Death Plane

Today I traveled for an hour and a half on bus 92 with my friend Julian d´Angiolillo out beyond Capital Federal (as the city proper is called) to a dusty highway. (You can see it all, including the plane here). We walked along the side of the road, past a small airport, a golf club, a Peron-era public pool complex (now private), stands selling charcoal for the parilla and traditional grass huts to sit in while the flesh cooks, shanty towns, and a playground in honor of the Malvinas war. (The ubiquitous memorials to a war that Argentina lost rivals only place I know of -- the American South). We finally came to the junkyard we were looking for. There amidst old buses, watertanks, refrigerators, industrial weighing equipment, heavy metal gears, and a random assortment of industrial detritus was the recently-discovered, last-remaining plane used during the dictatorship to take drugged, kidnapped desaparecidos to their death in the Rio de la Plata. We learned from the owner, who shrugged a yes at our request to roam the property and take photographs, that the Madres de Plaza de Mayo had been there last week, just to verify what they had read about in the Pagina 12 newspaper. We circled and circled, taking photographs and quietly -- it seemed the right tone -- discussing what should become of this plane. It has sat in this spot for fifteen years already.

More Beauty

On another day we took a boat ride down the Beagle Canal, passing sea lions and cormorants and more beautiful views. And, Ruthie reminds me, there was lots and lots of wind. Some of us stayed outside and got a major hair updo (Max) and others (kids) stayed inside writing postcards to various relatives and friends (except those postcards in three months). We couldn't get over the beauty of the landscape at the "end of the world." So beautiful, we won't remember that in fact, the outer edge of Antarctica is still another 800 miles away.

Pinguinos!

More commentary by Ms. Ruthie: We took a boat trip from Harberton Estancia (a famous old estancia, started by Thomas Bridges, an early missionary to Yamana natives -- ed.) to a little island to see some penguins. It was freezing....and I enjoyed it (even though it was freezing). We liked the little baby penguins. And we kept saying: "Can you believe we're here??" When we got back to Harberton from the island everyone was running up the stairs to get hot chocolate.

Happy People in Ushuaia

My co-blogger today is Ruthie Page Weinbaum, who will dictate some commentary. Here are some photographs of some Ushaians (for four days), enjoying the mountains, the water, and....SNOWBALLS! Below is also one of the rarest things on earth: Aviva smiling in a picture!

Catena Zapata

Trying to squeeze in just one more thing, we arrived late for the 3 pm tour of Catena Zapata winery...only to find that the tour had shifted to 3:30. Such is the luck of the traveler. The Mayan temple design of this huge winery -- which makes Catena Zapata but also the popular Alamos label -- was intended to make a statement that this Argentinian bodega would make uniquely Latin American wines, not just copies of French wine. I didn't bother our guide with the small problem that the Mayan empire did not read the territory of Argentina. Minor point. It was a glorious end to the Mendoza trip.

Barreal and the Calingasta Valley

I have not been to places much more beautiful than the Calingasta Valley and Barreal. North of Upsallata begins fifty miles of a rocky dirt road (sorry Hertz!) that leads through a desolate flat valley, beneath the towering Andes -- a series of peaks above twenty thousand feet. Dark mountains with swooping gestures of ice, these mountains looked like the Orcas that prey upon sea lions on the beaches of Peninsula Valdes. We climbed the "pre-cordilleras" on the eastern side of the valley and just marveled at the view of this valley.

Difunta Correa

This was a remarkable sight -- thousands of water bottles piled up by the side of the road, heading north on the way to Upsallata -- and one that is repeated on roads all across the country. The Difunta Correa is one of the most widely and passionately loved patron saints -- the protector of travelers everywhere. The Difunta -- the dead one -- was a young woman who walked across the country to retrieve the remains of her husband, killed in the wars of independence. She died of thirst in the desert but, miraculously, her baby survived, continuing to nurse for days, until it was finally saved. In honor of the woman, the miracle, and in the hope of a safe trip, people create these small road-side shrines and symbolically offer some water to the mythical traveler who did not have a savior.

Mendoza = wine

I have just returned from a wonderful trip to Mendoza and environs with my friend Joel Feldman. We began our excursion westward with another of those fantastic overnight bus rides (first class -- with seats that fully recline, dinner and breakfast service, offers of whiskey and snacks, and a panoramic view from the second floor front seats), arriving early Sunday in Mendoza. The first real rain in nine months made our plans clear -- a winery (or two). We managed to do the excellent Malbecs and Cabernets of Lujan de Cuyo (a major bodega area south of Mendoza) justice.

Aconcagua

There cannot be a more perfect approach to a mountain. The valley that leads toward Aconcagua, the tallest peak outside of Asia, begins at around ten thousand feet and winds gently up green slopes, filled with yellow flowers and birds, framed on both sides by small mountains -- say, a mere twelve to fifteen thousand feet. It was a glorious morning (note that the rain predicted for our entire stay in the Medoza area disappeared by Monday afternoon) and we ambled toward a bridge an hour in which separates the walkers from the trekkers, those heading toward the base camps and the three-week ascent to the top. After taking a last look at this glorious peak (that little swath of white on the south side is a glaciar 100 meters [sic] deep), we made our winding way down the mountain road between Chile and Argentina (the path taken by the great libertador San Martin), made a quick visit to Catena Zapata, a vast winery set beneath the precordillera, and headed to the airport, busily planning a future visit.