Chilean flags and red, white and blue banners and ribbons everywhere you looked.<br />
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The town square is graced with restaurants bustling with clients, and street vendors selling everything from crystals to coffee mugs. In the square itself, young South American travelers play guitar and wonder where they'll spend the night.<br />
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Besides the simple act of relaxing and enjoying the peace and quiet of the valley, the main tourist attraction of Pisco Elqui is the Mistral Distillery. It's named after Chile's 1st Nobel laureate - and the first Latin American to win the Nobel Prize for Literature - Gabriela Mistral. While not born in Pisco Elqui, she was born just down the road, in Vicuña. Vicuña already has the Capel distillery, which cranks out a cheaper and more commercial pisco, so the Mistral name was up for grabs. Here we see big fermentation tanks, where yeast has its way with grape juice under a controlled environment, producing alcohol, carbon dioxide, and warm air. And in the foreground is, for dramatic effect, an old barrel.<br />
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As an occasional beer brewer, I can wrap my head around fermentation. I've studied and observed how yeast can have a profound transformative effect on a sweet solution, bubbling, churning up sugar molecules into alcohol. It will never cease to amaze and impress me, but I've seen it. I get how it works. Distillation, on the other hand, remains something of a sublime mystery. The vocabulary surrounding it adds to the riddle: Alembic. Retort. Still. Liquor. Esters. Spirits. All evoke an alchemy as much magic as science, and yield a product deserving of respect and admiration, as much for the potent effect it can have as an imbibe as for the time, patience and care it took to create.<br />
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Sure, I can grasp on an intellectual level the dynamics involved in separating alcohol from water. That is one thing. It is another to be part of the process, to catch a whiff or glance of some rich concentration of the essence of the grape. In the few cases when I've had the opportunity to visit a distillery, I've yet to be lucky enough to observe the distillation process itself, in action. To see what goes on inside that fat-bellied vat through a glass porthole and try to understand on a more visceral level what it is. These, like all the others I've seen, were empty.<br />
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While our little group was unable to observe the process directly, we were privy to the finished product at the end of the tour. Commemorative stemware in hand, surrounded by barrels of pisco in repose, we tasted sip after sip of Destilería Mistral's various offerings, from the youngest to the most premium bottle they produce. I will admit, I'm not a fan of pisco. I've tried, but it's simply not a liquor I can appreciate. While I can accept it as a respectable ingredient in a cocktail, I have never been able to find a pisco that has been palatable straight up, either to shoot or to sip.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI-IkolXfX3wSlERwIIf0G7W5EgRoA4S77ety_6ccGN3VeQQ9WYASuwW8HXR_-fvRIzzzY-UeqzCMLyuegbvQPJZZ12MsguGKhu3Gc6xxU_lxROIyviKG8RbeJu0wjkUmKjbTwm-YxnpwS/s1600/IMG_3187.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI-IkolXfX3wSlERwIIf0G7W5EgRoA4S77ety_6ccGN3VeQQ9WYASuwW8HXR_-fvRIzzzY-UeqzCMLyuegbvQPJZZ12MsguGKhu3Gc6xxU_lxROIyviKG8RbeJu0wjkUmKjbTwm-YxnpwS/s400/IMG_3187.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
Over time I've lined up liquor mentally into two columns, with tequila, mezcal, rum, vodka, and to a lesser extent, whiskey and even raw aguardiente as tasty, attainable drinks with stand up flavors of their own, if you can find the right bottle, on one side. On the other unapproachable one lie gin and pisco, among others, which I can't seem to get my palate around. Maybe I just haven't found the right bottle yet. I'm willing to keep an open mind.<br />
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The picture here reveals another quality I've come to appreciate in tours of distilleries, which is the fanciful atmosphere each one unfailingly manages to craft, from ancient alembics on display, consistently impressive facilities and location, and as seen here, creative ways to dispose of old barrels.<br />
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All in all, our time in the Valle de Elqui was a fine experience. We greatly enjoyed the town of Pisco Elqui, and in the three days and two nights we spent there, we were able to do, see, and experience much of what it is as a community. My only wish, as is always the case at the end of a trip to a new place, is that we could have seen more. The valley is home to many towns, each with its own character. As you go even further upstream the roads narrow and the towns at the end of them, or so I've heard, are even more peaceful, authentic, and uniquely characteristic of the region.<br />
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<br />Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16505219268780172428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6032384696116318462.post-38734087297209583412013-05-26T20:12:00.000-05:002013-05-26T20:12:12.646-05:00Coquimbo, and a big party<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Close to La Serena in the "short North," (<i>el Norte chico</i>) of Chile, situated on the south end of a calm bay, is the port city of Coquimbo. It's so close to La Serena, in fact, that it has always vied with its nearby neighbor for prominence in the region, much as <a href="http://www.calwalks.blogspot.com/2011/06/first-thoughts-on-valparaiso.html">Valparaíso</a> does with Viña del Mar along the coast nearer to Santiago. La Serena is much older than Coquimbo, and today is much more recognized as a tourist destination. Coquimbo, for its part, is an important center of shipping for the 4th region of Chile, and has even lent its name to the area, also known as the region of Coquimbo.<br />
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Because of its history as a port, it received a lot of European immigration in the 1800's much as Valparaíso did. It's not as recognized for this fact as Valpo, but today you can still find sections of the city with the same kind of architecture you'll find in Valparaíso's hilly historic districts. Granted, there aren't as many old buildings as Chile's more famous port to the south, and Coquimbo doesn't receive nearly as much tourism, but if you pay a visit to La Serena it's well worth the time to spend an afternoon in <i>el barrio inglés</i>, and then take a walk down to nicely renovated <i>costanera</i> on the seafront.<br />
