Sarah Knows Nothing About Travel- Argentina

There’s a song about Buenos Aires in the musical Evita, an upbeat number if I remember correctly from the performance of it on Over The Rainbow, a show that you get 50 points for remembering. It was jazzy and exciting, about the promise of a big city with a lot to offer. The song, not the show.

And thank god, that’s what Buenos Aires is. After the underwhelming beginning of my trip in Uruguay, I was excited to cross the river by ferry (taking only about an hour) to somewhere more exhilarating. And after an excruciating queue at immigration (top tip: go to the toilet before you get off the boat), I found it.

Buenos Aires

A lot of guides and guidebooks will call BA (I can’t be bothered to type it out every time) ‘the Paris of South America’. Whilst this is a sliiightly lazy comparison (why always Paris? What’s the Glasgow of South America? The Cardiff?), it is also warranted. Not only because the city is bustling, with pretty buildings, multiple cafes and wide avenues, but because Argentina literally modelled its capital on the French one. They reeeeally wanted to be like colonial Europeans. It’s a whole thing.

I stayed for 4 days, in a hostel in the trendy Palermo district. This was my first hostel of South America, called Play Arcos, and errr….yeah. Hostels are always going to be a mixed bag, with their biggest draws being price and sociability, and other areas lacking. Sadly, this place was not really great for the latter: my best friends seemed to be all the mosquitos who flocked to me at night in the un-airconditioned dorm. I actually took a willing cold shower at one point. But I did have some good chats (including multiple with a German artist who drew me a page of cats) and even a Spanish lesson, so it wasn’t all doom and gloom.

The Argentinian flag in front of the Pink House

The lack of aircon in the room was painful though, because BA is HOT. Being anything other than numb in February is a novelty for a Northerner like me (sorry Geordies, even I’m a Northerner in this part of the world), and Argentina gets toasty. Like, high 30s toasty. But it was also beautifully sunny for most of the time I was there, so it had some benefits. Even if sunny for me just means another coat of sun cream and more time in my floppy sun hat.

Over my time in BA I got a few things in- the Recoleta Cemetery, where Evita is buried, La Boca, a colourful little neighbourhood full of tango and Messi shirts, the MALBA art gallery, and a food festival on the evening I arrived. At the latter of these I met several USA-ians—being in South America shows you that ‘Americans’ are not just from one place—and discovered that it is true that so many of them seem obsessed with work and talk about little else. If you’re reading this and you’re from the USA, for Christ’s sake, go on holiday.

Buenos Aires has a lively atmosphere and the potential for fun and adventure all over the place. I think it may have ultimately been my single favourite destination of the trip, city girl that I am. But, I had to move on. And, after chatting to a few different people about the routes they’d taken/were planning to take, I decided to head up to Iguazu next.

Iguazu Falls

You mean you DON’T know Iguazu Falls? You heathen, which waterfalls ARE you studying then?

Don’t worry, I’d not a clue about it either before looking into destinations in Argentina. But it is a truly amazing place, tucked right up into a little corner of North Eastern Argentina that nuzzles directly into Brazil. Nuzzles so much in fact, that Iguazu Falls has an Argentinian side and a Brazilian one. Real stone’s throw type stuff.

Because pretty much everything in Argentina is cheap (a constantly buggered up economy will do that) I was able to fly up to Iguazu, arriving at around 10pm to The Host Bed & Meeting Hostel. This place was a stark contrast to my choice in Buenos Aires. Small, well-decorated, with air-conditioned rooms with curtains around each little bed-pod and A CAT CALLED TAYLOR, I think this was the best hostel I stayed in of them all.

Taylor, my best friend, on her pool table

In addition to the comfort, I was able to find people on both of the full days I was there to join on trips to the falls. The typical way to ‘do’ Iguazu (and it is the falls you’ll be there for, there’s nay much else on the Argentinian side) is to take one day to see the Argentinian side of the waterfalls, and another day for the Brazilian one. I’m no maverick, I play by the rules, this is exactly what I did.

Wow, aren’t waterfalls cool kids? On the Argentinian side (the one that takes longer, with more trails) we went on a boat ride that took us literally right up to the cascading water. Suffice to say, we got soaked, but on a day that hot, it all dries up and gets replaced with sweat pretty pronto. Then we hiked, or rather, walked the trails that took us right up to the falls themselves. It’s not easy to describe how impressive they are, how loud yet calming the sound is, and how magnificent the ever-flowing river of water crashing down below you is. We just sat and stared at it for a lot of our time. It was, literally, awesome.

