Adventuring in a 4x4 in the Salt Plains of Uyuni

One of the highlights of my trip so far has definitely been the four-day jeep tour to the Salt Plains of Uyuni. The trip takes 4 days, and weaves through some of the most enchantingly beautiful scenery I’ve ever encountered. From cactus filled valleys, mountains the colours of fire, lakes of crystal green, geysers, indigenous villages, Incan ruins to stunning wildlife such as llamas, flamingos, vicunas, and alpacas. Most of the trip was above 4000 metres, where trees stop growing, and the landscape is barren and dry. The contrast of lakes and rivers and wildlife at this altitude makes a powerful image, and brings home the fragility of life and the miracle of survival.

The setting off point for the trip is a town called Tupiza, which is a couple of hours from the Bolivia-Argentinean border. I love the Lonely Planet’s introduction to this town: “If there’s ever a place where you want to throw your leg over a horse, brandish spurs and say ‘ride ‘em cowboy,’ this is it.” Apparently it’s also the resting place of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, nearly 100 years ago. I still don’t really know who they were, and am not really sure that I care, but the image of the Wild West that is conjured by their names really is what this town is like. With all that, I couldn’t NOT go horse riding, although I still had the memory of the burning backside with me from the three day horse trek in Songpan, China a few months earlier. So I signed myself up for a three hour horse ride as part of a day trip around the sights of Tupiza, and there I met two British couples who would be my companions for the day, Graham and Amy, and Steve and Annie.

We did a ‘triathlon’ of activities throughout the day: a combination of sightseeing by jeep, hiking and horse riding. Our guide for the day was Eddie, a retired doctor who now runs the Hotel La Torre where we were all staying. He spoke excellent English, and explained some of the sights along the way as well as sharing with us some stories of his life. Incidentally, Eddie also likes a bit of a drink, and my strongest memory from the Hotel Torre is him draped over the fish tank in the foyer, announcing in a proud slur ‘I’m talking to the fish.’ Nevertheless, we were most grateful to Eddie for the ‘saltenyas’ that he provided for lunch. Made by his wife, Irma, these were seriously the best thing I had eaten in South America. Kind of like pasties, only juicier, more tender and more flavoursome, with surprises such as olives and boiled eggs to be found inside! The best thing about the day, however, was the horse riding. The back of a horse was seriously the most perfect way of seeing the scenery.

Graham, Amy, Steve, Annie and I must have bonded at least a little during that day, because by the end of it we were laughing like old friends, and we had decided to do the 4-day Salt Plains tour together. To be honest, I was a little bit apprehensive initially… I was the odd one out, the only one on my own without a partner, the only Australian… And although we’d had a great day in Tupiza I had no idea what four days cooped up together in a car would be like.

Luckily, these four people are seriously four of the best Brits I have ever met. I laughed more than in those few days than I have in years thanks to their wicked sense of humour. I seriously think I have extra laugh lines now that I didn’t have a week ago! Everything is fair game for a joke, nothing is sacred, therefore everything is funny. But the best thing about the group for me was the positive attitude that everyone had.

A short way out of town on the first morning of the trip, Alfredo, our driver and guide pulled over the car, turned around from his seat to introduce himself. I don’t remember everything he said, but he definitely spoke at length about how we would need to be patient, that if we had car problems he would be able to fix them with our patience and cooperation. I remember thinking how he must have had some shocking groups in the past if he felt the need to say that up front…

Luckily, nothing went wrong with the car for most of the morning, and I had almost forgotten about the spiel about patience, when we got our first flat tyre… The first of MANY… The roads throughout the area are incredibly basic, at best, and we ended up with the vehicle from hell. Throughout the four days, anything that you might imagine could have gone wrong with the vehicle did, from flat tyres, to something with the brakes, something with the radiator, something with the battery, something with the suspension… Throughout the whole trip, no one complained, no one whinged, in fact, I think we all just laughed every time something else went wrong. It was almost like there was a consensus that we couldn’t do anything about the situation, so we might as well make the best of it. For me, that was the one thing that could have made the trip dreadful. But instead, the positive, bright, cheerful attitude from each one of my companions was the total antithesis of the ‘whinging pom’ that I think we need to rethink the stereotype. These were seriously fantastic travellers…

Of course, it helped that Alfredo was a genius with repairs, and such a fantastic guy and good spirited about the whole thing. Whenever something went wrong he would say ‘there are no problems, only solutions’ which is a saying of his that I just loved. He would then get his overalls on and using whatever he happened to have in the jeep would fix the problem. We had three flat tyres on the first day, and only the one spare tyre, which meant that Alfredo had to do some pretty nifty puncture repair. It was an education just watching the process, in which Alfredo took out the inner tube like we would a bicycle tyre, placed a patch over the puncture, and pumped up the tyre again BY HAND!!! We each had a go at pumping up the tyre, but at that altitude, after about 30 seconds we would start to tyre, so it became a kind of tag-team relay to get the tyre pumped up fully.

