To follow our progress on google maps via Pavinski Traveller, click here: http://pavinski-travel.blogspot.ca/

Thursday, January 30, 2014

Cafayate – wine country at last

It’s what Amy has been waiting for her whole life: Argentina wine country. Yesterday we rolled into the small town of Cafayate, or “Cafashate” to the Argentines. They have a crazy accent here in Argentina, where among other things, they insert the sound “sh” wherever and whenever they can. So pollo (chicken), which is pronounced “poyo” (to us rhymes with toyo) everywhere else in the Spanish world, here, is pronounced “posho”. As far as we can tell, the equivalent situation in English might be Newfoundlanders and their accent. Like Newfoundlanders, they also make up different words. For example, aqui (here) is acá. Makes it interesting for us gringos trying to learn Spanish, and now have to learn a whole new dialect. Some people are just incomprehensible to us. Keeps it fun!

Anywho, wine country! Wow, what a beautiful place. We had no idea how stunning the landscapes are in this part of the world. The 3-day ride from Salta started with a tear-jerking send off by our lovely hosts Maria and Carlos in Salta, who treated us like family. The legendary Argentine hospitality is starting to kick in. The ride took us through mind-blowing desert-mountain terrain that could have been the best show pieces of the U.S. southwest. It was like riding through Grand Canyon country. Around every corner it was another “wow! look at that!”. Combined with the good roads, good weather, and vacationing Argentines out for Sunday drives, it was fantastic riding.

 
On the ride over, we did something we haven’t done yet: “wild camping” as it’s called among cycle tourists here. In other words, camping on the side of the road. For the first time since landing in South America we felt safe enough to randomly camp out in the open. Unlike Canada where camping anywhere is generally safe and accepted, it’s just not safe in the countries north of Argentina. Horror stories of cyclists getting beaten and robbed as they camp give you shivers. But now, civilization has arrived and it’s great to take advantage of things like that. We are regularly bumping into other cyclist now who are coming up from the south and telling us they camped the whole way. Unlike the Andean countries to the north, where we ran into only 2 other cyclists in 6 months, it seems like Argentina is indeed the land of milk and honey for cycletouring. Clean and safe!

Upon arriving in Cafayate and finding a place to stay, Amy wasted no time in herding us to the nearest winery. Within an hour of rolling into town we were tasting our first malbec reserve. Nice! Being pseudo wine enthusiasts, it’s really fun to be getting a taste for the Argentine varietals like torrontés (a fruity white), malbec (a cab-sav like red), and tannat (haven’t really gotten into it yet) that they are famous for. The whites here in “the north” (especially the torrontés) are very reminiscent of the Okanagan whites. Tastes like home...and brings tears to our eyes. Amy is in absolute heaven and may just never leave. “I love this place...isn’t it just so great!!” she says as we walk out of our second winery with bottles in hand. We’re definitely going to dig in and stay a while...at least until we have ticked off all the wineries in town. Since we buy a bottle or two at each winery, we have to get through our stash before we can leave! Our grape-vine shaded courtyard (with grapes ripe and bursting for the plucking) at our hostel makes for an easy place to get rid of wine – shouldn’t be a problem J

Cafayate is nice small town of about 12,000, which is perfect. Classic Argentina with a beautiful central plaza lined with espresso bars, but with a wine-touring spin. Great wine is everywhere from gas stations to corner stores. Like Nelson, it’s big enough to have the things you want, but everything is walkable, including the wineries. There are at least 6 wineries within walking distance of our hostel, and another bunch within biking distance. Oh, and cheap! Crazy cheap by our standards. That reserve malbec...5 bucks. Our patio-sipping torrentes last evening, 3 bucks. A top-shelf bottle at these wineries, the kind of thing that would be 40 or 50 bucks in the Okanagan, is 10 bucks. I love it...our pesos are working hard for us. Hopefully the black market exchange thing will just keep on keeping on. It’s up to 11.5 pesos to the dollar here at our hostel (don’t even have to walk the streets for it!).

