Soy Milanesa in Paradise

If the word "hippie" has you conjurring up images of dreadlocks, Woodstock, Janis Joplin, Jack Kerouac, or Jaime Vickers, here´s introducing one more to add to your pictorial reportriore: El Bolson, Argentina. Cozily nestled near the Chilean border between South Argentina´s Patagonia and Lake Districts, El Bolson makes up for in character what it lacks in gauchos. Liberal and artsy, one guide book keenly declared it "the Berkeley of Argentina." A cherished slice of hippie home-dom, El Bolson quickly sold us on it´s free-lovin´charm and earned itself the title of one of our favorite stops yet (me for its self-proclaimed designation as a "non-nuclear zone¨ and Jason for it´s acceptance of those who choose not to shower or change clothing for extended periods of time.)

Jason, ribbon twirling hippie.

While much of Argentina has caught us by surprise by evidentally increasing prices at least twofold since the 2008 publication of Lonely Planet, you´ll be glad to know that El Bolson is keepin´it real. A true slice of foodie heaven, the artinsal fair/ outdoor market held every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday holds treasures rare to the rest of the country as far as we´ve encountered. Held under the beautiful and diverse mixture of autumned-flavored trees in the town´s central park, the Feria Artesenal (conveniently located just a few blocks from our campsite) rapidly became our home-away-from-home. Featuring handicrafts galore with a fresh, friendly, lively atmosphere filled with smiling Argentinian faces and a splendid mix of conversation (most of which we could not understand), laughter, and live music from instruments we enjoyed tremendously and have never seen before, the fair and town look out onto the snow-capped landscape of the Andes. Gladly abandoning our cheese and tomato sandiwch diet that helped us subsist Patagonia kitchenless, we enjoyed the fair´s finer alternatives: quiches, empanadas, pizza, lemon pie, chocolate strawberry cake, pizza, several types of homemade chocolate, homemade trout and cheese ravioli, fresh berry jam, salad with fresh vegetables (I haven´t seen a head of lettuce less wrinkled than George Burns since I left California two months ago), arrollado de pollo (tender chicken wrapped and rolled and baked with eggs, spices, and veggies with a crisp, fried crust), french fries, fried mashed potatoes with a cheese middle, veggie pie, and (drum roll please!!!!!), 3 varieties of vegetarian milanesas: zucchini, eggplant, and soy! (More traditional versions of the thinly sliced beef or chicken fried, breaded patties, served on a sandwich with lettuce and tomato are found all over Argentina.) No money? No worries! This progressive town even had one vendor that offered a name- your- own -price system for a warm cup of soup. No one vendor costing much more than a one-way ride on San Francisco´s MUNI, this place is trully a frugal, humanitarian, vegetarian backpacker´s Utopia.

View of the park around Feria Artesenal.

We sampled many a beer from local vendors (El Bolson doubles as a star local beer producer in the country, thus earning Jason nickname for it, "El Beerlson.") Several of the varieties were good (although not outstanding...we are a tough crowd to please beer-wise), but I can definitely reccommend a cherry-flavored beer brewed at El Bolson Cervezeria for my brewmaster friends to try out. I expect to taste a good replica from Zach and Raman when I get back to the States.

Jason facing of with one of the angry toll bulls.

Besides eating to our hearts content, we strolled about town, enjoying the good vibes and beautiful scenery. Our hikes in the mountains led us to pass many a river, lake, local farms (our path across a bridge to a waterfall was blocked by three angry bulls), and an over-abundance of wild blackberries bushes (which was a dream-turned-nightmare when I looked down to discover dozens of maggots in a bowl we had been devouring). We met up again with our French friends for a night of BBQ in the firepit at the campground and $5 Hiram Walker vodka and whiskey to celebrate universal health care. (Nothing says HOORAY FOR UNIVERSAL HEALTH CARE! like a good hit to your (unemployed) liver.)

Look at this dime bag!

After a week of bliss (minus, perhaps, the Seattle-like cloudy, drizzling weather every other day), we sadly packed up. But memories of cheery cherry beer, soy milanesa goodness, and happy hippies will serve as a light through the meat-filled days ahead.

Meat meter: Not allowed in El Bolson. Had to leave it at the city border.

Backpackers´ Paradise

Cerro Torre peaks over Lago Torre with perhaps Glacier Torre? We forgot the glacier´s name.

