On Sunday it’s the 1st of May, which means it’s Labour Day - ”el Dia del Trabajo”. So why not go and talk to some of the working people of Buenos Aires? I went to ’La Lavandaria’ at calle Chile 1661 to interview the students who work there and to get a feeling of the working environment at this particular Laundromat. I met up with Ariel, 26 years old, who is one of the coordinators of the Laundromat, and asked him about the history of la Lavandaria; when it started, why it started, and what’s the whole purpose of it. He told me that he used to work at a hotel with one of his friends making lunch. There they came up with the idea of making a Laundromat because, as he told me, one of the main problems for the hotels here is to find a place to clean the sheets and the clothes. So they presented the idea to IPF and got a grant to start the project in corporation with Voluntario Global. This was three years ago. Today the corporation has grown.
They started out being three people and cleaning for two hotels, now they are 6 people cleaning the sheets for 8 hotels. And instead of delivering the sheets by foot they now have bikes donated by Los Pibes in La Boca and can afford buying scooters. For Ariel this is a project to help the young students from the ‘villas’ of Buenos Aires to get a good first-job experience while they are studying or planning to do so. He hopes that in time they will get more money to buy more washing machines, get more clients and in that way be able to offer more jobs.
I also talked to Carolina, 24 years old, who works there three times a week. For her this is a perfect job because thehours fit perfectly with her studies as a dentist. She has been working at the Laundromat since February washing the sheets on 6 hours shifts, and she likes the job even though it doesn’t pay much. She told me that she learns a lot from the other guys about organising the business and meetings, and that the money she gets for working at the Laundromat helps her pay for photocopies to her studies among other things. If you have been at the volunteer house you might have run in to Junior. He is the one bringing out the sheets to the hotels on his bike or scooter. He is 20 years old and has been working at the Laundromat for a year now. For him the job is good in every way; the people, the working hours etc. He has finished secondary school and would like to start studying Hotel Management next year so he can earn money to get his own place instead of living with his mother and three siblings. But for now he likes working at the Laundromat. I was here some weeks ago when they renovated the place and it really looks good. Now there is a brand new kitchen and bathroom, and they are going to put up a table so that they can study while the sheets are getting washed. The place is really going good and the atmosphere is really nice.
Everybody seems happy and seems to enjoy their job. I asked Ariel at the end what this job means to him and if he will continue working here. He said that he is half way through his studies in dentistry and will continue working here as long as it doesn’t get in the way of his studies, because for him this is not just a job, its something he helped create. He told me that he never thought it possible for him to be part of making such a project, being from a shantytown and all, and even more keep it running and continuously expanding it little by little. Also because people didn’t give them credit for it at the beginning and told them that the project would close after a month. But if you look at the Laundromat now I guess he and his friends showed them wrong!
Hola mis amigos! I hope that you are all doing well wherever you are in the world and enjoying the ebb and flow of life’s proceedings. Personally I have been exploring the remarkable Latin American culture and all its aspects while I have been living in the bustling city of Buenos Aires, Argentina. I have been situated in the downtown core for the past two months, and I still have an additional two months to reside & travel in South America while I complete my Bachelor of Education for the University of Calgary. There are endless events to partake in, districts to explore, and people to meet here, so I am overwhelmed on a daily basis as to what I want to do! Often while I try to plan for these future endeavors, I forget the fact that one of the primary reasons I am here is to connect these cultural experiences with my practices as a new teacher to adjust my perceptions and technique. While I have been volunteering at a school to teach local students the English language, I have not yet felt that I have been making the type of lasting impression I desire for both these students and myself. So, through discussions with some of the local people I have met in both educational and informal settings, I have devised a plan that I hope will inspire change both to the community and myself as an educator throughout the process. The volunteer placement that I am currently assisting at is a small school designed for adolescents who wish to either develop a knowledge of the English language or strengthen pre-existing skills. It is located in a small working class community outside of the city of Buenos Aires, and students residing in the area come for after school seminars and workshops taught by volunteers who are visiting Buenos Aires from around the world. My commute to the school could best be described as
lengthy as I must take both the downtown subway system and a train for a total of three hours (one and a half hours to arrive, and the same distance to return) travel time.