Along with the wine, the food is fantastic.  Steak and pasta are staples, but also empanadas (baked turnovers stuffed with things like meat and veggies) are huge here. They sell them by the dozen and it comes with fresh salsa. ¡Muy rico! All in all, Argentina is living up to our expectations. Amy was so excited to get here I was thinking she might be in for a let-down. But nope, she’s flying high and can’t get enough of it. So far, it really is a cycle-touring paradise.


We’ll see if it lasts. From here (once we’re done with the local wineries) we go, as usual, south, along the infamous Ruta 40 – Argentina’s equivalent to Route 66. It’s just over 1000 kms to Mendoza, our ultimate Argentine destination. That should take us a month or so (we’ll milk it). More on that journey to come. Hasta luego.


Saturday, January 25, 2014

Salta

We’re still reeling. The change from the dirty bombed-out (seemingly anyway) streets of Bolivia to modern-day Argentina is staggering. Dropping a couple thousands meters in elevation has also brought us from down jacket weather to shorts and flip flops in a couple days. One day we’re side-stepping dog poo and muck looking for anything to eat in a cold wind, the next we’re strolling the plaza-side cafes looking for the patio with the best shade umbrellas and who has the coldest beer. The weirdest thing to consider is that the border is only a few hours away (by vehicle). It’s one of those unique spots on earth where two worlds collide.

So Salta, population 500K, elevation 1187 m. It’s a chic medium-sized city, with a smallish feel. Being 3 blocks off the main downtown plaza, we’re right in the middle of the action and enjoying the patios and street cafes. As with all Spanish colonial towns, the main plaza is the heart of the city and where everything starts and finishes. It’s a fantastic concept, and is definitely our favourite thing about towns and cities in this part of the world. Big or small, upon entering a town or city, simply make your way to “el centro” and you are guaranteed to be where you can get accommodation, something to eat, something to drink, and just hang out and enjoy. Don’t know where it is? Just ask anyone “donde esta el centro?” Everyone knows and points. It works every time.

The ride over the hump from Jujuy to Salta was fantastic. It could be the best single day of riding we have had yet. The road winds itself up, through, and over a series of lush hills connected by a single-lane paved road shaded by overhanging branches and other foliage. No industrial traffic permitted, just families and couples out for an afternoon drive. It must be some kind of regional park. For those from Ontario-Quebec, it could have been a ride through the hills of Gatineau Park. For the first time on the entire trip, we had a very civilized picnic lunch en route, complete with a concrete picnic table in the shade – the pâté was excellent. Good roads, bike lanes, people out for a drive in the country, pull-outs with picnic tables...we’re still getting reacquainted with the luxuries of the developed world that we had all but forgotten about.


Speaking of luxuries, last evening we decided to go out for some pasta, which along with steak and wine, Argentines are famous for. Funny though, we got stuck in the Argentine time-warp. As mentioned previous post, Argentines are night owls. Being newbies, and silly gringo tourists, we were naively walking the streets at 7 pm looking for a pasta restaurant. We found several...that were all closed. They don’t even open before 9 pm! At one place the door was unlocked so we walked in. The guy who was prepping tables looked at us like we were insane, and simply told us to come back later. Who goes to a restaurant at 7 pm? Silly gringos.


We’re not sure what we’re going to do about this time warp situation. If we want to partake in Argentine culture we are going to have to somehow put in the late-night shift. As far as they’re concerned, the only people who are in bed at 9 pm are those in comas, or those under the age of 1. Oh well, we enjoyed our plate of pasta amongst all the coffee-drinkers at the cafe we found. I suppose we could try the double espressos with 3 packs of sugar too. Could be their secret...


So onwards and southwards again. Tomorrow we ride south towards the small town of Cafayate (prounouced “cafashataye” in Argentine), and into wine country. While wine is abundant, cheap, and good everywhere, they actually grow it in Cafashataye. The plan is to take a few days to get there then hunker down and enjoy some wine country atmosphere – and perhaps try a bit of the wine too. J Adios.



Wednesday, January 22, 2014

Quebrada de Humahuaca – into the heart of northwest Argentina

(back in the land of real internet...)

