Sometimes you have a perfect, an absolutely perfect and effortless trip somewhere. Sometimes you don’t. Sometimes it is a combination.
And this one was a combination.
I disembarked from a dream trip to Antarctica where we were able to do all eight excursions in four days with only one episode of vomiting on the Drake Passage, thanks to some heavy duty anti-nausea chemo drugs. I made dozens of new friends and more than a few penguin memories. It was breathtaking. Antarctica is both formidable and glorious.
Once we returned to port, I walked about two miles out of Ushuaia (ooosh-why-ah) to go to a Western Union where I was told I could get the “blue rate” for exchanging dollars, (about twice the official bank rate). Turns out, after standing in line for just over 90 minutes, they didn’t do that anymore. That meant walking a few miles back into town, pouting the whole way. But I did get to explore the oldest cemetery in town, so that was a plus.
I decided to do this because after getting into Ushuaia before sailing off to the Southern Ocean, I tried to get cash from a bank ATM, but it kept my card. Not a great feeling at the beginning of a three week trip. But I went into the bank and was able to get my card back. And oddly, my Chase cards pretty much didn’t work in Argentina at all. I called Chase and they said everything was fine, and that it was the vendor that would cancel the transaction.
LESSON 1: reconfirm this sort of information – several times if need be. And don’t let bank push you around. Even though you no longer have to notify your bank when you travel, confirm with them anyway.
I stopped at the Visitor’s Center in Ushuaia, (where they give out stamped certificates for having been at the end of the world), to ask about an exchange place. By then, my back had given out and my blood sugar was tanking, but I was in luck in that a place was only three streets over and two streets uphill. And uphill in Ushuaia means stairs instead of sidewalks. (Jupiter Casa De Cambio, at SW corner of Rivadavia and San Martin).
That task completed – at a great exchange rate – I grabbed a sandwich from a shop where the cashier was anxious to practice her perfect elocution in English, (she was delightful), and off I went to jump on a tour bus to see some of the things that I couldn’t walk to. By the time it was over, I was able to collect my bags and head to the airport where I ran into a bunch of others from my onboard photography group. It was a lovely way to conclude the Antarctica part of the trip.
Then the ‘fun’ really began.
Sunday, Day 1
When you arrive in Buenos Aires, make sure to note WHICH airport you arrive at and WHICH airport you are departing from. I flew into EZE, landed in Terminal A (International) and walked over to Terminal B. Not a problem except that B only had a café with less than mediocre food. Better to eat in A
At the EZE airport, snagging a cab was a battle even at 11 pm. So I again tried for an Uber – and got one! (Allegedly, Uber and taxis are having ‘issues’). He googled my hotel and off we went through some of the sketchiest neighbors I have seen in a good long while. Deserted industrial buildings, broken down housing, abandon buildings of all sorts, etc. When he finally stopped it was in front of a gated house. It was a glorious older hacienda with thick walls, heavy furniture, and a verdant garden. After my two hour nap, aka known as that night’s sleep, I went out and waited for the pre-arranged taxi. I probably should have just stayed in the airport, but I did want to stretch out so I wouldn’t have any back issues. The cab showed up about 30 minutes late (a recurring theme which you will hear about), and off we went in a slightly different path back to the airport that wasn’t quite as desolate. Flights in and out of EZE are at quite odd times, forcing you to spend the night either in the airport or finding someplace else – at least an hour away.
At 4 am that airport was rocking! Party central! Finally onto the bus out to the aircraft (I have no idea why we couldn’t use the sky bridges, where I was packed into this full flight. Finally to Iguazu (nnnn-gwa-soo) where the airport is quite a distance from the city. I couldn’t wait to see the famous waterfalls. 1.9 miles of them three times higher than Niagara.
I picked a hotel that I thought was in the middle of the city, (as best as I could tell), but no, it is in a bit of an isolated area with storage yards and warehouses all around – with shops just a few blocks away. But the cab driver had a difficult time finding it, (for future reference, think of this as another repeating occurrence), because there was no internet at all (and another repeating future occurrence). What I didn’t know was that the hotel was only three months old so no one knew about it. And there were no street signs. None. Zip. Nada.
LESSON 2: Print out maps. Yeah I know, do it anyway. Really, do it.
I did minimal unpacking and went to plug in my laptop so I could schedule some excursions. I don’t purchase them that far ahead because I have no idea how I will be feeling or if my back will have another go at blowing up. As soon as I plugged it in, sparks flew, that ‘oh shit’ smell of burned electronics frying, and the lights went out, for half of the floor. Yep, my charging cord was toast and the room was pitch black because, of course, I picked a hotel that didn’t have any outside windows. Because, of course it didn’t. And there was also no internet in the hotel at the moment. (Figure out the theme yet?)
This is the interior hallway – where all the windows were located – but nothing to the outside.
As there were no phones in the room, I went downstairs to tell them about the electricity and internet.
