Navigating South America

THE SOUTH AMERICAN TIME ZONE

Although only a 3 hour time difference, we continue to struggle to adjust to the "South American Time Zone".

In Argentina it goes something like this: people get to work around 9:00 am, work until 1:00 pm and then leave for lunch.  But lunch usually includes a nap since stores, restaurants, offices, don't open

again until around 4:00 and then they stay open until about 8:00 pm.

It doesn't seem to matter that stores, offices, and restaurants are closed, because everyone is sleeping anyway. It is just the funniest thing how people really do nap most of the afternoon. The Siesta is sacred here. By noon we are just hitting our stride and ready to go places and do things but everything is closed down (including tourist information offices) so we have tried to adopt the South American time zone with an afternoon nap but it has been messing with our overnight sleep schedule. We are still working on this.

Our eating schedule is also a little messed up. Restaurants typically don't even open until after 7:00 p.m., many not until 8:00 -- and this is even on week nights. Toddlers and school children are going to restaurants with their parents after 10:00 pm. People typically eat dinner around 10:30 p.m. We are having a heck of a time adjusting to this since we are super hungry around 5:30 pm but there is nothing but junk or snacks to buy. Apparently bars don't open their doors until after midnight, but remain deserted until about 2:00 a.m. when lines begin to form, again, even on week nights. Rarely do people go to bed before midnight here.

Our schedules are all mixed up but we are working around that and just trying to align ourselves to the South American rhythm.

GETTING ON TOP OF THE LANGUAGE BARRIER

Levi and Lana in class.

Our little Lonely Planet Spanish translation guidebook is getting lots of use but even the simplest transactions are painful and we are so ashamed.  We all underestimated our need to know Spanish thinking that there would be 1/8 people out there that we could count on...... not so much. It is more like 1/25, and broken at that. It was a breeze in Laos and Cambodia compared to this.

So we found ourselves in Rosario, a nice Argentine city about 5 hours north of Buenos Aires. There we happened upon a 1-week intense Spanish language course. Greg and the girls were in the more advanced course and Levi and I took the Spanish Survival course. Levi and I worked on his math, science, and spelling when Greg and the girls were still in Spanish class. A great little spot. We hung out there for a week. Studying and walking. Walking and studying. We figure that many days we are walking about 10 to 15km; this will come in handy as we have some nice walking/hiking treks ahead of us in Bolivia and Peru.

The sidewalks are very narrow here so we mostly need to walk single file. Greg goes first, then Levi, then the girls. I have the important job at the end of the line obstructing the view of all the men who crane their necks as the girls go by. The look of disappointment on their faces as I walk behind the girls is both sad and totally hilarious for me.

RELATIONSHIPS

Greg doing his magic of meeting and connecting with all sorts of folks which has opened doors to our whole family having unique and authentic experiences.

It can be as simple as a 30 minute, 4x4 sand dune truck ride with bunch of strangers and before I know it, Greg is laughing and connecting with all kinds of people. People he has met are suddenly cooking for us, showing us how to authentically grill carne (meat) on their Asado grills, exchanging money for us. 

My favourite was how Greg connected with our Spanish teacher's husband and suddenly Greg and Quinn were playing a real game of soccer with a bunch of really good soccer players in one of the coveted pitches. Of course the game didn't start until 10:45 pm.

FITTING IN, OR TRYING TO AT LEAST

  

We are doing our best to adapt to South American ways. We take the time to figure out the little local buses rather than taking taxis, have navigated the subway system in Buenos Aires and are figuring out the longer haul buses that take us from one city to the next and from one country to the next.

We've got the black market money exchange thing figured out and we are starting to understand and appreciate the local foods (OK, and beer and wines too).

The kids are doing great; they are flexible and open minded -- which is really critical since it takes so long and requires so much planning to get anything done.

To enhance the engagement and learning experience even more, the girls are now wholly responsible for our treks through both Paraguay and Bolivia. They are reading lots to suggest the places we should go and then the planning and navigating begins, no small feat but highly rewarding! Bus schedules, transactions in Spanish, securing accommodations, money transfers, they are responsible for it all.

