bus trips

Dan: There are plenty of people who’ve spent more time on buses than we have, and in other countries, but I think we pretty much understand the long-term bus ride in Argentina. Let me tell you about it. Apparently as a result of a former president’s neo-liberal policies 10 or 15 years ago, there are (almost) no trains in Argentina any more. The tracks are there still, and people are talking about getting them running again. For now, the most common form of transportation and shipping is by road. Long-distance buses are huge, cushy, double-decker rolling dormitories. Not Guatemalan chicken buses by a long shot. Shorter distance buses (2-5 hours) are not quite so nice or so big. The big boys generally have available 3 classes of seating: “semi-bed,” which reclines to 45 degrees, a little better than an airplane seat and has a nice foot rest; “bed,” which is the same thing but with a cushier chair, (I imagine) like first-class in an airplane; and “First-class,” in which the chair reclines to a full 180-degree bed. In our experience, “bed” isn’t much better than “semi-bed.” We haven’t tried the 1^st class yet. There is overhead room for carry-ons and a large area below for checked baggage. You turn in a ticket to reclaim your bag.

While in transit, passengers are treated to movies. In fact, I’m pretty sure that over the two weeks of travel in July I saw more films than in the entire 5 months we’ve been here, especially from the Nicholas Cage, and Denzel Washington collections. They are almost always Hollywood movies and are generally subtitled, but sometimes dubbed. The volume control is in the hands of the steward. There usually isn’t any entertainment between 1 AM and 10 AM. If you are lucky, there might be a game of bingo during the trip. The winner gets a bottle of wine.

If one’s travel takes place during meal times, he/she is treated to food. 6 AM: coffee or tea and cookies, 1 PM: sandwiches, cookies, something fruitlike, soda, 10 PM: bread, cookies, a pasta dish or meat. Beer and wine are available for a few pesos.

In addition to the on-board entertainment, Lou and I have found a few other ways to wile away the hours. We read, do crosswords in English and (less successfully) in Spanish, and play Travel Scrabble. We try to sit in the very front, on the top level, if possible, so as to be able to see the scenery. I bragged to my students about sitting in the front row and they said that that was the most dangerous seat in the bus, and often the only one with a seat belt (we wear it). At night, the steward hands out pillows. We bring our own blanket and have found that ear plugs, eye masks and herbal sedatives also help us get some sleep.

The bathroom on the bus “only accepts liquids.” So the bus stops for bathroom breaks every 4 or 5 hours. I always get off, even just to stretch my legs and check out whichever bus station we’re in. The steward always says that we’ll be there for 5 minutes, or we’ll be there for 10 minutes, which really means 15 or 20 minutes. The time depends on how many people are getting off or new passengers are getting on. One time, in Santiago del Estero I think it was, I assumed it would be 10 minutes, so went to ask about bus times and check out what the local street food was. Then I turned and saw my bus pulling away. I chased it down and found Louann standing in the doorway with a panicked look on her face, having slowed down the departure of the bus using her excellent panicked Spanish.

I remember our first long trip, a 10-hour overnight jaunt to Cordoba, seemed really long. Neither of us got any rest and we spent much of the rest of our trip catching up on sleep. After the 36-hour ride to Iguazu, the shorter trips of 8, 12 or 18 hours we took to get home seemed like nothing. Even so, when one of those trips is delayed, it can be frustrating. Buses seem to be quite punctual, but we had one that didn’t leave until 45 minutes later than posted, then had a punctured tire. We ended up driving to the tire-fixing place and waiting another hour or so while they fixed it. Of course this put us behind schedule for the next bus. We got to Tucuman later than planned, and by stroke of luck, in five minutes we found another bus that was just about to leave, that continued to take us north to Salta.

The picture is of the paint we got to watch dry while waiting for our late bus.