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From there you get a nice view of the sea, the many ships waiting in harbor, the city of La Serena across the bay, and the green hills pictured above. But if you turn your back to the seafront, you are also treated to a nice view of the city of Coquimbo itself. Then you realize that the comparison of Valparaíso and Coquimbo doesn't stop with their shared history as ports. Coquimbo's geography is much like Valpo's, with the city spilling onto and over the hills surrounding the bay. In many ways - geographically, as a port, for its historic center - Coquimbo can be considered something of a Valparaíso in miniature.<br />
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But if there's one thing that sets Coquimbo apart from any other city in Chile, it is the <i>pampilla</i>. A huge outdoor festival taking place during the <i>fiestas patrias</i> of Chile for several days around September 18th, people flock to Coquimbo to camp, buy, sell, eat, and drink. Across the open field you can see countless tents set up to form a temporary city, with an estimated 100,000 people or more, coming for the day or for several days in a row.<br />
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The city of Coquimbo itself, in fact, was very quiet that day, and many stores and restaurants were closed. That's because, during the fiestas patrias, so many people relocate from the city to the pampilla. Individuals, but also businesses. Restaurants and clothing stores set up outdoor stands. But also hardware stores, real estate agencies, electronics sellers. The pampilla concentrates the entire spectrum of humanity into a glorious spectacle of sun-drenched revelry. Have a beer, have another. Eat some barbecued meat, and why not? Buy a power saw, or your next apartment!<br />
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We stayed at the pampilla long enough to share a pitcher of beer and lunch fresh off the grill, and left before the sun went down. As fun as it was, we got the idea after a few laps around the main rows of restaurants and shops. We never saw the crowning of the pampilla's beauty queen, or any of the live music going on at the main stage. But I did pick up a bottle of <i>chicha</i>, a sweet, fizzy, boozy, fermented grape juice on the way out. That way we could keep the party going in our own quiet way back in La Serena, and let things go as they would, with or without us, back in Coquimbo.<br />
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<br />Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16505219268780172428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6032384696116318462.post-30833295208204113032013-04-28T12:42:00.000-05:002013-04-28T12:50:38.671-05:00La Serena<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCs0W0WDboL7LGT-mohJUUyb_fYe1JYvNVwS1NobThGLOlmk9qXoJhPRGqo3P1PEToUaQ2TlwWIlAmqsgoOAL1H_g7OYeXqUKpnYtxQS6z8wNHbCZ0NC1t6BWbvSGolQgWI6SoA4m_kp1R/s1600/IMG_2827.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCs0W0WDboL7LGT-mohJUUyb_fYe1JYvNVwS1NobThGLOlmk9qXoJhPRGqo3P1PEToUaQ2TlwWIlAmqsgoOAL1H_g7OYeXqUKpnYtxQS6z8wNHbCZ0NC1t6BWbvSGolQgWI6SoA4m_kp1R/s400/IMG_2827.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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La Serena. One of Chile's oldest cities, today it's about 8 hours by bus North of Santiago. But at the time of its construction, it would have been a far-flung colony, meant to serve as a link between the Spanish colonial center of Lima in Peru further North and the newly founded Santiago to the South. Thanks to its historic origins, it still retains some colonial architecture much like you can find in other Spanish settlements around Latin America. Simple, flat-roofed, one-story buildings in an adobe style, or more ornate government buildings and cathedrals such as the ones you see above.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiok7ucIpGtPCASKsltjbbh8aDINpl_zeEuABAtObS4Ue_wgAG16I67ttz79GSqYoP1LPNOyGSHJ2KlcHzZmvkXSzqK6xNpRX3Vv-BYi_a-zJmVe2uFm4L25-Logb_IkZBnP9xiuv01Owuv/s1600/IMG_2826.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiok7ucIpGtPCASKsltjbbh8aDINpl_zeEuABAtObS4Ue_wgAG16I67ttz79GSqYoP1LPNOyGSHJ2KlcHzZmvkXSzqK6xNpRX3Vv-BYi_a-zJmVe2uFm4L25-Logb_IkZBnP9xiuv01Owuv/s400/IMG_2826.JPG" width="400" /></a>It's interesting that the local government of La Serena, like Santa Fe in the US, made the policy decision in the 1900's to enact a revival of the colonial architecture of the city, restoring some of the older buildings and constructing new ones in a similar style. Any city in Chile interested in architectural preservation has a special challenge, though, due to the powerful earthquakes that regularly strike up and down the length of the country. Read descriptions of many of Chile's towns and cities in a guidebook, and you'll almost always read a passage saying something along the lines of "unfortunately many of [insert name]'s historical buildings were destroyed in the earthquake of [insert year]. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7tq-JkuFhRKUgWechnjGwzYYH74-6gw8xDsABIeF9ysb6skM2RuiSd0Ab2fXdMi51njURZPDvhu78ooW1w1O00betWFCEhP3Y2jxiLkVOn418BiAUY10WwvkhphI8NcyxQS63ABFFKlfb/s1600/IMG_2834.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7tq-JkuFhRKUgWechnjGwzYYH74-6gw8xDsABIeF9ysb6skM2RuiSd0Ab2fXdMi51njURZPDvhu78ooW1w1O00betWFCEhP3Y2jxiLkVOn418BiAUY10WwvkhphI8NcyxQS63ABFFKlfb/s400/IMG_2834.JPG" width="400" /></a>We came to La Serena during last year's <i>fiestas patrias, </i>the week of September 18. The local equivalent of Independence Day, it's a time of year when everybody takes several days off work to celebrate close to home with family. Or, as is more and more often the case with Chile's recent economic prosperity, to take the opportunity to travel within the country or abroad.</div>
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La Serena was certainly set up at the time to receive tourism, and areas like La Recova, a traditional market today given over to handicraft stalls and restaurants, was bustling with tourists and locals alike.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj-xrT37NA8Rco2eVqN1bjvNcB1bQwDH5w_3u56H0g0HcjFC-rapypL8eASf6W-zUdtRPdSExgvv5zQtNbQc-ANrdY1IkbSVXJfZ0koNIDfZMQBj1sKR32mqUIwOg85IZF_V9P7VO_H1Ge/s1600/IMG_2957.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj-xrT37NA8Rco2eVqN1bjvNcB1bQwDH5w_3u56H0g0HcjFC-rapypL8eASf6W-zUdtRPdSExgvv5zQtNbQc-ANrdY1IkbSVXJfZ0koNIDfZMQBj1sKR32mqUIwOg85IZF_V9P7VO_H1Ge/s400/IMG_2957.JPG" width="400" /></a>One of the most popular activities in the area during fiestas patrias is the <i>pampilla. </i>A sort of outdoor festival, it reminded me a lot of the <i>fonda </i>as it is called in Santiago and other communities further to the south. Like a county fair, both the pampilla and the fonda feature live music, lots of food and drink, vendors, carnival games, and traditional events like rodeo and <i>cueca, </i>a form of music and dance like what you could expect in an old west saloon. Chile's <i>huasos, </i>much like cowboys in the US, form part of the historical identity of the country. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwy7tTZaqDV_M5aGcT6w5SKMemxaDcW-jI9L1ewf9fm6xSLJ3_d0aMImXuoz7m8WtVBS79FwXFvyRzcG6D8Qs4ye26glxOQJjO5s3kvdKSvjh_A1vdMf8e12xYaVBCF1dU66ZR6C0A3zUd/s1600/IMG_2959.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwy7tTZaqDV_M5aGcT6w5SKMemxaDcW-jI9L1ewf9fm6xSLJ3_d0aMImXuoz7m8WtVBS79FwXFvyRzcG6D8Qs4ye26glxOQJjO5s3kvdKSvjh_A1vdMf8e12xYaVBCF1dU66ZR6C0A3zUd/s400/IMG_2959.JPG" width="400" /></a>The pampilla is different from the fonda in that people come to the pampilla to camp for several days, The pampilla we attended here was not the famous pampilla of Coquimbo, a port city just to the south of La Serena. That pampilla we would attend the next day, and which I'll describe in next month's story.<br />
