Puerto Madera & the zoo

Far side: cars ready to go on 9th de Julio - seven each way.

The elevator shaft, elevator arriving, and Peter ready to operate it.

The frigate, Samiento: steam and sail powered.

The pedestrian bridge across the channel.





It is called the Woman's bridge, so they have a series of statues.

The train that runs the length of the port.

Entrance to the zoo,

Public school kids wear white smocks as uniforms.













This guy is having a lazy day!

This profile reminds me of someone.

Exhibition centre at the botanical gardens











I am not sure why the pictures are so spread out, but maybe it will publish better! Espero.

Monday, Nov. 1

Up and to the laundry before breakfast. Eighteen pesos ($2.50) will do it all. After breakfast, we spend the day walking. We head down to the Puerto Madera area, the old port turned ecological park and high-rise modern buildings. They have kept the old cranes from when this was the working port, painted them brightly as part of the heritage. Some of the old warehouses have been gussied-up into condos with ground-floor restaurants. We splurge and spend the 2 pesos each to go through the frigate, Sarmiento, which is still cared-for by the naval employees and is a well-laid-out museum. Peter finds a take-out store that sells hot dogs. You would think it was filet the way he enjoyed it. On the way back to the hotel, we take the small, modern port-side train that runs the length of the waterfront. At the far end, we walk back along the other main pedestrian street called Reconquista. This is a banking, financial street, with the flavour of the heart of Old Montreal. Altogether, we spend six hours wandering about. Tomorrow we will do less walking.
The front desk guy suggests a little restaurant around the corner for dinner. The service is bad, we almost up and leave when the gal ignores us, but the food is good. I final find a place that makes fresh soup. I have the fish soup that is “swimming” in fish! Enough.

Tuesday, Nov. 2

Peter collects the laundry before breakfast. All seems well. Once we are ready to leave we ask the advise of the receptionist and he suggests if we want to go to the Tango show at Café Tortoni - a famous café for writers and performers which is one block down the street - we can go and make the reservations today for the Wednesday evening show. We must wait until 11 a.m. as that is when the tickets office opens. All is done. We pass a hair salon - with an older stylist and clientele - so I make an appointment for tomorrow, at noon. Peter likes being with a blonde! Finally, we are off to experience the Metro of Buenos Aires!
As in most cities, the subway is well marked and inexpensive - 1.1 peso - about 30 cents. This one appears as though it was beautiful when it first opened, but is somewhat worse for wear. It gets us right to the corner where the zoo and botanical gardens are situated. The gardens are closed until 12:30, so we head directly to the zoo. We mingle with classes of children being guided by official zoo guides, and walk, walk, walk. We are there for over four hours, with a couple of sit-downs to rest. It is a hot day! I think the collection of snakes is the most impressive. I will do a snake blog so those who are interested can see and those who aren’t can skip it.
As we pass the botanical gardens, we read the sign that says, for today only, there is free admission between 12:30 and 5:00. We take a peek, even though we are tired. It is a peaceful place to be if you like tall shade trees and a great variety of flowers, as well as cats (lots of well-groomed, healthy-looking residents) and can ignore the traffic noise from the nearby, but unseen, avenues. It is a quick trip home with only a short miss-step as we end up on the wrong side of the platform once. As there are virtually no people on our side, and we are traveling a busy route, we have the sense to a ask the ticket man before getting on. Home safely for our usual late dinner.

Hop on - hop off Tour bus

La Recoleta: Famous cemetery.

Duarte Family burial sight: Grave of Eva Peron.

La Boca neighbourhood.

Tango dancers: very sexy.

Contrasts in architecture.

The house atop a highrise.

