Late Winter Wonderland (wonder if it is gonna rain??)

So…it has been about a year since the last post, and maybe there isn’t anyone reading this blog, but it seems not to have ended, it just stopped and somehow that doesn’t feel right.  Also, a friend recently asked if we were still using it, and I got a guilt pang…

Still alive and kickin"

Where are we, and what’s up?  We are settled in, in Santiago.  We have a fine big apartment, and over the months have furnished it to quite a comfortable level, we have two (replacement) motorbikes parked downstairs and a small VW SUV.  The bikes have been super reliable, and perfectly sized for running around the city, and for week end forays out into the country side – which here means either into the mountains or out to the beach.  We are discovering Chile, a little at a time.

Still think a lot about the trip, and still think it was a most amazing time, so rich with experiences that it is hard to get your head around the whole thing.  If anybody stumbles across these words because they are considering such a journey, stop thinking and just do it.  It is easier than you think.  As some of you have heard me say, it is just like going for a loaf of bread…but you keep on going.

What are we up to?  I (Mike) am learning fast how the copper mining industry works down here.  I work for a construction company, and business is enormously good.  Projects are large and fast, and it is a much less ordered contracting business than I was used to in my past lives.  More rough and tumble.  Heather is cutting hair again, and I have quickly become known to most people, not by my own job title, but as “Heather’s Dad”.  It ain’t so bad.

We have MANY new friends down here, both through work and not.  It is a multi-national crowd, with strong representation from the US, Australia, and of course Chile.  Some days, I think my Spanish is getting better, some days I wonder if I speak Spanish at all.  But it comes “poco a poco” (little by little).  Heather’s world is a blend of folks, many of whom speak no English at all, and she is studying, so her fluency and vocabulary have really, really improved.

Also, Heather made a trip to Scotland to see a very special young man.  She and Andres have known each other since high school in Bolivia, but waited until they had half a world between them to get interested in spending time together.  Ah well, such is the way of things, yes?

And…I had to take an altitude physical for my job (many sites are VERY high).  Flunked the EKG, so got to know a good cardiologist who tuned up my pump and now a feel great.  Highly recommended…Health care is, btw, very good here.  Surgery in Spanish was a treat.

So what’s next?  We just finished the on-line, classroom part of the PADI scuba course.  This was a precursor for the first “home leave” trip out of here, which will happen in September.  We are headed to visit a dear friend who lives in the Cayman Islands, and while there we will finish the open water diver certification.  I have always wanted to learn scuba, since watching “Sea Hunt” as a kid.  THAT reference will send the youngsters to the internet… But then the big party will be a week cruise with James, Becky and Molly.  Should be great, great fun.  Then, back here in time to watch the South American summer kick off, and hopefully to finish the run down to Patagonia this year.  That was on the original trip itinerary, but weather didn’t support it.  Now, it should be time.

So what’s to become of this blog?  Not sure.  It holds amazing memories, but if it is to continue, it will have to be in some sort of “Chapter 2” version.  Hmmm…will have to consult with the co-owner and see what we can come up with…

So, tipping more into the chapter two mode, a few words about some of the adventures we have had so far:

Ready to Ride...

We spent most of last summer getting set up in the apartment and getting transportation sorted out.  But there were a couple of visitors, including Heather’s friend Beth who came in for a couple of weeks.  The two of them loaded up on Heather’s bike and bopped over the pass to Mendoza, which is about a day’s ride over one of the higher passes in South America.  Then, Heather and I made a trip out to a little surf town called Pichelemu for a week end of clouds and drizzle.  The coast here shares the northern California tendency for clouds to roll in and drop the temperature dramatically, but it was a good ride and a cute town and we enjoyed it.  Soon after that, it was a week end at a cute little lodge in the mountains a couple of hours south of here.  Besides the general outing, we did a little fly fishing in a nice little fished-out river down there.  The locals fish the water pretty hard, in the sort of harvest mode we used years ago, so water near population is not exciting to fish.  But it was good to wet a line and rekindle and old love.