The Brazilian side is a shorter experience with a longer drive to and from: understandable when you do have to change countries to do it. I don’t count this afternoon as me having been to Brazil, given that it was a matter of hours, but I certainly got to see the Brazilian side of Iguazu. There is debate among travellers who come to Iguazu about which side is better (there’s only one way to find out…), and it seems as though the answer will largely be based on which you see first. The wow factor of the falls had dimmed slightly on this second trip, though it is true that the view is better on the Brazilian side, as you’re facing the waterfalls rather than looking down from the top of them. But my companion, a French girl from the hostel, was completely wowed by this side as the first one she’d visited, so my point appears proven.

After 3 days spent here, with waterfalls well and truly seen, I took a connecting flight down through Buenos Aires and across to the west of the country, nestling right on up to the border with Chile.

Mendoza

I picked this city as a place to visit for 2 main reasons: I’ve heard of it, and it’s in the direction of Chile, where I was also planning to visit. It’s a nice enough place, mostly famous for its many wineries. It’s also just about the hottest part of Argentina, as the tour guide on the walking tour told us. An oasis in a desert, it hit 38 degrees at one point. But luckily, I was staying in a very spacious Airbnb with aircon, a big room and my own bathroom (!!) so I was all good. Special thanks to my host China for her hospitality, and her lovely cats. It’s always better with cats.

There’s not much else for me to tell you about Mendoza, except for my main activity there. The horse trek into the Andes. Yes, this sounds exotic and thrilling, and it was, absolutely, but oh boy was it a rollercoaster. Gather round.

This particular excursion was recommended to me by a girl I’d met in BA (shout out to Betina), a 3-hour trek through the mountains, followed by an asado at a real gaucho ranch. Asado is a traditional Argentinian barbecue, heavy on the meat, and gauchos are the cowboy figures of South America, often seen in wide-brimmed hats and ponchos. This was some authentic stuff.

I got picked up by a pick-up truck with the other travellers inside, three USA-ians and a very talkative Argentinian lady. More on her later. I needed the loo because of course I did, which became ever more entertaining an experience when we went off-road. I very nearly asked to get out and squat behind a cactus. Anyway.

We arrived, chatted with the ranch lady for a bit, then met the horses and had basic instructions explained to us. Some fun details: no helmets were apparently necessary (gulp), and our guide on the trek spoke no English (gulp part 2). Nevertheless, we set off, and it really was an amazing way to see the mountains. The horses mostly strolled along languidly (save for the occasional heart-speeding trot to catch up with others), and we got to see the Andes mountain scenery as the evening drew out the shadows slowly. So far, so lovely.

Then we began to ascend the mountains. The horses were doing all the work, and all we had to do was follow the guides, but it was nonetheless nerve-wracking climbing higher and higher on the back of a huge animal. And remember, no English instructions here. Once we were almost at the peak of the particular mountain/hill we were climbing, it all kicked off. The Argentinian lady, who had the horse next to the guide in order to talk to/at him constantly over the ride, was up at the front of our line. Her horse, for whatever reason, slipped a little. This absolutely freaked her out—which I can understand—but unfortunately a freaked-out person is only going to freak out a horse more. After a little more horse slipping and a LOT more panicking from this lady, the guide eventually had to take her aside to calm her down and get her off the horse.

All the while, me and the three other novice riders watched, sat like lemons as this all unfolded. As the guide realised he needed to focus all his attention on this lady, he dismounted from his horse, which kept going solo up to the top of the mountain. All of our horses followed (they must have done this climb 1000s of times) and in a few minutes we were on top of the mountain, on horses, with no guide to help us.

This sounds dramatic, but it really wasn’t. It just consisted of us waiting for a rather long time on top of a mountain until an Argentinian lady calmed down enough to get back on the horse, literally. In the meantime, we did get to see some pretty sensational views, and we even got to, ahem, use the facilities on the Andes. However, because of the amount of time taken to calm her down, we had to go back through the route we’d come on rather than looping round. This meant that the last part of the trek was in near complete darkness. Again, I will remind you about the lack of English and the lack of helmets. The view of the stars at night was stunning, but I was honestly a bit preoccupied with convincing myself I wouldn’t die to notice them too much. And, if you were wondering, as I most definitely was, yes, horses can see in the dark. Unlike me.

We did eventually return to non-horsey ground (good GOD the pain in my thighs) for the meal and conversation with the ranch lady. When the Argentinian panicker let us get a word in edgeways, it was very interesting to chat to the owner of a real ranch, no electricity and pumas aplenty as part of the deal. The food was good too, with a lot of vegetables, grapes and wine to pad out the centrepiece of the meat, which, being largely beef, isn’t really for me.

This experience rounded out my last full day in Mendoza, and in the evening of the following day, I headed down to the bus station. It’s reassuring to know that bus stations are apparently shit everywhere, because it certainly was here. But no matter, I was here to board an overnight bus west into my final country, Chile. Via the Andes and the night sky once again…