Sunday, Oct. 31 Halloween

We are up early, fed, and off to the bus stop for 8:45, to be early for the 9 a.m. bus. There is a reasonable line-up, but looks like it will fill the first bus. The bus is parked and the driver is wondering around, smoking. Unfortunately, the ticket seller has not arrived! Sometime, just before 9:30, the guy arrives. There are people who already have tickets, and a few who have managed to buy them who get to leave on the now half-hour late bus. We think we will get the second one, but they only take about half a load as there are other stops along the way. Our bus leaves at 10:20. The couple in front of us strike up a conversation - they had been doing a lot of smooching while in the first line. Turns out they are from San Paulo. They speak great English. They both are of Greek heritage, but he is the only one who speaks the language. The conversation passes the time. It is voting day in Brazil, and as it turns out, they to elect a female president! Half of S.A. is ruled by women. Maybe things will start to equalize, financially, in these countries.
Buenos Aires - a city of contrasts. The older architecture feels like I would expect any European city to feel. The main streets are wide with wide sidewalks also, so there is lots of sunshine at street level. The side streets are narrow, with narrow side walks, as if they are only a way to get to the main drags. Then there is the ultra-modern architecture of the 20th century. Tall office and condo buildings, each with its unique style.
We hop off the bus at La Boca, an artistic area. Many of the houses are built of corrugated steel sheets, painted bright colours. I have read it is the happening part of the city on Sundays. It is. We see street dancers doing, of course, the tango. You can have your picture taken with them for a price! The cobble-stone street, the music, and the art work is worth the stop.
We hop back on a bus, and continue the sight-seeing, getting of again at the Belles Artes. It is too late to visit, so we get some lunch - well, Peter does, they don’t have my fruit salad, so I just have coffee and finish my own banana - and then walk around the block to find the entrance to La Recoleta - the world-famous cemetery. This is definitely unique. A city of mausoleums. We do find a map after, but mostly, we just wander. Some are like little churches. You can look through the many glass windows and see the coffins stacked inside. Others, are ultra-modern. To cover each nook and cranny would take a full day. We do find Eva Peron’s family building. She was a Duarte - a good Portuguese name. Here I get the last picture from my dieing battery! Was meant to be.
On the final leg, we see where the zoo and botanical gardens are situated, and plan to return during the week.
When we return to the hotel, Peter asks the front-desk girl if you have to go to the bus depot to reserve a bus ticket. She says of course not, as she picks up the phone receiver and dials the coach line he wants. Ten minutes later, we are booked on the full-suite bus to Mendoza!

Presidential Palace

The Pink House:

Presidential Palace
In the courtyard.

Palace guards.

Eva Peron & Zapata; Latin American heroes.

I downloaded more pictures, but they are lost in cyberspace!

Saturday, Oct. 30

Today is sunny, but the wind is blowing like crazy. I see on the news later in the day that a sign has been blown down from a building and injures some local waiting at a bus stop!
We discover that the included breakfast is a step above what we are used to. There are sliced cold-cuts and cheese, as well as fresh fruit salad added to the buffet spread. Like a good, cheap Canadian, I decide to make this my brunch. Works for me!
We decide we will take the tour bus, but on our way we notice a number pf people lined-up at the gate to the “Pink House” (Presidential Palace). So we wait, and sure enough, at 10 a.m. - almost sharp - they open the gates and the free tours begin. The first stop is a gallery of portraits of famous Latin American politicians, done to celebrate the bi-centennial of Argentina’s independence - 1810 - 2010. We are not disappointed in the grandeur of the place. By the time we get finished and to the bus stop for the tour bus, the line there is prohibitive, so we will return on Sunday.
We spend the day wandering around the Florida Street pedestrian mall, going to the Congressional Palace at the far end of rue de Mayo, and getting some dressier pants for Peter and I so we don’t look like such tourist hicks when we go out to dinner in the city. I finish the afternoon hemming the pants while Peter continues the computer search for places to stay and buses to catch as we continue to travel next Friday.
Now that Peter is better, I have developed some kind of allergy. I have these horrid ably-itchy bite-like bumps on my back, one leg, and one arm. They are blistery, like the ones I got a few years ago when I trimmed the diphanbocia plant. The only thing different is that I have been drinking more wine than usual and eating peanuts. I decide to stop eating the peanuts and get an antihistamine from the pharmacy. Nothing like self-prescribing!
Late to dinner, as usual. We are getting into the S. American mode.

Arrival in Buenos Aires

Bridge approaching Buenos Aires

Traffic into town - 7:30 a.m.

Our hotel: Mundial

The open arium from the seventh floor until the first.


Banners in memorial for Nestor Kirchner.

Great pizzas on Av. de Mayo, at the next corner.