****************** We finally decided to spend the money on the internet cafe (Happy birthday to you all) and added pics for the last several posts. Check them out if you want. ******************

I would continue the theme of "Campolina" here, but I think it
probably was a bit trite even before I started. I can't help to
mention though, that "Been spendin' most our time, livin' in a
Backpackers Paradise," would have been a nice addition to the album,
and would have segued perfectly into our next destination, El Chalten.
It sounds French and quaint, but is Argentine and rugged. Its two
main festivals are its annual rodeo and Trekkers convention (not to be
confused with a truckers convention). It was founded in 1985 due to a
land grab with Chile, but 1885 seems more appropriate as it resembles
the set of some Hollywood western more than a modern town. Basically
It's main draw is its severe landscape. On one side you have desert
and the other the Andes mountains, jutting out of nowhere from the
flatlands. Two strking peaks, cerro torre and cerro Fitz Roy (aka El
Chalten), dominate the skyline and the lens' of the mainly transient
population of tourist. It is wind whipped, has more hostels andrestaurants than permanent residents and it was an absolutely stunning
three days we spent there.

Two of these days were spent hiking a combined 30-35 kilometers and
one was spent hiding from the rain, which is especially nasty because
the Andes creates this cold, vicious jet stream that flows through the
center of town and into the open desert plain. This leads to
horizontal rain that is cold and fast and stings. Because we forgotto buy dinner before the rain and because the masses were hungry (me
being the mass) I was forced to throw on some shorts and sandals and
brave this storm; chalk up a mark for romantic tent dinner, icy cold
cheese sandwichs.and frostbite.

El chalten was perfect. It was my favorite hiking outside of Ushuaia
and I got to eat a local speciality of lamb bread bowl/pot pie (Beth
had tomato soup, which came with freshly baked bread and a chive cream
dipping sauce that made Beth drool). Good food. Good hiking. GoodEl Chalten.

Imagine if Ralph Machio could have waxed here.

(Note: the aforementioned peaks are supposed to be kind of a big deal
in the rock climbing community, hence the annual Mecca.)

Next stop was Los Antiguous, our attempt at getting off the beaten
path of tourism. A small town which forced us to take Ruta 40
(cuarenta), similiar to famous route 66 in that it runs across (inthis case up) the country and through a load but sand--literally, as
most of the road is unpaved, hence our 13 hour bus ride for just over
about 200 kilometers. Billed as beautiful, I'd compare it to riding
in a sauna while following a hippie van, if that hippie van was
smoking dirt instead of grass. Great sunsets though.

Don´t hate the hiker, hate the trail.

Los antiguous, on the other hand, is an oasis in the hippie dirt
desert. It's known for cherries, berries and farms; This is exactlywhat the town consists of, except we came in the offseason so
everything was already picked and bottled. So, we wandered the
streets, ate some fresh chocolate and took in the picturesque Lago
Buenos Aires, South Americas second largest lake (which reminded me of
Lake Tahoe, but clearer water and no casinos). We stayed two nights
and a day and a half, which felt about right even if we could camp for
a grand total of $1.50US a night. Then we headed off to our Mecca,
the beer and veggie capital of Argentina: El Bolson.

Now if you made it through all that, you get a prize. A guest post
from our liberal, west coast, Jewish, NRA correspondent and my formerroommate Ben Nadler, who wants you all to know that "I don't talk to

that guy any more."Lago Buenos Aires in Los Antiguos

Charleton benHeston

Yo, so went up to Dartmouth for the weekend for this MBA “winter carnival”, yes a ton of douches. Could have cheered on our ski team on Saturday but I don’t really “cheer” so decided to sleep in when everyone headed to the mountain and while in this small town (if you can call it that) looking for a place to eat I saw a sign for a gun show at the American Legion Hall down the road so I decided to talk a walk and make a day of it.

So basically the holy shit factor at gun shows is pretty high. You wonder how Obama didn’t win in a landslide and then you go to one of these things and you figure it out. These guys actually seemed like they were to the right of republicans and probably into the whole Timothy McVeigh militia type thing. Besides the guns they also had military paraphernalia and assorted junk of which a more than noticeable portion was Nazi crap. It wasn’t totally clear that the Nazi stuff represented their views but I doubt they would have been pumped to hear I was a west coast liberal Jew. I finally worked up the nerve to ask one of the people behind the gun tables to take a picture of me with one of the guns so check out the attached photo. I highly recommend checking out a rural gun show when you get the chance.