Food: The street food that very nearly separated me from from my wife at a bus station was something called a panchuker, or panchuque at another stand. It is another variation on the pancho, or hot dog. A pancake dough is place in the waffle-iron type contraption. A wiener is placed on top then covered by more dough and ironed. The result is somewhat like a pale corndog but crunchier. This picture is of me and a very sweet lady in Salta who not only sold me a panchuque (for about US$0.25) but also told us about a place that turned out to be a courtyard with live music, surrounded by about 10 empanada vendors, called "El Rincon de la Empanada," where we enjoyed the sun, some wine and finger food the rest of the afternoon.

In Mendoza, I think I’ve mentioned before, street food is pretty limited. Popcorn, peanuts ("japanese", candied, salted, or in-shell), coffee and rolls. Pretty lame. I have always, against my better judgement, been a big fan of streetside home-cooking. In Salta I couldn’t resist the
sandwiches and panchos. We also had some very nice honey popcorn.

Other items available in Salta were other varieties of empanada, plus tamales and humitas. The tamales there looked like Mexican tamales, wrapped in corn husks, but the dough was much mushier and yellow. They might have been boiled instead of steamed. The fillings I had were ground beef or something called charqui (jerky?) with potato. Humitas seemed to me like what I always knew as tamales, but were filled with a little cheese. They came in two varieties; sweet or salty. In this picture I am walking, very happily, and eating a tamal de charqui. In general, the food in Salta had more spice. There was actual homemade salsa on the tables at times.

Salta

Lou: One of the site-seeing options in the old colonial towns that we have visited is to visit huge, elaborate churches. In Salta alone, we went to 3 huge churches. This one wasn´t even on the tourist maps. It was very bright and intricately decorated another one was kind of dark with creepy statues. Also a view of it from our balcony at sunset at the hostel where we stayed.
This is the hill of seven colors. (above)
We took a day guided excursion (ie paid someone to drive us around on a tourist route) outside of Salta and saw some great mountain scenery and some llamas. We stopped at a salt flats and some pre-Incan ruins. It was similar to the route taken by "the train to the clouds". Turns out this very famous train is out of commision until next year. Seemed to us that we didn´t miss that much; being on a train the whole time and taking the same route back didn´t seem like it would have been that exciting after all.

It´s all salt! Where are the margaritas!
The salt comes to the surface (I think) and they scoop it out for commercial use.This is true rock salt. The layers in the "table" are just different minerals mixed in with the salt at that level. It was so bright I was crying.
There were people in ski masks to protect their skin from the sun exposure and they were carving and selling rock salt sculptures. Sorry, no rock salt souvenirs, they were super heavy! P.S. I don´t think the name Salta comes from the salt flat.The ruins at Santa Rosa de Tastil. I believe they are from about 1000-1500 AD. There was a ton of adobe shard laying all over. Our guide said that they had roofs made from layers of adobe and cane. It was amazing as we came over the hill and realized the enormity of the area. We were told that a similar ruin site south of Salta was even larger. Not alot in the way of interpretation of the site or even preservation, unfortunately. I did go to an amazing museum in Salta that was dedicated to the preservation and interpretation of mummies found at sites in the mountains of the area. The mummies were in freezers somewhere there, but there was a lot of footage about the discovery and about them. All of the items found at the site were on display. There were little dolls that consisted of folded over pieces of brilliantly colored cloth with a pin of metal or of shell holding it together and a little face of metal or shell also brightly colored feathers on top. All perfectly preserved from about 1500!

San Ignacio Miní

On the second part of our winter vacation trip we went from Puerto Iguazu to Presidencia Roque Saenz Peña, a town not exactly on the typical tourist’s path. We went there to enjoy hot springs. There are no pictures of us enjoying the hot springs. Instead, please enjoy these photos of the Jesuit mission we stopped by on the way. San Ignacio Miní, at one time, had 1000s of Guarani people living on its grounds. There were dozens of Jesuit missions in the region until Rome asked them politely to leave. There was an amazing movie called “The Mission,” with Jeremy Irons and Robert De Niro, that tells the story of one of those missions. Anyway, the day we were there was very rainy, and we didn’t have much time at the ruins due to a long line to get in, and a tight time schedule to catch the next bus north.

The inside of the church.

The forest takes some of the land back.

The front of the church.

Lou and Aya show off their rain gear.