The trip by itself though is a realistic portrait of the city beyond the tourist-laden areas. Buenos Aires is a very diverse landscape socioeconomically, as beautiful architecture and world-class restaurants envelop the inner city, while at the same time far reaching slums on the fringe of the urban developments can be seen littered with garbage and decay. Unfortunately there is a great disparity between levels of wealth amongst residents due to numerous factors, some of which I will mention later as part of my inspiration for the project at the school. Regarding my actual periods of instruction, I have different classes and age groups to manage depending on the day of the week. In any case many of the students I have been assigned already have a solid grasp of the English language, making it easier as a native English speaker and foreigner to adjust as well as establish some form of relationship.
Through my communications with students, for instance, I have discovered that several of them have taken English language courses throughout their schooling (much like we take French in Canada) but the majority of these individuals have followed through with further instruction as a mode of support in future significant endeavors. For these individuals, learning English is somewhat crucial to their success after their initial schooling. Since they reside in a working class community and may not have the funds to attend post-secondary educational facilities for an extended period, a second universal language is imperative for their resume in their hopes of finding a prosperous career. For those that hope to attend post-secondary schooling in an international setting, the ability to speak and understand the English language is equally crucial in order to expand their prospects for accepting institutions. As a Canadian, it is quite interesting to see how the English language has such a significant effect on a portion of the population in a nation that is not even bilingual, yet many residents rely on it for obtaining reputable careers and opportunities. This is definitely not the case in our nation where the French language is sparsely utilized in the same manner, yet is politically and culturally supposed to be considered a language of equal importance.
Concerning my instruction of students and the curriculum for learning English in the classroom, the seminars are set up in such a way that individuals from a variety of backgrounds can step into the teaching role and complete the required activities with minimal issues. Volunteers are given textbooks with step-by-step instructions, activities, and answers to discuss with students in an allotted period (one hour per class) each day. As a beginning teacher this was a surprising yet understandable approach to learning the language as there are multiple factors affecting how the director of the school can run her classes. Volunteers who take part in the programs do not always come from educational backgrounds, and consequently may not understand the process of building a curriculum and/or what activities may be necessary to instruct when learning a language. Many volunteers also stay for short durations (typically one month), therefore a textbook is the simplest way for a new volunteer to jump into a classroom and begin instruction without too much difficulty. Since the focus of volunteers is also typically travel rather than instruction at the school, the layout allows individuals to walk into the class without the worry of extensive pre-preparation or planning. However, as a teacher used to a high level of flexibility in the classroom setting, this format has been very difficult to adjust to, as there is often little room to stray into personally generated projects. As I mentioned before I have no issues with this teaching format, but I would like to create something during my time here in Argentina where I will see some form of immediate influence on the students regarding their learning and perception of the world. Luckily I have been given that opportunity and I hope that my efforts will pay off.
Last week I was having a lengthy discussion with the woman that runs the English language school regarding my experiences thus far in Argentina. We discussed the disparity of wealth I had seen in the city and its outer limits, as well as the public’s general perception of their environment, politics, the education system, agriculture, and other cultural aspects of interest. Concerning the poverty-ridden “shanty towns”, she mentioned that these areas are financed by the government for people with little to no earnings. Housing, electricity, water, and food are supplied in these areas, and people from across the country flock to the districts to reside. Since their necessities to live are covered, many of the people that inhabit the “shanty towns” have little desire or ambition to work, and therefore may bring their children into the world with the same mode of thinking. The surrounding areas are truly horrendous to drive by during my commute to school, as they are covered with refuse that will likely never be disposed of.