Graham, an ex-army mechanical engineer, always seemed to know what was going on, though, which was calming. He was Alfredo’s right hand man when it came to repairs. He also had a multitude of survival skills thanks to his time in the army, and I’ve lost count of the number of things that I learnt from him. I do remember that a good way to warm up your socks for the next day is by putting them under your pillow as you sleep, and that for warmth, it’s not a good idea to wear the same socks for the day that you’ve worn to bed, and vice versa. Also, apparently if you put cold water on your feet before getting into bed it ensures that the blood rushes to them and warms them up more quickly… but I still haven’t had the courage to try this one.

After our mammoth puncture repair session we finally got on our way, just as it was starting to rain. So as we drove past a lady walking along the side of the road we unanimously agreed to pick her up. She had left home at 5am that morning, and had been walking all day to take the school news to the next town... Alfredo informed us that she would have walked 70 or 80 kilometres. There are no phones, no electricity, and so she was commissioned to walk between towns in order to pass on the information about the school in person. She had a lovely smile, and was so grateful that we stopped. She told Alfredo that he was a godsend, and that she was sure that God would watch over us on our journey and we would have no more obstacles in our way. If only. But there were no more car troubles that night.

We arrived at our destination two hours later than the other jeep we were supposed to be travelling in a convoy with, as the sun was going down over the horizon. Ordinarily this wouldn’t have been a problem, but we were all dressed for daytime, and the difference between day and night temperature in the mountains of Bolivia is really startling. It was freezing, to say the least, and we all decided we would be much more prepared for all kinds of weathers and all kinds of circumstances on the next day. Delfina, the cook for the expedition, cooked us a spectacular meal of vegetable soup, beef steak and mashed potatoes, which helped warm us all up. Alfredo joined us for some beer and conversation after dinner, by which time we were all laughing about our car troubles, the weather, everything.

The second and third days were much the same. Early morning departures and spectacular scenery along the way. We saw many beautiful lakes, full of flamingos. My favourite was called Colorada Lake or the colourful lake, and here we saw flamingos and alpacas together, and a beautiful reflection. And of course, more car trouble.

I also feel enriched thanks to the game of ‘shithead’ that the Brits taught us along the way… The aim of the game is not really to win, but just not to lose, because if you lose then you are the shithead, and no one wants to be that. We explained the game to Alfredo, which was a bit of a challenge thanks to the language barrier, but he cottoned on quite quickly, and he loved it. Watching his expression as he struggled not to be ‘cabeza de mierda’ was hilarious. He had such an innocent joy when he managed to beat out Steve, we all laughed so much just watching them…

The highlight for us all was definitely the final day on the salt plains themselves. We had to wake up at 4:30am to be on the plains in time for sunrise, and we all grumbled a little about that, especially Annie, who is definitely not a morning person. But seeing the salt flats covered in water, and watching the sun peak over the horizon and its mirror-like reflection was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen in my life. When I look at my photographs I can hardly tell which half is the sky and which half the water. It looks like we were in a photography studio, it was that perfect, but the magic of it is that none of the beauty of the moment can be conveyed in photos… A little of it was captured in the video that Annie took, but it still doesn’t truly show what it was like being there.

The rest of the salt flats was also fantastic, although nothing could top the sunrise. Steve bought a soccer ball, and he and Graham organised a game of soccer on the salt with the drivers and some other tourists. At 3680m above sea level, I thought it was incredibly impressive that they even thought of playing soccer. While they were playing, Annie and Amy and I played in the salt as well, by taking crazy photos… The pure white of the salt means that you can get awesome effects in the photos, and you can position people in the foreground and background and they appear different sizes rather than looking like they are a long way away. We got a bit carried away and tried lots of different photos, but not all of them worked.

