Ishmael

Us looking like us in front of a big glaciar
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Argentina broke us.   Not in the sense that is took us over its knee or anything, just in the sense that we have much less money than we would love to to sustain the superb eating and sleeping habits we have acquired.  You see, not only does Argentina have superior food, beds, and service than, as far as we can tell, the rest of South America, but also, you pay for it.  Unwilling to sacrifice food and drink, we have relegated ourselves to the campgrounds of Argentina.

There are many positive aspects to camping: 1) It makes us feel better about carrying full camping equipment across the continent without, you know, using it; 2) It makes us feel like hardened, Keruacian travelers; 3) It has joined us with the oh so many Argentine/Chileans/foreign youth that understands exactly what it is to travel, that it is not a vacation, that there is little room for error, and less room in your pack.  These are people we can trust to leave our things among, to sleep among because these people, like us, are not that desperate for anything, just simarily hope not to be robbed.  In short, they are good people to know.

The belly of the whale

Just making sure its still cold
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Like most good things, however, the ever-friendly, mate-offering campsites of Argentina have a down side.  In the case of El Calafate, the next stop on the way south, that less-than-lovable side can be summed up in a few short words: packs of ferocious dogs.

You should hear them.  It´s unbelievable.  It like West Side Story but instead of gangs that take the streets singing, dancing and snapping, these gangs bark, yelp and try to kill each other.  And it doesn´t stop, all night.  But then, after a night of the on-going soundtrack of ¨West Side Story¨meets Äll Dogs Go to Heaven¨we awoke to the lovely town of El Calafate, where model waitresses serve expensive wine, lamb roasts over open fires in enticing resturant windows, and the wind absolutely rips down main steet, piercing trough clothing and putting an enduring lean in everyone´s walk.  And outside every resturant is a big, scruffy dog patiently befriending the nice tourists who throw them pricely leftovers.  Even we have to admit, in the day light, they do look kind of endearing.

Wowzers
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The point of El Calafate, believe it or not, is not to witness these two-faced dogs, instead the real attraction-just as natural, but infinately more inspiring-in the Perito Moreno glacier.  The glacier is after explorer Francisco Moreno.  Perito is the spanish word for ¨expert¨.  Like most experts, his first demonstrating act was convincing people that they should invest a lot of money in him.  In this case the people to be persuaded were those that held the ties of Argentina´s purse.  Over the course of a dinner, Mr. Moreno gave such a breathtaking show of bravado, courage and intellect that by the time dessert was served the Patagonia papers were signed opening Argenina´s purse wide.  All so he could walk around this inhospital land at the edge of the world.

a little perspective...our boat next to the leviathon
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Whether Argentina got its money´s worth is difficult to say and perahps best not anwsered by an economist.  While no gold, the intense frozen blue of the Perito Moreno glacier is surely worth fortunes.

Standing at its edge, the glacier flows from as far as the eye can see to meet its termenus where 30 meter walls of ice feed a pencil thin, starlingly blue lake.  Regardless of what you think about global warming, risking the demise of such a sight just doesn´t make sense.  Like testing bombs across the street from the Vatican.

Cassidy, a flag, and THE glaciar
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After enjoying a tuna sandwich and watching the glacier for a good part of the day (who knew you could just sit and watch a glacier), we decided to invest in a boat ride.  While more of an investment than we would have liked, it turned out, like Argentina´s in Moreno, to be a good one.

The boat cruised along the glacier´s perimeter, allowing views from the base up.  Every time you looked seemed to warrant a picture.  Then, just about when the hour was up and the boat was turningto cross the lake and head back to port, that´s when it  happened.  The belly of a huge whale--surely the largest whale ever seen--surfaced right in front of the glacier.  Then it started to slowly roll, revealing skin more jagged than one would expect of a whale.  Slowly it dawned on me that we were in a lake, there are not whales in lakes, there cannot even be whales anywhere are large as what was surfacing in front of us.  No, that marine grey mass was a block of ice, broken off from the glacier´s submarine surface to slowly emerge and reveal itself to the world for the first time in centuries.  Mellenia? Slowly adjusting to its new found boyancy, the ice berg dwarfted our rather large boat.

Will you look at that.  Will you just look at that! Now tbat is worth something.

Love, Cass