The Bay at Quintay

Then, recently, we popped over to the coast to a little town that was a whaling station until well into the 1960s.  It is called Quintay, and the whale processing docks and facilities are still there as a museum.  It must have been a pretty grissly site when it was operating, and they appear to have done a remarkable job of killing off the whale population, as they are rarely sited anymore.  It is a UNESCO site, preserved and protected.  And the locals apparently got very excited last year when a whale and her calf were seen in the area.

Then, last week end we returned to San Pedro de Atacama with some good friends (Angus and Kate) and their visiting parents.  We were there last year on bikes, but flew this time.  It was a really good visit, mostly for the company, but also for the adventures.  You may know, San Pedro is a dusty little town in an enormous desert, but sidled up against a range of volcanoes.  While there, we got up at 4 in the morning to rattle up a corduroy road for 90 km (55 miles) to see the sun come up over a geyser field.  It was at about 14,000 feet, and cold as stink.  We were underdressed.   Angus further underdressed by peeling off and jumping in one of the soaking pools they had up there.  Dang…he is tough, even for an Aussie.  The rest of us saved the soaking for a hot spring that was much lower (and nicer) the next day.  Other than that, it was mostly a whole lot of eating (great restaurants in this little town) and just decompressing from city life in Santiago.

Valley of the Moon (Valle de la Luna)

So now, it is a cloudy sort of chilly day, the mountains of Santiago are shrouded in snow and clouds, and we are just goofing off.  In a couple of weeks, Rafael and his tribe are headed down to visit their son who just started University here, and we are finalizing plans for the Caribean getaway.  I have a pork roast to toss on the grill, and will take a shot at something called “camarones al pil-pil”, which is a tapas sorta thing that originated in Spain but is very popular here.  By the way, converting our US grill to use a Chilean gas cylinder was a hoot, but I got it well and properly McGyvered, and it hasn’t blown up yet (much to Heather’s surprise).

If anybody reads this, and wants to see more, maybe we will kick it back to life.  Let us know…

The View From Our Balcony, But Only When the Smog Permits!

Feliz Navidad (Merry Christmas) from Santiago and the Petite Hotel l’Ambassade

So the holidays approach.  It has been an amazingly full year, with “the trip”, the move, and now the wait for our apartment.  Reflection is for mirrors, so I’ll decline the full recap and instead just make this a status update with only a little taste of recent history.

We are, indeed, in Santiago.  Our arrival was made a bit complicated by my employer, but it is now all sorted.  Basically, the new job wanted me here quickly, my old job was reluctant for me to leave until a replacement was found.  The compromise was that I was in Santiago for a month, went back to Los Alamos for a month, and finally returned here for good in November.  My replacement (finally) arrived at Los Alamos in December.  Los Alamos does many things well, but react quickly just ain’t one of ‘em.

In parallel, Heather tackled a solo motorcycle tour of the western US, and a car trip to Chicago to see old friends.  She then followed me down to Santiago, and we set up camp in the Time Suites hotel, looking for a more permanent dwelling.

Dwelling:  After some false starts and a lot of flopping around, we found a good one that meets all needs, but that won’t be available until January.  We negotiated the deal, negotiated the purchase of the appliances from the current occupants, and notified the shippers who will deliver our stuff that we have a destination for them.  It is a big apartment – the entire 9^th floor of a building (meaning windows all ‘round) on a quiet street, with amazing views of the mountains.  It has a very large kitchen by local standards, and has a nice big guest room, for anyone who may need to see the sunny south!  We decided it would be worth waiting in our hotel for this specific apartment, and settled in for the holidays.

And then something delightful happened that changed things completely.  The small hotel we had staid in when we were passing through down here insisted we move back in with them, but not as hotel guests, rather as extended family.  They have become great friends and didn’t want to see us stay through the holidays in “just a hotel”, so moved us part and parcel back to their hotel, with free run of the kitchen and dinner waiting every night when I get home from work.  Tres bien!