No one spoke English
LESSON 3: download a language app on your phone.
LESSON 4: keep your phone charged at all times as you never know if your hotel will have stable power or the internet.
I remembered enough Spanish from Mrs. Pullar’s high school class, (thank you Mrs. Pullar), from over a half century ago, and figured it all out. They had to move me into another room (and yet another future repeating occurrence). But that didn’t fix my charging cord. I needed to go to Paraguay to a city whose existence is owed to shopping for everything and anything. Ciudad del Estes is about an hour and 45 minutes and 22 miles away. By now it was about eight hours after I arrived, and a Sunday, so that would have to wait till the next day. People come from a long way away to shop there and bring everything, including the kitchen sink, home.
I saw zero waterfalls on day one.
Day 2, Monday
The hotel called a cab, (who couldn’t find the hotel for an extra 34 minutes), to take me to the bus terminal so off I went. Asking around a bit, they sent me in the direction of the correct bus to the shopping area. The terminal was filled with stalls selling various excursions so I made a note to come back. The traffic was astonishing on the way to Paraguay. I went through customs and immigration for Argentina, but didn’t for Brazil or Paraguay. A dear friend back in the US, who listened to me text whining, found an electronics mall for me, so I went there from the Paraguay bus terminal (by cab). He dropped me right at the shopping center and I made my way to the door, through broken concrete sidewalks and steps, and a dark tunnel of vendors who set up tarp roofs around the building to make their own little shops selling, you guessed it, everything.
I stopped at the first store and showed the clerk what I needed and he sent me to another place. Mariam took one look at my photo and gave me a new charger and cord – for about $3 more than Amazon.
LESSON 4: if you need something specific, make sure you have a photo of it or actually bring the item with you.
The bus into Paraguay had stopped along the shopping avenue where the store was, but I didn’t know it. I could have gotten off the bus there and not gone to the terminal and back by cab, so I thought I would look for the bus back to Iguazu. I asked where I could get the bus and people pointed to the Customs Plaza about three blocks away, (the city must not have wanted you to have to lug all of your new stuff very far). When I got there I went into the nearest building and was trying to ask about the bus to Iguazu, but the guy kept asking for my passport and was not suffering this fool lightly. I handed it over and he told me that I was there illegally and to go across to the other side of the street to get recorded as having come into Paraguay. Gulp.
Easier said than done.
First it was fighting through the sidewalk vendors and crowds to the street where I had to climb over huge concrete chunks of sidewalk and roadway to dodge a constant line of motorbikes, and three lanes of nonstop traffic to the halfway point. Repeat for traffic entering Paraguay from Brazil. Passport stamped and back to the other side in only about 90 minutes, most of it spent dodging traffic. But now, three full big tourist busses had arrived and I had to wait in line for another hour. And here I was without a book to read while in line. I ended up at the same guy who continued to glower at me. When I got my passport back I asked where the busses were. That drew a scowl and a flapping hand. Crossing more and even worse traffic, I found that I had to walk about a mile. Crossing a river and into Brazil.
Illegally.
Again.
But I had my charging cord and I was happy.
I still couldn’t find a bus anywhere so I figured it was time to try a ‘moto-taxi’. A thrill a minute with that idea. I figured that if I shut my eyes and kept all appendages tucked in, it wouldn’t be so bad on a motorcycle. The person at the taxi stand said that I needed a car as moto-taxis were illegal in Argentina – his car, and he wanted 20 USD. His friend had come up and told him that he was crazy and it should be $40. (Again, thank you Mrs. Pullar as I understood Spanish better than I could speak it). I showed him all the US currency I had, $31, and Ricardo accepted that as his friend rolled his eyes.
As I was in Brazil, Ricardo asked if I spoke Portuguese as he was not impressed with my Spanish, (his wasn’t great either). His other language was German so we settled on that.
When we got to Iguazu, you guessed it, no internet, no google, no knowledge of Puerto Iguazu. I knew the names of the streets where the hotel was, which was of absolutely no help at all as street signs were nonexistent. Finally we got to the hotel and the day was saved! But…
I saw zero waterfalls that day too.
LESSON 5: see Lesson 2
Day 3, Tuesday
Remember all those booths inside the bus terminal selling all sorts of excursions? I was going back there and book one for Iguazu Falls, miles of waterfall splendor and magic. On the way to the terminal, my cab driver, Juan, said he would take me to the falls and back for what I thought was a very reasonable price (I had googled those prices because I had internet between the power outages. The hotel only used a few drivers and he was known to them, so I figured it was safe. (Always ask your hotel to find a cab for you as many times they only use a few private drivers or one taxi service – and they know the drivers.
Off we went down to the National Park. I wanted to walk all the trails, see all the sites, and see all the waterfalls. And I did. Without incident, without problems, and without hassle. I also saw a cormorant catch and eat his dinner, several tortoises, and more than a few very large caimans.
