A Million Minutes in Africa

Man, that is a lot of water. Tomorrow we head to scenic Ciudad del Este, Paraguay.

Buenos Aires is a fantastic city. This is the Casa Rosada, the presidential palace. Evita used to address her people from that balcony.

Unfortunately, out of the millions of people in Buenos Aires, no one wants to buy a Ford Explorer. The problem is that there is some silly law about selling a car with foreign license plates on it.

Lesson: it is not true what you might hear about corruption here; at least the customs office is not corrupt. Result: we drove for 16 hours to get to the border with Paraguay where we are right now. We are going to Ciudad del Este which has a reputation for, well, let’s just say the law is hopefully different there about importing and selling a car. Conveniently, Ciudad del Este is just down the road from Iguazu Falls, which are supposed to have a bunch of water falling over rocks or something along those lines.

We made it to the big city. Man, is it big, too.  No fun sightseeing yet.  First, we have to find a way to get rid of the car. Ok, now is the time to make an offer.  Anyone want to drive this puppy north? Didn´t think so.

As advertised in the name- your got yer pine trees and you got yer beach; I love this place.  We should make it to Buenos Aires tomorrow.

Beach town with a ship wrecked on the beach; my kind of place.

Orcas, aka killer whales, prowl the surf and occasionally launch themselves out of the water and onto the beach to snag one of the sea lions lounging on the sand.  I felt a little guilty about wanting to see this spectacle; it has a Roman coliseum feel to it.  Nevertheless, I was not about to miss it.

Arriving on the beach, I was torn between wanting to warn the hapless creatures who were on the menu and the wire fence that kept me away.  Pictures coming as soon as we can find the ‘perfect storm’ internet cafe with editing software, a good connection and the right ports on the computer. This may be a while, sorry.

After making a significant contribution to Ford Motor Company for a part apparently made out of solid gold, we are cruising again.  All in all, it was a very positive experience as we got to stay in a very pleasant truck stop, marvel at Argentine enthusiasm for soccer showing on the tv of the eating area, and we had a nice three-hour chat with a trucker who picked us up so we could go to the big city to get the aforementioned auto part.  The mechanic who fixed our vehicle was also a standup guy who got us back on the road in a very short time, heading north to Camarones.

Near the small seaport of Camarones we saw a large colony of smelly, noisy penguins.

It was incredible to walk among these waddling creatures who are almost indifferent to your presence. These little waddlers in the pictures below are from Cabo dos Bahias.

If they think you are lingering in their personal space too long, they reach out and bite you with their sturdy beak.

Glad I was wearing sturdy boots.

MMMMMmmmm, tastes like chicken!

I hope you have nothing against purty sunsets.

There is a 150-mile stretch of highway north of Rio Gallegos with a whole lot of nuthin´on it.  We got about 142 miles before our truck decided to give us a little extra time to appreciate the stark beauty of it all.

One of the wheels got tired of rotating (can´t really blame it all that much) and just decided to take an unscheduled mate break.  The Argentines have this really nice custom of drinking this herb called mate (mah-tay).  Everywhere you go you can see someone with a thermos of hot water, or a mate cup with a silver straw.  The first time you try mate, it makes you wonder what happened to the tastebuds of the Argentine tongue.  How does someone willingly drink this?  After some time, it becomes bearable, then not unpleasant, then you would probably sell unimportant appendages to get the stuff.  Giselle and I are somewhere just past the first stage.  For me, the real attraction of mate is the vessel.  There is an incredible variety of the things ranging from a plastic cup (horrors!) to what I am surmising is the traditional hollowed-out gourd, to wooden ones covered with ornate leather, to silver and gold, to cow horns and other non-permeable bovine body parts, to just about anything that holds water.

Oh yes, the wheel.  There was nothing I could do on the highway, so we decided to hitch to the next town.  It took all of ten seconds before we got a ride with a trucker hauling a double trailer full of gasoline or some other flammable liquid with warning signs on it. 

Long story short, we are spending the night at the gas station hotel which is actually infinitely better than you would imagine.  There is even a restaurant with a lovely view of the gas pumps for no extra charge.

Tomorrow Pepe (really) gives us the verdict on the reluctant wheel. 

VERDICT: GUILTY OF HAVING CRUNCHY BEARINGS! Those little scraps of metal on the wood panel on the ground were cylindrical at one time.

The big attraction in the town for us was the hotel.  From Ushuaia we crossed the Argentina-Chile border twice and had to wait for a ferry to cross the Straits of Magellan.

After 30,000 or so kilometers (who is counting?), the road ends here. Anybody interested in buying a gently used Ford Explorer?  It comes with tattered maps of Central and South America.

Any further south, ya need a boat.

Damned beavers, beaver dam.

Another sign for any skeptics, Maaatttt, who  may think we pulled a ‘Capricorn One.’ If you have not seen this movie, try to rent it.  It has some fine acting by the one and only OJ Simpson.

 It gets a little windy at the bottom of the world.

And a little boggy.

Lots of birds, yep. A little guano, too. 

They have a very nice prison museum in town.

I think I know these guys from the hostel. (Hey, backpackers, chill out, I joke.) 

Before we got to the end of the world, we crossed the Straits of Magellan where there is… wait for it… wait for it… a SHIPWRECK or two! 

Mmmmm, rust.