Pia and Mijo, two of our hosts at the hotel

One added benefit:  we are the only two native English speakers in the house, and normal conversation is in Spanish.  Not sure I can say I am improving the quality of my Spanish, but I am making my mistakes much more rapidly and with much more fluency.  Heather is teaching everyone to say “snickerdoodle” by baking cookies, and the result is a riot.  We are on-deck to cook the Christmas turkey, and the good news is I found one (un “pavo entero”) and captured it (it was frozen), hauling it home on my shiny new….motorbike!  (see below)

Motorcycles:  Non-moto folk can skip this part, I won’t be offended.  As previously posted, you can not (legally) import a used motorcycle to Chile.  For that reason, we had to sell our bikes in the US, and seek replacements here.  The first week end I was in Santiago, BMW was having a promotional event, so I (only a little impulsively) ordered two F800gs bikes, to be delivered in November.  And they were.  One is orange and black (mine), and the other is the white 30^th anniversary model (Heather’s).  Of course, everyone knows that Orange is much faster than White.  We haven’t tested that yet, since both bikes are in the break in period and revs are limited to 5k.  But yes, we are back on wheels and damn, it feels great!

We are both very pleased with the 800s.  For me it is a lighter and more nimble bike (scaling back from the 1200 I sold), with a bit more off-road capability.  Not as smooth and comfy on the highway, but more fun in city traffic.  For Heather, it is a step up to more power, bigger brakes and fancier instruments, while retaining the off-road capabilities of her old f650.  They’re capable dual sports with no limitation to where they can carry, and have a very high grin factor.

We ordered Jesse bags from the US.  Al Jesse, in Arizona, makes the best cases I have ever seen, but FedEx caused us a bit of complexity getting them cleared through customs, since the value exceeded their $1,000 limit of what they will clear themselves.  It is also “strike season” and the customs workers decided to take a day off, adding one additional round trip to the airport to the process.  But happy endings abound, and they are now mounted to the bikes and ready for whatever adventures appear.

So in the end, we traded two used but servicable bikes, a Porsche and an FJ Cruiser for two new bikes.  If the theme is “simplify”, then we are succeeding.

Work:  My new job is a good one.  40% of Chile’s economy is based on copper mining, and my company builds the processing plants that extract the copper from the mountains of dirt they call “ore”.  These are mega-projects measured in billions of dollars on three-year timelines, and there are many of them.  With the price of copper at record levels, the owning companies are investing heavily and quickly.  It is nothing less than a multi-national boom, reaching up into Peru and also crossing into Argentina.

So with growth writ large on everything here, our workforce that was 800 professionals this time last year is now 1400, and must double again by this time next year.  And every pro we hire needs to know how we do things, so training and coordination will be critical.  My little niche area was a sideline for my current boss, with no one doing it full time in the home office.  Now there is me and one other. This time next year we need to have fifteen folks trained and deployed from here to the top of the Andes.  It is going to be quite a ride…

Enough of that.  Work is what we do to support our passions.  Or it is our passion.  Or some blend of the two.  In either case, it is work and my work is working, and I work with some truly great people.  Heather is working on building a clientele in her hair cutting biz, meeting lots of nice people here through the various social organizations for foreigners.

And indeed, we are foreigners.  But maybe feeling a bit less foreign than anywhere else we served in my old State Department days.   This is much closer to full immersion, and while the majority of my co-workers speak English, not all do and once out the door of the office, English is only of minimal use.

Getting to know Santiago on wheels is good fun, but some say I am truly crazy to want to ride in it.  The traffic is…interesting.  Drivers are very aggressive, but stop reliably for pedestrians, for motorcycles, not so much.  Cars are very pricey, but everyone drives like they have seven at home waiting in case they crash.  The buses are enormous and fast!  And the buses go wherever they want, because after all – they’re buses!  Motorbikes swim amongst the lanes like fishes.

