First Night in BA

Since my original plans were foiled by United Airlines, I've never actually spent any time yet in BA. But Marc made his flight, so we got to enjoy our first day in BA together. This is not "traveling" this is a holiday. It's like taking a vacation to New York. Not that there's anything wrong with this type of trip, it's just different than we're used to when we're out of the country.

Our hotel is a gorgeous little boutique hotel in Palermo Soho. We only planned to stay here one night but after seeing our room we immediately splurged and booked a second night. There are only about 14 rooms by our count, with a full breakfast and a small spa. The staff are also incredible. They're so helpful and enthusiastic. We love it here.

Marc's flight landed in time for him to catch the end of breakfast and then check into our room and get settled in. I landed soon after and met him at the hotel. Not wanting to waste the day, we set out to explore the neighborhood and grab lunch, ending up at a nice parilla that the front desk staff recommended. The food was good, but honsetly the steak wasn't the best I've had on this trip. I'm still dreaming of that first steak I finally got cooked right in Mendoza. I think that might go down as the steak to which I measure all future steaks. I almost considered trying to convince Marc that we needed to go back to Mendoza just so I could have that steak again.

We were both tired from travel and wine so we took a nap before exploring the neighborhood at night. Palermo Soho could be picked up in it's entirety and plopped right into the place of SoHo in New York, or even Abbott Kinney in (Venice) Los Angeles, with it's upscale shops, hip bars and trendy restaurants. We had a beer at one of the hopping bars, listening to live music and watching all the pretty people walk by. Then we started to wander, looking for a place for dinner.

Marc had read about a place called Don Julio, not far from our hotel, but one of the top rated parillas in BA. The place was packed to the gills when we arrived, with loads of people waiting outside. I took a chance and asked how long the wait was for two people and was surprised when she said only ten to twenty minutes and came out with glasses of champagne for us while we waited. True to her word, we were seated not long after and enjoyed one of the most delicious meals of grilled steak and asada. Although the grilled chorizo and mozzarella appetizer might have been Marc's favorite. I think I can get used to this town.

Brazil for a Day

If you only have one day to explore Iguazu that's a shame. Ideally, you should spend one day on each side of the falls. While, Argentina is home to over 80% of the falls, the Brazilian side offers an unique perspective, not to be missed. Linda, one of the solo travelers I met the day before, and I organized a minibus in Puerto Iguazu and it couldn't have been any easier. The van picked us up in the morning in front of her hostel. We were the only two passengers for the day. The driver took us to the boarder, took our passports through customs and delivered us to the falls. We never had to get out of the van.

The Brazilian side of the falls are special for the vast panoramic views of the fall, not seen from the Argentine side. Here you are really able to get a feel for the scope of the falls.

Once through the main entrance a bus takes you to a midway point. Here you can walk the long, but easy, pathway that meanders along the cliff, stopping at several vantage points.

The path ends with a metal bridge spanning out toward the center of the mid-point of the Devil's Throat. Then, from there, you take an elevator up to get one last panoramic view of the area before returning back to the man entrance where our driver was waiting to return us to Argentina.

Here in Iguazu was the first time I was finally feeling like a "traveler", the same way I do in Asia and Central America. Most of this trip has been centralized in big cities, urban areas with five star dining and shopping. It's been more like taking a holiday in Europe than following the backpacker route. Here I started to meet people, and hang out with other travelers. Last night I took Sue and Linda back to the Brazilian market so I could share my find with them. It was great to just talk for hours about life and travel and the world. I missed that.

Linda made friends with one of the women who runs her hostel and mentioned that I was interested in learning more about the mate tradition here in Argentina. She let me try some of her mate, which tastes like a very strong, slightly gritty (although that's not the best word to describe it) green tea. I had been warned by some that it's an acquired taste, but I actually liked it. And it seems like the only way you can experience it for real is to get to know a local. She actually took us to the shop where she buys her mate and showed us her favorite brand. I picked some up. Now I just need a mate gourd and straw. But I might never have tried it if I weren't back on the traveler path and meeting people, making friends with locals.

Tomorrow Linda and I go our separate ways: Linda to Brazil and me to BA to see Marc. My solo adventure is coming to a close.

Ride the Boat

The one piece of advice Marc gave me repeatedly before going to the falls was, "Take the boat". Back when he traveled to the falls it was a different place and there were only boat tours from the Brazilian side. Now they offer them on both sides. My first order of business when I arrived into Puerto Iguazu was to secure a space on the boat tour and once I got to the falls I immediately checked in. Just for future reference - the price is the same regardless if you book in the tourist office, your hotel or at the falls. And the boats run every 15 minutes all day so there is no need to rush it.