The symbolism was everywhere. Riding off the altiplano and down into Argentina was like following the rainbow that ended in a pot of gold. From the border town of La Quiaca, Ruta 9 (Route 9 – Argentina has a real highway system with numbers and everything) glides across the altiplano for a hundred or so kms, up over a small bump to about 3800 m elevation, then dives down through the mountains to the arid foothills of Salta at about 1100  m. As we pedalled across the final stretches of the altiplano, black storm clouds loomed in every direction but one: straight ahead. We managed to stay just ahead of the storm front and finally, upon topping out, knew we were home free as we escaped downhill and into the blue skies and warm winds of the Quebrada de Humahuaca – the long narrow valley that carries one down from the Bolivian altiplano into the heart of northwest Argentina.

Yet another UNESCO World Heritage Site, the valley is home to Argentina’s indigenous elements and represents a spill-over from Bolivia. Physically, the valley is a huge change from our lives on the altiplano.  As a mix between Arizona and the Okanagan, the valley is reminiscent of the deserts of the old west. Twisted and contoured multi-coloured rock-faces line the valley providing fantastic scenery for days of riding. The dominant image though is the fabulous Cardón Giant Cactus which is a ginormous cactus native to South America. Very cool.

The best part of the journey though, being on a bike, is the fact that the route is all downhill...for days! Coasting down for hours at a time, it’s like a train ride and we’re just looking out the window at the scenery going by. A stupendous change from the drudgery of the altiplano. The other best part, of course, is the sun and the heat. It’s hot! Amy “bring on the heat” Robillard is like a kid in a candy store. Dropping 500 to 1000 m a day means each day just gets hotter. At the moment, we’ve landed in the city of Jujuy (pronounced who whoey) at about 1200 m. It’s mid-summer hot here! 30+ degrees and humid. We haven’t sweated like this since leaving the Caribbean so many months ago. We had to find all of our hot-weather clothes again...where did I bury my flip flops? And this down jacket...why am I carrying this?  Oh ya, Bolivia. J



So let’s see...more changes. We’re out of the indigenous areas and into Spain now. The roads are paved, there are sidewalks, and street lights. Garbage is mostly confined to garbage cans, as opposed to everywhere else. The smell of stale urine has disappeared. Houses are complete and look like humans live in them. Bathrooms are clean and have bidets (loving the bidets!). The internet is fast. You can drink the water. People walk the streets like they are in love, with things to do and places to go. Long story short: we’re back in civilization.

Civilization at a fraction of the cost though. Crazy stuff is going on down here. Apparently the Argentine economy is in a tailspin with out-of-control inflation and a sinking peso. The result is that there is essentially a dual economy going on. One is the official bank rate, the other is the black market. The U.S. dollar is king. Everyone wants dollars, because holding your money in pesos just means the value of your money goes down, quickly. The official bank rate is about 6 pesos to the dollar; the current black market rate is about 11, and rising! What that means for us is that getting our money from the usual sources like ATMs and banks cuts our dollars in half; or conversely, changing money on the street via the mercado negro gets us twice the pesos. The catch is that you have to have U.S. cash. We had been warned about this situation by other travellers in Bolivia who had just come from Argentina. We loaded up on U.S. dollars via ATMs in Sucre (Bolivia) that provide the option of dispensing U.S. dollars (not exactly sure why, but no complaints here). So along with our passports, the money belt contains a 2-inch pile of U.S. twenties.


The result of all of this money stuff: Argentina is now cheap! Everything is 50% off. Not sure how long it’s all going to last, but we’re loving it. Bottles of decent malbec are 2 to 3 bucks, a litre of beer costs a buck and a half, and a downtown room with a view is 20 bucks. A hundred-dollar bag of groceries in Canada costs 20 bucks here, including 2 bottles of wine. It just may be cheaper than Bolivia...without the explosive diarrhea!

