tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14068837282589491612024-03-14T01:31:10.848-07:00Where in the World is Meg?Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12827103377006878157noreply@blogger.comBlogger14125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1406883728258949161.post-15979761025893405892011-11-30T08:23:00.000-08:002011-11-30T08:38:56.218-08:00New Blog!<p>Some of you may have noticed that I haven't been very good about keeping up with this blog. Oops. This is because after many months of agony and writer's block, I have decided to start my blog all over again. I am crazy? Well, sort of but that's not really the point.</p><p>The point is that I decided I wanted to switch from Blogger to Wordpress. I'm getting more serious about blogging (oxymoron?) and since most blogs use the Wordpress CMS, I figured I should probably make the switch. Plus, I wanted a new toy to play with. I'm still not sure I made the right choice but there's no looking back now. Giver.</p><p>You can now find me at <a href="http://www.travelingmeg.wordpress.com">travelingmeg.wordpress.com</a> or on Twitter @practicalmeg</p><p>I have sincerely appreciate everyone's support and I hope you keep reading!<br /><span style="display: block;" id="formatbar_Buttons"><span class="" style="display: block;" id="formatbar_CreateLink" title="Link" onmouseover="ButtonHoverOn(this);" onmouseout="ButtonHoverOff(this);" onmouseup="" onmousedown="CheckFormatting(event);FormatbarButton('richeditorframe', this, 8);ButtonMouseDown(this);"></span></span></p><p>Besos,</p><p>Traveling and Practical Meg</p>Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12827103377006878157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1406883728258949161.post-31429743771695646312011-08-18T20:30:00.000-07:002011-08-18T19:18:08.618-07:00San Antonio de Areco, Argentina<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Just an hour and half outside of Buenos Aires is San Antonio de Areco, a pueblito famous for gaucho culture, Sunday <i>parrillas </i>and horses. Here gauchos still exist, riding their horses next to the highway and parking them outside of cafes. Not exactly the open pampas but I guess everyone has to adapt.</span></div><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span"><o:p></o:p></span></p><span class="Apple-style-span"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsjJKinUzX9WcVypWf-b1kNpCc5krnx-UI7H2u0q95YUPrI0d2vp9J3ijsQiXQF3S-sxXHC6k-dorJ6uWNjXoAJcF5-ugmNKmfsp4LlcOD2kxZefjQ-NvsxGPTacbQiFWdEAJuxiIVz7Y/s1600/DSC02203.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsjJKinUzX9WcVypWf-b1kNpCc5krnx-UI7H2u0q95YUPrI0d2vp9J3ijsQiXQF3S-sxXHC6k-dorJ6uWNjXoAJcF5-ugmNKmfsp4LlcOD2kxZefjQ-NvsxGPTacbQiFWdEAJuxiIVz7Y/s400/DSC02203.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5638268566377606770" border="0" /></a></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""></span><div><div><div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;">
<br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">With glitter still stuck to my face from last night’s bachelorette party, the first order of business is to take a siesta. In small town Argentina, there really isn’t anything else to do from 2 – 4pm and we are happy to abide by the local customs. Once we finally wake up, we are faced with the all important question, "What's there to do in San Antonio de Areco?" Short answer: chill out, eat and drink.<span class="Apple-style-span"> </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>
<br /></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Hang Down by the River</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>"The mark of a successful man is one that has spent an entire day on the bank of a river without feeling guilty about it." Author Unkown</i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i>
<br /></i></div></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238);"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-Sk81iJiVsaEkqHj3hVMj2o9gaQMhzFgO6r4em_-HXssfvwWbHwDnsYZHiZQPD4RIzHOyZX6NClQwvdtpSB-C2e85VaHsToyCnp9opJq4695-1NNcWHFF3p8nu7oVH9kn239Oelb0cDo/s400/DSC02232.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641237747686251090" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" border="0" /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><div style="text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span">Well then we'd be successful. The river is <u>the</u> place to hang out in town with family and friends while enjoying mate, chatting and teaching your kids how to fish. This is another world compared to the traffic and bustle of Buenos Aires.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; ">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnJEwZiHVGyCc-XDyHERfBKTi02YLlxKL5lUzbrNB0kUcPRyKNjmfINKDKQQEI1lYGg9fa3XMNXraHTBYPxJZguPySBeANC5Zyd6RZOLsr3wJSnDq8Mp__0280MdT60PWvGY71P8QFSWs/s400/DSC02214.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5638258798667888226" style="text-align: center; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" border="0" /></div></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnJEwZiHVGyCc-XDyHERfBKTi02YLlxKL5lUzbrNB0kUcPRyKNjmfINKDKQQEI1lYGg9fa3XMNXraHTBYPxJZguPySBeANC5Zyd6RZOLsr3wJSnDq8Mp__0280MdT60PWvGY71P8QFSWs/s1600/DSC02214.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><span class="Apple-style-span"><div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Mate
<br />
<br /></span></div>If you feel the need to do more than just sit by the river and don't have an irrational fear of large mammals, then you can ride horses for a steal of a deal. Personally, not my cup of tea, but whatever floats your boat.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238);"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqbiJVWzQZFLVQR2ZMbSoaIBpKOFIaWb-Kkhz6q4W-QNXLYEFQNXNsoeAK2dNXgzwpNdG3RbPzYLK0GdwKKm-AoZJkaIEXwDty5aNUJyDHQ4D-ybpbrEIK2OLGjCdshyphenhyphenxDyIGor4jsbnA/s400/DSC02284.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5640830445155697170" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" border="0" /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"><span>Equus caballus</span></div><div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br />Parrilla</span></b></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">On a Sunday afternoon, the rich smells of wood fires and roasting beef wafts out onto the street. It is very hard to resist. Perhaps a vegetarian's worst nightmare, eating an asado is the thing to do in San Antonio de Areco on the weekend. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqQ61nzqi2UY2XiLOfa-XNrwMxH-HJShk_74Tz-kUhw79JS3tgmP6dSUmbRUZNNj3HA7oIe0kXNc_YB0Ubb3pNO8UEGDTpZm4Wx-uG3rhXFcelfSSr5RZH5fqXP8n8SMsUQAkeXYXwb8E/s1600/DSC02283.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqQ61nzqi2UY2XiLOfa-XNrwMxH-HJShk_74Tz-kUhw79JS3tgmP6dSUmbRUZNNj3HA7oIe0kXNc_YB0Ubb3pNO8UEGDTpZm4Wx-uG3rhXFcelfSSr5RZH5fqXP8n8SMsUQAkeXYXwb8E/s400/DSC02283.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5633072858152716418" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;">The restaurants do fill up, especially during prime asado time (2pm) and/or if the sun is shining, but don't let this dissuade you. Grab your friends, a bottle of wine, agua con gas, salad and order any part of the cow you can imagine. They may even cut your piece right in front of you.</div></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ_lE6X_tYcO7mceDTWSpyNG0pq-2OmOYmYPzQ-xU4mmi4qse6mfgFwgc8CnE1DsURq7bb90Q44kttT7hmt468TTO5RWd4OVbZWBr-AozyN3G8TQ8tjffkuCDfxfSkqDRJ1wY0l-1xRSA/s400/DSC02278.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5633050077728239234" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; color: rgb(0, 0, 238);" border="0" /><div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span">A skilled asador</span></i></div><div style="text-align: left; "><span><b>
<br /></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left; "><span><b>Nightlife</b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span><span><span class="Apple-style-span">Ok, so we didn't really find any 'nightlife' in this town. Once the sun went down, the streets seemed very quiet and peaceful. Still, there are places to grab a beer. The best (and really only) cervecería is the Old Town Brewery, where w</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span><span>e met</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"><span><span> our friends Dani and Lolo. </span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"><span><span>
<br /></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"><span><span><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Do47lGT9qQvGXixhOUQIBrFLq20mTGtq7QNj1OiuNkUEl0nYMZCsBIRzERK6W20J2tRf16bTphpyJrG7sfl9wCEkT0c4jb4qMakBdNxK5NO3yueGCzp5_6nYHmxMYpyZdROG4DmpHaI/s400/DSC02245.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5633068253971114738" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" border="0" /></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"><span><span>