Regardless, I booked the "Grand Adventure" and got on the first trip of the day. In hindsight I didn't need to book the grand adventure. The Grand Adventure just adds a bus ride through the jungle and a longer trip up the river, but the time you spend in the falls is the same. In fact, you pick up the other people who booked the smaller falls trip up the river. That's where I met Sue.

Sue was the Canadian I followed earlier in the day and she took a spot right next to me on the boat trip up the falls. We took turns taking pictures of each other at the base of the falls and laughed about getting lost earlier in the morning.

The boat trip takes passengers up one artery, allowing for pictures, and then up the other, again with time for pictures. Then comes the call to stow your cameras and other valuables in the waterproof bags they provided. And you better heed their warning because you will get wet. They gun the little Zodiac-esque boat you're in and drive you right up to the base of the falls on one side of San Martin Island. It's a rush. I swear I had a mini heart attack because you get the sensation that you might be sucked up under the falls at any moment.

Then they take you back round the other side of San Martin Island and do it all again under another set of falls. It's one of the most thrilling things I've ever done in my life. Totally worth it. Even though the whole experience only lasts about 15 minutes.

After the boat ride, Sue and I hopped onto the ferry to San Martin Island to explore. Here we saw more amazing views of the falls from a different perspective, but we also saw some wildlife, up close and personal, including some inquisitive birds and an armadillo. Sue also introduced me to her friend Linda, who I remained with after Sue went to grab some coffee.

Later, Linda and I met up with Sue again and battled some friendly, but fearless Coatis who tried to run off with my bug spray. These little buggers, close to a raccoon, hang out in droves near every snack bar, stealing tourists scraps.

Linda and Sue had a bus to catch so they sprinted up to the Devil's Throat with me, where I remained after they took their leave. The Devils Throat is a 1100m metal walkway that takes you out across the river all the way up over the top of the Devils's Throat. Lots of tourists here but you can see why. It's spectacular and the whole time I couldn't help but wonder how they constructed all these paths and if anyone died in their creation. Morbid, I know, but they're incredible.

Breathless at Iguazu

No words can describe the first sight of Iguazu Falls in person. Your heart stops beating for a moment and then it flutters back to life as you gasp to catch your breath. I was not prepared. It's one of those things everyone tells you, "Iguazu Falls is the most incredible thing you've ever seen." All the standard cliches apply. I was afraid it wouldn't live up to the hype. I was dead wrong.

The park entrance feels a little like going to Disneyland, with multiple ticket counters, souvenier stands and turnstiles. There is even a train to help visitors cross the expanse of jungle that separates the main entrance from the falls. I decided to do the Argentine side of the falls first. Most people who have been to both sides will tell you that this is the way to do it. They boast that the Argentine side is the best and that the Brazilian side can be skipped. It is true that Argentina is home to 80% of the falls but if you have the time, do both sides.

I arrived early enough to catch the first train of the day, which was already packed to the gills with tourists. I departed at the first stop: Central Station but noticed that I was only one of four people disembarking here and was wondering if I was in the wrong place. I checked the map and this was indeed the right place to access the high and low circuits to view the falls. The next station was to access the Devil's Throat.

I had an hour before the first boat launch so I decided to do the high circuit. After a false start with down the wrong trail, following a Canadian woman, I circled back onto the right path. Honestly, this was the right way to do it. It was early enough that there were few other people on the high circuit, which fills up quickly later in the day. You hear the roar of the water well before you see it. And even before you hear the roar there is the smoke, rising above the verdant jungle in a steady, dense stream. Later, you realize that the smoke is actually mist propelled upwards from the velocity of the falls. As the roar gets louder, you begin to catch a glimpse of Iguazu through slight breaks in the jungle. Then suddenly, there it is - well, one small part of it you later realize, because it actually seems to go on forever.

In hindsight, doing the high circuit first thing, at the beginning of the day was the best thing to do. Not only is it a great way to orient yourself to the falls, but it seemed as though all the other tourists flocked to the Devil's Throat first, leaving the high and low circuits abandoned. I was in relative solitude as I explored the falls. Looking at the river that feeds the falls it seems like an impossibility that they flow with such volume and over such a great expanse of land. The river at the mouth of the falls seems so tranquil and deceptively shallow. How is it possible to feed such infinite magnificence? You can’t quite grasp it all on first sight.

Because of the power behind the falls, creating the mist, you’re never far from a rainbow, eternally, it seems, hanging in the atmosphere here. The mist means that you’re also usually damp, too. The high circuit takes you on a journey across the top of the Argentine side of the falls, allowing visitors to look down over the falls, and catch a glimpse of the Brazilian side as well. The low circuit puts you mid-level and below, down to the base of the falls, offering an entirely different perspective, each spectacular and unique in their own right.