An interesting situation for us, as cycle-tourists, is the daily schedule differences between us and them. Unlike the to-bed-early-get-up-early inhabitants of the Andes (which suits us perfectly), Argentines are night owls. They get up late (breakfast is served at 8 or 9 am) and go to bed late. Dinner starts around 9 or 10 pm, with long dinner conversations lasting until midnight or later. "Going out" means after midnight until sunrise. Going to a bar before midnight labels you as a total newbie. Needless to say, we don't admit to our standard bedtime of 9 pm. Then there’s the siesta. We were told not to expect anything to be open between 1 and 6 pm. It’s true! Mid-afternoons here are like middle of the night. Everyone shuts things down and hides until the evening rush. It’s amazing. A street that has tumbleweed rolling down it at 3 pm, lights up like a Christmas tree at 7 pm and is wall to wall people again. The problem for us is that we get up early to ride, then arrive at our destination in the early afternoon – just in time for everything to shut down. We haven’t yet figured out what the optimal strategy is, but we will. Life in Argentina. Gotta love it.


OK, onwards and southwards along Ruta 9. Jujuy, while a decent place to get accustomed to Argentine life, is just a stop. Tomorrow we head for Salta –the beating heart of the northwest. By all accounts, a beautiful place with beautiful things. Looking forward to it. Hasta luego chicos.




Sunday, January 19, 2014

Argentina – getting there is all part of the fun

Adios Bolivia, Hola Argentina! The good news is that we made it. And...wait for it...the bikes were at the border waiting for us! All good. That’s about all that went according to plan though, and the past few days have been rather interesting.


It all started quite well from our overnight stop in a town called Tupiza, about an hour drive from the border town of Villazon, on the Bolivian side. It was a nice day, we had a nice breakfast, and off we went to catch a collectivo (local bus) from Tupiza to Villazon. The driver graciously dropped us off at the train station where our bikes were, in theory, ready for pick up. Reality was consistent with theory and we were overjoyed by the sight of our bikes leaning up against the wall in the cargo room of the train station. In a relatively anticlimactic exchange we handed the guy our receipt and we wheeled our bikes outside. He had no idea how significant an event this was to us.


Outside, in the early morning sun, we transformed from backpacking mode to cycling mode. Things were looking real good as we jumped on our loaded bikes and rolled towards the border. Smiles all around. We were feeling very clever for having nailed the train thing so well. Yep, very clever indeed. All we have to do now is roll across the border, click click get our passports stamped as we have done so many times in the past, et voila, Argentina here we come. In an hour from now, we should be sitting pretty having an Argentine cappuccino in the mid-morning sun.


Argentina had a different plan for us. Rather than the click click of passport stamps we were expecting, we arrived at la frontera (border) to the chaos of hundreds, if not thousands, of people milling about in various multi-hour line ups. Hmmm. Ok, line ups, whatever. Not whatever. While figuring out which line to get in, we are approached by an American who warns us of a new entrance requirement for gringos, and that he had been there for 24 hours trying to get through. Apparently, the Argentines are miffed at Canada, the U.S., and Australia for charging Argentines for visas, and have therefore recently (i.e., last week) instituted a brand new “reciprocity fee” for us gringos of 75 bucks each. OK, no sweat, only money, right? Wrong. For some inexplicable reason, the only way to pay this fee is on-line via credit card, and, to print off the receipt and present said receipt to the guy at the border stamping passports. Ok, relatively simple task, right? Wrong: this is Bolivia.


Plan B: Amy gets in line behind a few hundred people, while I backtrack to town on a mission to find a computer with internet access, pay the fees, print off the receipts, and victoriously return to her with receipts in hand. Reality did not play along this time. Apparently, high-speed internet hasn’t yet made it to Villazon Bolivia. As far as I could tell, there are 3 internet shops in town. One wouldn’t let me bring my bike inside (leaving it on the street fully loaded is not an option), the other one had off and on low-speed internet, and the third one didn’t actually have internet despite a huge red “INTERNET” painted on the windows. ??? After an hour or two of trying on the slow-speed option, no dice. I run across the street to the other one...no dice again. It just freezes or shuts down. There just isn’t enough juice when walking through the Argentine Immigration website registration and payment options. I then try tracking down the Argentine consulate that I heard existed in town, thinking someone there might be able to lend assistance (it is, after all, their fee that we’re trying to pay!). The guy laughs when I tell him in my broken Spanish about my predicament. Nice. His response is that the internet is very slow in Villazon. No shit Sherlock. He was of no use, and I realized I was wasting my limited Spanish on him.