<br /></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"><span>Not only are they a ridiculously good looking couple but they are also an extremely interesting one. With four nationalities representing three continents at the table, we discuss living in Argentina, the state of this crazy world and most importantly, which beer tastes the be<span>s</span></span><span>t. Our favorite is the amber.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"><span><span>
<br /></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWBU6jEHPDYmnWtELlFLuXUyTWcJUKz5jyS-Im9_KCrAp80HeaCsk08KS3aUsZspVxdpYCLmyt4QX8JqC3c760DBtVDvTE3AMVQaDBcovaUypYUKIC-yC6SP8yI7SCoOIx-rVCuuI7FFw/s400/DSC02255.JPG" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5633071911525022930" border="0" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238);">
<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Just around the corner is the neighborhood <i>pulperia</i>. Recommended to us by our hosts, I lead the charge into the local joint with minimal signage. I am greeted by collective silence and male stares. Uhhhh… I’m am unprepared and I imagine it shows on my face. Behind me someone has enough good sense to say <i>buenos noches</i> and everyone quickly returns to their drinks. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px; ">I love finding hole in the wall places like this and I try to take photos but I don’t want to make them feel like this is a Nat Geo moment ("just look at ‘em, in their natural habitat, drinking beer").</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px; ">
<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238);"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5630908499022137650" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilRTonnNCYzSTHvYC3JmrUV7q5Aob8Mu5Sz4_NR5BNCWE8af65R1TcLop4wLsbqBBlsxa5vQcGrCmMwlR_K4LalahhbKCy9QwmDFIHXt6JALrsDK_zm5vplAu9rzp3L6wF7k2JuumQ1ig/s400/DSC02195.JPG" style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; display: block; height: 300px; cursor: pointer;" border="0" /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238);"></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqQ61nzqi2UY2XiLOfa-XNrwMxH-HJShk_74Tz-kUhw79JS3tgmP6dSUmbRUZNNj3HA7oIe0kXNc_YB0Ubb3pNO8UEGDTpZm4Wx-uG3rhXFcelfSSr5RZH5fqXP8n8SMsUQAkeXYXwb8E/s1600/DSC02283.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqQ61nzqi2UY2XiLOfa-XNrwMxH-HJShk_74Tz-kUhw79JS3tgmP6dSUmbRUZNNj3HA7oIe0kXNc_YB0Ubb3pNO8UEGDTpZm4Wx-uG3rhXFcelfSSr5RZH5fqXP8n8SMsUQAkeXYXwb8E/s1600/DSC02283.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span">Pulperia in afternoon light</span></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwa65v6sHOa3KU1DtPXCom54xxKaIXLVKBrYQd5UJrHMeYfd0NfYkKvsVbLFqIjdcCHaq1-06XfoG-wDJMezIpoxuxTZyz7Sm6Gkbkwt5wawR3yzf7FEcOMDrL-2ir9q7lbPBVR4UnYzs/s400/DSC02298.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642371924450568898" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 381px; height: 400px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span">Practical Stuff</span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Companies like <a href="http://www.gralbelgrano.com.ar/">General Belgrano</a> and <a href="http://www.nuevachevallier.com/home.html">Chevallier</a> run services San Antonio (1.5 to 2 hour trip) at 30 – 45 pesos each way. Bring a book or good company. Pick up a map if needed, but this town is so small you can probably figure out the hots spots within an hour.</span></div><div><div style="text-align: left;"><p class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilRTonnNCYzSTHvYC3JmrUV7q5Aob8Mu5Sz4_NR5BNCWE8af65R1TcLop4wLsbqBBlsxa5vQcGrCmMwlR_K4LalahhbKCy9QwmDFIHXt6JALrsDK_zm5vplAu9rzp3L6wF7k2JuumQ1ig/s1600/DSC02195.JPG"><span class="Apple-style-span"><o:p></o:p></span></a></p></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilRTonnNCYzSTHvYC3JmrUV7q5Aob8Mu5Sz4_NR5BNCWE8af65R1TcLop4wLsbqBBlsxa5vQcGrCmMwlR_K4LalahhbKCy9QwmDFIHXt6JALrsDK_zm5vplAu9rzp3L6wF7k2JuumQ1ig/s1600/DSC02195.JPG"><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></a></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span>
<br /><div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12827103377006878157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1406883728258949161.post-84423121918430949012011-07-05T19:34:00.000-07:002011-07-06T14:29:21.738-07:00La Cumbrecita, Cordoba, Argentina<div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><span class="Apple-style-span">Over the river and through the woods lies La Cumbrecita. Here, horses are the only form of transportation besides your own two feet and there are plenty of trails, rivers and waterfalls, perfect for weary city-dwellers.</span></div><br /><div><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline" class="Apple-style-span"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625679397434676018" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ1A7JF8YBLvzKKPoTKF1S2KKoNDzkLtDB9lK3OM3IzDf-kTxjUFOt87yy0iX7hwpn0TA2xzefvl9NYk_2rVgUA78EnQo3a3xAfXnYfATvDnNfIAgfTkbgwlwDLs_pYPIQF8-lfiRHlBk/s400/DSC01775.JPG" /></span><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span class="Apple-style-span">There is a lot to do in La Cumbrecita, but we are only passing through for the day. My Kiwi travel partner, Sarah, is a very perky blond and she insists that we take an early bus to get in all the activities we can. But the first bus leaves at 7am and I am absolutely not interested. There is another bus at 10am and we are on vacaaaaation, I plead using my best whiny voice.<span style="font-size:+0;"> </span>Sarah is sympathetic but undeterred, and she continues to think up hypothetical situations in which it would be better if we were to arrive early. All in all, she has been an extremely good travel partner and considering that she has saved me from traveling on my own, I should probably show a little bit of flexibility. Plus her accent is sort of convincing. Damn.</span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline" class="Apple-style-span"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616655573126915586" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix1mpgrhzDn4A88aFommqUeB-YkTMby6nxTiUKlBPYiC39cfmclHUpnCjG91_1SgmgQqYt44-t-K1LPveF0NpR35mss0yL9X-7Sno8icmv5fuAqXMWg6K6qLldFSNWAqXUaPu8Zllk-h4/s400/DSC01803.JPG" /></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span><span class="Apple-style-span">So then we find ourselves walking to the bus station in the dark under the Southern Cross and it’s many star companions. We run the last 100 meters to catch our bus just as it is leaving the station. Whew. On board are locals going to work and elementary school children wearing white lab coats blasting reggaeton on their cellphones. I manage to sleep through it and wake up in a daze when we arrive at 8:30 am in La Cumbrecita.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline" class="Apple-style-span"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5622648627530718626" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiniqgKM-UnktRvR4tr8pNk9ZocDeOZ0l62Av7c9rgHLMfJWmugPm1_E5BpuYPVYbL3FU2E5a_FQ-JFUk6gM6Ki1n53X-PjUwfb02J1KNCSDBV2Evr9EjtCz6WJRz-i6jqL_K4eOae3K9U/s400/DSC01749.JPG" /></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span><span class="Apple-style-span">“It’s beautiful isn’t it!” Sarah exclaims. I try not to give her too much of a scowl. I’m not sure if she is trying to convince me or herself, but it doesn’t take me long to realize that she is genuinely enthusiastic. It is freezing cold but she’s right, the air is crisp, clear and silent. Nice. </span><o:p></o:p></span></p><span class="Apple-style-span"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDxB4hdr1MIfgMDR2x0-ACGaSnQyQLPuCtCIN02HDMHAEA3zq-v0U8I-_hPeG6tHuhE2YWvTMEWRJvhnnD0v91gfcb3aB4cMeN3lk-ARDeTVxoJxmAvJmbO2voyC3G-aS0EIdqgb92R0s/s1600/Sheep+Skins+2.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 315px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616675435233452306" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDxB4hdr1MIfgMDR2x0-ACGaSnQyQLPuCtCIN02HDMHAEA3zq-v0U8I-_hPeG6tHuhE2YWvTMEWRJvhnnD0v91gfcb3aB4cMeN3lk-ARDeTVxoJxmAvJmbO2voyC3G-aS0EIdqgb92R0s/s400/Sheep+Skins+2.JPG" /></a><span><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span><span class="Apple-style-span">Nothing opens until 9am but we give the local coffee shop owner our best pathetic gringa faces and she lets us in. We huddle around our cafe con leches while we dreamily eye the delicious German pastries that are outside of our price range. The coffee shop owner gives us some recommendations for walks and sites to see around the town. We manage to do a fair bit:</span><o:p></o:p></span></p></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxo0-X5caf8jrg2R9UwCfJzGzVn6BwOS2iWB7Dqu5aJe7L8KzPYG5q2N_eXBAObmN3zFwt6EW6xnnZhBk-J1oguXK9JYPCY98Fm-4blK6CmU3fJZGlqZE7pvqkwv7COzsliGv8KvqQcVE/s1600/DSC01797.