By midday that day we had made it to Uyuni, and we had to say goodbye to Alfredo and Delfina. They were a great combination, and Alfredo, in particular really made the trip for us. We really wanted to do something for him besides the standard tip for great service, so we asked him to take us to an internet café in Uyuni and wait for a few minutes before leaving, and we put our group photos onto CD for him. Steve also gave him the soccer ball as a memento of the trip. Alfredo really was outstanding in every way. As a driver he was safe and responsible, he was knowledgeable as a guide, he was caring as a person, always making sure that we were looked after and happy. And above all, he was just a bunch of fun. But all in all, I think it was a combination of everything that made the trip so memorable for me. The people that travelled together, Alfredo, Delfina, Annie, Steve, Amy and Graham… our shared experiences, the games, the laughter, the sunrise, the crazy photos… they all helped make it a trip that I will remember for a lifetime.

Bolivians, Strong and Proud...

Crossing over the border from Argentina into Bolivia was a truly eye-opening experience. Bolivia is a country of truly amazing natural beauty and scenery unlike any I’ve seen anywhere else in the world, but it is also a country of extreme poverty. I’ve travelled to many developing countries, so this in itself wasn’t a shock, but the process of crossing the border from Argentina really illustrated the differences between the two countries, and made me question how it is possible a line drawn on a map can be so significant in determining the standard of living for the local residents.

Widely considered the poorest country in South America, Bolivia has a large indigenous population. Nearly 60% of the population claim indigenous heritage, with many of these speaking Quechua or Aymara as their mother tongue. While the young people in the cities keep up with modern fashion, most people in the countryside wear traditional clothes and have a strong connection to their heritage. The sense of indigenous identity seems stronger than any place I have ever been. The people are proud, strong and resilient.

To me they appear very different to the Argentinean people, physically and culturally. Argentines are very European in nature, open, warm and affectionate. Argentineans really know how to enjoy their lives, and in general are quite relaxed and carefree. In Argentina I was reminded of the phrase ‘Europeans work to live, whereas Americans live to work’ and I would definitely class Argentineans as European in nature in that sense.

Bolivians, on the other hand, are a hardworking bunch. I guess they have to be, given the poverty inherent in their country. Bolivians seem to lack the effusive warmth and openness of the Argentinean people, but in contrast they seem to have an inner strength that comes with facing years of adversity. They seem to be slower to trust, and tougher than their Argentinean neighbours. That’s not to say that Bolivians are not kind or warm people. On the contrary, they are wonderful hosts, proud of their country and excited to share it with visitors.

While in Tupiza, I went exploring in the town, and found a lovely street market, where I purchased some oranges and got talking to two local ladies. I decided it was a good idea to learn to speak a few phrases in Quechua as well as Spanish, out of respect for the Indigenous people. So I asked the ladies, Isabelle and Angela, to be my teachers. They were absolutely delighted to teach me as many phrases as I needed and more, and had endless patience in practising with me, asking me over and over and over again ‘Iima nalya cashanki?’ (How are you?) so I could practise responding with ‘Wa lechla’ (Fine thanks). After a while, the ladies decided that I had mastered the basics, and so taught me how to say ‘What are you going to buy from us today?’ and ‘Oranges, potatoes, fresh produce’. I forget these now, but I had so much fun calling out to locals passing by, and watching their faces as they saw that a foreigner was sitting at a street stall trying to sell them something, and in their language. Not to boast, but I think I was responsible for more than one purchase that day that otherwise wouldn’t have been made! Isabelle and Angela thought that I was hilarious, and laughed uproariously at my attempts to get the phonetics of Quechua just right… Their joy in my efforts and in my mistakes was catching, and I found myself laughing right along with them.

From my first day here I have been in awe of the strength of the Bolivian people. They live in an incredibly hostile environment, barren, and dry. Most of population live in the altiplano, at over 3km above sea level, where almost nothing grows, including trees and crops, and yet somehow it manages to support them. I found it hard to breathe just walking down the street, but they manage to work, run, play soccer, carry heavy loads, and more… Despite its tropical location, the altitude means that overnight temperatures are often below freezing, with temperatures hitting minus 25 regularly overnight in winter. However, the higher altitude, along with the lack of pollution, means that the summer sun is stronger here than almost any other place on earth, with an average time of 7-8 minutes in the sun enough to burn a local, let alone a little whitey like me!