With my tail between my legs, I returned empty handed to Amy at the border who had moved about half way up the line in 2 hours. Amy “get me the h out of this wretched country!” Robillard was livid. With no options at the border, we reluctantly decide to at least go get something to eat since it was now middle of the day and we were both mentally exhausted and starving. After a beer and some not-too-bad chicken, we decide to try again at the internet shops. If that doesn’t work then we find a place to stay for the night. Upon revisiting the original internet shop where I spent an hour or two trying to pay the fees, it was inexplicitly closed. Upon rolling across the street to the other guy, he informed us that his internet was down and had no explanation for why, or any idea when, or even if, it would return. Sensing failure, and wanting a place to just crash and relax, we started looking for a place to stay. Villazon is a scruffy dusty unattractive border town in Boliva. Nuff said. It’s tough to spot anything decent. First place rejected us citing no availability. Second place had a reception person with the personality of a turnip. After giving us a rough time over our outrageous gringo questions such as “how much for a room?”, that was the straw; the order went out: ABORT MISSION – RETURN TO BASE. From the night before, we knew there were decent places to stay, with working internet, an hour away back in Tupiza. We found the first collectivo heading north to Tupiza, strapped the bikes to the roof, and put Villazon behind us for the day.


It was a good call. Getting back to Tupiza at sunset, finding a good place to stay, and splitting a bottle of Argentine malbec in the courtyard put the wind back in our sails. It took a few tries and a glass or two of malbec, but the internet thing eventually kicked in. The reception guy let us use the hotel printer, et voila, we had the paper we needed to cross the border. Nice! Next day, coffee, breakfast, another collectivo with bikes strapped to the roof, another drive through the altiplano, and we were once again rolling towards the border in Villazon....not feeling nearly as clever this time. Despite the 5-hr line up (what is that about anyway?? even the Bolivians and Argentines in the line up were outraged) things went according to plan, passports were stamped, and we rolled into Argentina just in time for cocktails.

Ah hey, along with explosive diarrhea and terrifying bus rides, if you aren’t dealing with epic multi-day border crossings, you aren’t really travelling. J

So Bolivia, the summary. A fascinating place to be sure, just not really a cycle-touring paradise. Being there in the rainy season probably has a lot to do with it. The exception, of course, was Sucre which turned out to be a trip highlight, and provided a fantastic base for taking Spanish lessons. We only rode the bikes for a week and a mere 400 kms, so I won’t bother with the cycling stats.



Bolivia trip stats:


Total nights: 33
Cheapest accom: $6 (concrete box, no windows, no water)
Most expensive accom: $44 (Christmas splurge)
Average cost per night accom: $24
Highlight: Sucre
Rob’s fav street food: salteñas!
Amy’s fav street food: pass...
Amy’s fav thing about Bolivia: pass...


Amy’s top pros/cons on Bolivia:
         +                                                             —
Sucre – the city                       inhospitable people (in general)
Sucre – the people                 inhospitable climate
Sucre – la dulce vita               garbage


Rob’s top pros/cons on Bolivia:
         +                                                                          —
Big sky country                                      food sucks
Cheap                                                      lack of infrastructure for cycle touring
Wine is getting better                          serious garbage/littering problem




So Argentina! From the border we go, as usual, south. The route planes across the altiplano for a bit (couple days), then finally takes a dive from 3800 m down to about 1000 m, and into Argentina wine country. We’re both excited about getting back on the bikes and into warm sunny Argentina! More on that real soon. Chau

Tuesday, January 14, 2014

Sucre – crown jewel of Bolivia


Amy is in love. Yes, with yours truly, but also with Sucre. It’s all true. All the good things we heard and read about Sucre are true. Yet another head spinner, Sucre has us spellbound by its mild sunny climate, palm-tree-lined squares, whitewashed colonial buildings and cathedrals, clean streets, bistros, pubs, restaurants, friendly smiling locals, and simply by its sheer loveliness. Perhaps it was being on the rather impoverished and unfriendly altiplano for a month+ beforehand, but landing in Sucre was again like being beamed into a different world. Bolivia is indeed a country of extremes.