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624780833536197474" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxo0-X5caf8jrg2R9UwCfJzGzVn6BwOS2iWB7Dqu5aJe7L8KzPYG5q2N_eXBAObmN3zFwt6EW6xnnZhBk-J1oguXK9JYPCY98Fm-4blK6CmU3fJZGlqZE7pvqkwv7COzsliGv8KvqQcVE/s400/DSC01797.JPG" /></a><span><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span class="Apple-style-span">La Casacada</span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span><span class="Apple-style-span">Our first destination is a peaceful waterfall about 20 minutes outside of the center of town. We are the only ones on the trail and we watch the sun quietly spread its rays out over the hills. We sit and enjoy the waterfall, respecting the rule that it’s still too early to speak.</span><o:p></o:p></span></p></span><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline" class="Apple-style-span"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5622654064596586114" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW3kNhmAHDJxRVqc_IFDWTo5KOVSsj4BSbk6jybx6gCaxU5t96m0y55hNofxka7p86GaiKW_Age1LIWBM9lgcEg4UbTgqwGfGnX0gkD1bYr4ICxaKWfoSaPLPHXoC0yswtka7IT932iE4/s400/DSC01761.JPG" /></span><span><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span class="Apple-style-span">Olla</span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span><span class="Apple-style-span">We meander around to the Olla which is really just a stream but I can imagine in the summer time that it's the perfect swimming hole. In fall, it's a great photo op.</span></span></p></span></span><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy8XOmsaja75DIfNZcCKd-_o7CrEOPL5L4PyYX_1WBo8RvUvBxvDi1_F7aVJtrM4FO7X59iXOrourSqEeVQdtTJHNidvemWmLQ09uJcCdaUXp-Ksx-W6RONDajoiBpwaOPIdGDvJN5G-s/s1600/DSC01767.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: left; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5622657111479750578" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy8XOmsaja75DIfNZcCKd-_o7CrEOPL5L4PyYX_1WBo8RvUvBxvDi1_F7aVJtrM4FO7X59iXOrourSqEeVQdtTJHNidvemWmLQ09uJcCdaUXp-Ksx-W6RONDajoiBpwaOPIdGDvJN5G-s/s400/DSC01767.JPG" /></a></p><div><span><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span class="Apple-style-span">Cerro Wank (1715 meters)<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span><span class="Apple-style-span">Highlight of the day. Pretty cool hike, only about 1 hour to 1.5 hr each way with great views of the town and dry mountains once you reach the top. The trail is not marked and we kind of get lost on the way back. This is mainly my fault. I see a large rock with a distinctive hole that I swear I would have recognized, therefor we must be on the wrong trail! Makes sense, right? So we double back and end up right where we started. Huh. (Needless to say, I have a pretty bad sense of direction.) Sarah is a very good sport and she rightly earns herself the position of trail leader.<span> </span>I follow her down and around the loose rock path, taking horse droppings as a sign that we are on the right track. We meander a bit off the trail but end up right where we want to be.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); " class="Apple-style-span"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5622651198751617378" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkDbXTdBd98DqSR6k4YSCI1JeyxbXzW96zR2DrvRmlqodGwSPT0hlxiT8YihN1wrEBSmwkvqrd-5yEjJMJaxijcb7hu06sTznRcrMOcKwJkRRF0NVC9zR_hUqyVsofcEUCgklmfzcnty0/s400/DSC01783.JPG" /></span></p></span></div><div><span ><p class="MsoNoSpacing"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span>After a morning of wandering, we grab some cheesy empanadas and sit by the el Rio del </span><span lang="ES-AR">Medio</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span"> to watch the local horse traffic and nap in the sun. </span><o:p></o:p></span></p></span><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline" class="Apple-style-span"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 294px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5622651957048828962" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-YAh5SGqa8xYGGHa8Fr04YR7nnrKOImC3l1kqMj3sPKHk7FcH2EzISRp3X-Jf3knc3KOQrBrUpnSeoGYby2S9VeUO1JiYeAPLM-qJov0ZCkO6jUTI6tKt5ENQoMh7R057UYiHPa2EFh0/s400/DSC01802.JPG" /></span></div><br /><div><span class="Apple-style-span">By the afternoon, the clouds fill up the sky and we decide we’ve done enough for the day. In the end, it was better that we caught the early bus because of they sunny weather and we had the trails all to ourselves. Downside, we look exhausted in all our pictures. Live and learn.</span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Tourist info: <a href="http://www.lacumbrecita.gov.ar/">http://www.lacumbrecita.gov.ar/</a></span></div><br /><div><br /></div><br /><div><br /></div><br /><div><br /></div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><br /></div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW3kNhmAHDJxRVqc_IFDWTo5KOVSsj4BSbk6jybx6gCaxU5t96m0y55hNofxka7p86GaiKW_Age1LIWBM9lgcEg4UbTgqwGfGnX0gkD1bYr4ICxaKWfoSaPLPHXoC0yswtka7IT932iE4/s1600/DSC01761.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><br /></a></div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><br /></div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkDbXTdBd98DqSR6k4YSCI1JeyxbXzW96zR2DrvRmlqodGwSPT0hlxiT8YihN1wrEBSmwkvqrd-5yEjJMJaxijcb7hu06sTznRcrMOcKwJkRRF0NVC9zR_hUqyVsofcEUCgklmfzcnty0/s1600/DSC01783.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><br /></a></div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyq2P4DSN6l71UVT-qVKIhj25sZXDEbKQ85c-7L1KRM7qIC5Cx1oxv4EYzWLmZEkYNn-WcKqqzVozfG-LQhKkYWlTcl_roSTx1-Als5mKEF9x3Y0r3WhRMYgG-BpkCbI0i98yq0VkSIj8/s1600/DSC01775.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline" class="Apple-style-span"></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDxB4hdr1MIfgMDR2x0-ACGaSnQyQLPuCtCIN02HDMHAEA3zq-v0U8I-_hPeG6tHuhE2YWvTMEWRJvhnnD0v91gfcb3aB4cMeN3lk-ARDeTVxoJxmAvJmbO2voyC3G-aS0EIdqgb92R0s/s1600/Sheep+Skins+2.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline" class="Apple-style-span"></span><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline" class="Apple-style-span"></span><br /><div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix1mpgrhzDn4A88aFommqUeB-YkTMby6nxTiUKlBPYiC39cfmclHUpnCjG91_1SgmgQqYt44-t-K1LPveF0NpR35mss0yL9X-7Sno8icmv5fuAqXMWg6K6qLldFSNWAqXUaPu8Zllk-h4/s1600/DSC01803.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><br /></a></div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><br /></div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtHZ7N8lqLaYnjnycT5uqoRsQ8juMwqgQGYJmGwclFz8yojhcLrMpndJZjNRww2LEeUVucTgmcMpQXXLHqUx6MiimjIhslU89gfmV4fAT3b2EXJA2W38dnSr9gevsxB_QnjLcIxt7ch2k/s1600/DSC01788.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><br /></a></div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline" class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><br /><div><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline" class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"></div></div></div>Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12827103377006878157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1406883728258949161.post-1694807759933699282011-06-21T17:00:00.000-07:002011-06-21T17:47:13.206-07:00Villa General Belgrano, Argentina<div style="text-align: center;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">I am sitting a hammock on a fall day, listening to the collective sounds of sustainably raised chickens and green parrots nesting in pine trees. I am happy to be reminded that places like this exist. We have settled in Villa General Belgrano, a small town about two hours outside of the provincial capital of Cordoba. The town has a distinctly German character thanks to the German sailors who moved here during World War II after their warship was sunk off the coast of Montevideo, Uruguay. Today the town is most famous for the by-product of its German heritage, great beer. <o:p></o:p></p></div><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_PtIaPbcShI2YN2cR9fFVtpEhS4uxi4XAta87_LktnPFQ-te0uyPG9-pCPw9YDSp4NaiyVbyqjWb3BKRq84Q7BdkfzYq3RWg739rfIdy-1M1vwK9IBVCqKO6ep12_1_S68CweFLQOdXY/s1600/DSC01716.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_PtIaPbcShI2YN2cR9fFVtpEhS4uxi4XAta87_LktnPFQ-te0uyPG9-pCPw9YDSp4NaiyVbyqjWb3BKRq84Q7BdkfzYq3RWg739rfIdy-1M1vwK9IBVCqKO6ep12_1_S68CweFLQOdXY/s400/DSC01716.