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This one, taking place in the hills just outside La Serena, was a little short on activities for people who didn't come to camp. What we noticed was that people came here in large groups of extended family and friends and set up their own self-contained party. As for public space, we managed to find a tent serving up cold beer, <i>empanadas</i> and grilled meat. Once we had our fill, we felt like we'd really gotten what we needed from the pampilla experience for the day, knowing we'd have another one in Coquimbo in short order.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwTzo-uiqUtti5_ChA6QZrtPsMtYTB0fWfUGrBXX-07Q782Tx0gkJVYpi4fHUh7Gb2ciru68issSqQH0Mo9b6PECvQCLkQYEKZBPeJSLspB-PwXnXYs5VNpVUgdEDWYizn5f48u-EP2hHx/s1600/IMG_2903.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwTzo-uiqUtti5_ChA6QZrtPsMtYTB0fWfUGrBXX-07Q782Tx0gkJVYpi4fHUh7Gb2ciru68issSqQH0Mo9b6PECvQCLkQYEKZBPeJSLspB-PwXnXYs5VNpVUgdEDWYizn5f48u-EP2hHx/s400/IMG_2903.JPG" width="400" /></a>September, being the beginning of Spring in the southern hemisphere, is to Chile as March is to the US. So for families with young children, one of the favorite activities during the fiestas patrias is to fly a kite. A side note on Chilean Spanish here. Chileans often like to say that their Spanish is terrible, citing their extensive slang and non-standard pronunciation. However, the country also has a wealth of poets and writers, providing evidence to the contrary. I propose to you here a brief lexical example, and you can draw your own conclusions.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCbz4Aqkj4DcVUUpHV8AjoqKIBe9BQGfV1Huc_h1OffhT153wwAac95C50-CxMI7qUiiVrD7zxTbnHzoQ38nWWgFXyOJulvW39nwChAL5xZ8jqVajtH5xZm6Q0DpZpf3LnmYaI4ZtSFQSw/s1600/IMG_2906.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCbz4Aqkj4DcVUUpHV8AjoqKIBe9BQGfV1Huc_h1OffhT153wwAac95C50-CxMI7qUiiVrD7zxTbnHzoQ38nWWgFXyOJulvW39nwChAL5xZ8jqVajtH5xZm6Q0DpZpf3LnmYaI4ZtSFQSw/s400/IMG_2906.JPG" width="400" /></a>In Ecuador, they say <i>volar una cometa </i>to say "fly a kite." A quite literal translation if you look it up in a dictionary. However, in Chile the same phrase would translate as <i>encumbrar un volantín. </i>Within the Chilean dialect, an equally literal translation, but you'll see that the two phrases couldn't be more different and still describe the same thing. Does one take more poetic license than the other? I can't count how many times the Spanish I learned in other countries has failed to convey my intended message here in Chile. The vocabulary and varied senses of words here is truly different than in other countries. From country to country, the Spanish varies widely, but still, it's all Spanish. Is one Spanish more standard than any other? It depends on things like where you're from, and how you perceive the differences.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJq4IbQDXuovnpDiKhyyOfbrLLaouqkEGpCFjLTA38azV8nbMET-IvdQ-OKCNUCvGMpgYLdyL0PLfyKDlLTqaUOWPPKgbrsBNdDRBcMO5hVyuKWfHoI2-k1S1zZoXEImb8fXK8zJXMOhG-/s1600/IMG_3225.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJq4IbQDXuovnpDiKhyyOfbrLLaouqkEGpCFjLTA38azV8nbMET-IvdQ-OKCNUCvGMpgYLdyL0PLfyKDlLTqaUOWPPKgbrsBNdDRBcMO5hVyuKWfHoI2-k1S1zZoXEImb8fXK8zJXMOhG-/s400/IMG_3225.JPG" width="400" /></a>Another fun thing to do here is go to the beach. Between La Serena and Coquimbo, there are some 12 beaches, ranging from crowded to nearly empty, and from calm seas to high waves. Generally the water of the Pacific Ocean in Chile, even to the North, is too cold to swim in for very long, so most people come to the beach to sunbathe, play in the sand, and in the Spring, encumbrar un volantín. Our hostel was in La Serena's historic center, a couple of kilometers away from the beach. </div>
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But a shared <i>taxi colectivo</i> along one of the city's main avenues will take you here, to <i>El Faro, </i>another piece in Plan Serena, the revitalization project for the community which I mentioned at the beginning. Along with the lighthouse, you can also see the high rise condos that line much of the coastline between Coquimbo and La Serena. <br />
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I have to say our own experience there, even during the festive holiday, was a quiet one. The name La Serena itself, meaning "serene" or "calm," clearly gives the impression of a quiet town, and the traditional concept that people have of Chile's North is just that: small, sleepy towns where people still sleep the afternoon <i>siesta</i> and the only activity is in the mines. In Chile's recent census, however, the communities of the arid North of Chile, including La Serena, consistently ranked as the country's fastest growing, inevitably giving rise to more modern buildings and modern lifestyle. But for now, La Serena retains its pleasant, peaceful facade.</div>
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Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16505219268780172428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6032384696116318462.post-16531346347344782782013-03-31T17:12:00.003-06:002013-03-31T17:23:21.221-06:00Ovalle, and a national park<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Late last winter, during the famed 18 de septiembre holidays of Chile, we decided to head north. Our ultimate destination was La Serena, but along the way we made a stop in a small agricultural community called Ovalle.<br />
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Chile's unique shape leads one to think linearly in terms of travel within the country. With Santiago just about in the center of the country, unless you decide to hop in a plane the limits of your traveling will be predicated on how many hours you can stand to be on the road. It's for that reason that many Chileans know their own country only as far north as La Serena or so, and as far south as <a href="http://calwalks.blogspot.com/2012/04/stopping-off-in-puerto-varas.html">Puerto Varas</a> or <a href="http://calwalks.blogspot.com/2012/05/la-gran-isla-de-chiloe.html">Chiloé</a>. That's about as far as most people are willing to drive at one stretch, and those with the money to fly often choose more distant destinations, such as Buenos Aires, Brazil, the Caribbean or other places in the US or Europe, rather than San Pedro de Atacama or Punta Arenas within their own country.<br />
