hiya Lakejuneboy
http://checkitout-iw.org/submitsite.php?silver=25csf6m26uuv
Bill
Sunday, April 9, 2017
Wednesday, July 20, 2016
Friday, May 1, 2009
The Last Entry
Ours was a road trip in its most basic form, a drive across Patagonia to see what was there. A great road trip requires equally great awakenings; and for me I learned to stop resisting reality … to stop enduring the ripio just for the bragging rights but instead to love the connectedness with the earth; to turn off of the pavement whenever possible, slow down, and forget the goal of the day. Bobbie found an inner calmness in seeing the people of Patagonia happily thriving without material wealth.
Along the road to these lessons we saw penguins close enough to touch, carefree gauchos trodding by on horses, and the Southern Cross in a night sky untainted by man’s light. There were landscapes so flat we could see the curvature of the earth, jagged mountains so high they created their own weather, and estancias so remote they might as well have been invisible.
We heard huge blocks of ice falling from glaciers, a guanaco’s warning call of an approaching puma, Spanish spoken to us very patiently, flamingos squawking when we got too close, and a sudden shower of rocks pound our camper as a truck sped by us on the ripio.
We smelled the Pacific but not much of the Atlantic – even at the water’s edge – because of the strong westerly wind. We always smelled sour milk in the camper, but you already know about that.
We tasted amazing home-cooked Asado, experienced both autumn and winter in our spring, discovered that we always needed to take TP to the baño but also that even the most modest hotel room has a bidet, bought food in mercados both super and pequeños, tried the national herbal drink Maté, wondered innocently just exactly where all those trucks loaded with sheep and cattle were going, felt the warmth of strangers, and made new friends.
We learned not to expect much if we hit a pueblo between noon and 2 PM, that police checkpoints are no big deal, that Argentineans can build extremely straight roads, that Magellan had to put down a nasty rebellion in a cold bleak harbor near the straits he famously found, that you can just pull off the road and stop for the night most anywhere in Patagonia, and that we can live in a small camper and still love each other a month later and every day in between.
Would we go back to Patagonia? Absolutely. Will we go back? I don’t know, perhaps. We are now starting another journey about what exactly is next for us, and we have no idea how long or where that will go … but that will be a journal for another day.
Along the road to these lessons we saw penguins close enough to touch, carefree gauchos trodding by on horses, and the Southern Cross in a night sky untainted by man’s light. There were landscapes so flat we could see the curvature of the earth, jagged mountains so high they created their own weather, and estancias so remote they might as well have been invisible.
We heard huge blocks of ice falling from glaciers, a guanaco’s warning call of an approaching puma, Spanish spoken to us very patiently, flamingos squawking when we got too close, and a sudden shower of rocks pound our camper as a truck sped by us on the ripio.
We smelled the Pacific but not much of the Atlantic – even at the water’s edge – because of the strong westerly wind. We always smelled sour milk in the camper, but you already know about that.
We tasted amazing home-cooked Asado, experienced both autumn and winter in our spring, discovered that we always needed to take TP to the baño but also that even the most modest hotel room has a bidet, bought food in mercados both super and pequeños, tried the national herbal drink Maté, wondered innocently just exactly where all those trucks loaded with sheep and cattle were going, felt the warmth of strangers, and made new friends.
We learned not to expect much if we hit a pueblo between noon and 2 PM, that police checkpoints are no big deal, that Argentineans can build extremely straight roads, that Magellan had to put down a nasty rebellion in a cold bleak harbor near the straits he famously found, that you can just pull off the road and stop for the night most anywhere in Patagonia, and that we can live in a small camper and still love each other a month later and every day in between.
Would we go back to Patagonia? Absolutely. Will we go back? I don’t know, perhaps. We are now starting another journey about what exactly is next for us, and we have no idea how long or where that will go … but that will be a journal for another day.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Day 28 – Reality Check
Laguna Lobos to Buenos Aires
THE FINAL SUPRISE of the day occurred when we arrived at the Buenos Aires Airport, as everyone there – passengers, ticketing agents, and security – was wearing hygiene facial masks; a very odd sight to unexpectedly see, and causing both of us to feel unprotected and maybe just a little amused. Further, as we walked in we were handed official cards advising against traveling to Mexico or to the United States due to the Swine Flu outbreak “unless absolutely necessary” … it was like those advisories one hears about that warn against traveling to some third-world country. We hadn’t kept up with the news too well while traveling, but we got a quick education on the potential epidemic this evening, as well as a different perspective of the U.S.
