The Heart of Argentina

Sunset from horseback
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Where does one go to escape the sweltering, two T-shirt a day humidity of Buenos Aires?  Head west to cooler and drier altitudes.  My next two weeks would see me bear west 1500 plus kms to Mendoza at the foot of the tallest mountains in the Americas, with a halfway stop in Cordoba and the surrounding low Sierras.

For anyone reading the Lonely Planet, or who otherwise hears that Cordoba city is a great destination, calm down.  Cordoba city is overrated.  Sure, it is a city with a concentration of colonial architecture, but that ´concentration´ is limited to a few churches, covenants, the university, some municipal and provincial buildings and a few buildings interspersed among bland modern construction.  Cordoba is a day, unless you have trip administration to address.  If you have been to other parts of Latin America, you have seen more compelling colonial legacies.  However, unlike so many other cities in Argentina which have been levelled by earthquakes and rebuilt with broad avenues and plazas, Cordoba does have a colonial intimacy which makes it feel more accessible and enveloping.   That I will concede.

trolleys in Mendoza
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Mullets, mohawks and rat´s tails, or any combination of the foregoing on one head, are the trendy rage in Argentina for males and females.  Yes, those disgraced looks that no self-respecting person has styled in N. America since the 1980´s are the darlings of the trendy set here.  I was due for a hair cut by the time I got to Cordoba. Given my utter lack of Spanish, I was very, very anxious.  My strategy was simple: find the oldest barber in town, most likely to be out of step with current trends, and utter the rehearsed and simple phrase ´less three weeks, please´ I found an elderly gentlemen barber who nodded his head (I think I heard creaking) in complete understanding, pulled out the electric razor and had it in my hair before I could flash him the look of horror that was flashing across my body.  Blissfully, the razor was not at a short setting and 20mins later the gentlemen barber had given me exactly what I wanted and needed.  Unfortunately, I can´t commit to repeat business.

the sycamores lining the streets of Mendoza
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The long and short of Cordoba is to head for the hills.  Not one hour out of the city are the Sierras, a low range of mountains pretty much halfway in between BA and the Andes.  One of the attractions of the Sierras is that they are overlooked by most foreign tourists who flock west to Mendoza for wine and towering mountains or south to the Lakes District or Patagonia once they leave BA.  Sprinkled in the Sierras are a series of UNESCO heritage sites - Jesuit estancias (ranches), churches and covenants.  Also, the town of Alta Gracia is the boyhood home to Che Guevera (sp?).  These all make worthy attractions.  I did not visit any of them, not out of choice, but because I did not have enough time.  Rather, I focused on the one thing that central Argentina and the Sierras symbolizes, at least to me - the estancia.  I spent 4 days at a ranch in the mountains.  No foreign tourists, just Argentinians and a few Argentinian travellers.  The scenary is rolling green mountains cut by boulder strewn rivers framed by towering and golden pampas grass.  Over four days, I went out with the ranchers on horseback (once to check on the recently-castrated calves - dont ask how mother cows react to their snipped offspring being grabbed and inspected by guachos; thank god for calm horses), lounged in and hiked along the river, watched the parrots and condors and did nothing.  Asados (Argentinan outdoor charcoal barbeques) were the order for dinner each night.  I highly recommend the baby goat with chimmichurri sauce (despite the fact that dinner may be bawing among you earlier that day).  I think I ate half a goat.  After the exertion of Patagonia and the late nights of BA, this was a perfect respite.  My only regret is that my Spanish is so useless, as I was surrounded by interesting Argentinians with whom my communication was limited to my pathetic Spanish vocabulary.  Worse the owner could not speak Spanish, but could speak perfect French (yes, JH language names are not to be capitalized, but it is too late now...).  I was reduced to communicating with her in my halting French, leaving me little more than another language inferiority and a lingering headache.

on the road to Barreal in the shadow of the Andes
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OK, so I left Cordoba to get to Mendoza on the 26th of Feb to meet my dad who has joined me for two weeks in the Mendoza region and, later, the far north Atacama region of Chile.  Poor dad, first time to South America and anxious about it anyway, and American Airlines sent his bags to Salt Lake City (!!??), instead of Santiago.  Thankfully, we are the same size and the bags were delivered 24  hours later.