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As travelers of modest means, those same limits apply to us as well, and the extremes of the Atacama Desert and rugged Patagonia are, so far, still unknown. But once we set our sights as far north as La Serena, a little research turned up an oddity of a national park known as Fray Jorge along the coast near Ovalle. Generally speaking, as you head north from Santiago the climate grows drier and drier, and to the south wetter and wetter. But Fray Jorge is an exception, a dripping wet forest lying some 7 hours to the north of Santiago and surrounded by arid landscapes. Why not check it out?<br />
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So we got a hotel in Ovalle and started looking for a way out to the coast. It turns out there's no public transport heading there, and no rental car agencies in such a small rural town. But a few taxi companies were scattered around the main strip, and boasted <i>turismo</i> among the variety of services proffered on their signs. After some negotiating I was able to work out a reasonable price for a full day trip to Fray Jorge and another potential destination or two to be decided. So after a night's rest with cable TV, we got in the backseat of an SUV and were on our way.<br />
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As we drove through the countryside, we saw some scenery atypical of the area, as our driver told us. The green hills all around were the result of some recent rain a few weeks before, provoking the light, bright coat of grass to sprout up around what was normally bare earth speckled with shrubs. Like many arid climates, the vegetation is opportunistic and sprouts whenever moisture may come, regardless of the season.<br />
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But as we headed up the valley, the hills got higher and the green grass gave way increasingly to brown, until we reached the final geographic hurdle separating us from the coastline. The line of hills pictured here in the background hold back moisture wafting in from the sea, which coalesces like clockwork every day against the hillside. By virtue of that heavy blanket of precipitation the vegetation resembles forest seen normally only as far south as <a href="http://calwalks.blogspot.com/2012/03/first-stop-in-south-of-chile.html">Valdivia</a>, some 7 hours south of Santiago. Also seen along those hills is a swatch of road which would carry us up and over to the other side.<br />
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There you have it. Forest in the desert, how about that? It was fun to walk around in the woods for a little while. Our daughter hasn't had too much opportunity to do that in her short life so far, but every time she does, she has a great time. This hike was well defined by a raised boardwalk, which made it tough to get lost. Even though it was a bit slick from all the moisture literally dripping from the trees on many parts of the trail.<br />
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The cloud of mist hanging over the forest, known in an indigenous language of the area as <i>camanchaca</i>, is the source of moisture for many plants and animals living in the otherwise dry north of Chile. Similar mists and fog blowing in from the coast grace the landscape of other parts of the northern deserts of Chile as well, and help to explain how any vegetation can exist at all in places with no rainfall in recorded history.<br />
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Apparently this forest was once more extensive than it currently is. In
fact, the area covered by real forest is actually pretty tiny. While fog covers much of the surrounding area, the vegetation is low-lying along most of the hillsides, resembling a much greener, denser and
happier version of the same kind of water-starved shrubs, cacti and
grasses seen on the opposite side of the range.<br />
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Pretty and nice to walk around in, but it was no forest. Some say climate change is the culprit of such deforestation, while others blame direct human exploitation of the area for timber and firewood over the years. At any rate, some 100 square kilometers of misty hillsides are now under the protection of Chile's CONAF, and from what I've seen in my limited interaction with CONAF's park rangers and infrastructure, they run a tight ship.<br />
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The trail also affords one a view of the sea from a privileged vantage point at around 600 meters above sea level, and while the mist hanging over us obscured the view, it was still an impressive glimpse of the Pacific. It was a nice reminder that anywhere you may be in Chile, the ocean is never far away.<br />
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Our driver recommended a couple of other places we could go. One, <i>El Valle del Encanto</i>, is a canyon, home to an assortment of pre-columbian petroglyphs and other ancient relics, but would have involved a few more kilometers of hiking. At another stage of traveling life, this would have been the more attractive option, but with our little girl as part of the troupe, two hikes in one day would have been pushing it.<br />
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So we opted for the more relaxing alternative, <i>Termas de Socos</i>. That was a set of hot springs in a resort. After a previous experience with some nice rustic hot springs in <a href="http://calwalks.blogspot.com/2012/08/last-stop-pucon.html">Pucón</a>, that sounded like a fine idea. In the photo here you can see a very promising pool, for example, to the right of our little girl. But oddly, that was not hot water. It was damn cold, in fact. Hence the total lack of bathers. The real hot spring water, inexplicably, was pumped only into bathtubs of the sort you would have in your own bathroom, tiny and narrow, each located in exceedingly uninviting private stalls. Fortunately, the receptionist at the resort gave us a chance to check out the facilities before we paid, and after a cursory inspection, we promptly headed back to the car. It was baffling to me that a resort would develop such nice facilities, only to set up the main attraction, the hot springs, in such an unattractive way. Any resort I've been to before has either built public pools, or designed private baths in a setting more in touch with the overall design of the resort itself.<br />
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That was too bad. But it illustrated a more general observation we had of Ovalle. The town of Ovalle, too, bustling with activity for a community its size and seemingly a fine place for the local people, was nonetheless at something of a loss for what to do with visitors. While it is surrounded by a number of nice attractions for tourists in the near vicinity, we were the only tourists to be found in the area, and this during a week-long holiday when literally millions of tourists were in search of vacation spots. As a destination, Ovalle is decidedly off the map for travelers. Which begs one of those chicken-and-the-egg quandaries. Does Ovalle lack tourists because it is unprepared to receive them, or is the infrastructure lacking because no one comes to enjoy it?<br />