Iguazu = Big Water

So we’ve returned from our winter vacation. We covered a lot of territory. As we watched grape vines turn to sugar cane, then cotton fields then corn, we realized that this is a pretty damn big country. Our original plan was to go to Iguazu Falls, and then figure it out from there, making our way back slowly. That is pretty much what we did. Two weeks is a long time with too many stories to tell, so we’re just going to post a bunch of pictures. These pictures are just from the Iguazu portion (3 days) of the trip. Iguazu is the Guarani word for “big water”. Don't forget that you can click on the pictures to make the big waters even bigger.

Winter break so far

Dan: So we survived the 36-hour busride, and it wasn´t that bad. Well, it was bad but it wasn´t horrible. Lou, our friend Aya, and traveled to Iguazu falls, on the border of Argentina, Brazil and Paraguay. Due to some visa issues and fees to cross borders, we never lleft the country though. And that was fine because I don´t know how the view of the falls could be any better form the Brazilian side. We spent two full days checking them out. I can´t even describe what it was like. You'll have to wait until we post some pictures later. We stayed in a hostel and did the tourist thing with, seemingly, the rest of Argentina. You see, it is winter break right now for us and everyone from our region. The government has wiselt staggered school breaks for different regions of the country so everyone doesn´t converge on places like Iguazu all at once. This way tourist areas get a winter high season that lasts over a month. We had a pretty rainy and cold stay, but it was worth it.

We spent a few days at Puerto Iguazu, then bussed back and stopped at Presidencia Roque Saenz Peña, were we enjoyed hot springs and spa-like activity. The hot springs there are located in a municipally run, hospital-like facility. Over the two days we soaked in mineral baths, took saunas, and each got a massage, erasing any damage caused by bus seats. It wasn´t a very touristy town, so it was a nice change.

All in all we've probably spent over 50 hours on buses in the last week and a half, and we still have an 18-hour ride to get back home. Right now Lou and I are in Salta, a cute town of half a million, in the Andean northwest. It is actually warm here, in the 70s. It is so nice to put on sunblock. We didn´t even bring shorts, since it never occurred to us that it might be warm enough. We arrived at 2 AM the other night and have been wandering around town, taking pictures of more churches and ascending yet another hill by gondola. Tomorrow we are doing an all-day excursion into the mountains. We wanted to do the "train to the clouds", which goes from here almost up to Chile and back, but the lasy at the travle agency said we´d have to wait a year til they fixed it. So we´re taking much of the same route, and a little more, by car with a guide.

Sorry we've been a bit slack on the blog updates. There was only one 24-hour period that really felt like vacation; the spa, drinking beer, eating ice cream, going out to eat. We've been going, going, going for almost the whole time. I promise we'll post tons of pictures when we get back.

El Beso

Dan: Something that has become so commonplace that I didn’t really think to mention it is el beso. People greet each other with a cheek-to-cheek kiss. The kiss is usually in the air, but is sometimes actually planted upon the cheek, and is accompanied by a smacking sound (which I just can´t get myself to do). Kisses are mandatory woman-to-woman and woman-to-man. Men usually greet each other with a handshake, but the younger crowd is kissing guy-to-guy in informal situations. In some situations we’ve gotten the kiss on each cheek.
If you arrive at a party, you should probably make the rounds and kiss everybody, whether you know them or not. Again the same as you leave. Maybe people are out so late here because it takes so long to say goodbye, especially if you feel the need to double-cheek it.

I would say that we Minnesotans have had mixed success in adapting to the culture of physical contact. The man-kiss remains awkward for me. I went to a movie with a guy the other night and he greeted me by planting one on my cheek, but he didn’t buy me popcorn. So, for me there is that awkward moment with men, in which I don’t know if the handshake will suffice or if they’re going to go for the cheek kiss. In that way Lou has it easier, needing to kiss (touch cheeks with) everyone. Still, she is a little bit shy about working the room when we decide to leave a gathering. There are still nuances that we need to find the courage to ask people about; what to do with our hands, do we stand up to kiss if we are sitting down? But we’ve got the general concept down. Someone was telling us about a U.S. high school student here recently who, having heard about the kiss greeting, began to kiss the boys right on the lips when meeting. I’ll bet she was popular.

