A little bit of heaven

It was a very monotonous 10 hour bus ride from Córdoba to Mendoza last week. A large part of it was through barren countryside and the rest through fields that had not been ploughed or sowed. I do not know why, maybe because of drought, because the eucalyptus trees alongside the road were dying.About 100km before Mendoza the first vineyards started appearing, bright green after the dreary landscape, in a valley which produces most of Argentina’s wine, noticably Malbec. Walking into Mendoza from the bus station was like entering a forest, lush and cool, the trees forming a canopy of foliage, the buildings dwarfed by their size. There are many wild mulberry trees with huge leaves, their fruit staining the pavement, but also plane and other trees. The air was filled with the sweet scent of the flowers of the syringa trees, and the pavements were smooth and wide – Louise (my pink suitcase) had a joyride!

I walked for a kilometer or two, until MAPS.ME indicated that I should have been at my destination, but the street number was non-existent. I had to hail a taxi – how was I supposed to know that two streets within 2km from each other have the same name? Luckily the taxi driver knew, and $50 (pesos) later he dropped me right at my door. I had a little loft flat all to myself, which was sheer luxury.Early the next morning I decided to explore, and tackled a 5km walk through Parque San Martin and up Cerro de la Gloria, a hill with a statue at the top overlooking the city. It is a detailed and extremely well-crafted sculpture high on a base, homage to San Martin and his Andes Army (made up of Argentinians and Chileans to free Chile from Spain in the early 1800’s). And of course a good view of the city, as well as towards the mountains.My intention was to stay 2 nights and then go to Santiago (Chile) for 3 nights, before returning to Córdoba where I had a plane to catch to Peru. But Providence thought differently. On my way back from the cerro, I bumped into a Swiss girl who told me about the riots in Santiago, showing me pictures of shops being looted and a burning bus. I wasn’t too perturbed, told her we’re used to it in South Africa, but she was clearly shocked by what she had experienced. I díd consult a travel agent though, as I am reliant on public transport, and evidently that was what was being targetted. Two days later the death toll in Santiago had risen to 10, so nót going was maybe a good decision. I lengthened my stay in Mendoza and booked an exursion instead – perfecto!
The day started off with my first glimpse of snow-covered peaks of the Andes – what a breathtaking sight!

We travelled to a place called Cacheuta, in a gorge in the mountains on the road toward Chile. We trekked up a steep hill (1500ft I think), me panting for breath amongst all the youngsters, but the leaders were kind and patient and told me to take my time. I didn’t tell them how old I was, but I díd wonder if the girl in the office where I’d booked the trip had done the climb, as she had assured me it was ‘muy fácil‘ (very easy).
We found this guy cooking hamburger patties on the rocks, which, to judge by all the burnt out fires, happens there quite frequently. There were a group of children who were being shown how to do it as well.

Then came the fun part: absailing down, 3 sections, the longest one about 70m. I loved it!

Cacheuta is known for its warm springs, so we had the rest of the day to enjoy the sheer pleasure of the warm (and cold!) water. The terrain is teraced with pools on different levels, and even though there were many people, it didn’t feel crowded. Everything was spotless, with attendants everywhere. It was while lying in one of the pools, having had plenty of exercise for the day, looking at the majestic mountains surrounding me, that the thought struck me: ‘this is surely what heaven must be like’.

Mendoza was devastated by an earthquake in 1861, but rebuilt with more modern buildings, large houses and many squares and parks that are all green and beautifully kept. One such is the Plaza España, with decorative tilework on the benches, lamps, pathways and the drinking fountain. There are scenes depicting Spanish history, and even Don Quixote is represented. I had met an enthusiastic and energetic young man from Paris on the excursion the previous day, and we had drinks close the plaza that evening, sharing travelling experiences and family stories. I think I am becoming a more experienced traveller!

Not being able to go to Chile, I had extra time, so decided to go to San Juan, another big city about 170km north of Mendoza, in the same wine valley. It would provide an alternative route back to Córdoba, if nothing else.I booked an Airbnb room close to the bus station and had a wonderful stay with Agustín and Sandra (his mother) who opened their home and hearts to me. It was Sandra’s birthday on my last day there, and while having breakfast before leaving, they shared photo’s and stories of their family, lives and work with me, rather special. I wrote in my diary that this is what makes travelling meaningful: the contact and interaction with people, be they travellers or locals. Seeing the sights and learning about the history, culture, etc of the country is great, but for mé, ultimately, it is about the people. Oh sorry, and nature.San Juan had two earthquakes, one in 1844 and one as recent as 1970. Sandra assured me her house was safe, it had withstood the 1970 quake – we just had to run outside, and not hide under the bed, as I had intended to do, ha-ha. She proudly told me that they have a modern theatre, built to commemorate the bicentennial, and an auditorium with fantastic acoustics.

The building on the left is the old station building. It is quite sad, the platform and water tank are still there too, but no sign of train tracks.

There are beautiful parks and ponds, and walking streets with shops, but I really have to choose better times of being in a city centre. Everything closes and people and cars disappear between 13:00 and 17:00, and then come back to life, reaching a peak around 20:00.

I was pleasantly surprised by the bus ride from San Juan to Córdoba, as we went via the valley where La Cumbre is, the town where I had worked with Lucia. The landscape was continually changing, and I couldn’t believe how quickly the vineyards disappeared and sand dunes (!) appeared.The trees reminded me of the Karoo: eucalyptus, poplars, wild mulberries, pepper trees an willows.

Some gauchos (‘cowboys’) on the side of the road – horses are everywhere. Not much wildlife though, as a matter of fact, none. A woman on the bus got very excited and pointed out some goats to me that were grazing next to the road. The vastness of Argentina is overwhelming: 500km of riding through an unpopulated countryside, with a few dusty villages in between. Not a sign of life, no animals, nothing. The last 100km to Córdoba were of course through the valley, densely populated and touristic.In the following picture, the extensions on top of the houses are not chimneys, they are built to hide water tanks. There is a problem with water pressure in Argentina, so all houses and buildings have water tanks on their roofs.

Tomorrow I leave Argentina and fly to Peru. I almost didn’t make it as the wind blew the kitchen door of the flat closed with me inside, and the handle broke when I tried to open it. There I was, stuck in the kitchen on the 10th floor, my phone in the bedroom! The neighbours wouldn’t hear if I shouted (I never hear them), and the balcony off the kitchen doesn’t overlook the street. I tried not to panic – at least there was tea and coffee, but no food, as I was going to buy some later. And the cleaners or owners would hopefully come by in the next day or two. The worst would be that I would miss my flight in the morning. Admittedly, weird thoughts ran through my mind… I used a knife and managed to unscrew the cover over the keyhole, but that didn’t help as it doesn’t give one access to the actual lock. I tried sliding the knife over the lock, but it wouldn’t budge. At some point I realised that the knife was actually going into the lock to some extent, so I hoped that it had somehow contracted. I yanked hard at the door – and it opened!! I was immensely relieved and grateful – again a Higher Power had prevailed. I was still in shock for quite some time afterwards, and have shivers down my spine when I go into the kitchen, clutching my phone (even if there is a chair keeping the door open). But thank goodness: Peru here I come!