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It was with such questions in our minds that we descended on our lunch spot for the day, in a small town not far from Ovalle. It reminded me a lot of a town in Mexico I had once visited while staying in Oaxaca, Mexico, with a similar climate, atmosphere and architecture. It was a quiet, unassuming place you wouldn't think to visit, or even know how to get there, unless a local took you there. It enjoyed a beautiful setting in the same wide, fertile valley as Ovalle, and was home to a local restaurant with an expansive outdoor area with plenty of tables to choose from.<br />
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Decked out in the patriotic red, white and blue of Chile's flag in honor of the national holiday we were celebrating, the restaurant served several rustic dishes featuring local ingredients. We decided on roasted rabbit with salad and rice, and empanadas filled with cheese and farmed crayfish, and weren't disappointed. Wash that down with some Escudo beer and you've just had a typical lunch characteristic of northern Chile. In a place truly off the beaten path, it was a fun way to start our trip to <i>El Norte Chico.</i><br />
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Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16505219268780172428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6032384696116318462.post-12594410782508693552013-02-26T20:55:00.000-06:002013-02-27T18:20:49.027-06:00Harvest timeIt's been awhile since I last posted. What can I say, sometimes I get distracted. But with the new year and summer vacation out of the way, I hope to get back into a fairly regular routine of blogging. I'll be serving up a modest posting of a few short paragraphs and pics this time around, as a way to ease back into things. Plus, with some luck this will prove to be something of a segue into next month's offering.<br />
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About this time last year we took a train to the town of Buin, south of Santiago and in the middle of Chile's heartland of vineyards. Steeped in wine culture as Chile increasingly is, the time of the grape harvest is marked by festivities all around Chile's wine producing areas. Buin is no exception, and being conveniently located on the rail line in close proximity to Santiago, it was a natural choice for our first harvest festival, known in Spanish as the <i>vendimia.</i><br />
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The popular Chilean vendimia is fun for all ages, although probably much more so for those old enough to drink. In addition to the obligatory sale and consumption of wine, there were plenty of other vendors selling food, especially cheese, olives and grilled meats, traditional favorites all of local production and fine accompaniments to your glass of wine <i>de rigor.</i><br />
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In the background of this photo can be seen the stage, idle at the moment of shooting. Soon thereafter however it became the scene of some good-natured stomping performed by young foreign women from the crowd, persuaded to come on stage and get leg-deep into shallow basins full of grapes. <br />
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Having dispensed with the preliminary surveying of the grounds, it was time to roll up our sleeves and start appreciating some wine. The two of us sampled four different wines each that day, always selecting vineyards theretofore unknown to us.<br />
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I have to say, unfortunately, that I was unimpressed by all of vineyards save one, Viña Richards. If I remember correctly we had a Pinot Noir and a Sauvignon Blanc from them, and both were, in a word, tasty. It's rare to find Pinot Noir in Chile, which was enough for us to gravitate towards it once we noticed it.<br />
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It didn't take so long for us to get through our four glasses of wine, moderately portioned as they were. Afterwards we moved on to the grilled meat section of the festival, where we ate some shish kebab, known locally as <i>anticucho</i>, followed by some larger cuts of chicken and beef. Damn, that's good! From this particular angle you can see the meat skewers on the grill, as well as where you stick them once you've picked them clean. Also featured is our daughter practicing <i>cueca </i>from an unorthodox sitting position.<br />
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It might seem antithetical to a celebration like this one, but I saw this brewing company on the way in, and couldn't resist picking up a pint draught on the way back out. The stout was a fine finish to the evening and kept me occupied for most of the walk to the train station.<br />
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We concluded our evening with a sleepy train ride back to Santiago's nicely appointed <i>Estación Central</i>, which connects conveniently to a subway train taking us within two blocks of our apartment. A fine way to travel, and best of all, the conductor is our designated driver.<br />
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You'll have to forgive the low light on this one, but I'd like to think it gives an indication of that soft, warm and fuzzy feeling you get when you ease into your seat on the night train. It's getting to be vendimia time again in 2013, so I hope to share more soon.Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16505219268780172428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6032384696116318462.post-71416060618498663132012-09-30T17:14:00.000-05:002013-01-10T13:03:36.795-06:00It's been a long timeToday you're looking at the 51st post I've managed to put together on this blog since I started keeping it, which was, by some stroke of synchronicity, almost exactly five years ago. That's an average of 10 posts a year, not too bad!<br />
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When I think back on five years ago, and read what I was writing then, I realize how so much is different and yet how much is still the same. Back then, I had recently arrived in Oaxaca, Mexico for the 2nd time, and as my writing was a lot more sporadic at the time, I managed to leave out quite a few of the experiences I'd had there. So today I thought I'd see how good my memory is as I try to piece back together one of the more interesting excursions I took outside of the city.<br />