Goal:  We are trying to groom gypsies.

Poop Parts

Levi hiding behind the mixed grill.

We were getting ready to bid farewell to Uruguay and start our adventure in Argentina.

Our last meal in Uruguay should be a nice one at a nice restaurant. We were in Colonia del Sacramento. The Portuguese founded Colonia in 1680 to smuggle goods into Buenos Aires, Argentina. Winding cobbled streets and beautiful views of the waterway. A pretty place to say goodbye to Uruguay.

Since we continue to struggle with Spanish, we tend to look at the plates coming out of the kitchen to determine what we want to eat and then it is some pointing so the waitress knows what to order us.

The 'special' at the restaurant was this impressive mixed grill meat platter full of wood roasted meats and sausages. We saw several coming out of the kitchen.  Pretty expensive, $50 Cndn, so Greg, Levi and I were going to share.

There were some sweet potatoes, a couple of roasted peppers and some bread. There was 1 chicken drumstick for Levi and then it was a bit of a mystery. There were some ribs, some flank type cuts, some chorizo sausages...... And then the real mystery began.  Blood sausage, a whole kidney, and then long ribbons along the side of the platter (sorta like garnish but much too big) which I have only seen in a Biology 30 class.  Most definitely intestine.

Now Anthony Bourdain's culinary show profiled these parts as a bit of a delicacy in Colombia (I never expected them in Uruguay) -- he referred to them as "poop parts" and if I remember correctly, I thought he said they weren't too bad.

I remained open-minded the whole while it took to cut a bite-sized piece off (it took about 20 saws with a steak knife). I quickly concluded it was the most foul and offensive thing I have ever eaten. You have to chew it lots or you can't swallow it and the flavour just keeps getting stronger and stronger. Chasing with beer doesn't help. How could it be that so many of these platters were leaving the kitchen?

Aghast, I said, "that is the worst thing I have ever tasted, even if I was offered $5000, I would not be able to eat that."  The kids were surprised. "Really Mom? That is a lot of money!"  I confirmed that it was just that bad and that I could not.    Pause....  and then Quinn piped up, "would you pay us $5000 if we ate it?"

I was so confident that they wouldn't get through it I agreed but added, "it will be extra money we would give you for your education". (Levi quickly wondered if I would discount his amount but allow him to use it for things other than school.)

Tough stuff.

Quinn tried it, open minded and confident. The process to get through one swallow had her shaking her head, gagging and abandoning the deal. Surprisingly, Levi also tried it; also unable to get past one bite. Colby approached the issue methodically, "how much would I get if I ate half of the intestine?", "what is the cost of a post-secondary semester?", "how much money did I make working last summer?"

WATCH THE VIDEO > >

She took half of the intestine on her plate knowing that she had $2000 education dollars at stake. I was completely confident that she physically would not be able to get through it knowing full well how horrid it tasted.

Must be that post secondary is on her mind and just around the corner.....  That girl was determined. Let me remind you that you can barely cut it with a knife and that you cannot swallow it without chewing. She got through half her portion and was about to abandon but realized that she couldn't possibly quit with nothing gained, she couldn't fathom it getting any worse, couldn't imagine walking away at this point ....... so she plowed through it all.

Earning an education.

So that was a couple of days ago now and I still look for opportunities to tease her. "Colby, do want some dental floss-- there might still be some intestine in your teeth." "Colby did you want to see if they have intestine flavour ice cream here?" .....   Every time she shudders but agrees in the end that it is a heck-of-a-story.

Off-grid Goodness

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The last few days of travel have been special to say the least. We even began to wonder if the remainder of the trip could get any better.      

Both of our latest destinations had one  thing in common; they were both "unplugged". One on a windy peninsula surrounded by sand dunes, and the other a rural retreat surrounded by the Sierras de Rocha.

We arrived in Cabo Polonio, a random collection of beach dwellings, perched on the back of a massive, well worn truck that had seen its fair share of dunes. It rumbled its way through boggy sand and wide beach until landing in the midst of what could be described as an expression of pioneer practicality. Houses of all shapes, sizes and colours riddled the small piece of land. Each hosting an array of hand painted signs, solar and/or wind powered devices and squat black water reservoirs perched up high. Dr. Seuss would be inspired.
     