Streets are mostly one-way, and left turns are rare.  Miss a turn and you may spend 20 minutes trying to recover.  And there is a very nifty automated toll system that requires you sign up in advance and put a little beeper on your vehicle that “talks” to the overhead toll machines.  Toll plazas are very rare.  Very fast and efficient.  Come to think of it, everything happens fast on the roads here.  Except that, as in every big city I’ve ever seen, the growth in dwellings and cars has outpaced the growth of roads, so jams and pinch points become inevitable.

So that is it for now.  Regret there is no real “adventures” to describe, no hair-raising rides over Peruvian passes, no beaches at sunset.  But be not deceived, as we are not tamed, merely positioning for the next round o’ fun.

Hope all are well and happy and enjoying the holidays…

Un gran abrazo, y Feliz Navidad de la Familia Rafferty!

what follows are some recent photos (as in…today) related to the above yakking:

Apple pie...yum!

Orange...the fastest color? Look close to see the FRONT license plate. Chile puts 'em on back and front.

Or could it be white is faster?

A little consultation...Vanessa.

Heather and Adolpho

Chow in Chile…

First off, some have noted it is tough to figure out whether it is me (Mike) writing, or Heather.  So yes, this is me.

Two weeks in Santiago and thinking maybe it’s time for a few first impressions.  My history of first impressions is poor – they’re only reliable in their unreliable-ness, based on misunderstandings and ignorance.  But hey, they’re fun to read later on, in a kind of a “how the heck could I have believed THAT??” sorta way.  So here goes…

My current dwelling is an apart-hotel, comfy enough, about ¾ mile from the office.  So I know a great deal…about the street between here and there.  I know where the Starbucks is.  I found a laundry.  I figured out the Metro (it is a GREAT subway, world class).  And I know there’s an amazing good steak house a couple of blocks away, and amazing pizza a few blocks past that.  But really, I only know the strip a few blocks wide between here and work.

That’s not to say I’ve been holed up just working and sleeping.  I’ve had the pleasure of invitations to dinner on a number of occasions, twice with the excellent folks who run the hotel we staid in when we were here before.  And I’ve gotten out to see a bit of the city, including the tour of Pablo Neruda’s house, which Heather and I missed on our first pass through Chile.

But this post is mostly about food, and I’m discovering that Chile’s reputation for not-so-spicy food is only partly deserved. Maybe a bit like England’s.  I will preface further statements with the fact that after two weeks, I would LOVE a good bowl of green chili stew, and don’t hold any hope of finding one.  But so far I’ve learned that you CAN get an excellent steak here (the best is rumored to be imported from Argentina), and you CAN get good Italian, and tonight I’ll attempt to learn if you CAN get good sushi. But yes, the day-to-day chow is not strongly seasoned.

Chile is not unique in its spare use of spices – Heather will remember that when we were in Cuzco, Peru, we treated ourselves at a small upstairs Indian place where we had a GREAT meal, both pungent and hot with curry and magical peppers.  The owner, a lady who actually WAS from India, struck up a conversation during which we were bragging effusively about her cooking.  Her response was unforgettable, and you have to imagine the accent: “So you are tired of boiled chicken and potatoes?”  She was exactly right.  That was mountain food in the Andes.

But no, throughout the world you find French restaurants, Mexican restaurants, Italian restaurants…restaurants serving the food of many, lands.  But I don’t think I’ve ever seen a restaurant that proudly serves Andean food. Maybe this is one of those stupid first impressions I’m destined to abandon…vamos a ver…

(edit:  since writing this, a Chilean explained to me that the food is tasty, just not spicy.  A point well taken.  Interesting point of context is that he was a waiter in an Indian restaurant.)