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This particular day involved a trip stopping off at a number of locations, each one offering a vastly different experience. The first was at a town politically separate from Oaxaca, although with the urban sprawl of recent years you never really leave what feels like a city before you see this:<br />
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This tree, the granddaddy of all junipers, belongs to a species known locally as the <i>ahuehuete</i>. It's enormous. It's not the tallest tree in the world, nor is it the oldest. But its amorphous trunk has the biggest circumference of any known living tree. As far as I know of, anyway.<br />
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It, and a younger specimen of rivaling immensity in the near vicinity, are now located within a populated area known as Tule. But historically this area, like much of Oaxaca, was a swamp, and this particular swamp as it had once occurred would have been the home to countless such wooden giants, a veritable freshwater mangrove forest of gargantuan proportion. Today the two millenary survivors are fenced off into well-manicured gardens, where local boys will, for a few pesos, point out some animal shapes in the knobby trunks and branches. To this end they are equipped with handheld mirrors to bounce some sunlight onto the formations in question, like a low-tech laser pointer.<br />
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Once you've had your fill of these massive specimens, you can make your way to Mitla:<br />
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Like many Mexican towns, this one bears both a Spanish name and an original name from Pre-Columbian times (albeit hispanicized from its former pronunciation of Mictlán). Today many of them are known colloquially, more often than not, more by their original name than the Spanish one. Nonetheless, the Spaniards left an indelible mark on the community of San Pablo Villa de Mitla, which was still populated and in use when the Spanish arrived. Mitla had been a religious center for the local Mixtec and Zapotec people, and recognized as a gateway between the land of the living and the dead.<br />
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As such, there had once been an extensive series of temples and other ceremonial buildings in the community, the walls of which were graced with intricate stonework interlaid without the use of mortar. These designs were intended at least in part to facilitate the transmission of one's spirit into the next world.<br />
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Take, for example, the recurring pattern seen in the middle of this photo. Here we can see a visual representation of one aspect of the Mesoamerican cosmovision. The staircase represents an individual's ascendance from birth, childhood, adolescence, adulthood and old age. This was followed by the spiraling mystery of existence in the afterlife, only then to be proceeded by another staircase, another life. Reincarnation!<br />
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The Spanish came to such a place and ordered the temples to be dismantled, the stones of which to be incorporated into the church you see above. Fortunately, not all the temples were needed for that project, and thanks to the lack of mortar, which is more susceptible to erosion, what's left of the temples can still be appreciated today.<br />
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After wondering over the silent monuments of (not so) ancient civilizations, you can take a swim in a place known poetically as <i>hierve el agua</i>. That translates more or less as "The water boils." I couldn't decide if the water in this shallow pool was really a hot spring, or if the warmth of the water was the product of the perpetually warm Mexican sunshine, and the insulation of the warmed stone beneath it. Not to mention the further natural heating power of dozens of tourists piling into it every day!<br />
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But the real draw of this pool was the incredibly high concentration of mineral content, not the least of which is calcium bicarbonate. The effect on the bather is the bubbly sensation of soaking in Alka-Seltzer.<br />
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You also are afforded, from your perspective in a pool located on the edge of a cliff, a panoramic view of the unspoiled natural landscape all around. Devoid of any human settlements as far as the eye can see, what you get is a quintessential hot spring experience, as close to nature as a modern human will often find himself.<br />
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Before I took a swim myself, I took a quick jog up the hill to see the pools themselves from another vantage. Here you can see how the cliffside below the pools has accumulated centuries of mineral buildup as water has spilled endlessly over it, like a petrified waterfall.<br />
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The trip came to its conclusion with one more stop, this time at a mezcal distillery.<br />
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One of the things I suspected through some prior samplings but never knew for sure until I spent some time in Mexico is that I love mezcal. When it is made well, it has for me a flavor which rivals the complexity of the finest whiskey from either side of the Atlantic, and at a fraction of the price. It took me awhile to find some mezcal that genuinely belonged to this rarified category, but by my reckoning, Mezcal El Mitleño's top shelf offering, at about $50 a liter, is a fantastic imbibe. On the other hand, there's a lot of mezcal out there that ought to be reserved for cleaning the floor, so watch out!<br />
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Here, we were offered a tour that explained the process of making mezcal. The first steps are illustrated above. You cut the leaves respectfully from the agave plant until you are left with a pineapple-shaped core. This you slice from the earth and cart off to the distillery.<br />
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The next thing you're going to want to do is take those big agave hearts, pile them into a big hole on the ground, and smoke them good. The heat converts the natural starches of the agave into deliciously caramelized sugars available for fermentation, and the technique also imparts onto the final product that magically smoky overtone I've never gotten from any other beverage.<br />
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The next step is to grind up the smoked agave into a pulp ready for fermentation, and later, distillation. Then it's into a barrel with it for at least a year before it's good enough to drink.<br />
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At the end of the tour, we got to try the mezcal, and my heart was won by their highest-end bottle, still a steal at the price I mentioned above. In fact, I bought enough of it to travel with, and I drink it sparingly enough to still have a few ounces left for sharing on a special occasion.<br />
