andes

Back Across the Andes

We spent a few lovely days in Bariloche. Our hotel was right on Nahuel Huapi lake and I fell asleep to the sound of gentle waves lapping the shore. Bariloche is a vacation spot for many and is a ski resort in winter.

A native Mapuche man gave us a talk about his people. Their culture is tied to the earth. To the stars and the moon. The Southern Cross and silver jewelry are important.

We also had a talk about Germans in Argentina and the hunt for hiding Nazis. The Bariloche of today was settled by German immigrants in the late 1800’s. And in more recent times a Nazi was found living in town.

Our first day in town we took a chair lift to the top of Campanario Hill. I was taken aback by the view. It is one of those things that words can’t describe. It kind of hits you in the gut.

Anyway, the photos don’t do it justice.

That afternoon we went for a gentle hike and ended up at a German brewery for lunch. The following day we climbed into two rubber boats and spent a few hours floating down the Limay River. Quite idyllic.

From there we headed to a family hacienda where some went horseback riding. We ended the day with a delicious meal of grilled lamb, chorizo, and beef.

And on the third day we boarded a bus and headed back over the Andes on our way to Pueto Varas, Chile. It was very dry on the Argentine side but turned lush and green on the Chilean side.

We made it across the border in time for lunch. We stopped at an auto museum. An elderly man, a dairy farmer, started the museum out of a love for cars. He has the largest collection of Studebakers outside the USA.

We ended up at the Radisson Hotel right on Llanquihue lake in Puerto Varas. The first important thing we did was learn how to make a Pisco Sour and we have been drinking them ever since.

Next – Puerto Varas and Chiloe Island.

On to Patagonia

From Rapa Nui we made our way to Buenos Aires and a brief visit there.

Our first stop was to the memorial for the “Desaparecidos” or the “Missing”. During the dictatorship in Argentina from 1974 to 1983 they estimate over 30,000 people ‘disappeared’. We heard from a man in his 40’s whose mother was snatched off the street weeks after he was born. It was only recently through new processes that they were able to identify her remains. When his father discovered she was missing he immediately took the baby to her parent’s house and he fled. Eventually the boy and his father moved to Pategonia to get away from it all.

It was a long time before anybody was able to talk about what went on. Now there is a large memorial where names are listed on several walls like the Vietnam memorial. They list the name, the age when they disappeared, and if they were pregnant. Many children were taken away from their mothers and given to other people.

Our next stop was to the Boca neighborhood of Buenos Aires. It is next to one of the ports and was originally founded by a mixture of immigrants who arrived in the late 19th and early 20th century. It is a working class neighborhood that is very colorful and begging for tourists.

During the pandemic people brought stones to the main square in front of the National Palace in order to say goodbye to their loved ones who died.

We ended the day with a delicious steak dinner and lots of good Malbec wine.

Early the next morning it was back to the airport and on to Bariloche, the Lake District at the northern edge of Pategonia. It calls itself little Switzerland and has some good chocolate for sale.

Evening in the Andes

 

Moving slowly

Down the dirt path,

Limping,

Leaning on a cane.

A simple wooden cane.

Flattened weathered feet,

Gnarled hands holding on.

 

Moving slowly,

A long black ragged skirt

Shadowing the past,

Shading the future.

Tanned, weathered skin.

Wrinkled smiling eyes

Of days gone by.

Shiny black hair in a bun

Hidden by a hat,

A black felt hat.

Wise, knowing woman

Passing through a lifetime.

A sore back,

A setting sun.

 

Reaching home

Slowly.

Darkness all around.

An empty room.

Sinking onto the mat

On the dirt floor.

Sinking

Into another world…

The cold mountain air

Drifts in through the

Open window.

There is no moon tonight.

 

 

 

 

Photo:  Andes Mountains  Marturius