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620440126961628354" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 287px; " /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span">We are staying at El Rinc<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">ó</span>n, an old German farm turned eco-friendly hostel. El Rinc</span>ó<span class="Apple-style-span">n is enlightening and a destination within itself. The house smells of wood and the floors creak every time you walk up the stairs. With an inviting fireplace and sheepskin seat cushions, the living room feels like a mix between a ski cabin and my dad’s old windsurfing van. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqtBEGeU3-2BQuafFhokXdy0oRBdjcI_oploz6gditezjaFZ7KqJuw8tERL-WKe7LsWbPmSYP-g146ckWwOiIbZQ1Hr-mMKao2oHOFXrihe9nXvkEgXjE56PC7GSSibLRW1v-ChXm4gYU/s400/DSC01806.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620441171244916914" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 318px; height: 400px; " /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal">I keep looking out the window,expecting to see the Alps but instead all I see are birch trees losing their leaves to fall. It is low season, and there is only one other person our 12 person dorm room. An older gentleman with a thick German accent that covers his Argentine Spanish accent checks us in and tells us to make ourselves at home (dorm bed, 40 pesos = $10 USD).</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgti8ODI48Dl9XBz1lO_-41cYvDMQX9g9n8ZHyluT4C6a6huQWkfOUIQttPtZZ36d1ahJ02ESfBisykq1xlN4o-6dRhbIAGKiWUwuzcGeauVf8eYz3txuNg4cXlr3HL60URrpzsCSXmhcQ/s400/DSC01717.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620442922199155346" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 250px; " /></span></p> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "></span><p class="MsoNormal">I take some time to enjoy the atmosphere while my travel mate/amateur photographer Sarah embraces her artistic side. I lie in the hammock, swing on the thin metal swings, and see how close I can get to the chickens before they cock their head sideways with a look of alarm. Soon enough, it’s time to wander into town, and we manage to find the only grocery store still open before the entire town shuts down for a two hour siesta.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-DZvkFybjedphxmnBPAL4gUg82LWXK_jT05HUcyAraQCcs-kI2Ip1JUobEfO-b5Mh6OgM4ay4G9-qjpPXb1cXL8p8O9NRogyHg7YRXMUf3OCaMkPJu2g3o3Q-31dyeppJ5cBeEKteQRo/s400/DSC01723.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5617366138055330914" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></p><p></p>We decide to hike up Cerro de la Virgen, an easy 1.5 hour walk into the hills. For some reason, the trail is sponsored by the cellphone company Claro.<br /><div><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA36di9nSzq-N-B7l9ahdhcNDh8anAaQJgEc28mCBvgC7k3KEIdKi0z5c1Q5s9xfRIG19HYCJTcn1pbTQbfajwtl6XAlMHQkIHh41W7v3OvZJvUTqkz272xRqJu2CCwr4xWnugqy5QK3c/s400/DSC01725.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620452981794259666" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 348px; height: 400px; " /></span><p class="MsoNormal"></p><p class="MsoNormal">In South America it is common for there to be a cross or Jesus statue overlooking the town. Villa General Belgrano has an effigy of the Virgin that makes excellent use of shadows.<o:p></o:p></p><p></p> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibdfn1RMixhW7lr4Cq0z3ulBWZZtbSwRELLaJXwIXkSjMy0KmlWUbPxkTJ7-3nh48NO3iz5a6qauLq7E1nheJJLKidHMatFAlMpipKuAfhCjlPYsoAt5j1Xhql5oxttSKC-HDmA_f9_jM/s400/DSC01736.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5617363235341804722" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></span><p class="MsoNormal">After our relaxed walk, it's time to enjoy some artesian beer. Sarah asks around and the locals recommend Cafe Rissen. We have a liter of Scotch Red Ale for 30 pesos. Delicious.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAGlf4Q-Mmb37Na1dmzzM9qDqCvBKWGAIu9efpYaJpST3V1A6C9P4uf3shHlcdv6f4ydGBAxvBgwQKX48iiT2wPPyzwkm88BArivYWbOehPBneAFPKljeF9YPgwHJdzstN3UQmBU1RN9Y/s400/DSC01743.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5620445674913767458" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></span></p> While there isn't much more to do in Villa General Belgrano, there are other smaller towns to visit nearby. Next post coming soon: La Cumbrecita.</div>Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12827103377006878157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1406883728258949161.post-40959651337685344002011-05-13T16:44:00.000-07:002011-05-17T16:55:41.983-07:00Colonia del Sacramento, Uruguay<div style="text-align: left;">Argentina gives all U.S. tourists a 90-day visa. Some visitors (like me) simply do not want to leave Buenos Aires and for those of us who aren't quite ready to commit to permanent residence, there is a very simple way to renew your visa: Go to Uruguay. It's easy. You hop on a ferry and in about an hour you arrive in the cutesy tourist town of Colonia del Sacramento. And that's exactly what I did. Since I'm on a tight budget, I had to take cheapest ferry I could find departing Buenos Aires at the ungodly hour of 7am. Ugh. On the plus side, I start my day by watching an amazing sun rise.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg98QpJYjPW2yMYWZ1MWvH5BLmP8doWe_lupcH5paIvC9FiS27NwC6_zqdi4XiAAkdHtslNAxTDz86L0YjSOSK-bo5rY9_-cZbP8SgmD09CbbFwupVgGDN6FZ1hcAw86NALqKsbk6cvucM/s400/DSC01492.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606355012432905490" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></div><div>When I arrive in Colonia, it is a breezy walk off the ferry. All of the other passengers have realized that it is fall except for me. I clutch my thin hoodie and curse myself for not bring a hat. I think of all the times my mom yelled at me to wear warmer clothing. "I'm cold just looking at you Meg!" I honestly don't think I'll ever learn. But it is beautifully sunny and I take the opportunity to roam the quiet streets and take photos.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuJY1zgPa7ZNmPlFlPTQ9PtL2-CnQqGnSPiklaxB0FhSjp8Ly-sJfYU5POEQp8F11mRqQM_ikx7mlJFFstM16mJqd9zHe3oFQH261F6rZ9Ak_-UOlI2vmmDqQ3Dhjjb8xaJZ8z2A-AdBE/s400/DSC01516.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606356915689721490" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></span></div><div>Colonia was an old Portuguese port and in the historical district there are still blue and white tile signs and cobblestone streets. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoot2tUK7ZdTrOPu2sBxqLy_oZ3f1UWhIpZDlTpeW8OW8d1YadgoqKmHmyrYZr0055NRsxTIJqr4oa8ixgOZrwYQ0ssaFlTAG5jLJOcmggvRNs4hdYWFzyx0312ji-9WvEYFauDEbrpFk/s400/DSC01505.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606358063443309570" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></span></div><div>An UNESCO Heritage site, some of the original colonial buildings still remain on la Calle de los Suspiros (Street of Sighs). Ahhhhh. Over hundreds of years old, they are still charming.</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh40LL_xDeb95GZTvWEUfom0-SxunS8h4zR7WJ5p7nQzlBRofCObrg7Pl6tccTgIgis1uV3_dkJMR-rZt9cWovcaEuAh20mZmenfXtFMnBIP1eVY4aowlzhasFJt3Pook3uZ0LGwg4mq80/s400/DSC01532.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606363633277901314" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></span></span><div style="text-align: left;">And there are lots of these pretty flowers, Bougainvillea (that's right, I googled it.)</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjogDPTlKi5WEJaG-IZVH0doFirFAVl8fyCrkHL6xKITo1GBUtlqqr0zOOWo7_FfYmY3XoyCXYZLmPfs8G2AqEPY4c5XEInuxbSxwzIKFluHYkPd_snVA8hweJYZec2WIT51TxNiGFrAms/s400/DSC01559.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606367692072192514" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;">I would be able to tell you more about the history of Colonia had I bothered to go to any of the museums (sorry Mom). But by mid-day, the sun was heating up and I opt to head for the beach to eat my veggie sandwich and take a siesta.</div></div><div><br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOVB-a6zbrcWtMv4g37f0tCkq58h3Jw6AVagfES-juNlux3IE_Zx56LEagw5aFccqEdBD9xFEAI5_vaLERGCNw0BstFUD7zmYRl9I4voxE8y4LwqFHy6RklCTLNovDowi4fs0SEpypMlk/s400/DSC01525.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606359564111768354" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></span></div></div><div>After my nap, I check out the artesian market (meh) and then decide it is tea and writing postcards time. At around 2pm, a huge ferry arrives with all of the tourists who had the common sense not to catch to the 7am ferry. The sleepy historical town is transformed into a tourist trap, complete with street performers, hippie jewelry vendors and men with giant "I'm overcompensating for something" cameras. I hate it when other people remind me that I'm a tourist. I feel the need to flee to higher ground and elect to head to the nearest lighthouse. I climb up a winding, bright green staircase to get a view of the town and the sea from above. It is very peaceful.