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Once armed with a bottle of high-proof drink, and once back in the city of Oaxaca, I was now equipped to embark on one of my other favorite activities in Mexico: street food! This stand was serving up <i>empanadas de amarillo</i>, which quickly became my preferred main course of any Mexican street food adventure. It is basically a corn tortilla with chicken and a fantastic sauce of yellow color, hence the name of the dish.<br />
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But what really kept me coming back for more of the Mexican food on the street and in the markets was the endless variety available to try, from the well-known <i>tacos, tamales y tortas</i> to some of the lesser-known and exotic preparations: <i>chapulines, huitlacoche, tlayudas, molotes, chochoyones, atoles, pulques, </i>to name a few with no explanation whatsoever.<br />
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If you're worried about the safety or cleanliness of what you just ate, don't. That's what the mezcal is for. I can tell you after weeks of frequenting countless markets and food stands on the streets of Oaxaca, and always going to a cantina or back home for a shot or two of mezcal afterwards that no harm will come to you if you follow that formula. And in the process you will have tasted what Mexican food really is, and due to the naturally gregarious Mexican spirit, you will have met plenty of people happy to talk and listen for as long as the meal lasts.Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16505219268780172428noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6032384696116318462.post-89027431695762556692012-08-25T20:06:00.001-05:002012-08-26T14:29:49.866-05:00Last stop, Pucón<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Pucón, the final destination on our tour of southern Chile (and a bit of Argentine Patagonia). It's a popular vacation spot for Chileans, and why not? With a beautiful lake, a snowcapped volcano on the horizon -complete with a visible fumarole billowing from its cone - and surrounded by forest, rivers and hot springs, it's got a lot to offer. Plus, it's only about eight hours from Santiago.</div>
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Rather than coming from our home in Santiago, however, we took the long way around, having come straight from San Martín de los Andes in <a href="http://calwalks.blogspot.com/2012/08/san-martin-de-los-andes.html">Argentina</a>. On the way we were afforded a view of yet another snowcapped mountain, not to be confused with the one pictured above. In the foreground is a group of prehistoric-looking monkey puzzle trees, also known as the Araucaria, Chile's national tree.<br />
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It was another long ride, and a steady ascent up the Argentine side of the Cordillera de los Andes, until the border defined by the continental divide. Then came the ear-popping descent on the other side, through a river valley bottoming out at the lake region of Pucón itself.<br />
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As had been the case with all of our previous stops throughout the south of Chile, we were in direct competition with every other vacationer making their way around the southern regions of the country. In order to avoid getting stuck without a ride or a place to stay, we had settled into a successful routine of buying departing bus tickets from each town as soon as we arrived there, and making hotel reservations even further in advance. <br />
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Pucón's proximity to Santiago, though, and it being one of the last weekends of summer vacation for most schools and universities, foiled our ordinary system. Every hotel I tried to call was already booked more than a week in advance, so we had no choice but show up and try our luck. Fortunately, though, we weren't put out for long. A few blocks from the bus station was a new hostel, with roughed-in rooms still smelling of fresh-cut, unfinished lumber. Having just opened for business, it was nowhere to be found on any list online or in print, and so walk-up clients like us were their only income. Nonetheless, it was a full house during most of our stay.<br />
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Easily explained by views like this and the many adventure sports that come with them, we arrived in Pucón to discover that every ticket on every bus leaving town for the next week was already sold. It looked like a nice place, but a week in town was more than we bargained for. Again, however, we were in luck, as there was one exception: two first-class tickets on an overnight bus, in four days. They weren't cheap, but they would put us back home right when we wanted to be there, and we'd have plush seats that folded down into beds, complete with pillows and blankets for the night's ride. It was an offer we couldn't refuse.<br />
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With all the hard work out of the way, we could now set our minds at ease and get down to the real business of being here. The first stop was the lake, and its black sand beaches, with the backdrop of wooded mountains, under a cloudless sky. Ah, Chile!<br />
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We haven't been to any town in Chile that hasn't featured some playgrounds for kids, either.<br />
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The next day we woke up early to visit Huerquehue national park. One of the first features we came upon was Tinquilco lake, a long slender body of water with a camping area and even a couple of rowboats.<br />
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El lago Tinquilco, y el volcán Villarica, from a privileged vantage.<br />
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A candid glimpse of a human animal, in its natural element.<br />
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On the third day we visited a resort called Peumayén, several kilometers away from Pucón. It offers hot springs like these along a river, as well as a more developed bath house up the hill.<br />
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There was also a trampoline, and a friend.<br />
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With a rustic restaurant as well, it was a fine place to spend the day, have a soak, eat lunch, and otherwise enjoy some time outside in the mild southern Summer.<br />
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Picking blackberries while waiting for the bus back to town.<br />
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The last day we spent in Pucón. The weather wasn't looking very good, but we couldn't resist the opportunity to take a boat tour on the lake.<br />
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Keeping warm, and out of the rain.<br />