Our hostel was as charming and interesting as Alfredo, our host. Both have many facets and have seen a great deal in their time together. Lucky for us Alfredo loves cooking - especially on a tiny wood fired oven that my great grandmother would have thought inadequate.

Aside from exploring the beach, trying our hand at sandboarding and simply enjoying the mellow vibe our highlight was a meal prepared by our host. Although we could have eaten down at the beach at an itsy bitsy restaurant, we couldn't resist asking to sample his talent when a firewood supply truck arrived with a small pork leg stashed behind the seat; a special order for Alfredo.              
The meal was authentic, both in terms of its flavours and ambiance. On the porch were the MacIntyres and a nice German couple; tucked inside the warm kitchen/dining room/bar were Alfredo and a number of close friends - all enjoying the food and helping where they could.

The slow roasted meat and root vegetables accompanied by beer, wine and an ever attentive host were all so satisfying. Although there was scotch on offer I had to decline. My only regret.

As we left Cabo Polonio we were joined by Alfredo on the sand bus. He was on his way to visit a friend in hospital. Worried that the public health system may be lacking some comforts, he wanted to be sure that his friend was not lacking for anything. Cabo's community takes care of its own.

Two buses later we were sitting in  Rocha's lovely town square awaiting our connection to "Caballos de Luz ". It was Santiago who approached the cluster of Canadians huddled around their packs. "Santy", as we later called him,  was a bright eyed, smiley man sporting a reddish frock of dreadlocks. Beneath his gentle exterior was a brauny, tanned rancher with working hands to match.

The red pickup, filled with eucalyptus timbers for the youth center, rattled up to a pastoral farm like nothing we'd ever imagined. Two imacculate thatched cottages, horses casually wandering the yard, would be our home for the next few days.

We were greeted in the yard by our hostess Lucie.  With open arms, impeccable English and hugs for all, we were immediately at ease. Tall and slim with perfect posture and a mane of sandy dreadlocks, we knew that we were meeting the inspiration for the guest ranch; this was someone special.

Levi was immediately at home, his green eyes a little brighter. Dogs fetching sticks and gentle horses to feed kept him busy for hours. We may have a Gaucho on our hands.

Much the same as Cabo Polonia, this farm had an impressively tiny footprint. Solar power, water pumped from a local pond, walls made with adobe mixed with hay, compacted sandbag walls and composting toilets are just a few examples of the how living comfortably off the grid can be accomplished.

Not only was this a small ranch, but a larger community. The land was bought about ten years ago by a handful of people. They were hoping to secure it for more than a pulp and paper farm; something quite common when the economy tanked years back. Big money was buying up land for pennies. Santy told me that, much like other parts of the world, the rural population in Uruguay is in decline; that they want to do what they can to change that for their community.

So, why not build a community? Create a place that is compelling and gratifying, a place to call your own. On horseback we toured the area to see the communal homes, the youth center in its last stages of construction and the round, living roofed community hall where yoga and choral groups gather.  It is clear that both Lucie and Santy are heavily invested in this ideal; both financially and emotionally. In broken English Santy suggested that the hard work now would really pay off for the next generations to come. Wow.

Again, there was lots for us to do on the ranch apart from just soaking the place in. We hiked to the top of a nearby "mountain" where we left an inukshuck for posterity. We were given horse riding lessons by the resident horse whisperer - Lucie. Levi helped 'shoe' Quinn's horse, something that needs to be done every 4 weeks. The rocky terrain is hard on their hooves.

We had a great trail riding experience climbing up and down steep enbankments and riding the horses across and back the river. The horses were so well trained that Levi compared using the reins to a joystick- forward, left, right, reverse. Again, like in Cabo, the host was a consummate cook. Instead of a wood truck delivering her ingredients she grew her own.

Admittedly we were a little worried about an all veggie, all the time diet but we had no reason to fear. Each meal was complete and unique. From homemade bread and granola for breakfast to the most velvety polenta accompanied by potato pakora for supper. Lana, in particular, was over the moon at every meal.
                                              
We left feeling healthy and happy, wondering what a few months of this living could provide and feeling that our footprint back home is of mammoth proportions. 

