Film festival

Hanna and I are volunteering for a Human Rights Film Festival that began yesterday. We talked about it before, but the time has arrived and we're in the thick of it. We've been doing translating, helping plan dinners and guiding the producers and directors of the documentary films around the city.

We still promise that we'll catch up on the blog postings, as we have left the blog hanging with our first ridiculous days driving out of Bariloche.

Also, we have officially changed our plane tickets to return to the states. Hanna arrives in Atlanta Thursday, June 18 and I get back to DC on June 15. I think I'm hanging out in DC for a couple days at least until I either catch a ride home with a stranger (who's visiting his girlfriend....craigslist.org rideshare really works) or fly back on airtran.

Hanna plans on having a crazy busy summer traveling all over the east and west coasts, going to, locating old friends and giving them wonderfully thoughtful gifts from our travels, and of course preparing herself for Berkeley.

I, however, am a bum and plans on living with my lovely parents in Atlanta (if they'll have me) for the majority of July and some of August, depending on when the plans materialize for a move out west. AMPED! Maybe someone will do a cross-country bike ride with me...or maybe I should get a job. Interesting options.

Anyways, we can't wait to see everyone, especially our lovely parents who haven't had any heart attacks while their children have gallivanted around South America the past months. We love you!

-B&H

How to do Patagonia in a Week (We don't recommend it)

(This trip was actually a month ago. We apologize. It has taken this long to recover.)

After a few relaxing days in Bariloche, we decided it was time to head further south to see the real Patagonia. Considering Byron had been carrying a tent in his pack for over a month, and I just bought a new sleeping bag, we figured a camping trip was finally in order. Of course, we chose one the coldest parts of the globe to do it.

We went to the most popular bus/tour company to start to plan our trip, but it turned out to be the last day of the season for this trip and it sounded a little too pricey. The road closes for the winder due to ice and snow, so the buses stop running in April. Rental car companies are abundant in Bariloche because the entire province is a very popular tourist area for Argentines and foreigners alike. In the winter, it's a ski haven and gorgeous mountain/lake community in the summertime. Anyway, we went to about 7 different rental companies to compare prices. Some of the companies refused to give us anything but 4-wheel drive vehicles after we told them we plan on driving down Route 40 to El Calafate. They said there are parts that you need a good car for; however, other companies were more than happy to give us their cheapest model and send us on our merry way. Which option do you think we went with??

You got it! The cheapest car possible. A Volkswagon Gol. No airbags, no frills, just right. And on a chilly morning in mid-April we hopped in and off we went! We were recommended by the car company to go for 9 or 10 days, but who has the money for that?! We decided to go with just a week and go really heavy on the daily driving.

The only map we had was in the Lonely Planet guidebook and a few words of advice from the hostel owners. Our first stop was a 10 minute stroll through El Bolson, the hippie haven of Argentina and an artisan locale. The town is really nice, but we had no time to waste so we vowed to return to it on our way back. The entire trip is 2.000 km each way, so we wanted to get as far as possible in the first day.

This is where the real adventures began... about 3 hours into the trip, I began to doze off. Did I mention the car was a stick shift and I don't know how to drive one? So Byron was just happily weaving down the highway when he felt something go wrong. We got a flat, and for no apparent reason. Needless to say, Byron wasn't thrilled to be changing a tire so soon into the trip, and I was worried that this meant bad news for the rest of the week. However, when we got to the next town (in a few more hours) we found the “gomeria” (tire store) and were able to get a used tire for $150 pesos. We kept the receipt, and were determined to get this money back since the tire was obviously bad when they gave us the car.

It was about 8pm when we finally got the the small town we were heading towards for our first camping experience. The town is a little scary because there is a huge military base there and soldiers all over the place. As it turned out, there was no campground, and the only hotel was about $70US a night, so we decided we'd try to make it to the next town, which is much bigger and was sure to have somewhere to sleep for cheap. We were both hungry and a little cranky, but we gassed up the car and headed out of the creepy tiny town.