A regular sight (and smell) on my way home are piles of flaming garbage beside the railway tracks flying up in smoke, since there is no system established outside of downtown to pick up residents’ waste. To say the least, Argentineans’ perspective of the environment is quite fascinating. There is garbage to be seen everywhere, and it is disappointing as they have such a beautiful surrounding landscape with abundant resources which they readily promote. Celebrating Earth Hour in the city this week, for example, is slightly ironic. There is a sense of laziness in relation to all these issues, as the wealthy would rather pay for conveniences and/or put a metaphorical “band-aid” on issues on both a large scale (ie. the government catering to the wealthy and financing “shanty towns” as a mode of assistance for the poor) or on a small scale (ie. buying chips and pop for dinner rather than fresh vegetables from one’s garden). So here is the idea that came forth from my conversations. T
he English language school has an abundance of green space around the main buildings that is disheveled and littered with leftover appliances. I suggested that I would take it upon myself to remodel the area and build multiple gardens for both aesthetic and educational purposes. As long as I had the resources to dig away at the earth, and the weather cooperated, I would try and further cement the school as an important meeting site in the community. I believe this remodeling is important on multiple levels. Aesthetically it is important for a school to establish an environment that is inviting to students, especially for individuals who come from homes where this type of setting does not exist. Designing and maintaining a vegetable garden is something that many Canadians take pleasure in for the process of creating, as well as to reap the benefits on the kitchen table. Unfortunately in Argentina, these sentiments do not largely exist due to some of the issues I mentioned earlier, and I believe that the education system does not promote these types of activities in their classrooms.
I am hoping that throughout the process I will be able to have students help me before and during class so that they may understand the benefits of having a garden at one’s residence. I will of course be speaking to the students in English while I work, teaching the younger ones the names of items such as vegetables or garden tools, and the older students the methods of constructing and caring for a garden. I also hope that students will bring their own seeds/resources and ideas while I am at the school so that they feel as though they have had some input in the process, and consequently become excited about the end product. Hopefully in the end they will grasp the concept that they can create sustenance on their own which is healthy, and that it is important to take care of their natural surroundings (which means a little bit of manual labor!). This garden will be a place that former students can return to, educate other students about, and future volunteers can build upon regardless of their length of stay. I am excited to begin and I hope this is an experience with enduring impressions for myself, other volunteers, as well as the community of Pablo Nogues.
Last week was The Day of Remembrance for Truth and Justice in Argentina. The 24th March is a day to remember the 30,000 people killed, kidnapped and tortured by the Argentine authorities during the period of military rule known as The Dirty War. The 24th March marks the 35th anniversary of the coup d’état of 1976, which brought the military government into power and led to some of the worst human rights abuses in history. This day of remembrance ensures the victims are not forgotten and that the experience is never repeated. Hundreds of thousands of people flocked to Plaza de Mayo and filled the square and the wide Avenida de Mayo all the way to Congreso. Unlike the memorial days we’re used to in England – usually feelings of quiet sadness and regret, the atmosphere here was more of anger as many peoples family members are still missing and tensions are still running high as to whether the government is doing enough to find them and bring people responsible to justice. The march was loud and full of all sorts of organisations using it as an opportunity to demonstrate their political views.
The debate concerning the Dirty War is still very much alive with the marches every Thursday in Plaza de Mayo demanding justice. The most interesting development is the recently started trial against two former military presidents and their six most loyal supporters. The Grandmothers of Plaza de Mayo have spent 14 years preparing this case and with nearly 400 witnesses the case is expected to last up to a year. The court proceedings are being televised so that a large audience can follow what happens. This unusual decision was made in the hope that once Argentina knows what really happened, the people will then be able to heal.
For the last two weeks, I have been walking around looking at all these amazing, colourful eggs in the shop windows. I have never seen so many chocolate eggs before in my life! The bakeries and supermarkets are stuffed with them, one egg bigger than the other, and it made me wonder what Easter means to the Argentineans and how they celebrate it. Eating a lot of chocolate eggs must be one of them for sure... but what else? So because of these unanswered questions in my head, I did a bit of research about the traditions and celebrations of Easter in Argentina, and this is what I found.