Bolivia is now a land-locked country, but I was surprised to learn thanks to my guidebook that this wasn’t always the case. Originally Bolivia had a much larger area, including 350km of coastline, but wars with Chile, Paraguay and Brazil over the past hundred or so years have meant that much of the territory that was originally Bolivia is now ruled over by other nations. As I read the rest of the Lonely Planet’s introduction to the history of Bolivia, I could hardly believe that so many disastrous things had happened to the one country. The section read almost like a comedy of errors, except for the fact that it was all true.

Nowhere was the unfairness of history more evident to me than in the city of Potosi. Arriving in the city I was immediately struck by the juxtaposition of the evidence of the rich colonial past and the poverty in the surrounding area. Back in the 1800’s Potosi was one of the world’s richest cities, rivalling London in its opulence and wealth, thanks to large quantities of silver discovered in the surrounding mountains. The Spanish mined the silver dry, using indigenous and African slaves as workers in the mines, and it is said that over 8 million workers met their deaths in the mines.

While this is considered ancient history now, visiting the city today illustrated to me just how unfair the acts of colonial powers in the past were. Spain today is a wealthy, developed nation, but it became so due to the riches it obtained in the past. The silver it extracted from Bolivian mines helped to underwrite the Spanish economy for hundreds of years. The silver of Potosi was stolen from the Bolivian people without compensation, and today when I look at the faces of the rural workers, the farmers, the miners, and the children working in the streets, I can’t help but think about how Bolivia as a country might be different today, had the colonial powers of the past acted with more integrity. I wonder at the fact that the people of Bolivia don’t seem at all bitter about the past. And I understand a lot more, the strength of spirit that keeps these people going.

Mummified children in MAAM...

At the guesthouse in Salta I met an amazing Argentinean lady called Betty… At 46 years old, she looked more like 30, and she had such vitality and life that she just drew people to her. Tall and robust, with long jet-black hair, she really was larger than life. She was so excited by the things that she saw and learnt, and her enthusiasm was infectious… I met her and was instantly drawn to her positive energy and her outlook on life. A Buddhist, a free spirit, she believes in love, karma, cause and effect, and the importance of responsibility for one’s actions instead of guilt or blame. When I first met her she gushed about a museum that she had been to in the main square of Salta called MAAM (Museo de Arquologia de Alta Montana - Museum of High Altitude Archaeology http://www.maam.org.ar). I had heard about this museum, but to be totally honest, after five weeks of travelling and countless museums, I was a little museum-ed out and didn’t plan to go… But after hearing Betty talk about it, I decided to go the next morning (between 9-10am entrance was free! Hooray for free things on Tracy’s limited budget) and I am so glad that I did.

After travelling for many years and in many places around the world, it is hard to be truly surprised anymore. Excited, fascinated, bewildered, awed, yes, but I very rarely encounter something so totally new that it blows me away. But this museum definitely did that. Actually, it wasn’t so much the museum itself, although I thought it was fantastic, but it was what I learnt in the museum that was so surprising and new that it really made an impression on me.

The information presented in the museum is entirely in Spanish, so I took along my dictionary and spent over four hours translating every word, talking to the guards when I couldn’t understand something, and watching each of the videos through twice, sometimes three times, to make sure that I was able to understand as much as possible. I have since spoken with a number of my fellow travellers who were also in Salta, and each one of them agreed that it was one of the most amazing museums they had ever been in.

The museum is based around the discovery of three mummified children, discovered high in the mountains in the province of Salta, near the border of Chile. They were discovered in 1996 on an expedition with archaeologists from Argentina, Peru and the United States, sponsored by National Geographic. The children were discovered at 6300 metres above sea level, where the low temperatures, low atmospheric pressure and lack of pathogens meant that they are the best preserved mummies in the entire world. It is thought that the children have been preserved there for over 500 years, dating back to the time when the Incan empire ruled over much of South America.

The children were sacrifices, offered to the gods because of their physical perfection and beauty. Under the Incan empire, only the most beautiful and gifted of the children were chosen as offerings. They marched from their home villages to Cuzco, the capital of the Incan Empire, along with their family and religious leaders, where they were treated like royalty. After feasts and ceremonies in their honour, the children and their entourage paraded back to their home towns, where they were now seen almost like deities themselves. Then they marched up the mountain where they were given a kind of spirit made from maize, and when they fell asleep they were covered, buried alive.