Anyway, please don’t think that we are getting fresh if we get home and do something weird we see you. It might take us some time to get back to respecting the Midwestern personal space. Can you imagine what would happen if I started to kiss, as I do here, all my female students, colleagues and supervisors in a Minnesotan school? It has really become a habit, and polite manners. As foreigners I suppose people would understand if we didn’t kiss them, which sometimes happens, but we’re trying to fit in as best as we can.

We´re leaving on a very long bus trip tomorrow night, something like 36 hours. Dear Readers, this may be my last entry as the Dan you know, for can´t help but imagine that I will be a changed person after spending a day and a half in a reclining chair. Farewell.

Time

Dan: I don’t think we’ve properly addressed the differing concepts of time to which we’ve had to adapt here. First of all, most everything is on a 24-hour clock. Sure, everyone knows the concept of AM and PM, but most things are listed using what I had always called “military time.” I work from 15:45 to 17:15. The soccer game starts at 21:45. The band will begin at 00:30. It still sometimes causes confusion and I still have to subtract twelve from the time to make sure I’m not going to be too late, or too early.

One thing that you either love or hate, depending on if you actually get to take advantage of it, is siesta time. It think it is only practiced in Mendoza and some other, probably agricultural, hot areas. It isn’t a national practice for sure. And even in Mendoza, bigger companies and most professionals don’t observe the siesta. Yet most shops are closed from around 14:00 to 17:00 or 18:00. But there are fewer lines to wait in at the supermarket (if that particular franchise happens to stay open at siesta). Eventually one gets used to the idea that nothing productive can be done out in the city during that time. To compensate, the entire Mendocino world stays open much later. While the average lunch time might be around 1 or 2:00, dinner is certainly after 9 PM. If you go to a restaurant at 8 PM, people are only drinking coffee. The stores close 9ish too, I think. Honestly I don’t really go shopping very often.

Lou and I get done with work at 8 or 9, then get going on dinner, eating by 10 or or half past. We usually get to bed a little after 12 on weeknights. I work most weekdays at 8 or 9. It might sound like a long day, but I work 1 or 2 hours in the AM, then come home and go back to work in the PM. Some days this allows for the realization of the energizing naptime. Our building has posted hours in which we asked to not make any bothersome noises, between 22:00 and 8:00, and also from 14:00 to 17:00, but our neighbor Jorge likes to crank up his bassy radio and sing along whenever he feels like it, so sometimes siesta time isn’t so peaceful.

Anyone who knows me well might have noticed that I am neurotic about punctuality. The TWO times I was late for work were due to malfunctions in the electric buses. I was frantic to get to class. I sent texts saying I was going to be late. When I got there, five minutes tardy, everyone was quite relaxed, saying, “No Problem.” They understand the plight of the user of public transportation. I haven’t noticed any particular institionalized tardiness as I did in Costa Rica, where when somebody said they’d be there at 6, you knew they meant 6:30, or 7:00, or 8:00, depending on the situation. But I have noticed that if a party begins at 9, no one will come til 10 or 11, I think mostly because they don’t believe a party should begin that doggone early. On weekends, the youngfolk don’t go out until after midnight. If they’re going out dancing, they don’t return until the clubs close at 6 AM (which is a new law that none of the young people seem to be happy about—they used to stay out until 8AM). At the theater, there are quite a few show times after midnight (00:00).

It takes longer here to get things done, especially if you’re new to the system. A friend of ours said to us,”I’ve never been so busy doing nothing.” When we first got here, it took us three days to buy some thread and a little pocket notebook. First we had to find a place that sold those items, then try to arrive at a time when the store was open. At home we could’ve gone to Target and been done in 20 minutes. Here it is mostly individual shops. Luckily if you find the right shop, the people working there know what they’re talking about and can help you. But when you get there, you may have to stand in a long line, or take a number. The lines at the supermarkets are like nothing we’ve ever seen. I seem to have a special talent for picking the slowest-moving line. It isn’t unheard of for me to spend 5 minutes shopping and 20 minutes in line. The line might only be five people long, but they move slowly due to price checks, cashiers constantly running out of change and people also paying their bills at the registers. I’m fortunate that Lou does most of the shopping, and she chooses to go to the small neighborhood shops whenever possible. At home things take longer as well, with the hand-washing of dishes and clothing and the cooking of meals from raw ingredients.