Notes on Nothing

Random Notes:

Water:  it's good.  It's necessary.  It's drinkable, even in third world countries.  Yes, by and large we have been able to drink water directly from the tap, and even in some cases directly from the stream.  No giardhea, no typhoid, no worms (that we can detect) and no diarrhea--yes, I said it, zero diarrhea.  Clean bills of health and clean intestinal tracts.  I'm not sure that I've loved the water anywhere else as much as I've loved it here (expectations clearly influencing my degrees of love).  Hail to the Agua.

The Breadkins Diet:  despite attempts to the contrary, including eating copious amounts of beef, lamb, cheese and Dulce de leche, I've been getting skinnier.  It's rather inexplicable since This diet (in the eating sense, not the Jenny Craig sense) I've been on has been dominated not by the above, but rather by their oh-so-complimentary sidekick, The Bread, also known as The Flour, The Egg and The Salt--the holy trinity, if you will.  I'm not sure if you've heard of this man, mr. Atkins, but I have and I'm here to let you know that not only is he a charlatan, a fraud, a con man even (it's well known that a diet high in meat content is bad for your salud, or health) but that his choice of con is not even the best way in which to lose those holiday pounds (or kilos, if you prefer).  No, in fact a diet high in bread, cheese and meat (we'll forget how good/bad for your health this diet may be) is actually the most efficient, not to mention most enjoyable way in which to lose weight; And best of all I'm living proof of this success and I'm hear to spread the gospel of Breadkins.  So, don't walk, but run to your local bakery.  Grab croissants, cakes, sourdoughs and wheats (if you like), garlic bread, cookies and the like.  Eat away and slim down each day. *

* paid for expressly by funds donated by Weber, Betty Crocker, All-Purpose, The American Union of Flour Producers and Hostess.  Nothing in this add is approved by the FDA or claimed to be true.  Buy and eat at your own risk.

Third World Country Designation:  I'm confused here, which is definitely symptomatic of my lack of knowledge in this field, but Argentina as a third world country (so ignorant in fact that I'm not 100% sure of the validity of this statement) absolutely baffles me.  Yes, there are no Del Tacos (this would be my initial requirement for 1st world; sorry middle America and a handful of other places) and there are only a few MacDonalds, but for all intents and purposes the place FEELS like a first world country.  There are homes with roofs, doors, windiws, 
running water and even indoor toilets, and best of all most people seem to have these fancy accomodations (I've seen 10 times the amount of homeless in San Francisco. Beth thinks that's an understatement.)  Electricity and water are readily available, though admittedly electricity in the summer seems to be like a constant rolling blackout.  Most people seem to be gainfully employed, except perhaps during siesta, but who am I to judge taking naps and eating lunch for 4 hours mid-day.  I mean, they even require car insurance for all drivers and seatbelts are mandatory (though the only time I saw them warn was when Beth's cousin inlaw Jose drove past the policia and put his on).  Their economy functions well enough to provide this standard of living, yet it's categorized as a third world country.  They have autoplants, big brands, presumably with factories and mechanization.  In fact, they even have technology here that is yet to grace the states: MP4's and MP5's can be found in all major urban areas, though we've yet to experience the wonders of such new and exciting things.  Point is, aRgentina as third world pais is baffling and mysterious,  maybe they should have the third grader who makes these decisions come on down here, try some Dulce de leche and reassess their ranking.

(Note of the Note: If in fact Argentina is categorized as a 2nd world country, please dismiss the previous rant, as a developing country rating seems fitting, if not fair.)
 
What In The World (aka Que En El Mundo):  Just wanted to point out the translation of this phrase and let you all know I'm hearing this approximately 3 times a day; it's beths newest and most favoritist saying; That is, next to "Jason, you're annoying me," translation witheld.