Route 40 goes directly down the western side of Argentina, along the Andes. Although it is a very popular journey, large swaths of it remain unpaved. So at about 10 pm we realized that we had been driving on rocks for just a little too long. The biggest hint was when we popped tire #2 on a boulder in the road. The entire part was 120 km, and we only managed to go 20 in the first hour! It was very late, completely dark around us, and the only other cars on the road were huge semi trucks leaving us in the dust, literally. I begged Byron to go back, since we had no more spare tires and the road ahead was ominous. So we drove the same treacherous hour back to the town, hoping not to be blown off the “road” by Patagonian winds. We parked the car on an inconspicuous street, pulled out our sleeping bags and slept all night long covered from head to toe so no one would be the wiser. We didn't wake up until 9am!!!! because it stays dark there for so long!

That was day one.

Hanna and Byron Enter Patagonia (April 12, 2009 and onward)

In Salta, we decided that we were tired of traveling and purchased our next bus tickets to go directly to Bariloche. We promised some friends we would meet them there and had two or three days to spare. A bus from Salta to Bariloche is approximately 36 hours long and costs about $130US per person. They use the term “direct” loosely. The bus makes all it's usual stops along the way in every small town. The only thing that makes it direct is that it gets there eventually, as opposed to us having to change buses along the way. So we set out for what we hoped would be our longest bus trip ever...

Thirty-five hours later, after eating the same meal three times and our bones permanently stuck in a sedentary position, we started driving through the oasis of northern Patagonia. Bariloche is the “Aspen of South America.” We coined that phrase, but nothing could be more accurate. It's beautiful, overpriced, covered with stores selling outdoor equipment and fancy chocolates, and it revolves completely around the tourism.

Luck was on our side when we discovered that the hostel recommended by the guidebook was completely full. I consider this lucky because we ended up staying in an old hotel, converted to a hostel for half the price with a huge shared kitchen and got our own bathroom to boot! Unfortunately, they didn't have Wifi which is another reason we are so behind on these blog entries. We literally sat on the curb outside of another hostel to steal their wifi for emergency email check-ins.

After a few relaxing days of cooking, shopping, and enjoying the clean fresh air we met up with our friends Sasha and Alex. Our first adventure together was dinner at an “tenedor libre” (all you can eat buffet). The food was excellent, mostly Asian cuisine, but not lacking in freshly grilled meats and five different types of flan for dessert. Another culinary excursion we took was Byron's first experience with fondue – delicious meat and the chocolate was amazing!!! Enough about the food...

Our first big Patagonia excursion was a trip to one of the national parks in the area to see the glacier Trenador. We drove for about 2.5 hours each way to go on a 20 minute hike to vantage point from which you can no longer see the glacier itself. Just one more confusing Argentine experience.

On the way back from the “hike,” Byron decided he needed to take a stranger's rowboat out for a ride in the river. It was parked ashore next to a nice bridge and a huge campground/restaurant. Clearly, I advised Byron against it, and even more clearly, he did it anyway. Needless to say... we were no-so-politely asked to get out of the boat and leave immediately. The conversation went something like this for those of you who know some elementary Spanish:

Señor Boatowner - El barco es tuyo?
B – No. Lo siento.
Señor Boatowner – Porque estas en el barco?
B – Lo siento.
Señor Boatowner – Sala el barco ahora mismo!
B – Lo siento!
Señor Boatowner – Quieres que yo tomaria su coche?!
B – No.

And we ran out of the boat!
(It was parked just the left of where I'm sitting)

Happy Mommy's Day!!!

To Linda and Avigail... we love and miss you mucho!!!

Back in BsAs

So, our long road has led us safely back to Buenos Aires. We parted ways with our new friends Dan, Diego and Sarah at the out of control packed bus station on May 1 (the rest of the world celebrates Labor Day today and everyone was skipping town). We taxied with our stuff back to our old Casa Gallo to spend the next couple of nights while we looked for a new place to crash.