Returning to Argentina

I was up early. Too early. I knew Marilu was being cautious and although I tried to convince her that I didn't need to be at the airport three hours before my flight even though it was international and that is what the airlines recommend, but she was insistent. And so I was up at the butt crack of dawn to catch the collectivo to the airport, which is much more economical than taking a taxi. So I had plenty of time to kill at the airport. In fact, my airline didn't even open it's check in counters until an hour after I arrived.

Today was spent primarily in transit, flying from Santiago to BA and then BA to Puerto Iguazu, with a 3 hour layover in between. Unfortunately not really enough time to leave the airport and explore. The upside, I got to watch the Uruguay Football Team run through the terminal, trying to catch their flight home. The downside, Puerto Iguazu is the Argentine side of Iguazu Falls, so that meant a full flight and tons of other tourists, including an American high school rugby team trip. I'm actually quite shocked at how few manners I saw from those boys. Yikes!

But once I landed in Iguazu everything melted away. Suddenly, I finally felt like I was traveling. The airport and city are in the middle of the jungle so it's verdant here and the earth had a rich red tone to it. I had my taxi driver drop me off in the center of town and I went from hostel to hostel until I found something I liked. This was more like it. When I travel like this I'm not used to reservations and plans. I'm used to hopping from city to city on a whim, listening to other travelers for advice on where to go, what to do and where to stay once you're there. I like the adventure, the unknown and the ability to make a decision based on my own insight rather than what I read in the Lonely Planet.

I explored several options, one was more expensive than I wanted to pay, another felt too desolate and in one I walked in, saw three young girls outside smoking look me up and down disparagingly and then look back at each other and I realized that I didn't want to stay at the "cool" hostel where the young girls looked at me like I was OLD. Ugh. When did I get old? I settled on a hostel called "Peter Pan", very near the bus station and an easy walk to the center of town. The owner was welcoming and showed me to a private room near the pool. Perfect.

I set off to explore the town, which is small and quaint but decidedly a tourist trap. Yet the vibe here is very different from any other place I've been on this trip. Perhaps because it's a travelers town. It's more rural and feels culturally different from what I'm used to. It's impossible not to relax here. Most of the restaurants and bars here cater to the tourist trade, focusing on pizza, sandwiches and pasta. When you've been on the road for 9 months and you're living hand to mouth on the travelers budget I get it, but I only have three weeks so I want to opt for something more authentic.

I discovered a small market, just beyond the tourist center of town. Here stalls offer a variety of olives, cheeses, cured meats, wines... Apparently, it's the Brazilian section of town. After wandering through the market I grabbed a table on the street outside one of the stalls. I picked a stall with other people dining there, knowing that the locals always know best. There's no menu, and nothing to guide you so I just pointed to one of the cheese and salami platters on the table next to me and asked for one of those and some wine. That strategy worked out just fine. Soon I was sipping wine on the street and had a small plate of different cheeses, meats and olives stuffed with garlic and salami and cheese on my table. Just enough for one person. It was so good and cheap and perfect. And the best part - I was the only gringa there!

Back to Santiago

(Santiago)

Since today was only a travel day back to Santiago, I woke up at my leisure before heading to the bus station. This time I opted to walk there to save the hefty cab fare. Good thing I did, because I stumbled upon the Post Office on my way there and I was finally able to get some stamps. Woo Hoo! I sent myself a quick postcard from Valpo before jumping back on the bus to the Capitol.

(Cafe Cortado)

Back in Santiago I booked a B&B in Providencia. Upon arrival I was a little confused. It simply looked like a regular apartment building. There was nothing to distinguish that there was a B&B in there. Nothing. I was quickly beginning to doubt my choice, but my taxi was gone and I had pre-paid. I spied a weathered piece of paper that gave instructions for Marilu's Bed and Breakfast so I rang the bell. Turns out Marilu was a wonderful hostess. She was running a small B&B out of her apartment on the first floor of the building. Her living room had been turned into the reception area, complete with a dining table and a community computer. She offered three rooms with a shared bath but the rooms were spacious, private and clean. The bathroom was also immaculate. Marilu was also eager to tell me where to go and what to see in the city, offering me a map and directions.

(Santiago Metro)

It was my last day in Chile and I really didn't have an agenda so I took the metro to the end of the line where Marilu suggested there was a pretty mission and artist colony with a great view of the mountains. The artist colony was very touristy but it was interesting to walk around and look at the stalls filled with various handcrafts. I sat down for a beer and an empanada since I was famished.

(Lunch isn't complete without a cold cervesa.)

From there I just started wandering. It felt like I walked ten miles. I just walked and walked and walked some more, snaking my way through the outlying neighborhoods in Santiago. Eventually I ended up at another metro station and I hopped on, bound for another neighborhood Marilu had recommended. It was close to where I dined the first night and it was happy hour so I popped into the busiest bar for a cocktail. Turns out the most popular bar in that neighborhood was called "California" and they offered "California Favorites", none of which I've ever know to be a favorite in my state. But no bother. I had a fabulous glass of Sangria and free wifi so I was able to check email and call home.