And this all leads me to last night, to describe my funniest food-gathering venture so far.  Tired and not in the mood to go out and sit in a restaurant, I decided to give up and try the Dominoe’s pizza place on the corner.  I had been avoiding it actively – why travel half way ‘round the world to eat what you can get down the street??  But I was tired and really just wanted something small and simple, and wasn’t looking for high quality…which is good, because here’s how it went:

The place was clean, bright, and could have been anywhere in the US.  A difference was that there was a swarm of buzzing, busy brunettes working feverishly behind the counter.  One bee emerged from the swarm and demanded my name (she must have thought I had had the good sense to call ahead, which I had not).  In the din of noise, I attempted to tell her I wanted to PLACE an order.  Again, she demanded my name.  I gave up and told her “Miguel!”  She batted furiously at a computer keyboard for about two minutes.  Finally, she looked up and asked what I wanted.  And that’s when it got funny.

I asked for a medium pepperoni pizza (the menu brags of pepperoni imported from the US!). Medium is much more food than I wanted, but it is their smallest size.  I figured I would eat half and toss the rest.  But cultural note of warning – looks like maybe the US “supersize” virus is spreading…

-Fine she says.  And what do you want for your second pizza?

-I don’t want two pizzas, I just want one.

-But you get two for the price of one – so TELL me what you WANT!?

-I don’t want two pizzas, I just WANT ONE PIZZA!

-Well, WE give two for one, and you get TWO, so WHAT KIND DO YOU WANT?? (Her frustration with the dumb gringo starting to show…)

-OK, I give up.  Give me TWO pepperoni pizzas!!

Ten minutes later I walked out the door, mumbling, in English, “what the hell am I going to do with all this pizza?”

At the first traffic light, the answer appeared.  A stooping little gnome of a panhandler, grubby and missing a few teeth, shuffled up to me with the most sincere and pitiful entreaty:

“por favor, Caballero, tengo hambre, estoy pobre, necessito monedas para…” (Please, Sir, I’m hungry and poor, and need money for…”

Excited at the solution unfolding before me, I interrupted him in mid-plea: “Quere una pizza?!?”  (You want a pizza?!?)  He was stunned.  “…yes?” he replied tentatively.   Quick as a bunny I shoved a pizza at him and he seemed to envelope it with his entire upper body, like he was afraid someone might grab it away from him.  And in a flash he was off at a trot, laughing with glee.  Actually, we were both laughing. It was a great moment.

I got home and opened the pizza that was left. It was a limp, damp, food-ish mess covered with olive-like bits and limp mushrooms. No meat.  Of any kind.  Just dead vegetables and cheese.

I hope my buddy got the pepperoni (from the US!).  But the satisfaction of “beating” the two for one deal made mine tolerable.

I’m off to look at rental properties this afternoon, with hopes of finding something with a small garage.  I’m told that’s a hopeless quest.  Santiago (at least inside the city) is very European in that respect – the dwellings tend to be small and garage-less. Most folks live in apartments, and that may be where we are headed – but not without a good hard try at finding a house.

Now it is time to go down to breakfast, where I’ll pretend that the chopped up tomato on my scrambled eggs is really salsa.  Hope you are all well, safe and happy.  More news will come when there’s more to say — mr

Edit:  subsequent to this, I found Tobasco sauce in a grocery store…whoohoo!  problem solved…

It’s Chilly in Chile…

Tick-tock indeed.  Those two little words said a whole lot about what’s up these days. I’ll try to add a little detail…

First, to the title of this post:  It’s a cloudy and chilly day in Santiago, perfect for tapping out a little update, so I will.

An awful lot has happened in the last months, and I’ve been hesitant to write because there were just too many unknowns.  Things are now starting to gel, so it’s time.