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDlO_XGNuwisi62bZtiEcwmw4gX9oGqs2iP49vE6-Vrsgn4jj8CgWzV6EdUN5buUDlwMW80Nos-ShKfddcZaO8t6K7a05QSbTSpMfgyC4LpdCOCw1Mt1AzoLKeBZa9iImZ9VuoxR1HUMo/s400/DSC01549.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606370482316247474" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></span></div><div>By the end of the day, I am ready to go. Exhausted and wind-blown, I head to the ferry terminal to return to Buenos Aires and I did get my visa stamp for another 90-days. And who knows, I may have to make this trip again...</div><div><br /></div><div>Practical Travel Tip: $1 USD = $4 ARG = $16 URG. It is very easy to exchange money and I would highly recommend trading in some Argentine pesos for the local currency. While most cafes and stores will take ARG pesos, it's the polite thing to do. Also, the ferries do board early, so do get there a full 45 - 30 mins before departure time.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12827103377006878157noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1406883728258949161.post-83973047035593092882011-04-29T15:50:00.000-07:002011-05-06T11:14:51.746-07:00El Monumental, River Plate Stadium, Buenos Aires<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIacBCxaT6l9ru-EnUHHFEaAqV99HQp1OM-NQJxg9DqSgLKfWf8eN4K5Q_dVVB3WRTpzPkcGoO_UN9Oe7esAXaQsFhEtm-zVrC2H2pQG5bUNiW1IFJCcawkpPwB6IZP1-MUMNM2hQRLSA/s1600/DSC01301.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><div style="text-align: left;">I love going to soccer games around the world. Whether its Guatemala, Scotland, Brazil or Argentina, I always enjoy the chance to catch a game. So when I happened to be wandering by the River Plate stadium on a Sunday afternoon with two friends, I jumped at the chance to go.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgENgDU5klB_XWS_SmjF2bL3PQYBLyHWXglW1rRm7084EMQu4KP4KN8WbLFWdpN6fkN-PPSIm0aGVsWpywrDpwMlWG34W8wIFnEgoDMd6tsYRF3fyzCUOvzvxajuNrz7lOc5rVIDJ7KeMo/s400/DSC01300.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 88px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601170003397153490" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Outside of the stadium, we soaked up the pre-game atmosphere; males dressed in red and white drinking bottles of cheap beer by the liter, the smell of <i>choripan </i>roasting on the parrilla and the crackling sound of gunfire thanks to the nearby shooting range. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Ahhh, Argentine f<span style="mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">ú</span>tbol. <i> </i>We began our search for tickets. There are basically two types of seats, <i>popular</i> and <i>platea. </i>The former is where the hard core fans sit, nicknamed 'Los Borrachos del Tablon’ (roughly translated – Drunkards of the Stands). After haggling with a man sporting double denim and an Argentine mullet, we splurged for <i>platea, </i>100 pesos, ticket price 70 pesos. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcV2U_NShq9kPv1nZbLa6JQzq_YzAPISnS-GFSYOg7ioM6EYbhMZ7FP1OQIhlgck5u-yss9Zd67KO2M5rwEHtnKVwfKpHQDu8I_d7ulxhBESrvhs4kfF23fb_XPhsPDkQnYLu9Bf8IrUY/s400/DSC01274.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 255px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602654305632222626" /><div style="text-align: left;">There are no assigned seats but we carefully select seats away from the visiting team fans in order to avoid being hit by projectiles. For everyone's protection, the visiting team is surrounded by a high fence and security, but they can still manage to huck trash on the fans below.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNI9YPM-7DIencwuNoRTGt2fxBhcRxcuzvewAFxvtiHn9GaaykF6UgFXRNAnXz06EmE1Gg_93jXJ-LZRdsMay4SsS1pNhh-1DcKbumGGUYIQC6N6cBsU7gYoD8fFUI1DySZjYaRrmab6o/s400/DSC01289.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601166344109633250" /></div><div>Soon enough it’s game time and the festivities begin. The stadium begins to thunder with fans yelling, jumping and singing in an elaborate show of flags, songs and drumming. Handmade flags and banners are an essential part of expressing one's never-ending loyalty to the team and the stadium is covered in red and white banners with neighborhood names and fan love.<br /><div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwrZLIyAYjjER4cHAAt1ASz2w_zDajaLZCgiBSUOnNx_vb-Lq_uX53WcE1HKbJtNWy2e3aP0PIztF-G0ntC2A' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIacBCxaT6l9ru-EnUHHFEaAqV99HQp1OM-NQJxg9DqSgLKfWf8eN4K5Q_dVVB3WRTpzPkcGoO_UN9Oe7esAXaQsFhEtm-zVrC2H2pQG5bUNiW1IFJCcawkpPwB6IZP1-MUMNM2hQRLSA/s400/DSC01301.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602658134074345218" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></p><p class="MsoNormal">About 35 minutes into the game, River Plate scores on a penalty kick and the stadium erupts in song and fireworks. GOOAAAAALLLLLL!!!!</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgENgJ6aAUuZaDHzdT8KbzJ4k2Vhj6aMztekRveod3n22C71rVdmCQuMixnvZm8_RrKR3gKvGzZ43kTcj8A7dIcY7sX9i5hwdd8vlX8YE6oECphoAoOJ0sowtVk9f5fYVSP79BOlf0eOXA/s400/DSC01315.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601162178594939762" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 253px; " /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">But the visiting team quickly fires back in the second half, and their fans rattle their chain link enclosure like little kids playing Where the Wild Things Are. In the end, River lost 2 -1. But no sooner was the game over did the River fans begin to sing about their devotion...<i> aunque ganes aunque pierdas, te llevo en el corazon<span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; white-space: pre; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;">!</span></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><br /></div></div></div>Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12827103377006878157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1406883728258949161.post-3602039736277157182011-03-16T20:04:00.000-07:002011-08-18T19:21:45.357-07:00Parque Nacional Iguazú, Argentina<div style="text-align: justify;">Parque Nacional de Iguaz<span>ú</span> is a tropical paradise. Stunning waterfalls slide down cliffs while butterflies land on your shoulder and monkeys crash through the trees. The waterfalls are not only huge but there are a lot them, and they all seem to miraculously line up, begging you to take a picture (I now have a zillion). A great place to take Mom during her brief visit to Argentina!</div><div>
<br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLhSiUcbDBFMOAoHLynsSjgAI6-8dykgy2ZVGYG4jYdAK-YJto0Wi2DoLwfJYcidvjX0556eTWIXpBf3TOXFKKGKBG7gL4t7WLwbE1jbvpN5gxqusaXm7fQ7IKVa_62mxITBOK5HRxsug/s1600/DSC01166.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 219px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLhSiUcbDBFMOAoHLynsSjgAI6-8dykgy2ZVGYG4jYdAK-YJto0Wi2DoLwfJYcidvjX0556eTWIXpBf3TOXFKKGKBG7gL4t7WLwbE1jbvpN5gxqusaXm7fQ7IKVa_62mxITBOK5HRxsug/s320/DSC01166.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585989000897167922" /></a> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">We started at the uppermost part of the falls, la Garganta del Diablo or the Devil’s Throat. The water crashes down far below and everything is white. Here you realize just how much water is flowing through the falls as it thunders and spews a mist that drenches you. The sound is deafening but the mist feels great in the tropical heat. And when I say mist, I don’t mean like a light fog, I mean more like a sporadic rainstorm.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUZVzvCqoXHikcUC6GkBcuVc2hFXi1kcdIuPGXjjIaWTFfnW-ESln5xxJjFbAxFvUc4MJBoJyJ8nRL8qtqniutzG3RA-ywOT0hyphenhyphenxQsQuWp9HIRJhP3HhGENoNa0aXV_gMh-s2RFgZVOTc/s320/DSC01066.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585991234090230594" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">If you want to get even closer, take a boat ride. For $110 pesos ($28 USD), you can get a view of the waterfalls from the river and they actually take you into the base of the falls. You get absolutely soaked. All you can hear is roar of the waterfalls and the screams of the tourists (my Mom “Oh my god they are really taking us into the waterfall!! Ahhhhhh! Eeeeeek!”). <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrQvHr6YKyA-bLo-kOJntbkNzLM3F8FXk1nuSms9dVMfazqgK1XdyDMhDfnjbvm5UgWqKL6cMXxKugtc4_39NKgIscfs4-fRdQwX9wcPcZKZCpKLobH85yY-tzenwd7WCiaDPf_3QbR5g/s320/DSC01178.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586199571963766338" style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></span><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnKcdvLJv_Ui-l2kNlbZEh9fZ6aYNhjCOs7CYe3DI-TyeyPN7-DR0S827RfxxKCHGy-aam6F8pVxzaq0U0qY3Qddf_5_Lt045tBBbNp6l5y8K-km-dpJMSWTQh_Molu6Y6aSlJF5BXedc/s320/DSC01173.