But to the Incan people they did not die, but rather, they were forever sleeping in the mountains, at the highest point in their world, where they would live forever with the gods. Their presence there would protect the community, and enable them to have good harvests, and protect them from natural disasters.

There was only one of the children on display, but I found her appearance fascinating. She looked so real, so alive that I could imagine that she was just sleeping there. I could picture her eyes opening and her winking at me. It was hard to imagine that she had been dead for over 500 years. She looked so peaceful. She was kept inside a chamber that was maintained at minus 20 degrees and at low pressure, in order to simulate the same environment that the children were in for 500 years before their discovery.

I tried to work out what I felt about the children being taken away from their mountain… People have many different ideas about this. Some people say that they should go back to where they were so carefully buried by their people, other people say that they should remain in the museum where they are. Most of the tourists I’ve spoken with seem to think that the children should go back to the mountain, out of respect for the indigenous culture and beliefs. I have heard many people argue passionately about how they were dug up against their will, and how they were buried in the mountains for a purpose for their people, and that taking them away was disrespectful and plainly wrong.

I’ve thought a lot about it since, and it’s hard to me to make up my mind. On one hand I totally agree with the importance of respecting local customs and traditions, and I would hate for a relative or ancestor of mine to be displayed in a museum… but at the same time, the museum was so carefully, beautifully presented, that it is hard to find a fault in the way they are educating about the past. They treated the children with such honour and dignity. I felt so enlightened… such a feeling of empowerment that comes through knowledge, that I was grateful for their discovery. I felt so inspired to learn more about the life of the Incans, their beliefs, their culture, their way of life…

So in the end I decided to go against my fellow travellers and my normal instincts for preservation of culture and heritage at all costs. I decided that I was happy for the children to stay where they are, and be grateful that their presence can help to educate and inspire people from around the world to learn more about the indigenous way of life in South America. Who knows? Maybe that is what their purpose is now…

A day trip in Salta...

The town of Salta is described as a not-to-be-missed destination for travellers in Argentina. To be honest, I hadn’t done much research or reading, and I mainly decided to stop there because it was on the way to where I really wanted to go, Bolivia. I had no idea what to expect, but was confident that it could not possibly live up to all the hype. Arriving after a marathon 28-hour journey after the spectacular beauty of Iguazu Falls, my initial impression was of a dry, hot, dirty town that had some pretty buildings and a nice hill, but I definitely couldn’t see what was so unmissable about the place. I was reliably informed, however, that the beauty of Salta could only really be appreciated by getting out of the city and seeing the surrounding area.

Much as I tend to avoid organised excursions, in Salta they were almost unavoidable if you wanted to see the area, so I booked myself onto a day trip to Cafayate, a town in the mountains famous for its wines and spectacular scenery. If I wanted to do it on my own it would have cost a whole lot more to hire a car for the day, and besides, one of the jobs that I didn’t get around to in my last minute rush to get everything done pre-departure in Melbourne was organising my international driver’s license. I could have tried to organise a group of people from the hostel to hire a car together, but I could have ended up trapped in a car for an entire day with some of the perpetually drugged or drunk, obnoxious, culturally ignorant backpackers that I tend to avoid at all costs.

So I chose to go with an organised tour, and to challenge myself I picked a company that didn’t have English speaking guides. The whole tour was in Spanish, and all the people on the tour were local or from Spain! When I told Fernando, the guy on the front desk of the hostel, that I was going to be going on a tour with this company, he told me that I was crazy, that he remembers another girl who went with them a few months ago and came back complaining that the bus was full of crazy Spanish-speaking octogenarians that wanted to know every detail about her life! I told him I thought it sounded perfect for me, and the truth was, I meant it!

I wasn’t on the bus half an hour before I was totally absorbed in the scenery, and I am happy to report that it was just as beautiful and inspiring as the guidebooks say it is, and definitely made it worth a visit. The road to Cafayate contained some of the most impressive contrasts that I’ve ever seen… Along the 186km road we passed through white sandy desert, lush green vineyards, spectacular natural rock formations, dry and barren desert like plains… But the most amazing scenery was definitely in the canyons that we drove through. There was a couple on the bus that had been to the United States, and spent time in the Grand Canyon, and they insisted that the road to Cafayate was a lot more impressive than anything they saw there.