Friday, Oct. 29

The morning comes quickly, so I have obviously have had a good sleep. We are now in the river delta and is much like approaching Vancouver from Chilliwack.
We cross a bridge and from the time we reach the outskirts until we reach the terminal is well over an hour. As the autopisto (highway) widens, the speeds increase. When there are five lanes in each direction, it is posted overhead, above each lane - 130 - 120 - 110- 100 - 90/60! Of course, there is the two-lane service road to the side. With an area population of 11 million, there are a lot of cars to move. That is, 1/3 of Canada’s population in the vicinity of the city! The highway extends right into the heart of the city.
As the bus approaches the port area, you travel between two mountains of containers! It is obvious that this is the major shipping port of Argentina.
Our hotel, Hotel Mundial, is on Av. de Mayo, just off Av. 9 de Julio, which is one of the biggest streets in the world. The autopisto feeds into it. It is seven lanes in each direction with two-lane side streets parallel for local traffic. When you cross this street, unless you at a full gallop, you get to the half-way point where you must wait for the next light. It is quite intimidating crossing in front of seven cars lined-up appearing to be waiting for the starting pistol to start a race. We are half-way between the Congress building (and plaza) and the Presidential Palace. We are an easy walk to all the downtown core. The hotel is 100 years old. Of course, it has been refurbished. The elevator works smoothly, but, again, is 100 years old. You work it manually, by opening the outside and then the inside doors, then closing them. Only four fat people can be on the elevator at once, although I notice that with even thin riders, nobody goes beyond the four-passenger limit.
The Friday is a rainy day, but we decide to walk to the downtown area, through the Plaza de Mayo by the Presidential Palace. What we had not realized was that it was ex-president, Nestor Kitchener who had died on Wednesday. His wife, Christina, is now president. The square was filled with mourners and mourning messages. The signs mostly read (in Spanish of course) Nestor, Eva, & Peron together (in heaven). Also, Fuerta Christina - Christina, be strong. The place is a mess with garbage and such, but we realize the next day that all government & municipal workers were given the days off for mourning.
I indulge in an ice-cream cone which we were told are exceptional in Argentina. We happen to pass a parlour with more than fifty years in business. I get a “super” dulce de leche - which means, not only is the ice-cream made with the sauce, there is a gollop of the sauce on top and it is scooped-up into the cone. I plan to have one more before leaving next Friday. Dulce de leche is the sweet of choice in Argentina - like cajeta in Mexico or maple syrup in Canada.
We have a siesta before going down the street to a pizza parlour for dinner - after all it is Friday. La Continental is super. We finally get a good pizza in South America. The place is hopping with table service, stand-up, and take-out equally busy. We will not be here next Friday evening, so we may need to revisit this joint next Thursday.

Leaving Heaven - Puento Iguazu

The view from our hostel window.
El Pratico, local bus.

Overnight bus, transportation, dinner & breakfast, and hotel.
Peter tries his bed.
Last look at Hostel Inn from the bus out of town.

Thursday, Oct. 28

Our last day in Puerto Iguazu, and we awaken to birds singing and the sun shining. We are all packed, so just have breakfast and spend the morning by the pool. We have a cheese and cracker lunch, I change into what I call my elephant-leg pants, rolled-up for the hot day, and it is off to the Omnibus terminal on el Practico, the Pt. Iguazu version of El Urbano. The bus takes us right to the terminal. I buy stamps and send the post cards from the station. This place is set-up for tourists.
The full-cama, Viva Barraloche bus pulls in right on time and we are off to Buenos Aires, top floor, front seats. Peter tries out his seat to make sure it goes all the way back and the foot-rest comes all the way up. Add a pillow and warm blanket, and all is well for the 17-hour, over-night trip. Food, lodging, and transportation all rolled into one!
The countryside is wooded with tree farms and fields of some kind of nut or fruit bushes. Some houses are red brick construction, but more are very small, raised on stilts, rough-wood places with only shutters in place of glass windows. Reminds me of the places in Dominica.
As we leave we are served Sprite and a biscuit. Later, a coffee and another biscuit. I have guessed correctly and the dinner is served after we leave Posada at around 8 p.m. The trays are served with a hunk of some kind of puff-pastry filled pie, a half tomato filled with rice and peas, something else cold I can’t remember, and a bun. I figure that was it when the “server” brings a hot dish with a baked-¼ chicken, very flavourful, and some potato balls. There is canned, fruit salad for dessert. After the stuff is cleared away, he returns to ask if we prefer champagne or “whiskey”. When Peter declines and I request a whiskey, he is a little taken aback. Maybe I am his first scotch-drinking old lady. It is quite smooth. Nice touch.

Iguazu Falls

Sorry about the mess of the last post, as I attempted to edit after the pictures were uplaoded and it all went to heel. Hope you struggled through anyway. Marilyn

Cataratas del Iguazu

I will simply post a mess of photos so you get the idea. My friend, the coati, is in some. If you ge doubles, it is because the computer has not shown me what is downloaded. Sorry.