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585993051463135346" style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Understandably, the park is wildly popular and expect crowds of tourists, especially in the morning. The entrance fee is 100 pesos (about $25 USD) but if you can get a half-price ticket if you return for a second day. The park is big enough that you can find some spots to walk alone and listen to the jungle. While the waterfalls are the main attraction, you can see Black Capuchin monkeys roaming the trees, </p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY2_M9GcvoC2xEtunhz4ACdFNos4hUEi40yuZpGUQJR-q1T_qMaXkNL6n_g4-Cz09wX6apZEITFxT9oyH5fFfPdoeCGowZTkcYROEfDWZX_5yRZpmtsVG0uWGkOY4Xu3qG4LXHyARazKA/s320/DSC01112.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585998440604900914" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 220px; " /></span><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">Toucans </p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPtMF8XGJxJ5qo4SgIQKFJbOvX1w85dheG6i7XCBL6awf3FftgSuGLSQnB72mst3o4e_fflQez9eYX3cPQGe2Ou9P06S6AQCE1kfus00ew71wwRezTOSZdjv99Ikt71C_nINxSWdYQN8A/s320/DSC01219.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585999795373737010" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 242px; height: 320px; " /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">and Coatis, lovely creatures who patrol the snack bars like tropical raccoons. This one ripped a can of seltzer water from a German tourist’s hand while her husband took photos and laughed. I probably shouldn't be too judgemental, because I did the exact same thing.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbDqOMA5aXpiGbg1kHJVgyOtkzwv5umA2AT-7a6p5i97_fPAlRLaHQe7FZxf5_tlUoNTeR0MQ03mDVUsV5S9DQr432yB-otYdtb1uUaouTfJh02TpJ4m06O4Pfm5V0B6qZFjSLfmdUAcE/s400/Coati.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586195490911374114" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 141px; " /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">It was an amazing experience and <span style="mso-bidi-font-style:italic">I would recommend visiting </span>Iguaz<span style="mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-latin">ú</span><span style="mso-bidi-font-style:italic"> to anyone vacationing in Argentina. The town of </span>Iguaz<span style="mso-bidi-font-family:Calibri;mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin">ú</span><span style="mso-bidi-font-style:italic"> is rather mediocre and feels more like Brazil than Argentina with the red dirt, plethora of motorbikes and large buffet breakfasts. We stayed at a great hotel, La Sorgente, (thanks mom!) with a very relaxing pool area. Try their wicked caipirinhas for 15 pesos. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-bidi-font-style:italic"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5ec8bhqcgypkdOp26kOIEPuA7Z0HrL9xfZejBOKxHyrUdYuXGp7WRbIdXMPA7_Rut31ZKf8SXzyO6FAkAWv9mv-DV2MeU4RLKZnS74euFORQOOKbfkUfCwLpy4w5QVuspnN7mNI5yUt8/s320/DSC01142.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585995977252482754" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></span></p>Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12827103377006878157noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1406883728258949161.post-72843231650353213362011-02-21T04:34:00.000-08:002011-02-23T12:37:06.743-08:00Volcan Villarica, Chile<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif4w4K5IzJjqamydVIVfDNcNmlBjs7Up_f7k_MRSfCwlK7mpXuzVeRd9K8d0Z3iUB-Kid3sBUS9yiT_PLVhzlx7I4NejxFFcXnksf3gF9KqmDFfeVqhq2bDFcJNcaioQoDncKkpcE26hI/s1600/DSC00430.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 184px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif4w4K5IzJjqamydVIVfDNcNmlBjs7Up_f7k_MRSfCwlK7mpXuzVeRd9K8d0Z3iUB-Kid3sBUS9yiT_PLVhzlx7I4NejxFFcXnksf3gF9KqmDFfeVqhq2bDFcJNcaioQoDncKkpcE26hI/s320/DSC00430.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576980151703392834" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;">The main attraction of Pucon is Vulcan Villarica, one of Chile’s most active volcanoes. Roughly translated, it’s name means rich village or place of wealth, and the local adventure travel companies would agree. An active snow-covered volcano is not my idea of a walk in the park but for 35,000 pesos (about $70 USD), anyone can summit the volcano. Seems like a good idea, right?</div> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US">We leave at 4:30 am, packing into a collectivo with a Swiss couple and eight Israelis. It is 2800 meters to the summit, and there is no guarantee that we will get to the top, as the climb is highly weather dependent. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Dressed in our ghetto neon yellow mountain gear, we begin our climb in the dark. I stumble through the hike for the first hour or so, barely awake and trying not to trip over volcanic rocks. And then the sun began to rise.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidy_WhOHjjIyJmHUV7TBR6XNK8BsTzIZ0szZ6yLcS9K7_mrqskoBC-WZJ2IrPaKkuYCTCh2zNBCi7qpZ4Rd-ug3sIDgVB2NfuSxvslpVit2vZZuTBRPiUMyceUeP5Cm-AHG_ElmSILU3A/s320/Morning+Mountain.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576883118566443586" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US">We start our climb on snow and receive instructions on how to use our ice axes and to kick our toes into the snow to keep our footing. We climb in a line like little gortex ducks, carefully following the steps made by our group leader. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfef_o4fDPFouU9oZOcx_lWEodbAt3TZE3lcTmHH1vJhU5YF2ZjnvqXT-ygDD3zwAXvsXsAP4w5Lik5LXp8sWRo-EkWJ8Zk1g_Ki0txdxeYLVyd6w-M_1wB0HBLimUme0iVWuh2GD8caE/s320/DSC00468.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576920617244571042" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US">The weather up to this point has been relatively cloudy, but suddenly the wind picks up, causing the clouds to shift dramatically. W</span>e then began to hear the sound of wind rocketing ice pellets on the ridge above us and our guides instantly get on their radios, checking the weather conditions and discussing the best plan of attack. Soon enough, the wind hits us and we are forced hunker down. I am unable to move as the wind tosses my helmet and flying snow stings my eyes. And this about the time I started thinking those deep thoughts. You know, like the time I read <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Into Thin Air </i>and realized that people who climb mountain are slightly crazy. And how we were told there would be four guides but only then only two showed up. But most importantly, how amazing it is to travel and all the stuff you can do outside of the US, like climb active volcanoes. Stuff like that.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0NTH-Z9b6m63Buuj99kxwdYTqUtzTO6Wm8cYrW6BIkcEl-_AlAevi2efDKGvGw2jaoPyTG0RpXBm_UiQEVu3A1Od9g7brpdJvnqAiz-v3ghB5gucLpWLr_S7L4ormadav0cIrEx9kLFA/s320/DSC00480.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576917487216366802" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US">Anyways, we make it through the rough patch and then kick our toes into high gear. Villarica regularly spews toxic, smelly gases and the strong winds blow these fumes directly into our faces. Good thing I’m not a scientist, because what you don’t know, can’t hurt you. (Right?) Our guide informs us that he will be spending 3 minutes at the top and then he will be going down. We can stay longer, but he will be leaving regardless. Um, gee, thanks? We cover our noses, take two pictures and then proceeded to head down. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6LzjBwAQ_6OKLCoD8oy9cA-t_1i1yaTebT7psbeoScsklK6Z9rpmB5ywOZKgSER_w_q9iLlSLbfIW4_veqcF6eC82JbhGVo28EgnYLGSmyYTQb32GmQoBVxF4KHbwZXZha015mFLk4mo/s320/DSC00517.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576982205091307666" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 287px; height: 320px; " /></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US">After 5 hours of hiking, the only thing we want to do is slide down on our butts. And that’s exactly what we get to do, <i>literally </i>(Ricky Gervais accent). <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS093vOgEUdjgxouMPzCELuccUbTWAmD7qU29NfUUTWbwRh6v8zwANvV3rZcUAY7q75ylYMPEUwv_415z6YHKA8RUtW6pN7tlzvdxL7lF6u4eBRRfhxMTSCFCzAvuVP-hx17UhpxtTqME/s320/Going+Down.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576881956514835490" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US">They gave us an extra covering for our bums, some instructions on how to use our ice axe to steer and then we go down one by one, giggling hysterically while all the other groups of hiker are still making their way up. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi86xh7Tl5zbuGxy3iCEbwaxsK4FrJzJSIzsgk-Y9-uqGYOPfxKXmKxUTWJZqCyszARZSw66gYpGbNc2k2AXEvOlT_1XEO4B6CXQcefB5EE_MUa0qxDhSSYH0PIZwch1DgAj4ZRpSjsRiI/s320/DSC00524.