It has been a couple days now, and we know we have to continue on our travel blogs, but we wanted to let everyone know that or daily lives no longer include bus stations, hostels, walking with huge backpacks, and scouring cities for food and fun things to do. We now live in a neighborhood referred to as Belgrano. It's a happening place near other happening places. We're on the 20th floor with another happening couple (one Argentine and another Miami chica) and we have an excellent (also happening) view of the city.

We still have a ton of pictures and new cities to write about so don't stop following the blog quite yet! We saw some of the largest waterfalls in the world in Iguazu, spent countless hours on the bus and in a scary rental car, almost made it down to the end of the earth (wayyyyy south), hiked, saw glaciers, camped, got ripped off and poshed it up in Argentina's Aspen. You know, the usual 26 year-olds adventures. At least the ones without jobs.

Oh yeah, and we're looking for jobs. Anyone got one?

-Byron and Hanna.

Uyuni forth to Salta...why waste time there? Onward to Bariloche!

So we prepped ourselves for another shortish trip to the border town that would permit us the salvation that is Argentina. We still knew there was to be some sort of hiccup, Bolivia hadn't thrown the kitchen sink at us yet. We waited for the train which of course was at the normal hour of 3am. While at the train station we located a quiet corner on the unfinished concrete second floor. We sat down and started the terrible movie called Australia (we got nothing against the country, just the crap-tastic movie). By the time we were perfectly comfortable and had warmed up our butt patches of concrete a pleasant security guard demanded that we vacate the area and head downstairs where all the comfortable chairs and lounge area was (detect any sarcasm there? To their credit, there may not have been bedbugs on the floor...congrats). We got to watch 20 more minutes of Australia before the computer crapped out, then we tried any sort of activity that would keep us entertained for the next three hours...sleep, read, people watch; but none of them worked at all and our tiny alpaca blanket could just barely keep us warm against the concrete floors and brick walls.

Finally our First Class Coach arrived and it was a stampede for the comforts of a seat. We didn't choose first class as much as first class chose us. This train ran three times a week, and there was no chance we were going to spend another two nights in Uyuyuni eating at the same pizza place (which was phenomenal) and walking around the 12 square block town. As there were no more 'middle class' seats and we dreaded what the 'third class' seat entailed, we sprung (for an extra US$6) for the top notch service. After sleeping for a bit, we were informed of a rail car in which breakfast was provided for us. (This was what we paid six dollars for, as the seats were nothing spectacular.) Upon our triumphant return, we looked up at the television monitors to notice they had so kindly put on 80's videos for our viewing pleasure. Hanna knew every word to every song. I knew pretty much every chorus.

We arrived in the border town so that we could run back over to Argentina. After a brief walk and some last minute shopping to get rid of our last Bolivianos, we approached the monstrous lines and herds of confused tourists looking for guidance. To leave a country, you have to get an exit stamp. There literally are two sides of the border, a little stream between and a smattering of border guards who would probably care less if you walked right on by, but wouldn't let Hanna cross to go to the bathroom. We waited in the Bolivian line for about 3 minutes before one of the guards picked up that we were not from South America. Did the huge backpacks give us away? He asked us for our passports and promptly disappeared. The whole Western world continually tells you to never let your passport out of your sight, but throughout this trip our passports had actually been out of our possession for entire bus trips. But, no foul play has occurred and we continually are returned our passports with a smile, just like the chunky Bolivian guard did.

We wandered across the border to wait in another line on the Argentine side, but this time there was a special line for us foreigners. They took all of our passports in one fell swoop and disappeared. We waited and waited, bought some candy from a crazy lady, saw trucks and bikes cruise through with little more than an acknowledgment. Finally, our dude emerged with his huge stack of precious passports and handed them to us and instructed us to wait in another line. We were watching the clock and knew that the last bus to Salta from the Argentine border town was leaving in a mere 30 minutes. The second line was 'customs' to check our bags. Some people they completely gutted and swabbed for any sort of residue (of course leaving clothes and other items strewn across the table for the traveler to furiously pack back), and others, like Hanna and me, they purely opened a couple zippers half-way and let us through.