Lou: Here is my typical schedule: Does this really exist? It is becoming less and less typical…I guess I get up around 9:30 or 10, unless I have a morning student (which I do, 1 or 2 times a week) or an “intercambio” language exchange (I’ve put aside classes for a bit and am working on actually trying to speak Spanish! I meet with 1,2, or 3 different people each week to practice 1 hour of English--for them & 1 hour of Spanish). If I have a mellow morning, I do the normal morning business and have a smoothie or oatmeal for breakfast. Then, I do the dishes from the night before and laundry by hand. Since I only have 20 clothespins and only enough line to go with them, I try to do a little every day or two.

By then, its probably about noon. I may do a little class planning, go internet for ½ hour, or go get veggies from the local stand. If I have enough time I may go get the non-fresh food from the local grocery that is slightly bigger than our storage space in Hopkins, but somehow has a little bit of almost everything (except fresh veggies). We have lunch around 1 pm—usually leftovers. At 2 pm I have Capoeira class or it is time to watch Zorro. If it is the day I have Capoeira, I come home and shower, make sure I have all the ingredients for supper and everything for night class. Other days I might have an intercambio in the afternoon. Some days I have time to run a few errands; like today, I am going to go set up a dentist appointment!

Then, I start cooking. I usually start supper around 6 I get as much done as I can or as makes sense for the meal. I leave for night class around 6:45 or 7:30 depending on the day. Then, come back around 9-9:30 to finish supper and eat. I don’t usually get much done after that. I might have energy to do some spanish studying or do some cleaning, but by the looks of this place that hasn’t happened much! We read & go to sleep around 11-12.

Food: Salami.

What up, dawgs?

Congratulations Chuck & Sheryl!

For your first wedding present, we got you a dog. You have to come down here to get him though.
Dan: Fulfilling your special request, here is a photo of the dog I pass on the street every day. I’ve been calling him Slim, others call him Negrito. The children at the institute have named him Benito Black. Sorry for the bad picture, but he just doesn’t keep still for very long. In the picture he looks like he has only three legs, but I guarantee that he is a fully functional, 4-legged dog. He is a neighborhood pooch without a specific owner, yet my boss, and possibly others, feed him. He is very friendly and a little bit jumpy. He plays well with the other dogs and yesterday I saw him hanging out with a grey cat. Sometimes I see him at the end of the street, with his back to the wall, surveying his domain. Usually if he sees me coming, and I say anything, he comes running and jumping on me, sort of play-biting. One day he snapped at my hand and took my glove off and I needed to take it back from him. He seems to only hang out on this dead-end street and the people accept him as part of the neighborhood.

The dogs of Mendoza are remarkably well-behaved. Many people own dogs here, usually small ones. They walk them down the street, leashless, without problems. If they meet another dog, there might be a quick sniff but rarely a conflict. They do their dirty business wherever they want and nobody seems to care. I think folks just let their dogs out to run free. In addition to the dogs claimed by people, there are feral pooches we see in the plazas or walking down sidewalks. They aren’t at all skinny or mangy. Maybe someone takes care of them too. I think that natural selection has created a canine gene pool suited to urban living. For example, most Mendocino dogs, when they want to cross a street, wait at a street corner. When the humans cross, so do the dogs. Pretty sharp. If they don’t follow the people …well, survival of the fittest. One day we had a dog follow us for maybe a mile, as we walked home from somewhere. He waited with us to cross streets, corner after corner. He turned when we turned. Sometimes he’d run ahead, but look back from time to time to see if we were still coming. Anyone would’ve guessed he was our pet. We ditched the little guy at our door when he was running ahead to the next corner.