In Argentina, Semana Santa (Holy Week) is one —if not the most— significant festivities, because about 85 % of the population follow Roman Catholicism as their religion and celebrates all the Christian festivals. But for many people Semana Santa is also a good excuse to spend time with the family or to go on a small holiday. In general this week is full of traditions and celebrations whether you’re religious or not. In many South American countries there are parades going on each day during Semana Santa. In Argentina they celebrate Carnival, where people gather in the streets to dance together and sing folksongs (as they do in many other occasions as well). When the celebration comes to a close, they burry a rag doll representing the spirit of Carnival as a symbol of the end.
Between the different Easter traditions in Argentina the ones from the northern part stands a bit out from the rest. This is mostly in the regions of Salta and Tucumán where you’ll find most Spanish traditions. In Salta, for example, they commemorate Jesus with an intense Via Crucis, that is, the depiction of the final hours of Jesus, torchlight processions, blessings and special masses.
The Via Crucis is also what makes the city of Tandil famous. It ends at Monte Calvario, a small hillock topped by a giant cross to the east of the town centre. In this city, thousands of the faithful can relive and recreate the passion of the Christ along the Via Crucis, with its fourteen stations. Besides the religious part of Semana Santa it would seem to be one of the favourite occasions for families and friends as they gather to celebrate Easter feast delicacies. Once the Easter meal is done, people give “huevos de Pascua” (chocolate eggs) to one another. This could perhaps be one of the days/weeks where the Argentinean people eat most chocolate when you think about all the eggs in the supermarkets.
For me, this part is also what I think Easter is about. Spending time with my family, having a fantastic feast and afterwards go on a chocolate egg hunt with my nieces and nephews, eating all the chocolate eggs we can. But why do we do this? It turns out that the three days celebration of Easter is called ‘The Triduum'. This is one big celebration, remembering the last supper, the crucifixion and the death of Jesus, and the Resurrection to new life. Easter marks the end of “Lent” —a forty-day period of fasting, prayer, and penance—. During the last week of Lent (Semana Santa, in Argentina) we have Palm Sunday, which is one week before Easter Sunday. Palm Sunday is the day where Jesus rode into the city of Jerusalem. Good Friday is five days after Palm Sunday and the sad day for the Christian believers. This is the day where they commemorate the crucifixion and death of Jesus. Easter Sunday is a day for rejoicing. It’s the day where they celebrate the resurrection of Jesus.
Over the weekend we decided to go to Tilcara as we told this was a must by a friend in Argentina and, is very close to La Quiaca. Tilcara forms part of the Quebrada de Humahuaca, which is north of Jujuy and snakes its way up towards Bolivia. It is also a UNESCO World Heritage Site because there is a large population of indigenous people and the landscape is majestic. It was a rather pleasant bus ride with mountains bordering either side of the road. The farther south we got, the more colorful the mountains became: reds, yellows, and oranges rippling up and down through the face of the mountain.
Hey look, there goes the Tropic of Capricorn, which you will pass on your way from La Quiaca to Tilcara. When we arrived we were greeted by the smell of the most amazing Tortillas being cooked on BBQ's and the sound of folklore music being played in the square- a big change from Quiaca! The main change though was trees and flowers..... lots of them! We walked a rather steep hill to a hostel that again was recommended called Malka, which was truly fabulous. The place was run by some old time porteños turned hippies, who have grown tired of the bustling and chaotic Buenos Aires life and, had looked to seek a quieter life in the mountains. In a quiet corner town, the small cabins and lovely breakfast and even Yoga, just in case that's your thing, gives the place a homey and rustic feel.
By now we had grown a wee bit famished and stopped to eat at a local restaurant, which was probably the best place to go for a very local vibe and not much money at all. Afterwords, what shall we do? We pondered. Off to Purmamarca la tierra de colores. It certainly lives up to its name because the mountains could properly be described as a rainbow. We hiked up some of the surrounding mountains to see the breathtaking view and then chilled out in the market square, surrounded by mate drinking musicians who were strumming some local songs. The market it self was an array of colours due to the arts and crafts for sale from the area and Bolivia too. After heading back and reading a bit, we finally met our two lively dorm mates and chatted in Spanglish a good bit. All of us practicing our respective foreign language. Before we knew it, it was time to get some grub and we went to a fancy restaurant featuring Miguel, a local who played all sorts of folklorian music on all sorts of instruments, including a Mac and weird fluteish and guitarish things.