The guide rattled on throughout the bus trip, citing facts, anecdotes, scientific information, pausing only occasionally to let us all out for a photo stop. I could probably have learnt a lot more about the landscape and formation if I was in an English speaking tour, because I could only pick up the gist of the ideas explained by the guide. The rock formations were apparently caused by three things, strong winds that gust through the area, rain, and natural erosion. The whole are used to be ocean in prehistoric times, which means that there are a lot of minerals in the sand, and shells can be found through the entire area. The entire zone is free from pollution, and the richness in minerals means that the earth is incredibly fertile, so that the things that do grow along the river are organic and incredibly tasty. The wine was just divine. We also stopped along the way at a goat farm, and we got to try some goat’s milk cheese, and ‘dulce de leche’ (a kind of thick sweetened condensed milk that is a little like caramel) made from goat’s milk. To be honest (sorry mum and dad) I’m not a huge fan of goat’s cheese, and this stuff was pretty awful, but the dulce de leche made from goat’s milk was simply divine.

The tour bus had a range of people, some younger independent travellers like me, but mostly it seemed to cater to the retired-local market, just like Fernando warned. I sat in the front seat (fantastic views) next to a 72 year old lady called Norma, who delighted in telling me about her children and grandchildren, and lamented her lack of great grandchildren! She also enjoyed telling me about her adventures on the internet, the people that she has met through chat rooms, and spent the entire day sending text messages and taking digital photos on her new mobile phone! An incredibly funky lady indeed! She had five of her closest friends with her, and they were taking a week long holiday from Buenos Aires, to see the sights. They were all fantastic ladies, full of laughter and joy, and kind of adopted me from the beginning. When I couldn’t understand something the guide said, they took pains to explain it to me. One time when the guide was speaking too fast they even asked her to slow down for me! So although I would have probably learnt a lot more about the history of the place in an English speaking tour, I definitely had a lot more fun with the group that I was with, and wouldn’t have changed things for the world.

Tracy does something touristy...

Throughout my travels I find that I don’t need to do the normal touristy things… I often choose not to go to things that everyone else goes to, sometimes to save money, most often because I’m genuinely not interested in the typical tourist traps. I’m usually content to wander around towns and cities, and most of my adventures centre on the people I meet rather than the things I see.

After Santiago, I headed to a small city on the beach called ‘Valparaiso’. It is a gorgeous city, so picturesque and beautiful, that I could have wandered randomly around the town for days. It is a town that has been world heritage listed, and has a lot of gorgeous colonial buildings, that many would consider rustic and run down, but I just loved. Incidentally, I went on a day trip to nearby ‘Vina del Mar’ which is the more popular beach destination for Chileans, but I found it rather bland in comparison. I definitely preferred the colourful buildings and slightly worn out appearance of ‘Valpo’.

It was on my first day in Valparaiso that I encountered two English lads while wandering around the town. I overheard them discussing where to sit to have a coffee… The lady at my guest house had mentioned to me that the best views of the town were at a restaurant that was just near there. I guess I’m a pretty forward person by nature, so I introduced myself, and we chatted for a bit then went for coffee at the restaurant.

The coffee was dreadful, basically it was Nescafe, possibly with powdered cream! But the company was great, and the views were sensational. Paul and Jeff were so much fun that one thing led to another and I’m not sure exactly what happened… either they invited themselves along with me or I invited myself along with them, I’m not sure, but somehow this led to us spending the afternoon and evening together wandering around the sights of the town then having beer in a Chilean pub, and sharing a bottle of wine over pasta at an Italian restaurant.

They were totally cheeky and our time together seemed to consist mostly of them making fun of me, and long list of peculiar habits, but I don’t think I’d laughed so much in years! It turned out that we had independently booked ourselves on the same trek with the same company on the same day to Macchu Picchu, which is totally bizarre… Actually, I had to cancel the trek thanks to paypal and western union both deciding that I was trying to hack into my own accounts, so I may not be seeing them again after all...

Anyway, the boys gave me some great tips about Argentina. It was talking to them and hearing their stories of whale watching that made me inspired to come down here to Puerto Madryn. Originally my plan was to head straight north from BA, but I couldn’t resist the opportunity to be just metres away from the Southern Right Whale, no matter how touristy it might be… I know there are places that you can see whales from Australia, I think they come to Warnambool at certain times of the year, but this was something else entirely.