Our 20th Anniversary

We landed in Montevideo, Uruguay on our 20th Anniversary. I am smiling from ear to ear.

When I was 19 years old I backpacked across Australia and New Zealand for 5 months. I clearly remember watching the backpacking families staying in the youth hostles. They stuck out. They were cool. They got along well. They laughed a lot. I remember watching these occasional random families and everytime I would tell myself, "if I have a family one day, I am going to do that".

Colby read me a quote yesterday, "tourists do not know where they have been, travellers do not know where they are going". We are the latter; seven countries, 4.5 months. We have been talking about this for years and we are ready for another adventure.

We went for a 10 kilometer hike yesterday. Some along the ocean shore and then inland to a national botanical park. It started out a beautiful day but as soon as we began our hike the clouds rolled in and it started to rain. My first thought was that we would go back to our room and Greg and I could crack open our bottle of Uruguay Tannat wine but that was not going to happen since everyone else in my family slowed down just enough to put on their rain coats saying, "let's go!"

Walking behind my family I watched my girls have playful running competitions as Greg and Levi were holding hands and talking about sea shells. I thought, "if I had a crystal ball 20 years ago and saw that my family would be 3 happy healthy kids and we would be backpacking across South America, I would have known that I would have it all."

Today we are in a small fishing village along the Atlantic Ocean coast. A surfer town full of shanty shacks and stray dogs. We are having a heck of a time with the language. Missed our bus out of town today since our hostel manager told us that the bus comes 20 minutes 'after' the schedule indicates but then realized that he got his 'before' and 'after' mixed up. Oh well.....   another day in Punta del Diablo isn't so bad.

Lana

Keeping Pace with Montivideo

We love the streets full of art in Montivideo.

Who knew that Spanish would be so important in South America? Since our arrival a week ago our $12 phrasebook has been priceless. When combined, the use of a friendly greeting, a few key words, some jerky charades and many humble apologies has proven effective in getting us most of what we need.

As is our tendancy, we arrived in the middle of the night during a downpour. Since no taxi is allowed to take more than four passengers we took a shuttle bus that wound its way around a dark and stormy Montivideo until nearly 1 am before reaching what we hoped was our destination. We made a friend on the shuttle who knew of our accomodation and helped us to find the key that was deposited in a planter near the door. We knew we had arrived in a foreign land just from looking at the large skeleton key used to open the monolithic doors. 

The next couple of days proved moderately stressful. The narrow cobbled, one way streets were challenging for a family since pedestrians come a distant second to cars, buses and darting scooters. Navigating the streetswas second nature for the locals, even gaggles of unaccompanied school children made it look easy. On top of our pathetic Spanish and fearful walks around the old town we also struggled to aquire a visa for Paraguay - something we knew from our guide could take some time. Having to appear in person at an consulate that was only open for a few hours, dealt only in paper and rubber stamps and ended up requiring three visits meant we had to stay in Montivideo an extre two nights. After having a look at the elegant, two page entry visa that includes a number of stamps and our mug shots we thought the extra two days were a small price to pay. 

Once our culture shock jitters had subsided and our plan for the following week had been secured we saw some sights. The famous local theatre that is steeped in history, a pre-colombian museum that seemed only half done and a carniverous meal at the Port Market frequented by none other than Anthony Bourdain ( see min 5:45 - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S_sCUZ_90IQ) In the end we were more than happy to just walk. With over half of the country´s poplation residing in Montivideo there was no lack of people watching to be done. Dressed in overcoats, down jackets, scarves and caps the people must have equally enjoyed watching 5 Canadians bedecked in shorts and t-shirts walking past. The streets were also alive with art. We took pictures of dozens of murals of all different ilk; from economic infographics to outlandish characters that should make Disney jelous (photo album coming soon).

The underlying stress of our time in the big city was truly realized as we stepped off the bus two nights ago in Punta del Diablo. Despite arriving in a strange, dark and rainy place the kids were all giddy simply because they could immediately sense the change in pace; this ocean side retreat was a place to chill.