Whew, good day. Time to sleep and the next morning heralded in a beautiful day, started off with a lovely breakfast with our new friends. After a long chat about the Middle East we decided to hike up the Gargantua del Diablo or throat of the Devil! Although up hill, the walk was very pleasant and we saw the most stunning scenery surrounded by mountains of all colours and huge cacti. Once at the top we could see for miles and chatted to a few weary hikers. Following the walk we grabbed a tasty tortilla from one of the BBQ's on the roadside and then headed off for the Argentinean salt flats!
In Purmamarca again we found a driver and a couple to share the ride with. And off we went up to the mountains in search of salt. We were certainly not disappointed. But first we had to climb the mountain through a series of switchback to 4,170 meters above sea level. Although a wee bit nippy, the view was, like always, wonderful. Although a fraction of the size of Bolivia's salt flats, we were not disappointed, and as we grew closer the noise in the car stopped as we all looked in amazement at the flats. After walking around barefoot we all bore the sign of walking around on the salt with white salty ankles and feet! Although a little out of place, but not that surprising though as we are in Argentina, there was even two football posts in the middle of the salt flats....not really sure who would want to play on salt though, when there are so many fields and open space surrounding the area! Guess it is good for practising technique...
As we hopped back in the car, everyone was tired and it was a pretty relaxing ride as we went back over the mountains and down in the land of colors. After resting a wee bit, we headed out on the town to go to a restaurant that was jamming the night before. As we got chicken and fried cheese, yum, we were entertained by the “Cuatro Diablos” who played quite a range. And by range I mean from “Hey Jude” to “The Sound of Silence” to local songs from el Campo. The food and wine was fantastic and we decided to hit the sack early because we had to get back to La Quiaca for Classes tomorrow afternoon.
The next day, we headed on back to La Quiaca and while there were less trees, it was none the less good to be back.
By Rosie Gold and Karina Krichau
Last Friday we decided to go and visit the women working in the community center in La Boca to discover more about what they do and who they are. The center consists of many different parts including el comedor – a food bank where meals are prepared 6 days a week to feed around 100 people, the workshop where clothes are made to sell onto companies and government organisations and then there are several projects such as apoyo escolar where kids are offered help and support after school and the computer cluster where people can come have basic lessons in IT. We arrived in los pibes to a completely relaxed and friendly atmosphere, everyone seemed happy to see us and more
than happy to answer our questions. We were really keen to get to know how the community center works and delve into some back-stories of the women there (it being national women’s day and all). We were given a little tour of the center then were able to explore the food bank (el comedor) and speak to a nice woman called Elizabeth, who originally is from Salta but now lives in La Boca. She works as a “ama de casa” and has been part of the community center from the beginning. Before, the community center was a motor factory but together with others she helped to clean and organize it and now works in the food bank. Besides the huge amount of work there is to do everyday, she also has 6 children and a husband to take care of. El comedor gets small amounts of money from the UN and the government, to buy food and the food is divided according to how much each person works. That means that the people who work in the kitchen and the textile workshop don’t have a fixed salary but they get 450 pesos from the government to buy the food. They come here to work, and are given meals to take back to their homes and eat with their family.