Sucre: population 215K, elevation 2750 m, UNESCO World Heritage Site, and shared seat of the government (Bolivia has this weird shared federal government thing going between La Paz and Sucre). The descent from Potosi at over 4000 m was steep and dramatic – made more dramatic, and white-knuckle terrifying, by the incessantly ear-piercing squealing brakes emanating from underneath the bus. Don’t squealing brakes mean they need to be replaced? A vision of 50+ people flying off a cliff in a bus was the take-away image from that ride. Ah hey, along with explosive diarrhea, if you aren’t dealing with terrifying bus rides through the mountains in some god-forsaken developing country, you aren’t really traveling. J


The drop in elevation is a huge deal. We haven’t been below 3500 m since we left the coast of northern Peru a couple months ago, and have spent most of that time up around 4000. Diving down to 2700 m is like coming up (down?) for air. Sherpa Amy doesn’t seem to feel the altitude thing, but I do. The off-again-on-again headache I’ve been carrying around has dissipated, my lungs feel full again, and, I get a full night’s sleep. Combined with the sun, beautiful mid-20-degree temps, and palm trees, I feel like I’m 47 again. J Joking aside, it is a different world than what we have been living for the past month or two. Amy “I love Sucre” Robillard is prepared to announce that Sucre is the nicest city we have been to thus far – and we’ve seen a few nice cities on this trip.


As we promised ourselves, we diligently signed up for another week of Spanish lessons upon arrival. At 6 bucks/hr for one-on-one lessons, combined with the Bolivian cost of living (cheap!), Sucre is one of the best places in South America to learn Spanish. Our accom situation is one of the best ever: 20 bucks for a lovely B&B room with private bathroom, spanish courtyard, full kitchen (with stove-top espresso machine!), breakfast, and all the comforts of home. Wine, as mentioned, is getting better and cheaper as we get closer to Argentina. In fact, Argentines seem to have replaced Euros as the most common tourists around here. Can’t understand a word they say! They have a strange accent that everyone but them seems to hate. Then there’s the Brazilians with their Portuguese...I thought they were speaking Slovenian or some such language. Crazy. Back to wine, three bucks gets you something drinkable (blend), 5 bucks gets you something really good (varietal). Amy’s already planning a return trip back here if/when we want to really “study” Spanish. Anyone out there looking to learn Spanish on the cheap, this is the place.


We’re gradually evolving from sounding like 2-year-olds to perhaps 4-year-olds. After this week...who knows, maybe 6-year-olds? ¿Hablamos español? Más o menos. J Joking aside again, we can pretty much ask for anything we want or need, and understand most of what people are saying. It’s that darn “conversation” thing. Not there yet. I would still rather just buy another pack of eggs than try to explain to the chica behind the cash that we bought eggs a few hours ago and they didn’t make it into the grocery bag with the other groceries. The 40 cents just isn’t worth trying to piece that together.


So we’re living the city life with all its comforts. Last night we went “out” for dinner and drinks. Amy managed to squeeze into some free salsa lessons in the midst of our pub crawl. Upon recollection, it’s only the third time we have done that (once before in Otovalo Ecuador, and then again in Cuzco Peru). We don’t count survival eating on the street or cheap dives as “going out”. This is a nice dinner at a nice restaurant with a bottle of wine overlooking the main plaza...all for the outrageous sum of 15 bucks. Happy-hour mojitoes and Cuba libres for a dollar. It was a beautiful Saturday evening. It reminded us so much of Columbia with the nice weather, palm trees, and all the families out walking in the square and enjoying the evening. It reminded us how far we’ve come on this trip.


OK, so onwards and southwards. Upon graduating from our Spanish course in a couple days, our plan is to head towards the Argentine border and into wine country. Fingers crossed that our bikes are collecting dust in the corner of some store room at the train station, and they will be there ready for pick-up. I won’t lie, there’s a bit of stress about that. Not exactly sure what our Plan C would be if it all goes sideways. We’ll deal with that fire then. For now, another café con leche in the sun (we both have homework to do!). More soon. Adios de Sucre.