The first surprise of the day was driving the camper in the large city of Buenos Aires to return it to the rental depot, as there was heavy traffic unlike our initial experience a month back. Bobbie was both patient and tolerant with all my swearing and poor shifting, and we eventually made it to the depot with the camper undented and all skin intact.
The best surprise of the day was that my Buenos Aires friend Kary and her family were also very tolerant with our traffic issues, waiting extremely patiently to pick us up when we were finished with the camper and then provided a wonderful dinner, listened to our Patagonia stories, and delivered us to the airport for the flight home. We are very fortunate to have experienced such great hospitality and warmth from Kary and her family … as well as everyone else in all of Argentina.
THE FINAL SUPRISE of the day occurred when we arrived at the Buenos Aires Airport, as everyone there – passengers, ticketing agents, and security – was wearing hygiene facial masks; a very odd sight to unexpectedly see, and causing both of us to feel unprotected and maybe just a little amused. Further, as we walked in we were handed official cards advising against traveling to Mexico or to the United States due to the Swine Flu outbreak “unless absolutely necessary” … it was like those advisories one hears about that warn against traveling to some third-world country. We hadn’t kept up with the news too well while traveling, but we got a quick education on the potential epidemic this evening, as well as a different perspective of the U.S.
The first surprise of the day was driving the camper in the large city of Buenos Aires to return it to the rental depot, as there was heavy traffic unlike our initial experience a month back. Bobbie was both patient and tolerant with all my swearing and poor shifting, and we eventually made it to the depot with the camper undented and all skin intact.
The best surprise of the day was that my Buenos Aires friend Kary and her family were also very tolerant with our traffic issues, waiting extremely patiently to pick us up when we were finished with the camper and then provided a wonderful dinner, listened to our Patagonia stories, and delivered us to the airport for the flight home. We are very fortunate to have experienced such great hospitality and warmth from Kary and her family … as well as everyone else in all of Argentina.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Day 27 – Gauchito Gil
TODAY WAS JUST a drive day and not very interesting; Bobbie and Bill just grinding out the miles on Ruta 3 to get a camping spot on the outskirts of Buenos Aires.
So instead, here is the explanation for the “Mystery of the Very Red Doghouses” roadside shrines that we saw starting on our second day in Argentina … and on every day since.
Thanks go to Kary in Buenos Aires for sending me the following:
So instead, here is the explanation for the “Mystery of the Very Red Doghouses” roadside shrines that we saw starting on our second day in Argentina … and on every day since.
Thanks go to Kary in Buenos Aires for sending me the following:
EL GAUCHITO GIL
The Gauchito Gil is a legendary character of Argentina's popular culture. His full name was Antonio Mamerto Gil Núñez and he was allegedly born in the area of Pay Ubre, nowadays Mercedes, Corrientes, possibly in the 1840s, and died on 8 January 1878.
Popular accounts vary, but in broad terms the legend tells that Antonio Gil was a farm worker and that a wealthy widow fell in love, or had an affair, with him. When her brothers and the head of the police (who was also in love with the widow) found out about their relationship, accused him of robbery and tried to kill him. He enlisted in the army to escape from them. In the army, he fought against the Paraguayan army. Finally, he could come back to his village as a hero. But, when he arrived at his village, he was forced to return to the army to fight in the Argentine Civil War. It was a brother versus brother war and "Gauchito" Gil was tired of fighting. Therefore, he decided to desert.
In the end the policemen caught him in the forest. They tortured him and hung him from his feet on an Algarrobo tree. When a policeman was going to kill him, Gauchito Gil said to him: "Your son is very ill. If you pray and beg me to save your child, I promise you that he will live. If not, he will die". Then the policeman killed Gauchito Gil by cutting his throat. That was January 8th, 1878.
When the policemen came back to his village, the one who had killed Gauchito Gil learnt that his child was in fact very ill. Very frightened, the policeman prayed to "Gauchito" Gil for his son. And afterwards, his son got better. Legend has it that Gauchito Gil had healed his murderer's son. Very grateful, the policeman gave Gil's body a proper burial, and built a tiny shrine for Gauchito. Moreover, he tried to let everybody know about the miracle.