At the back of the community center is a textile workshop, which was set up as a cooperative by the people who work there. We wanted to talk to some of the women who work here in the textile department, and we met a lovely 60-year-old woman called Margarita. She’s one of the “old ladies” as she’s worked there for 8 years, 12 hours a day. She has 6 grown up children and a bunch of nieces and nephews, she calls herself “cabeza de la familia” because she’s responsible for everyone in her huge family. It was really interesting and humbling to hear these women’s stories and get to know their lives and work. After that we went to see a presentation by Catherine, one of the volunteers from VG, in the housing cooperative. Johan accompanied us, even though it was just a few blocks, as it is a bit dangerous to walk there on your own when you look like “gringas”. The housing cooperative is a project that has been one its way for 4 years now, building flats for 33 families. They hope to finish in one year but it all depends on the government and the prices that keep increasing. Well, here Catherine held her presentation on housing projects, something she has experience with back in Belgium, where she has been working as a social worker and then in the last year done volunteer work with homeless people. She’s here to try and work in one of the recovered factories when her Spanish is up to scratch. On the whole this was a really interesting and pretty humbling experience, the people here are so down to earth and friendly,we met many examples of strong the type of strong, hard working women that are celebrated on Dia de las Mujeres.
We arrived at Viruta, a Tango School located in Palermo in the basement of an Armenian Cultural Centre. A big dance floor was already half full with couples dancing to modern tango music. The coloured spotlights shined on a diversity of odd couples: young and old, Argentinians and foreigners, dressed up and casual. Some were already doing some fancy steps while others were sticking to the basic steps. Then the first tango class started. The floors were divided by skill level. We chose the beginners course.
A young couple explained to us the basic steps, which we first danced separately (men on one side of the room, women on the other) and then together. People who couldn’t understand Spanish had to look even more carefully when the teachers showed the steps and explained what they were doing, which they did with enthusiasm and patience. Luckily (sometimes unluckily) after each short song we had to exchange dance partners. This way you got to know a lot of people during the course: there was a good mix of Argentineans and tourists alike, trying to learn the basic steps of the Tango.
After the first class was over, four pairs of instructors danced in the middle of the dance floor. Besides their nice clothes, they showed some off their best tango moves, e.g. women swinging their legs really fast back and forth between the man’s legs. After they danced for two songs, each teacher of la Viruta were presented individually, culminating in a rather large spectacle. After this, the second class started. While in the first class we learned the Milonga steps, this time we would learn the real tango steps. The basic step is essentially the same with some minor differences, so it wasn’t always easy to stick to the same step!
The part I found most difficult was walking around the dance floor. In contrast to other dances like for example salsa, every couple is expected to hover over the dance floor counterclockwise. As not all the couples had the same speed and direction, some more or less unpleasant crashes were inevitable! Around midnight the two classes were over and a live tango band took over, consisting of some accordions, a piano, a guitar and percussion. They played some lovely music and it was a joy to watch them play for the packed dance floor. Scared to hit even more couples than during the class, I decided to watch the advanced dancers. I studied their movements, in an effort to further understanding this sensual dance. Hopefully soon I will be able to draw attention with some fancier steps, rather than with stumbling over other couples while trying to do the basics!
Now the night was fairly cold, but I was glad for it to be morning to commence my hike to the top. To some extent, I was nervous about whether or not I could do it and just wanted to get on with. So I grabbed me a jug of water, packed up my stuff, hid it, and set out. It was still fairly early, a pretty shortly I realized that it was going to be a good difficult hike. It was steep and the air was thin and the clouds a bit above me, hid the top of the mountain from me. So I had to guess to some extent, and started climbing, taking my time and stopping lots. It was rather rocky and cacti-filled.
There were even a few streams who started in the mountains and came down to the valley below. Keep climbing, keep climbing. By now I was in the clouds, but occasionally they would part to give me a grand view. Plus thar be llamas. And then the clouds part again, and I must be near the top. Yay, had been climbing for about an hour and a half and was getting pretty darn tired. But when I got near the “top,” there was another one, but it's okay, it's just a bit higher. Keep climbing, and a few more breaks later and you're there, woo, you made it, it was hard but, but, but, there's another top, just a little bit taller. Okay, you tell yourself, just a little bit more, just a little bit taller, then you are done.