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The weather sure changes fast around here. Also featured in this photo is some of Pucón's more exclusive real estate. Apparently there's a private golf course on the other side of the hill.<br />
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It was the end of the day, and the end of our trip. Soon we'd get on the last of countless buses we'd taken throughout our extended trip around some of the most beautiful countryside I've seen. Of the many towns we'd visited, Pucón was perhaps our favorite. A great place to mark the end of a vacation I'll never forget.Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16505219268780172428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6032384696116318462.post-33879000036284140662012-07-29T17:07:00.000-05:002012-08-15T17:10:51.695-05:00San Martín de los AndesToday's post, like our stop in San Martín of Argentina, is perhaps too short. Our friends Clint and Pía live there with their son Ollie, just a few months younger than our Tamia. It was great to see them, share some time together, and see their new setup in Argentine Patagonia:<br />
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The way there took us along a highway known as the <i>carretera de los siete lagos.</i> We counted seven lakes, sure enough. And lots of mountains. What a great combo. Well done, Patagonia. Well done.<br />
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The last time they saw each other, neither could walk yet. Now it's hard to get them to stop...<br />
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Morning at the beach, and the freedom of expression.<br />
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A candid shot of nuns sharing some <i>yerba mate</i>. Click on the photo, zoom in, and look closely. Nuns. Drinking mate! All the rumors about Argentines' love for mate were proven true in San Martín. I've never seen so much mate consumption. It's a way of life. And one that I approve of. Hopefully a trip to Buenos Aires will be in our future, for some further field research into the phenomenon.<br />
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Keeping it real.<br />
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Thanks for the good times, our dear friends. This little story is a tribute to you. Not shown in this short glimpse of life in San Martín are Argentine microbrews, late night cribbage, spontaneous burgers, and volcanic ash. But all that and more transpired in the course of 48 hours, before we got back on a bus and said goodbye to them, and to Argentina. Until next time!Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16505219268780172428noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6032384696116318462.post-79380352637624890782012-06-30T17:53:00.000-05:002012-07-01T17:56:41.405-05:00Beautiful Bariloche<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It was a long ride, but eventually, we arrived: Bariloche, in Argentine Patagonia. Bariloche is the kind of town that really symbolizes an entire region,
conjuring up many images of Patagonia upon simply hearing its name. It is a destination unto itself, a community many travelers are moved to visit almost as a place to check off a list of important stops on a grand South American tour. When we began our trip, Bariloche wasn't on our own personal list of places to see, but once we decided to include Argentina in the loop, we couldn't resist putting it squarely on our path.<br />
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To get there, we crossed over the Cordillera de los Andes, the continental divide of South America, and the border between Chile and Argentina. With it came too the protracted wait at checkpoints on either side of the border.<br />
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We also had the chance to see firsthand the otherworldly effects that the eruption of the volcano Puyehue has had on the surrounding landscape. Ash has piled up relentlessly on the ground, in the branches of trees, and on the roofs of buildings, like grey snow that will never melt.<br />
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And after nearly a full day of being on a bus, we were there. As the blue waters of Nahuel Huapi lake came into sight for the first time, I admit I was happy to be finishing with such a long ride. The scenery had been incredible along the way, changing constantly as we went. But once we were off the bus and making our way into town, it was liberating to have such a long trip behind us, no matter how picturesque it had been. It wasn't long before we were looking over the lake from this vantage point, the apartment we rented for our stay.<br />
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After so many times calling ahead for our accommodations for the next destination, we decided to play it by ear in Bariloche, what with the dozens of places to stay that were to be found in every travel guide and website we looked at. In the end, for the same price we'd pay at a hotel, we had our own place with a private kitchen and a view. Not too shabby! <br />
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Once we were set up with a place, we headed out for the evening for some pizza, followed by some looking around. After dark, the summer heat gave way to the cold mountain air. We hadn't packed much in the way of warm clothes, but it turns out that Bariloche is something of a shopping capital of Patagonia. The main emphasis was handcrafted chocolate, but there were plenty of clothing stores to be found as well. After fortifying ourselves with a little of both, we were equipped for the night and the festivities that came with it.<br />
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By chance, we found ourselves in Bariloche for the weekend of Carnaval, the feast of Catholic binging prior to the pious period of Lent to be ushered in with the coming Ash Wednesday. A tradition with a history nearly as long as Lent itself, nearly all countries with a Catholic tradition have their own version. Ecuador certainly does, as I've experienced <a href="http://calwalks.blogspot.com/2010/03/life-is-carnaval.html">before</a>. I don't know how representative Bariloche is of Argentina as a whole, but the community here was doing its best to drum up *ahem* some Carnaval parading in the festive tradition I saw in Ambato. While these kids were dressed a bit more warmly that what you might find in more tropical places like Ecuador, or Rio de Janeiro, they did a fine job ringing in the Lenten season.<br />
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Some more Argentine food, a bit more consumerism, and sadly, our time in Bariloche came to an end as quickly as it started. Or not so sadly, really, as the road ahead led to old friends in another town in Argentine Patagonia. One more stop on our tour of the Southern Cone!<br />
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<br />Brianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16505219268780172428noreply@blogger.com0