Popular accounts vary, but in broad terms the legend tells that Antonio Gil was a farm worker and that a wealthy widow fell in love, or had an affair, with him. When her brothers and the head of the police (who was also in love with the widow) found out about their relationship, accused him of robbery and tried to kill him. He enlisted in the army to escape from them. In the army, he fought against the Paraguayan army. Finally, he could come back to his village as a hero. But, when he arrived at his village, he was forced to return to the army to fight in the Argentine Civil War. It was a brother versus brother war and "Gauchito" Gil was tired of fighting. Therefore, he decided to desert.
In the end the policemen caught him in the forest. They tortured him and hung him from his feet on an Algarrobo tree. When a policeman was going to kill him, Gauchito Gil said to him: "Your son is very ill. If you pray and beg me to save your child, I promise you that he will live. If not, he will die". Then the policeman killed Gauchito Gil by cutting his throat. That was January 8th, 1878.
When the policemen came back to his village, the one who had killed Gauchito Gil learnt that his child was in fact very ill. Very frightened, the policeman prayed to "Gauchito" Gil for his son. And afterwards, his son got better. Legend has it that Gauchito Gil had healed his murderer's son. Very grateful, the policeman gave Gil's body a proper burial, and built a tiny shrine for Gauchito. Moreover, he tried to let everybody know about the miracle.
Gauchito Gil is thought to be a saint for many people of the provinces of Formosa, Corrientes, Chaco, the north of Santa Fe and even the province of Buenos Aires. One can spot smaller shrines of Gauchito Gil on roadsides throughout Argentina. Great pilgrimages are organized to the sanctuary (located about 8 km from the city of Mercedes) to ask to the saint for favors. Moreover, each January 8th (date of Gil's death), there is a celebration honoring Gauchito Gil. There, the people dance, sing and drink, and also play folkloric sports as tanning horses, bulls and others animals. The Catholic Church hasn't declared Gauchito Gil a saint, but many Argentine people are promoting him.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Day 26 – The Parrots of El Condor
(click to enlarge)JUST OUTSIDE the coastal pueblo of El Condor, a very sheer cliff parallels the road for many miles; take two steps out of your car and you can spit over the edge 200 feet down to a flat beach, a quarter mile wide at low tide.
But it was what was living on the cliff wall that was so interesting: thousands and thousands of colorful, screaming parrots. At the time of day we were there – 9 AM – they were leaving the cliff and flying up over the edge, maybe circling around us as we stood on the top, and then headed inland. Later we found a way down to the beach and walk along the bottom of the cliff, apparently greatly annoying the parrots as they screamed and flew around us at our every move.
But it was what was living on the cliff wall that was so interesting: thousands and thousands of colorful, screaming parrots. At the time of day we were there – 9 AM – they were leaving the cliff and flying up over the edge, maybe circling around us as we stood on the top, and then headed inland. Later we found a way down to the beach and walk along the bottom of the cliff, apparently greatly annoying the parrots as they screamed and flew around us at our every move.
After watching the parrots for an hour, we drove and drove, shooting for a coastal campsite on the far side of Bahia Blanca, But it was not to be, as the police had stopped road access to the camping area – apparently for construction – and we ended up staying at a nice pasada – a hotel – along Ruta 3 near Coronel Dorrego.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Day 25 – One Last Day in Patagonia
Peninsula Valdes to El Condor
WE TURNED OFF of Ruta 3 onto a coastal ripio road today, as a way to stretch out Patagonia. The coastal route was fascinating; passing by very poor rancheros, a salt marsh full of flamingos, and ocean cliffs dropping to rocky beaches. We are camping tonight in the town of El Condor at the mouth of the Rio Negro -- the campground gates are open, there is electricity, but no one is here, and so far we haven’t paid anything. The bathrooms are locked so we’ll have to find other solutions in that department.
Early tomorrow we will cross the Rio Negro, and in so doing we will officially leave Patagonia. It is still about 800 miles to Buenos Aires, but we will cross that distance in a different frame of mind.
Umm … did you get the sunset symbolism?
Early tomorrow we will cross the Rio Negro, and in so doing we will officially leave Patagonia. It is still about 800 miles to Buenos Aires, but we will cross that distance in a different frame of mind.
Umm … did you get the sunset symbolism?
Wild boar skins on the fence of a ranchero
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