Hair:  Let me first paint you a hyothetical picture.  Imagine a man, perhaps a young man.  He's been camping for many days now, but is rather clean, considering.  He's also recently showered.  Now he is in a bathroom, but neither showering nor using the toilet, simply washing his hands after blowing his nose.  Now imagine this serene picture shattered into a thousand little pieces.  One second the man is alone, peacefully washing and the next second a woman of unknown origins is standing in the bathroom explicitly for men.  No, this is not the earth shaterer.  This same woman glances at said man andcontinues her journey in, clearly not recognizing the man for what he is.  Not until

She recognizes those wall-mounted recepticles they call urinals does she realize her mistake.  At that point she once again glances up and sees that faint five o'clock shadow on the man's face, turns around red faced and half runs half walks out of the mens restroom.  The man turns to the mirror, takes a long, deep look and that's when it hits him, she left because of the urinals not because she saw the man.  He looks left, then right, he even tries to look at the back of his head in that weird way people experiment with mirrors as if they were three dimensional and he too notices then what it took only the woman an instant to recognize, he looks like an 80s lesbian.

I now must admit that that 80s lesbian is me.  My hair is long, it's puffy, it looks a bit like my uncle Roy's, but mostly it looks like a perfectly uncoifed 80s lesbian's hairdoo (think Charlize Theron in Monster).  Just thought you should know.

- Pictures:  should be up in the next few days.                          

Campolina! Campolina!

Glacier Perito Moreno. AWESOME!

Campolina! Campolina!

Not only the title of this post, but the title of Beth and Jason's future reggatone duet, debuting September 2010. This foray into the music industry has been inspired by the informative reggatone compilation DVD, seen on the bus to their current location of El Calafate, and the last 14 days of camping (sans 2 days on a bus and a brief, yet unexpected stop in Rio Gallegos).

The album contains many hits, including the mesmorizing, "I Wanna Tent You Up," a unique description of their first couple of nights in the quaint, although quite touristy, town of El Calafate (not to mention Jason's battle with his sleeping bag in the morning). It begins with their 1am arrival, a walk through town the next day, including the discovery of a new phenomenon: cookies with Dulce de leche in the center (not new) and then dipped in the milkiest chocolate you could imagine (new, exciting, even inspiring) and eventually ends with an enjoyable, if somewhat anti-climatic, stay in a town better described as a jumping off point for adventures in the surrounding area.

Another hit, "Dont Hate The Hiker, Hate The Trail," follows their journey through the pristine area of Lago Roca. An attempt at getting off the beaten path led the two travelers to a free campground. Unfortunately, no local buses ventured to this area so they were forced to jump in a tourist van and hike the remaining few kilometers out to a campground with nary another soul near. The only hitch was that it was on a dirt road and they had to carry all their belongings and food for the next few days (tasty cheese sandwiches, aka their daily lunch). Going to sleep to the sound of pumas, foxes, rodents and night birds rumaging through their trash clearly was revelatory, but not as wonderful as waking up to no neighboring campers and watching the sun rise in their own personal campground with views of amazing lake nestled below the Andes.

The view from right outside our tent.

The dynamic "Big World, Little Glacier," has more worldly overtones, delving into such topics as global warming and the impact of the receding glaciers. Their visit to the awe inspiring glacier Perrito Moreno, located 80 km from El Calafate, seems to have been the inspiration for this track. The sheer size, 30km long, 5km wide and 60m high make it a sight to behold. But, because the park is incredibly well developed (there are at least a couple miles worth of metal walkways with hundreds if different perspectives in which to see the glacier) one is able to see the glacier's more impressive facets such as its 60m face with it's craggy feautures and the phosphorescent blue which seems to originate from somewhere inside, almost as if it were glowing. The most intimidating of ice, indeed.

Lago Argentina (the glacier is at the bass of this snow patch)

Overall, it's quite the impressive album, it almost feels as if you are going on a trip with two wayward travelers through the small Patagonian town of El Calafate and its surrounding natural beauties. A must see.

An inlet off of Lago Argentina that doubles as a beautiful bird sanctuary. Look hard and
you can find the flamingo!

Notes:

- Peritto Moreno was one of the only stable glaciers in South America, and perhaps the world until around 2007 when it too began seeing a noticeable receding. We saw pictures from a few years ago in which the glacier had this amazing ice bridge connecting it to the shore. That is no longer there, though remanants do remain on the shore.

We miss you!

- The dimensions of Perito Moreno provided herein were supplied by Lonely Planet, Argentina 2008, thus may no longer be accurate.

- Lago Roca does have a campground which you can pay to stay at, (and conveniently has toilets, the free sites lacking this superfluous amenity), which is why a tour bus heads out there at all.