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576918696613421378" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US">Moral of the story, all’s well that ends well, and it was an amazing experience. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwG7pNUYonWhNB1_Ks2cX84KbBJP_GOaX37hoLPNtG6vXkI_DljZ-WLLdm-TCR-dAniw66kahRgBEyoSuLYZJyU3cH1W9LcQKkuDuqFb4ez3tqPHWY40Iu3KuTfpduQJ7vAXVgsiCvKj0/s320/DSC00483.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576983110515616370" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 202px; height: 320px; " /></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US">Traveler’s tip: I would not recommend the company we went with, Backpacker’s Pucon, the equipment was not in good condition and they forgot to give me gloves. Maybe spend a little more and make sure to check out the equipment first!<o:p></o:p></span></p>Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12827103377006878157noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1406883728258949161.post-33902232502830500412011-01-25T17:34:00.000-08:002011-08-18T19:20:26.134-07:00Cajón del Azul<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaGyLoUNAh-txJKRlBnRNvJo9FN1RksC9ICoskpeVsLWXNhbevdkJgYourYo4wuKq-GJ2FBKL4oorgQ7tm7cqOlZpTkXscFI-TheBN0lgQn2LI5hAXKQ6PvawGlbqhjqHTz8cHUoTa_kI/s1600/DSC00278.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaGyLoUNAh-txJKRlBnRNvJo9FN1RksC9ICoskpeVsLWXNhbevdkJgYourYo4wuKq-GJ2FBKL4oorgQ7tm7cqOlZpTkXscFI-TheBN0lgQn2LI5hAXKQ6PvawGlbqhjqHTz8cHUoTa_kI/s320/DSC00278.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566541466541406050" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal">A relatively easy and enjoyable hike over the river and through the woods…and then next a strikingly blue river. The pictures just don´t do it justice. </p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-mAM58Gn6X0G69A71k074KqPjWAyZPH38_EBS3TBx4hP7-B0gT0OW7jSuvWshJxPP0JoQTnLjecnXoAeFNlz2-JqDbILkvNkP0RZWllHgNQsE3_HQ8zhxFGISolnKqbhUjlmUbL5om9U/s320/DSC00289.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566542178543933282" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal">The water was so beautiful and the sun was so hot, I was shocked by the fact that most hikers were not diving in and somehow content to sit on the boiling white rocks. Believing that the average person is a fool, I decided that I would not follow the crowd and jump in. Turns out the water is so freakin´ cold it feels like it will freeze your heart and the air in your lungs instantly. I made it about three seconds before doggy paddling back to shore, slipping on rocks as I raced to get the hell out of the river.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMcgn8TTwbDHabclZsECAvREGXkMAkba1a4Z5LjryNLfUKnJ89LVOdgvenInfHrVgOkCZVBc8CC4XiK5GwAIQHspSzO81EjNiymMa9jQ5PbcZC17wfcFPcF23I3FuJdffs3hOnVGOg-Xg/s320/DSC00298.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566550101508516578" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US">Refugio Cajon del Azul is where the cool kids hang out and listen to tape cassettes.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjssH1X2VH7tcLAF_pNJ6Gmih9FaN04dDIblNBTbWMcFORG-KeTmcgXyhkABB8rD5CD5KbqqS3_8P6IbTVYf4lL9tHbF_aW9B2BFCWm_TEsqbnosxeoeduIiC8OxuM8NU8g23tCBUQQ85c/s320/DSC00299.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566547749043321298" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></span></span></p><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQMCZ1nnbqp72rs_xhg3Hcag9lXZmcq2pKcGOTFleDo8kSq9JaXyBtuYsHZqS0TzKpc_u3RCTQ7AS76q5LojYIgqYGJnFWzVRCN6SrgFbkbyzQXS6TbE3RcFFyE1hlsAFdCuZrt4dYcEY/s320/DSC00303.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566544814483585410" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></span></div>Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12827103377006878157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1406883728258949161.post-60329998657825543432011-01-25T06:03:00.000-08:002011-01-26T09:46:06.236-08:00El Bolsón<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz7nBnJGB53eO7TFnWRuwjQbVVmYN5ev-2MlVEs9LuZ583-3BP6nrpX73IDO0ObczIDED8x7F4HsSWU-M3kbIIA9BruS0F5imQ0X6tnS1Ve8qT_HpwM9TpHgCy1_nfnuIdGZXFsV7KFPY/s1600/DSC00231.JPG"></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOtmM3-HVvjWDA6DrYGnnT7T5r4S85EcWZB5OCAduD1PF2Dxk05B96zgPVRWrSXWvxpZa4xoQKbJcP-inj0t3_RHTpYNqwt1OSLRh0wIV6rGH4m9g1DYHchsWBtmrnKYF8HMd1ARIU5ug/s1600/DSC00241.JPG"></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPeGU-Rm08Rv_n9dVvx7g0iz0xVrM2V5Yo6MlsQRm3UCyC3cHwc07yBsxx8d_zeJ6CSx4RS2lShDH4ExwHOSBNFG9nATeEqRy6dCYN0sEXagdz4zfFy_qAgxtl7FOiqq9WHwg7QRDDdhg/s1600/DSC00253.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPeGU-Rm08Rv_n9dVvx7g0iz0xVrM2V5Yo6MlsQRm3UCyC3cHwc07yBsxx8d_zeJ6CSx4RS2lShDH4ExwHOSBNFG9nATeEqRy6dCYN0sEXagdz4zfFy_qAgxtl7FOiqq9WHwg7QRDDdhg/s320/DSC00253.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566128469914341426" /></a><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US">Founded by vegetarian hippies in the 70s, El Bolsón is a chill spot 2 hrs south of Bariloche. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US"><br /></span></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz7nBnJGB53eO7TFnWRuwjQbVVmYN5ev-2MlVEs9LuZ583-3BP6nrpX73IDO0ObczIDED8x7F4HsSWU-M3kbIIA9BruS0F5imQ0X6tnS1Ve8qT_HpwM9TpHgCy1_nfnuIdGZXFsV7KFPY/s200/DSC00231.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566299867392663426" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px; " /></span><p class="MsoNormal">We stayed La Casa de Viajeros, a lovely place to relax (I know, completely differently from what we have been doing). Owned by the Porro family, this get away comes with two dogs and a roost of chickens who are let out in the afternoons to roam the yard, pick at stuff, squawk and look at you funny. 60 pesos per person (about $15 US).</p><p class="MsoNormal">The main attractions of El Bolsón are:</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV5rQMVvNqN_EPaR8VeSDemivLA-EecJNftWRJ5PUsi1Oxz7w_rFEpAArkR3_DjzrTR4Ack04poaFpmytw5vuV051jjA8_cSrofstIfFuBihWUJ-t8HvjYojkYBe1YFMlZozA0H3MePnI/s200/DSC00314.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566297058447207730" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px; " /></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US">Artesian beer, a rarity in Argentina </span>(they´re more into the wine)</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOtmM3-HVvjWDA6DrYGnnT7T5r4S85EcWZB5OCAduD1PF2Dxk05B96zgPVRWrSXWvxpZa4xoQKbJcP-inj0t3_RHTpYNqwt1OSLRh0wIV6rGH4m9g1DYHchsWBtmrnKYF8HMd1ARIU5ug/s200/DSC00241.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566298310715500802" style="float: right; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px; " /></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><br /></span></span></span></div><div><br /></div><div>La Feria del Bolsón, a food and crafts market that is held on Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday</div><div><div><br /></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">And of course, hiking! See next post for our hike of Cajón del Azul.</p></div></div></div>Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12827103377006878157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1406883728258949161.post-20194835108480566542011-01-21T07:47:00.000-08:002011-01-21T08:32:51.774-08:00Refugio Cerro Lopez, Bariloche, Argentina<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqR4YzVdNC6o9LONm33aQMbHXz2xGPf4OGFgDRHSFC1ibDKZfh_nexX9_kZb5sLGycP9zcBDpaENrrK7lWZzJ5E1gTIZgDssvMonCxOypqCCXARKEsLBwYvkDaD3fg4OzGbkm6DQnKfig/s1600/DSC00215.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 70px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqR4YzVdNC6o9LONm33aQMbHXz2xGPf4OGFgDRHSFC1ibDKZfh_nexX9_kZb5sLGycP9zcBDpaENrrK7lWZzJ5E1gTIZgDssvMonCxOypqCCXARKEsLBwYvkDaD3fg4OzGbkm6DQnKfig/s320/DSC00215.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564677570197252482" /></a><div style="text-align: left;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US">Bariloche is full of great hikes and <i>refugios</i> where you can spend the night or cook a meal. After gathering information with the local Club Andino (</span><a href="http://www.clubandino.org/CARTELERA/">http://www.clubandino.org/CARTELERA</a>) we decided to hike up Cerro Lopez . We started our hike at noon, because it´s difficult for us to do anything before that hour. With the full force of the summer sun upon us, the hike was hot, dusty and we were constantly pestered by tabanos, basically giant biting horse flies. First viewpoint was La Roca Negra, a mirador overlooking the lakes below and a resting point for school children and Roberto.