That week, Mendoza´s annual wine harvest festival was beginning and city was gearing up.  We left before we could be part of the spectacle that was the crowning of the Wine Festival Queen.  There are hard choices in life, and this was one of them.  The towering Andes in this region of Argentina, highest mountains in the world except for the Himalayas (see May 30, 2006 blog entry), beckoned.  To back up for a minute, Mendoza city is great.  Huge plazas, towering sycamore trees shading everyone from the ceaseless sun of the near desert climate, pulsing retail and civilized pedestrian streets and cafes.

home on the range
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Mendoza is ground zero for the wine industry in Argentina, which is only now getting its recognition worldwide, foremost for its Malbecs.  Outside of Mendoza are miles and miles of vineyards, all of which rely on irrigation fed by the meltwater of the Andes to sustain the vines.  All accept visitors, so long as you arrive with a reservation for a tour.  For some bizarre reason no one could explain to us or anyone we met, there is no such thing as showing up (as one woud in Niagara or Napa) at a vineyard and proceeding to the showroom to taste and buy.  Your only way past the front gate of any winery is to have called in advance for a tedious tour, only after which wine may be tasted.  Despite the work-like burden this imposed on our holiday-making, we did visit a couple of very good vineyards and we enjoyed the views over the vines heavy with grapes, framed by the tall Tuscany-like poplars lining each vineyard and the snow-capped Andes beyond.

Shadow moves rock.
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After Mendoza, we visited the town of Barreal, 130km northwest of Mendoza in a valley right at the base the highest Andes.  There we soaked up the views, did some horseback riding in the valleys and canyons nearby and tried our hand at land sailing across a dry lake (which I understand also serves as a designated emergency landing strip for the Space Shuttle).  Land sailing is like windsurfing or sailing, but you sit in a three wheeled pod, and, if the winds coming down off the Andes are right, you rocket around this dead flat dry lake at 60-80km/hr.  And, as if the air in this arid region were not dry enough, the wind against your face as you blast around the lake is sure to remove any moisture you might have left on or in your person.  That being said, the aridity and altitude of this valley makes it an important site for the astronomy-minded.  Not surprisingly, Barreal had the bluest skies I have ever seen.

ah, the baby goat on the asado
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We ended off our time in Mendoza with a trip over a couple of mountain ridges to the east to Ischigualasto Park (sp?), better known as Valley of the Moon.  Best dad story to date occurs on the way....  He goes into a bank machine while I wait  outside in the trusty Volkswagon Gol (yes, Gol, not Golf - it is smaller and does not merit the ´f´).  While he is inside, I roll right in front of the actual entrance to the bank machine booth, thinking only of his convenience.  He leaves the booth, with powers of observation clearly on high, and walks straight to where I was and proceeds to open the door of another car and climb into the passenger seat.  A hard count of 3 later, he jumps out startled and finds me, shaking his head the whole way (at me perhaps?).

the landscape of the Sierras
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Ah but he was not alone.  I, in a moment of inspired ignorance, filled the tank of the gasoline-only Gol with gasoil (diesel).  Within 5 minutes of leaving the gas station, it sputtered to a gurgling halt and would not start.  So in a town of 1800 people we walked around trying to find a mechanic to tow the poor Gol and to drain the entire 50 litre tank.  Thankfully, we found an old mechanic who used ingenuity and a myriad of tools to drain (and suck through a hose) the tank dry for only $35Cdn.  Not one of my finer moments.

river through the Sierras
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Valley of the Moon Park - combine the eroded landscapes of the badlands of the prairies with the towering red sandstone monuments of the SW United States.  The earth is a motley of spectacular colours here - purple, green, yellow, cream, ochre, brown and red.  The only downside is that to visit the park, one must take a park guide in their car and drive a pre-determined 40km, three hour route.  If more than one group shows up for designated tour times, all proceed to travel in a convoy of cars through this otherwise isolated and serene place....

one of those colonial buildings in Cordoba
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That is that.  Off to northern Chile and the Atacama region where rainfall is a common as unicorn spottings.