You get on a boat, and go out a very short way into the boat, and whales literally come right up to the boat and swim around it, like they are playing with a small toy! It totally took my breath and my words away… I’d never seen a whale in real life before… so gigantic and majestic, but playful. Kind of like a really really big puppy in the water! And it felt like only minutes, but he had nearly an hour of watching the whale swim under and around the boat, then surface, time and time again. It really was like a dream fulfilled and I had to hold back tears as we left to go back to shore. I sat at the back of the boat, watching the whale surfacing until it disappeared from view….

So I ended up doing something totally touristy, and loving it. But despite this, it wasn’t the best thing about coming to Puerto Madryn. The best thing about Madryn was that I have been able to hang out with two of the most wonderful people… Luli and Jorge, my new Argentinean family. From the beginning I really connected with the two of them, and neither of them really spoke English so my Spanish really got a work out! But despite the communication difficulties we had so much fun, talking and laughing, drinking wine in the evenings, sharing meals…

Luli is a teacher, who teaches pottery in Puerto Madryn a couple of days a week, and in her village, which is 12 hours away, for the other couple of days a week. She travels backwards and forwards between her house and Puerto Madryn every week. She is such a lovely person… fun, artistic, friendly, warm, spontaneous…

Jorge is an investment banker from Buenos Aires and a true Argentinian gentleman… He is truly one of the nicest people I've ever known, caring, genuine, patient, humble, kind... He was so, so patient with my atrocious efforts to speak Spanish, and never tried to hurry me or correct me… He just let me speak at length, which meant I was in my element! Except for the fact that I can’t open my mouth in Spanish without messing up some conjugation, or forgetting some word, or just generally murdering the language by sounding like some sort of child. But despite my very basic language skills, we somehow managed to discuss the problems of the world, from the lack of respect for teachers endemic in the education system in the West, urban and rural poverty in Argentina, indigenous rights, marine biology…

We had to say goodbye to Luli early in the week when she went back to her village, so Jorge and I spent the rest of the week hanging out in Puerto Madryn. We went for a ride one day to the Sea Lion Colony that is 20km or so out of town… His bike was a bit sick, and needed a lot of TLC, but we made it. He smuggled me into the national park as his wife so I wouldn’t have to pay the ‘foreigner fee’ which is about 4 or 5 times as much as the locals have to pay! I had to close my mouth and let him do the talking, which was a bit unusual for me! He also smuggled me into the Ecocentre Marine Museum as well, where we learnt all about the whales at a lecture by a leading marine scientist… in Spanish! I didn’t understand much, although the pictures and graphs were kind of cool, but I did learn the word ‘promedia’ which means ‘average’ so I guess it was a useful 15 minutes!

Later on in the week I decided to do one more totally touristy thing, and went diving with sea lions, also known as sea wolves in Spanish (lobos marinos). It was phenomenal, a once in a lifetime experience. There were dozens of them, literally swimming around us, biting our arms, hands… Lots and lots of baby sea lions, as the mothers had just given birth. Their bites didn’t hurt a bit; they were more like love taps, their way of saying hello! They were so fast in the water, I was so surprised. And we were lucky to have a male sea lion join us as well. According to Patrick, the instructor, they are very rarely curious enough to come out to see what the fuss is all about when divers are in the water. The papa sea lion was HUGE… I know things are magnified in the water, but it was seriously like a small whale! It was something like 5 or 6 days of my budget for a one hour dive, and now I have to economise a bit more than anticipated, but it was well worth it.

I bought a ticket to leave on Wednesday, but as Wednesday came, I sat on the beach with the sun shining and felt such a sense of peace and contentment there, that I decided to extend and stay until Friday instead, when Jorge would also go back to Buenos Aires. It’s really quite peculiar to find yourself feeling such a connection to someone that you have known only a week, and can hardly even speak to… but in that short week he became one of the truest friends I’ve ever known. That is the world of travel I guess. So we took long walks on the beach, shared coffee and truly EVIL Argentinean sweets at Café Havanna, drank lots of Argentinean red wine (excellent and very, very cheap!) and talked about anything and everything…

I had to say goodbye to Jorge on Friday, but we’re going to email and who knows? Maybe I’ll see him again… I certainly hope so… I went to Puerto Madryn with the idea of staying a day to see the whales and then go again, like most tourists… but I ended up staying a week that was full of unique and rich experiences with locals, speaking a lot of Spanish, and finding a truly special friendship... So in the end, I guess didn’t do the normal touristy thing after all…