I set off again, envying the llamas who make it look so easy. Fine, forget the pain, and climb the rocks. There, down, not going any farther, until I looked over and there was one more, the last one, just a little bit higher. “Nooo!!!!!” I don't care, I've come far enough and I just can't make it... Wait a few seconds, stand up just to make sure it's taller. “God Dammit,” grab my water bottle and, hey look, weird rabbitty chinchilla-like things, cool. Just a little bit more, Michael and then, you are there. And then I was there, and I could see everything. The entire valley on both sides of the ridge and there was a lake, sweet. I sat me down on the top, where there was a rock pile and a concrete slab, man I was not the only one to make it up here. Pulled out my journal and wrote me some notes, including. Dear Self, Good Job!
Dear Reader, As I am writing this, I realize this is a tale of stupidity and error and stubborness, enjoy. Writter: But first, scene: I am sitting at the table taking some juice in my jean, which I never really ever take off anymore, and a t-shirt. It is a nice, sunny, and hot Saturday afternoon and outside a trash fire is roaring, things are being hammered, and horns are being honked, signaling the approach of hand draw ice cream carts. The thing about here is, it is either really cold or really hot, no in between, which will shortly factor into our little yarn o' a tail. On the radio, Jesus, como siempre. But second, history: So before coming out here to La Quica, I had decided to spend a night or two backpacking en “el Campo.” After I had been here a few days, it had become evident where this adventure was going to lead me. If you walk out the door and walk a few steps and look west north westish, you will see a mountain. It a rather pretty mountain, parts are red and green from clay and shrubbery and parts be the white of salt.
So I had my destination and on Wednesday before last weekend or something like that, I asked the Pastors here if I could spend the weekend camping out there. At first they were pretty nervous and warned me about perros bravos and sun and all that, but they were okay with, as long I was careful. So I started getting my things ready, first off water, lot's o' water. I had to assume that I would be able to find any water out there, it being the desert and all that. Some where in there, it came up that people had seen cities of gold and spirits and demons while out in the Campo. It was said that if you went into said city of gold, that you would be found later, either dead or loco. Now it was started to get interesting. So I got me plenty of water, about five liters worth, which can become pretty heavy after carrying for awhile. Oh well, I figured that it would be much easier coming back with less weight. Second off, food, which consisted of fruit, bread and cheese, and a rather salty soup.
Everything was pretty much set by Thursday night and I threw on the pack and walked a bit to see how it felt. All good, nice and comfy. I felt pretty good and come Friday morning I was walking out the door with a smile on my face. It was kinda cloudy and drizzling a times, but that meant it was nice and cool and, if it ever got to be too much rain, I could just pop up my tent and chill out. Which I did at one point and wrote the following journal entry: February Fourth, It's Friday, Dear Noah, Happy Friday, see you eventually. Anyways, so here I am in my tent somewhere in the arid tundra of Argentina except it's not very arid right now, seeing as how I am in my tent waiting for the rain to stop, or rather, it has stopped here, but I am waiting for it to look less horribly ominous in the direction I am going. So I am gonna write and chill out, given that it's not even eleven probably. S, It's really quiet out here and the rain is really nice, because, even if there is a little bit, all the flowers celebrate by opening up and smelling beautifully. So that's really nice and it also mean that I would be able to fill up on water if I needed to.
I am about an hour outside of La Quiaca with the vague goal of trying to climb that mountain over there, hopefully, by the time you are reading this, I will have accomplished said goal. And be able to write about the lovely view and sleeping in the clouds. That'd be cool. Now the rain be starting again, but fortunately I got all today, all tomorrow and Sunday Morning to just be out and about. To be continued rather shortly. After that, I kept me on walking and man it was pretty. The whole landscape just rolls and rolls and you come across chasms about ten or fifteen feet chasms cut by short lived but powerful streams. Fortunately, you can just jump across them and keep going up, the see the scenery, the down again to cross more ephemeral streams and sometimes a river, which may or may not have some muddy water running through it. Walking, walking, walking, goodbye La Quica, stop for lunch, and keep walking. Pass a few ranches with sheep or some such thing and then you see some black specks on the horizon. As you get closer, you realize they be Llamas, cool, llamas. Some of the even have little flowers on their fur or on their ears, how cute. By now, the mountain is getting close and I am getting a wee bit tired.