Many who are reading this blog already know that when we got back from Argentina, we retrieved our bikes from the Denver airport (unharmed by the transit), and went back to Santa Fe.  Some also know that I went back to work, and Heather lit out for the west coast.  That was one hellova ride, from the sound of it, but it is her tale to tell and I won’t say much other than that she made a loop through Los Angeles, the Bay Area, Portland, Seattle, various locations in Washington State and North Idaho, and then down through Montana and Wyoming.  It was a LONG solo adventure, and many riders live a lifetime without making such a journey.  I know she had a great time and tossed in a little enlightenment along the path, and grew to love her little BMW even more.

Meanwhile, I was back at it haggling with the Feds at Los Alamos which is/was my job.  At the same time, a message exchange started with my company’s office in Santiago, Chile.  The mining sector in South America is booming, and our company builds a lot of the processing facilities required to extract and transport the minerals.  Mostly copper, but also some other stuff.  Mostly in Chile and Peru, but spreading out rapidly.

Long story short, they offered and I accepted a position in Santiago, and Tuesday, Heather dropped me off at the Albuquerque airport and American Airlines welcomed me to Chile the next morning.  Woohoo!  A little faster than the last time I came to Santiago…I’ll be here a month, go back to Los Alamos for a month to transition the new troop into my old job, and then Heather and I will return here for good.

A word about Los Alamos — I will definitely miss the crew I worked with there — already do.  A truly fine group of folks that will make it hard to leave, but good to know I had the chance to work with such quality folk.

I should make it clear that I AM writing this from a hotel in Santiago — and yes, it is winter here.  Been great all week, but cloudy and cool today.  Snow on the mountains.  Like an aging and handsome woman, Santiago even looks good in winter.

A piece of very good news is that James (son), Becky (daughter in law) and Molly (granddaughter) decided to move to New Mexico, so they’ve slid into the Rafferty homestead there in Santa Fe.  Huge big changes from rural Kansas, and I hope they really enjoy it.  New Mexico is good living, I think.  I continue to ask…does anybody else see the irony that everybody moved to New Mexico when I announced I was moving on???  hmmmm….

t our motorbikes couldn’t make the trip this time — as Heather said in her post,  Chile doesn’t allow import of used personal vehicles unless you’re just passing through.  So our bikes went to a new home.  Funny the attachment you make to a device that hauls your butt through a couple of continents.  Maybe I now understand how Lloyd feels about his horses…

Now we’re working the problem of replacing them in Chile.

After all, there’s all of Patagonia at our doorstep from here, and we didn’t get to make that journey the first round.

A word about the crew I work with here — absolutely first rate.  Some are ol’ chums I worked with on previous projects, many are new friends.  They’re all buried in work, but happy and upbeat and on the move.  This is going to be fun…

That’s a very brief wrap up of a lot of happenings in the last months.  There’s a bizilion details I left out, but the central themes are here.  Hope to have more adventury stuff to write about in future, but as Heather said — there’s a bit of “tick tock” right now, waiting to get everything arranged to get her down here, to get settled in a more permanent dwelling, and to get on with the journey.

Hope all are well and happy, and please excuse the long silence.  I promise there’ll be more interesting things to write about very soon…

Ciao!  mike

Lately

I think I’m probably pretty average when it comes to my subscription to superstition and new ageyness; I try pull myself back from notions of fate and to not read too much into coincidence.   I do have one weekly, delightful chink in this armor of practicality: Rob Brezsny’s Freewill Astrology.  I love my Tuesday night private indulgance in this one little paragraph wherein I’m free to squint into the few words for some self recognition.  If nothing can be found, at the very least it’s usually funny to read.  Here’s this weeks’ package (to be unwrapped):

The odometer will turn over soon, metaphorically speaking. The big supply of the stuff you stocked up on a while back is about to run out. The lessons you began studying a year ago have been completed, at least for now, and you’re not yet ready for the next round of teachings. These are just some of the indicators that suggest you should set aside time for reflection and evaluation. The world may come pounding at your door, demanding that you make a dramatic declaration or take decisive action, but in my opinion you should stall. You need to steep in this pregnant pause.