We jogged to the bus terminal, as cabs are for pansies, and asked for directions from at least three locals who told us all different directions. When Hanna finally asked a 14 year-old girl, we were able to get some sensible direction. We frantically bought a bus ticket and bought some sort of sustenance (6 empanadas) and got ready for another 8 hours to complete almost a 24 hours period of hectic travel.

SALTA!!! The town that everybody recommends, but nobody actually goes to... We found a hostel willing to let us use their showers and ate a burger on the street at 1:30am. For all practical purposes, Salta was good.

Bolivia – Unpaved. Uncouth. Unforgettable. cont.

After getting our fill of $0.50 hamburgers and having seen the “sights” in La Paz, we decided it was time to move on to a place where the air is breathable, zebras don't direct traffic, the bedbugs are not as plentiful, and Wifi exists. La Paz wasn't all bad. We ate at a delightful thai/indian/chinese restaurant and bought some gifts, of which you will all surely reap the benefits (I still remember not to end my sentences with a preposition!).

Since we were on a time crunch to meet some friends in Patagonia, we decided to go ahead as start heading south. Booking buses in Bolivia is far more complicated than anywhere else. Unless you are going to La Paz, bus options are limited to two or three days a week and there is no such thing as a "nice" bus. So we bought our tickets for an overnight bus to Uyuni, home of the world's largest salt flats YUUUMM!

The bus trip started off just as all of them do, with many many stops on the way out of town to pick up locals that know how to avoid the bus station. At every stop I asked Byron to look out the window and make sure no looters were taking our luggage off the bus (we heard that was pretty common in Bolivia). At around 3am we stopped for a bathroom/snack break and to change bus drivers. Although this bus trip is expected to be 12 hours, the buses do not have bathrooms on them, and that is a luxury that I had grown quite accustomed to. Not only were we missing bathrooms, but the roads were missing something too - pavement. The bumpiness was unbearable, to say the least.

At about 4am, I finally got some sleep because the bus was stopped completely for about an hour. I was too tired to wonder why we weren't moving, and of course, Byron was sleeping through it all. So around 5am, in the cold, dark, endless abyss of Bolivian landscape, everyone was asked to get off the bus and start walking. We walked past a big semi that was apparently stuck in this tiny stream of water in the road. We kept walking until we all crossed the stream. Our shoes were a little muddy, but it certainly didn't seem like anything a huge bus couldn't get across. So we watched as our bus crossed the 'treacherous' body of water, got back on, and eventually made it to Uyuni.

Although tours of the salt flats can last up to four days, but we opted for the one-day quick trip, mostly because money was starting to run thin. As soon as we stepped off the bus at the crack of dawn in this tiny tourist town, four people walked up offering us their company´s tour packages. Since we were completely drained and frustrated, we went with the guy who spoke English. Good job buddy!

What exactly is a SALT FLAT? Exactly what it sounds like. A dried up flat lake that left it's salt deposits for all of us to enjoy. The four-wheel drive vehicles tours begin by taking you a "train graveyard." Sounds cool, right? Wrong. See photo evidence. The trains were all covered in graffiti and virtually unrecognizable as former locomotives. From there, we drove about 20 km to a town made complete of salt, all the houses, tables, statues, souvenirs, and more souvenirs. It all looked pretty cool, but tasted even better. Once we drove onto the actual flats, things started getting truly impressive. You are requested to bring sun glasses because the glare of the salt is so intense, which also meant the heat pounds right back up at you. There were parts where nothing but salt could be seen in any direction, as if you're in the middle of the ocean. They really got lucky on this tourist attraction. It is amazing!