I pick a place to camp and when I get there, I am ready to set up camp and stop for the night. Unfortunately, when I get to set spot, I realize that I am rather close to a house, drats. Well, there were not much of another place to go, so I set up my tent and wondered if any one would see me or mind me chilling out here. Sure enough, after an hour of trying to siesta, I hear two claps and walk out to meet a Guacho. I asked him if I could spend the night here and then climb the the mountain in the morning. He said yes, or at least I think so, and walked away. But the adorably cute little dog that had come with him did not follow and promptly lied lied down in the shadow of my tent. I tried to sleep me some more, but by now the sun was in fun blast so that did not happen. So I pet the dog, and with time, it started to chew on most everything, my clothes, my backpack, my hat. It even started biting my toes and nose and jumped up and bit my cheek with it's teeny tiny but rather sharp teeth. Well this was unexpected. I was being terrorized by the cutest little thing I had ever seen.
Either way, I wrote in my journal as the dog alternatively chewed my tent, chewed my feet, and slept. Of in the distance, I could see colorful mountains and rainbow shrouded storms. Plus there were plenty of birds chirping around me. All and all, it was really pretty and I felt good. I ate, climbed me a mountain to see the sun set, which was pretty hard and gave me a sense of what I had in store. The thin air and steepness meant I had to take lots of breaks, but I made it all the same, which encouraged me that it could do. Now up there, it was truly beautiful, and of course I had to shout “wooo” and was gratified by a faint echo that rolled along the ridge. So it was a pretty good day, and felt great to get into my nice warm tent and escape the wind that had come from nowhere. Yeah, sleepy time, but now it's Mate Time, To be continued at a latter junction...
There was a pretty rainbow around the sun. Alright, now it's time to walk back. In the ensuing trek back, which was actually pretty long, I finished my water and started to feel pretty darn exhausted and light headed. Almost there, but there's water, so I drank me some. The risk of heat-exhaustion and dehydration, trumping the possibility of getting sick in a day. So keep walking in the now blazing sun, see the ranch hand with a friend and ask if I can pass. “Si, chow fuerte” he replies, through a creek and to my camp site, yay, food and potable water, I think as I sit me down for a well deserved rest. But the sun is hot, and I have gotten sick of my food and I just want to get back. The only problem is you have to walk at least to that road over there and hope you can hitchhike. So with that plan, I walk and walk and walk, surprised that I can still walk. And now there is a storm, two to be exact, one ahead and one behind. Well hopefully the clouds will blot out the sun a bit and I can sleep.
Well, after laying in my wind swept tent for awhile, I figure, in the wonderful logic of one who is exhausted, that I should just keep walking. So I walk, the storm in front of me having gone far enough away and if I keep walking that one behind me won't catch up. Then there is a lake with Flamingos and ducks, huh that's something I was not particularly expecting, but I had seen the lake from the mountain and figured I was getting close Just keep on walk, through the desert, which had stopped becoming pretty and has become a place that needs to be escaped. Up and down some valleys and then, yes, oh my god, I can see the power lines of the road, way far away over there, although it could just be a mirage. But another half hour and I am nearly there, just one more river to cross. Hello birdies, I made it to the road, took off my pack and determined to never put it on again. I think I started singing, half-happy and half-delirious. Now I just need a car to come. Which one did, eventually, and drove me back to La Quiaca in about ten to fifteen minutes, a trek that would have taken me three to four hours and inexorably exhausted me. I thanked them profusely, and walked the final few blocks back to the comedor.
Fortunately, Anita was there and gave me warm food and a warm shower and then sent me to sleep for about fourteen hours. How exciting. So looking back, it was kinda really stupid. I had had enough food and water but had not counted on how exhausted I would be and how inescapable the sun is out in the desert. But, there were houses around and worst case scenario I could have asked for help. Ah well, now I know not to wander around in an unfamiliar desert by myself. Still, I can still walk out the door and say that I made it to the top of the mountain. Alright, done for now, it certainly is a long post. Hope life is good in whatever country you happen to be in. Tally-hoo.
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