Tuesday, Oct. 26.

We are right into the Argentinean pace of life - even slower than the Mexican. After a lazy breakfast, and I put together a sandwich for Peter and left-overs for me (from last night’s dinner) and a couple of little bananas from breakfast, we are off the visit the world-famous (outside of Canada) Iguazu Falls.
It is standing room only on El Practico, so the young Japanese girl standing beside me strikes-up a conversation in Spanish! Wow - life is full of surprises. It turns out that she and her friend are volunteering in Bolivia and have just come on a trip to visit the falls. I tell her about the Japanese students who come to Castlegar to study English and how we have a “sister” town in Japan. We wish each other good travels as we depart from the bus.
We begin our tour by taking the train (a little like the train at West Edmonton Mall, only longer cars.) to the Saltos Argentinos, to follow the upper path. The pathways are grated-steel so the water passes through and they don’t get slippery. At times, you are walking over rushing rivers, which we try to visualize Ruth doing - or anyone who doesn’t like our spiral staircase.
The roar and the spray from the falls greet you long before the vision. I cannot explain the first view except to take it was rapturous! It simply takes ones breath away. It seems like the river has spread out for half a mile and then, finding the low-spots, tumbles hundreds of feet to a constant cloud at the base. You almost forget you are encircled by hoards of people. We take lots of pictures and drink-in the atmosphere. It is hard to pull oneself away, but there is more to see.
We backtrack to the train, and go to the next station which goes to Garganta del Diablo. Do I need to translate? On the way, I simply must remove myself from the waves of tourists, mostly all in groups with their guide’s name on a tag aroung their neck or their own name, as Peter says - in case they forget it! I go into my own space, slow my walk to a crawl, look into the trees, into the water, and into the undergrowth so I can discover the source of the unusual calls and the movements of the creatures. The falls will not go away if it takes me time to get there. Poor Peter, he never complains, but just moves with the flow and then stops and waits while I catch up. I point out a fish, bottom-feeding by a big rock above the falls. Then there is a lazy turtle, just moving enough to remain stationary by a bridge. There are brilliant butterflies to examine. I see a toucan, but it is flying and I don’t get a picture. At one point, I see a giant Tegu lizard that is shedding its coat - just like its cousin the snake. There are many brightly-coloured birds I cannot identify. Later we see a plush-crested jay, but is seems a false sighting because a young boy is putting out peanuts to lour it down from the tree.
While we take a short water break in a shady area, I place my backpack on the wall beside me. Within a minute, a coati (look it up on Google) is up on the seat sniffing at my pack. I’m about to get up and put my pack back on as I don’t want it digging in my pack when a stupid woman distracts the animal. She is opening a package of sweet cookies to give one to the coati. Snatch! Within an instant, the creature has the whole package. Now the stupid lady, who is not supposed to feed the animals, tries to retrieve her package. Wrong choice! We see the vicious fangs displayed as the animal defends her fairly-stolen lunch. She tears at the package, but when threatened with a rolled-up paper by the stupid lady’s partner, she grabs what is left of the package of cookies and flees into the undergrowth. Good for her! She is way brighter than the stupid lady.
It is a fairly long walk from the train stop to the Garganta, mostly walking over the expanse of water moving quickly to the precipice. Devil’s Giant is as described. We Canadians think Niagara falls is something. No way. It is but a tacky, tourist trap beside a truly well-preserved wonder of the world. Yes, there are lots of people, mostly pushy and without manners, but the falls themselves truly do hold you spellbound. You wish you could have been here before the Spanish and seen this wonder when the Indigenous peoples marvelled at it. All I can say is, if and when you get a chance, do not visit this part of South America without taking the time to visit Cataratas del Iguazu.
The return trip to town gives us an opportunity to come down off the natural high of the day. I find my needles and thread, we pick up some more wine and cheese, collect our neatly folded washing and have a ride on a different ruta of El Practico through a regular neighbourhood of Puerto Iguazu, the real world of Argentine - not the tourist district.
Our bus to Buenos Aires leaves on Thursday afternoon and, until then, we have nothing to do but enjoy the sunshine and the pool . No more posts until we reach the big city and I experience a seventeen-hour trip on a champagne-serving, full-cama (bed) bus. Chow.