Every now and again, I read words that stop me just a little bit.  It has been almost exactly a year since I decided to pack up my life in Chicago and head for the hills. I don’t know that I can say that time is pounding at my door, but certainly there is an urgency or an expectancy lingering in the hall.

I dropped my dad off at the airport on Tuesday.  Now, Wednesday evening, he has finished his first days as an employee in Santiago.  The clock, however distant its’ measure, has been started on our new adventure.  For those of you that don’t know:  my father has accepted a position in Chile, and in about two months, I’ll be riding on his coattails to Santiago.  To me, it is still a story I tell people that I can’t quite believe.  Really, the most significant development of the week is that we’ve sold our bikes.  It’s been strange to do and sad to realize, but we can’t import used vehicles on more permanent terms into Chile.   We’ve been oddly fortunate, though, to find a father and daughter who want to take them – it seems so perfect, really.  She’s only just gotten her license and no doubt is living the same craziness and excitement I was just a short year ago.  He’s been riding for much longer and agrees that there is something fortuitous to passing bikes from one father daughter team to another.  Coincidence or fate… hmm.  Hard call.  But I like it.  I am sad to let go of Nancy: she’s been a true friend and carried me through an amazing time.  I am so pleased that she’ll be the new love of someone else.  And, truth be told, I’m already dreaming of my next bike, my next adventure…. For now the challenge lies in finding adventure in the everyday here in Santa fe.   Tick tock.

And then a bit more…

When I told you I was leaving Chicago to ride a motorcycle with my father to Argentina, didn’t we all stand around and look at it as if it would be so long and so far from where we stood just then? Didn’t we think it was so much time and so many happenings away?

One of my favorite books (you won’t be surprised to hear, I think) is Madeleine L’ Engle’s A Wrinkle in Time.  In it is the idea of a tesseract- the author describes a right and left hand holding a string taut between them.  She writes that an ant would be able to cross the span by traversing the length of the string, but that there is a faster way: bring the two hands together and fold the distance.  A wrinkle across the distance of time. On the verge of returning, i can feel right and left drawing closer to one another.

My father and our friend Danell left for New Mexico yesterday afternoon – they should be home and resting around now.  It is an uneasy feeling to be on different continents after so much time and yet I know that for both us our return is an odd thing.  We’ve been making attempts to fade in to the background of Argentina – a passive and indiscernible protest of change.  Likely, there will be a kind of relief on the other end that I can’t quite see yet.

Buenos Aires is an incredible city.  If you get the chance, you really should come here.  Broad, open boulevards, twisting trees lining up along the streets, beautifully painted French colonial houses, parks, and outdoor cafes full of heady and dramatic conversation.  It is something made up of parts and yet fully its own thing.  You find yourself biting the lure of the sing-songish porteno accent, the tango, and the artsy-gritty feel that the city lays out for its tourists.  My father and I have long since left our appetite for churches and historical sights behind.  Mostly, we’ve spent our days wandering.  I can’t say that it’s the best or better way to come to know a city, but it is certainly an enjoyable one.  We’ve also hit the tourist markets: San Telmo for antiques, La Boca for tourist schlock, and Palermo Soho for boho chic.  We’ve taken in a tango show and a musical history of the arrival of the horse in argentine history. Best of all we’ve been in the company of friends traveling great distances to see us.  And. We. Have. Eaten.  So much beef, I don’t think I can appropriately describe.  Wine is as cheap as a trip to Starbucks, so there’s been plenty of that also.  It has been a final two weeks of indulgence.  Another protest, I’m sure, to our imminent return to normalcy.

I head to Albuquerque on Monday.  We still have to retrieve the bikes from Denver, the closest spot we could get them to New Mexico.  I had entertained notions of shipping to LA, but the reality of worn tires necessitated a closer option.  I still have a notion of heading west for a few weeks, but it requires some financial assessing.  I hope to keep writing to you here and sharing the experience of “what now?” –it is the next adventure.  I’m taking suggestions.