- Big thanks for all the inspiration to the following: Daddee Yankee, Color Me Bad, Nature, in particular Perito Moreno and Lago Roca, Beth for falling down on a trail and thinking herself a bad hiker, thus creating an entire song about hating trails and not hikers, God (maybe that's a bit too far, perhaps just Jesus), Rolling Stone magazine, and lastly the color blue, because without it, glaciers would just be giant ice cubes.

Penguingate, or How the World was Duped for Thousands of Years by Birds That Can't Fly

Ushuaia's claim to fame, it's signature found on every storefront, billboard, t-shirt, fishing rod, bed roll, cracker box, condom wrapper and pair of womens underwear, is that it is "el fin del mundo", or the end of the world. Well, I'm here to tell you that Ushuaia has a dirty little secret and Beth and I know it. There is no end of the world. Yes, it's true, we live on a giant, spherical, rotund earth, which has no end and we can prove it because we've now been there, and survived (which can also can be found on t-shirts ranging from XS to XXXL).

We arrived by bus a little after midnight with the little warm gear we had in tow and with no place to stay; clearly a recipe for success, success being measured by how we stack up to the Donor party. We knew of a little campground 7km outside of the town center, we just didn't know where the towncenter was. After asking YPF gas attendent and understanding at least a third of what he said, we eventually got in about 1:30am and setup camp for the next five nights. Here is a summary of the next five days:

Day 1: Walked around town. Realized we weren't going to die of any of the following maladies: freezing, hypothermia, frostbite, penguin attack, igloo malfunction, avalanche, getting snowed in, or starvation.

Day 2: Met some French people that speak English and love Belgium beer...and could rent a car, but not skip rocks so well. Headed out to Parque Nacional Tierra Del Fuego in a sweet Toyota Corolla with said French couple. Loved it. Thought it was one of the most diverse parks I've ever had the pleasure of enjoying. The feeling of each section of park, the (I guess you would call it ecosystems, but really just the scenery), seemed to constantly change and dramatically so. From thick woods to wind torn coastal trees and beaver massacred river regions to wide-spanning waterways the park views were epic. The wildlife was limited, but the landscapes more than made up for any deficiencies. Put simply it was stunning and probably deserved at least two or three days, but since it's highway robbery to get there (literally. They charge a kings ransom to transport you the 12km to the park) we were forced to get through the whole park in one day.

Day 3: The Cordero Libre. The Dessert. And The Hike. In no particular order. Day 3 marked the hike to our first glacier. Ushuaia is surrounded by the ocean on one side and the Andes on the other three. This creates not only a beautiful landscape for the city, but some awe inspiring hiking opportunities. We hiked up some insanely steep ski slopes (one in the rain) to come reach Glacier Marital, which sort of looked like a big patch of snow since the glacier is hidden under a blanket of the frosty stuff. It was a trying hike at times, but was well worth it. The view of the city and ocean below were almost as amazing as the view of the Andes and the glacier itself. Jason replenished himself that night by indulging in all-you-can-eat lamb and beef, cooked (to my disgust) with the whole body cut in half and hung over an open fire in the restaurant.

Day 4: Relaxation in the Welsh-influenced, quaint, and adorable town as well as our amazing campsite, complete with a spectacular views of the city as well as a warm lodge to take shelter in. (The weather is cold and extremely unpredictable. We carried a flat screen tv box 3 km uphill to our campsite to use as a bed roll after the first night to shield us from the frosty floor. Yes, we are doing South America in style.)

Day 5: Since our bus left at 5am and our camping site was about an hour from the bus station, we opted to pull an all nighter in safe little Ushuaia instead of paying to sleep for only a few hours. Our plan to hang out at the gas station (which usually have cafe type accomodations here) was foiled when we realized the gas station does indeed close. This meant we posted up at the one benched area in town, outside of the tourist office. We alternated playing charades and walking about with our packs on to stay warm. At 5am, we promptly passed out on our bus headed to El Calafate for some more nature- lovin'.

Meat Meter: A serious lull was bucked by The Cordero Libre. Three full plates of lamb, beef and chorizo, a couple of lamb intestines and a kidney, which I witnessed ripped straight off the crucified lamb, has got me back on track. I even indulged in a canned pate lunch today, just to make sure the arteries know who's boss. Life is good, unless you're a baby sheep.