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiria8NuyEUan9QNNc5_i1ZKnoqKF6Ti9d0UlrhrfH-3m_4zGQTsLoKNjs8EgtUNO5w2cSMMwzlxabpbaD-4GbM-BpnXbrj4G7PfXC1QjMfhWNaZMJjrQy8RvvDcrPeotLoTzWXCBZszRQ/s320/DSC00202.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564670390405336610" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span><div style="text-align: left;">We continued up to Cerro Lopez, stopping briefly to play in a snow patch, refill our water bottles in glacial stream and of course, take photos.</div><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik4iW38fr6_kMAysMN-HBbjkEVcD0dwoKI0mDVNvYBk2LRqyZ43wPLyXYZ15LbfLIa7Sst6EIjhuSDpxHna3BN5RZgwp02udaZY_qXc4MxGg0_pSe82ZfMeDu9dXRNSu4fHxKze0enhLQ/s320/DSC00203.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564668782226682642" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US">The views from the refugio were well worth the trek and we were grateful for a cold beverage and place to sit in the shade. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj55yK-I4gYC3qs0KRaWc-iAiHBxRk7iCrWqgPpm8V7K7w5PCyloKlrQTAxSFxFSs8rnKQEHDK7aRh-lVDG-Ui4FZztOXvblFY5rUakVm46C_SbHy0Z1vmLabC9_OCG4Zv3-mS6fCeIEHk/s320/DSC00208.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564674149624595378" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US">The hike took us 4 hours and we luckily snagged a seat on a packed public bus and made it back into town in time for happy hour at the local microbrewery, Astral. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US">All in all, it was a very good day.<o:p></o:p></span></p>Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12827103377006878157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1406883728258949161.post-85104862341151785412011-01-18T11:39:00.000-08:002011-01-21T07:43:37.158-08:00Bariloche<div style="text-align: left;">Bariloche, a city nestled along a windy lake with mountains and amazing sunsets as its backdrop.</div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE_dqPra1STx8BIhqHx7Ae_ovRtbQSxnjIN2dQSmMrS176W7EpEjuYfumzRnTt3jnmlz_7lhXC58ws8QMbVFcc3Ze8_CAL9ZrPwt8CoxjxWc_FcoBovyuvu85VPqRaFA_UVWJt6st0Uoo/s1600/DSC00158.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE_dqPra1STx8BIhqHx7Ae_ovRtbQSxnjIN2dQSmMrS176W7EpEjuYfumzRnTt3jnmlz_7lhXC58ws8QMbVFcc3Ze8_CAL9ZrPwt8CoxjxWc_FcoBovyuvu85VPqRaFA_UVWJt6st0Uoo/s320/DSC00158.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563618220681470226" /></a><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">(Photo taken by Roberto)</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US"></span>Staying at a family friends´ house, we were treated to lake views and excellent hosts, Tim and Jody. </p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT76Azpe7F2Db5AR9lQXNfytJNoY7ICYxdfeIJn5wV1XGYNveCJna4xoYGcIHpl6cE4xew4pwe1vZYng_QUwRtPYeXgApn7LXEN12-8i8ABoSBGJInIpgusrRtdSy9-Md77zSZXiEa1zE/s320/DSC00175.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563619550794642834" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal">The house was amazing and was not only inhabited by friendly folks from the Northwest, but also five cats (!). The property is beautiful. Sitting next to the lake, you can see mountains views from every window in the house and the garden is meticously well kept, with a small stream providing the perfect soundtrack for an easy way of life. Here we continued to eat well, lay out in the sun and pass the days.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpE9jZZPiF_FBXKmt0ZnT6x_79ddIU5UiB7aCCVnnfwi6WGwqkiFVZT9euUtWGV6wOlClCaMifuTxWlegwJ0C7sQJtY0fWWmXnhsMu_yec5js7YcNvRBGaX4qnjcsYxl4_fB0eMrLQ27E/s320/DSC00188.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563700960007825554" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">And I even managed to do some yoga.</p>Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12827103377006878157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1406883728258949161.post-92090237242859436722011-01-18T09:40:00.000-08:002011-01-18T11:36:51.147-08:00New Years in Miramar<div style="text-align: left; ">Since January is excruciatingly hot in the Buenos Aires, most <i>portenos </i>get the hell out of the city. A popular summer destination, the beach of course. Many head to Mar de Plata (below), where you can hit the beach with thousands of other people. Because apparently some people like to do that.</div><div style="text-align: left; "><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRLNHwIamY1Zm1ptKplM8_T8EW6ITXC5msaiYMz1tPebj_yixpFMw78mwitKv_7LgYC5tGyaVJ5404hGqyrV0UqkvWrnJPXwV7BIea8kWYTTqOaVBnKpVxDo3dsVDnuBlKmyzVGWjduas/s1600/DSC00070.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRLNHwIamY1Zm1ptKplM8_T8EW6ITXC5msaiYMz1tPebj_yixpFMw78mwitKv_7LgYC5tGyaVJ5404hGqyrV0UqkvWrnJPXwV7BIea8kWYTTqOaVBnKpVxDo3dsVDnuBlKmyzVGWjduas/s320/DSC00070.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561452165258533570" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a>However, I am not one of those people. Instead we headed to Miramar, a family friendly beach 500 km from Buenos Aires, perhaps most famously known as the place where Che began his motorcycle trip around South America.<div><br /><div><div><div style="text-align: center; "><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZkIfZCHvyrn_wWRw9yDpsrrMtyMWBop5UZiIlmFCGMVdcIN-g4Zg3Gz4DOipWgo_cvm1NzD77sAlxWZ3oWDKi2CILKTTteThNiV_68ReLVh4BFAhzU4GsbftwT6Qf1xwF-RrnNpOS7XI/s1600/DSC00098.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZkIfZCHvyrn_wWRw9yDpsrrMtyMWBop5UZiIlmFCGMVdcIN-g4Zg3Gz4DOipWgo_cvm1NzD77sAlxWZ3oWDKi2CILKTTteThNiV_68ReLVh4BFAhzU4GsbftwT6Qf1xwF-RrnNpOS7XI/s400/DSC00098.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561701099517097490" style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 88px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center; "><br /></div><div>I stayed with Roberto and his family at their summer home, "The Highlands". Roberto´s family fed me amazing dinners, asked me questions about the US, ("How do you eat dinner so early? What do you do for the rest of the evening?") and patiently listened to me and my mediocre spanish.<div><br /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhedLBlAWfs2DmRVuzIY20ys_4IHI8QYWgi_suUC76QBqteN-59MpV_vhCt3tBgP8G_zx-k9x6ugDFgojYiycGF2M1zSdvuqRsbJYD_tiqNwPjsIJaBJaGglr1h3XAmAKh8PTCJ9onhi6c/s320/DSC00111.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561696788393085138" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></span></div><div>All I did here was eat, drink, go to the beach, ride bikes around town and hang out in the backyard. Not very interesting for my travel blog, but very enjoyable.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqU9f4gbrJBZ_s_kUBZeAG8OcwUKL8bGzN0dbiqi1LXqdSyyXsqzs9GLfIdYmLlfe7An1qL3HSt0ra_nX63CAJUDZERqmt0cMZp6UJ1qjcjb4lg-_MTLfPQttMDVD8tUIUluhRcUJcrtU/s320/DSC00130.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561699344985334642" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></span></div><div><div><br /></div><div>Travelers Tip: Always bring gifts. It´s like bribing people to like you and encouraging them to forgive and forget any future faux pas you are likely to commit while in their presence. Food is always a good choice. I brought Northwest smoked salmon and Ghirardelli chocolates, both were well received.<br /><div style="text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "></span></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12827103377006878157noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1406883728258949161.post-4601278032516669492011-01-15T16:05:00.000-08:002011-01-18T09:29:33.735-08:00Cause I´m leaving on a jet plane<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuofAwfngNMAzpTRC6gy5FNJPJlJRR6o1cmrMlBrM6PEKlMHQ01FH2chXaIR55aZxMEmaskEyt3eQ93damhW9iVEkMZSy-CAr5erAOvdUNt3-B9-i8JMx-ldQe5do3KM65xqfcURlE2iA/s1600/DSC00028.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuofAwfngNMAzpTRC6gy5FNJPJlJRR6o1cmrMlBrM6PEKlMHQ01FH2chXaIR55aZxMEmaskEyt3eQ93damhW9iVEkMZSy-CAr5erAOvdUNt3-B9-i8JMx-ldQe5do3KM65xqfcURlE2iA/s320/DSC00028.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5562570668861005682" /></a>Don´t know when I´ll be back again...<div><br /><div>Actually, I´ve already left. I´m sort of a procrastinator you see.</div><div><br /></div><div>But today I started my travel blog. Yup, I am really doing it. It was harder than I thought. </div><div><br /></div><div>For those of you who don´t already know, I´m taking time off work to travel and live in Argentina with my boyfriend Roberto. With this blog, I am hoping to keep my friends and family up to date about my travels in Argentina, highlight interesting aspects of Argentine culture and maybe even inspire others to keep up travel blogs of their own (Alia! Cole & Whit!).</div><div><br /></div><div>All my bags are packed, and I´m ready to go!</div></div>Meganhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12827103377006878157noreply@blogger.com1