(Pil Pil Shrimp)

I know I should have tried a different restaurant, but it was my last night in the city and I had such a good meal my first night in this neighborhood that I ended up in the same place for my final dinner, sitting out on the sidewalk and watching the world go by. I really like Chile and Santiago in particular. Yes, it's a huge city and cloaked in smog, but there is an energy here and the more I explore it the more I realize there is to find here. I'm sure I'll be back again someday, hopefully soon.

Finally Some Company

Yesterday I actually had an agenda. I was wandering with a purpose. My mission was to find someone organizing wine tours that I could hop on today. I mean, we're so close to the wine country I figured that I was bound to find someone trying to sell me a tour. Unfortunately, my search was futile. I found nothing, so instead I decided to explore more of Valpo today.

Looking at the map I considered what I wanted to see. Unfortunately, Pablo Neruda's house is closed on Mondays so that was out. There was a restaurant I read about in Bellavista that sounded promising for lunch and an acensor that was supposed to be "a must". But at the top of my list was finding a post office. I know it sounds silly to some but scoping out the nearest post office is always at the top of my list in any new country. When I arrived into Santiago it was the weekend, so the post office was closed. It was now my mission to find one here.

Why is finding a post office so important, you might ask. Well, it started with a shoebox. When I was a child I used to collect all of the postcards my parent's friends (and family) sent to them. It was teeming with images of faraway places that I wanted to visit someday. Then, when I turned 18 and joined Up With People and got to start to do my own traveling, I made it a habit of sending myself a postcard from every city we visited, no matter how big or small. I've continued that tradition on every trip since. Several years back I inherited one of my grandfather's old suitcases. That now sits in our dining room and contains all the postcards I've sent myself over the years. Occasionally I'm not so lucky and I have to settle for bringing them home in my suitcase instead of mailing them. But I try as hard as I can to mail them so they bear the postmark from where they belong. Yes, I'm a whack job and if you didn't know that already you must not know me at all.

Well, the post office on the map was no longer there. I was out of luck. But I was close to Bellavista so I headed toward the acensor to take me up the hill. When I found it, it was closed and looked like it had been for a long time. Strike Two. Okay. I guess I'm hoofing it. I swear the people who live here have got to be in the best shape ever because these hills are butt busters times ten. (Cheree, Ruthie, Michelle you know what I'm talking about!) And by the time I got to the top I forgot the name of the restaurant, but there was one that I thought might be the right one. As I approached I overheard an American voice telling a French couple that he had just dined there and had the best meal of his trip. I interrupted and asked him if it was that good. He said it was so I started to enter when he asked if he could join me and buy me a glass of wine perhaps. I could tell we were both starved for conversation so I conceded.

I'm glad I said yes. Joe and I spent the rest of the day together talking and wandering. His girlfriend was back at home and unable to come on this trip because she has two small kids and he was eager for a little company. He was at the end of his trip and spent most of it in solitude, like me, with the occasional breech by other tourists here and there. After lunch we started wandering the streets of Valpo. The street art here is amazing. Seriously, if I had more time I would do a book on it. Valpo is a colorful city to begin with, but the street art just takes it to another level.

Yesterday on the metro I spied a fish market near the water. I figured it might be closed by now, but thought it was worth checking out in case it wasn't. We winded our way through the streets, past the central market and made it to the water. I wasn't sure how far down it was so we just walked along the sea, when suddenly I saw something jumping out of the water trying to get atop an abandoned concrete dock, for lack of a better word. Then I saw something move on the dock. There were just about a ton of seals sunning themselves on the concrete and other seals were hurling themselves out of the water, attempting to join their friends.

Some of the younger seals were really struggling with the distance and were unable to make it up. But they kept trying. It was actually quite amazing to see the ones that did make it get up there. I've never seen anything like it. We must have sat there for half an hour watching nature in action. Oh, and the fish market was closed when we finally got there. The seals were cooler.

I didn't even realize how nice it is to be traveling with someone else, and more rightly, a male companion, than I did today. As a woman traveling alone there are just certain places I might like to go, and would at home, but abroad, especially in male dominated cultures like Latin America, I would never even consider going. But with a man at your side you can. I got to go to not one, but two local dive bars for a beer. It was awesome. It felt so authentic but I never would have dared step foot in them alone. Being with Joe gained me entry.

We ended the night with an amazing meal near my B&B and a nice bottle of wine. Talking about our past and future travels. It was wonderful to be able to share the day with a fellow traveler. Being older, and no longer in the hostel culture it becomes more difficult to meet other people while traveling. But traveling definitely makes me more open. There is no way in hell I would have given a stranger the time of day if I were at home. Somehow being in a foreign country demands you let your guard down. And I think that should be something we all carry everyday. Not just on the road.