Poco a Poco: Iguazu to Buenos Aires

This won’t be the last post, but the end of the road is in sight.

We left Puerto Iguazu with storm clouds blanketing this whole part of the continent.  Locally, the piece of Argentina that extends up toward the junction with Brazil and Paraguay is referred to as Mesopotamia, as it is bounded by rivers that define the national boundaries.  Water was rolling in from the South Atlantic in boiling torrents of rain that fills those rivers, and we got up close and personal with a whole lot of it.  Our “rain gear” was almost a joke – this was something well beyond mere “rain”.  Soaked and chilled, we finally broke out near the end of the day and stopped at a great little posada (B&B-like small hotel) in the small town of Gobernador Virasoro.  This is the region where Argentina grows the tea they are all so fond of, and the beautifully manicured fields surrounded us.

The next day, we split the distance to Buenos Aires and stopped at the town of Federacion, which is a tourist destination popular with the hot spring/bath crowd.  We really were just making miles to get to BA, but did take the time to stroll the town and get a feel for the place.  Pleasant on the river and filled with a crowd edging toward the elder set, walking from the baths to hotels in their fluffy white robes.  But again, a nice place to stay the night, and we were well positioned for the run to Buenos Aires the next day.

A short note about the road we were on:  this is the infamous “Ruta 14” that is really the only good choice for the destination we had, and it is well known as a place where the police are…economically motivated.  There are plenty of stories to be found on the internet about motorists (and motorcyclists) who’ve contributed to the well-being of these gentlemen.  And there are a LOT of police on Ruta 14.  Only once did we have the pleasure of their company.

We were waved over at a “control” point staffed by the three gents in the photo.  Two came over to talk to us and the boss stayed back at their car haggling with some other poor soul whom they had ensnared.  He honestly, no kidding, had a calculator on the trunk of his car to do the math.  Too funny.

Our two gents were the warm up, and they deferred all real negotiation to their boss, who would be with us “soon”.  They talked about how dangerous the road was, how we must have been speeding, and how the fine could be as much as 2000 pesos ($500).  But we kinda spoiled their their gig when we came off our bikes with friendly smiles and handshakes, and Heather asking if she could get a group photo of us all (that REALLY made ‘em skittish), and then the waiting game ensued.  We hung around maybe fifteen minutes while their boss dealt with a very animated “client” who was apparently not having it.  And we were taking photos, playing the happy tourists…so when he finally got to us, I think they had all decided we weren’t the right game for their hunt.  We got nothing more than a “be careful” admonition and we were on our way, none the worse for wear, and very glad we had NOT let the tales of bad cops on Ruta 14 keep us from seeing Iguazu Falls.  It is a shame, but I’m certain there are riders who give the Falls a pass just because of these knuckleheads.

Our arrival into Buenos Aires was a sweet ride.  The fields and pastures continue very near the city, and the trees are full of birds.  I’m pretty sure I caught a glimpse of two capybaras lazing in a marsh on the side of the road.  Lots of cattle and horses.

As we neared the city, two lanes turned to four and the traffic picked up.  Then several long and very tall bridges over broad, brown rivers dropped us onto an expressway that gained more traffic and more lanes and, in short order, we were in the midst of it all, shooting across Buenos Aires on a major freeway through the city.  A quick stop to check the maps in our iPhones, and we rode directly to the little house in the Palermo barrio where our friends from the US had arrived earlier in the day.  It all seemed a bit surreal after such an amazing journey of deserts, jungles and mountains, far-flung border crossings and adventures, good cops, great cops and bad cops, hotels, hostels, posadas and many new friends.  To roll up in this busy little street in Argentina, and get big hugs from old friends so far from our start was very, very cool.  Quick showers and a toast to our success and we were all off to discover Buenos Aires…but I think that’s a separate story…