Even though Juan was late picking me up because he wanted his lunch (even though he had 3.5 hours to get it before picking me up), it was a wonderful and successful day. I was sure there were more to come.
Wrong.
The power went out again, but this time I was not in my room. All the door locks were keyed into the electrical system. So I stayed down in the lobby for a bit. I taught the staff some English and they taught me some local Spanish. Mostly we laughed at each other. Actually, mostly they laughed at me.
Day 4, Wednesday
Juan had given me a price to go to the Brazil side of the Falls and to the Bird Park on the way to the falls. We had a negotiated price and set the time for pickup – 3.5 hours after dropping me off.
I was so excited to see this side from the river itself. It included a boat ride and land ‘safari’. They said I would get wet so I brought a poncho and thought that would be good enough for the mist from the falls. I was wearing my life jacket over that, with a hat and sunglasses. I secured all my gear in a dry bag so I was set to go. As we were waiting to cast off the dock in a 35 or so passenger zodiac, they turned the hose on us, soaking everyone. WTF?
We went out on the Iguazu River heading to some falls, when the pilot was speeding the boat around doing donuts trying to get us wet with the spray. Clearly he was not trained like the jet boat pilots in Gold Coast, Australia because no one really got any wetter. The pilot needed lessons. The guy behind me would yell “woo hoo” every time the boat bounced. He needs to cross the Drake Passage if he thought the Iguazu River and those half-assed donuts were anything to yell about.
We paused for about five minutes at a lovely place and I shot some photos. Then came the “fun” part.
The pilot would approach one of the falls – about 300’ high – and put the boat underneath.
And stayed there. For a long time. A. Really. Long. Time.
He did this over and over and over again. Needless to say the only thing dry were the items in my dry bag.
Before we docked the woman next to me leaned over and told me that Mr. Woo Hoo kept telling the pilot to stay under the waterfall to see if he could knock my hat off. Nice guy.
I got off the boat and sat down to empty my shoes of water and wring out my socks, but they wanted my life jacket so I got up and while taking it off and walking over to the life jacket collector, Mr. Woo Hoo intentionally bumped into me rather hard. I stumbled. He was laughing until he saw my left foot. While trying to catch my balance, I stubbed my outside two toes on a dock cleat. And broke both of them. (I have broken enough toes to know that they were broken and they were already bruising rather colorfully). Mr. Woo Hoo fast-walked away from there when he saw the damage he caused and his family hurried away with him. I tried to get someone to stop him but by the time I got the story out, he and his friends were gone. By the end of that little ordeal, I had just enough time to get back to the front of the park, but I had to skip one of the lookouts, which was the one I really wanted to see. The boat and the “safari” through the jungle were so ill planned that it took an hour more than it needed to.
LESSON 6 (maybe): (Too many to keep track of as I add more and have to change the numbers) – if it is 100 degrees out, get soaking wet and you will cool off rather nicely.
I got to the park entrance, grabbed a sandwich, and limped out to wait for Juan. We were to meet at 3. At 3:30 I texted him, (yay internet). He immediately responded that he was arriving. Twenty minutes later I asked how many more minutes as I wanted to ice my foot and lay down as the incident jarred my back. Juan said 15 minutes. More than a half hour later I hired another taxi and texted Juan that I left. Even with hard bargaining, I ended up paying the exact amount Juan wanted, but I was up a tree as the park was closing and there was no other way. Even though I told him I had left, he continued to the park and texted – 2 hours and 50 minutes later – that he was there and where was I. Needless to say, I was not thrilled.
And this very nice Brazilian driver couldn’t find the hotel either. Eventually I recognized several landmarks and we were able to get to the hotel. By now, I was entirely dry (except my shoes and socks) so I had some dignity left. (Which is debatable).
I decided to stay in the hotel for Thursday and Friday to rest all parts of me and to make sure my L4/L5 disc was not going to herniate again. But I did take a brief walk to the grocery store, escorted by the hotel and grocery store owner, Graciela. She wanted the whole story without having to stop and translate it for her husband. I told it to her and asked her if it was acceptable to arrive nearly three hours late, (because you never know in a different culture if something is normal), and she said it was absolutely not acceptable under any circumstances. She was pretty hot about it, which made me feel better. I figured she would tell the hotel staff about it as we were all becoming quite chummy.
As I left the grocery store, who did I see circling the block? You get three guesses and the first two don’t count. Juan wanted to be paid the full fee. Other that returning his greeting, I ignored him. He drove ahead and went to the hotel, and sat in the lobby waiting for me. I walked in, said hello to all my new friends at the desk, and continued going to my room. He left, but not without another text demanding I pay him.
At 10 pm there was knocking on the door, waking me up. The hotel staff told me that Juan was there asking for his money. The death stare that I gave Lucas from the front desk made him laugh and that was the end of that.
Sigh.
Day 5, Thursday
At about 11 pm, I heard water crashing down in my bathroom and living area. And I mean crashing – as in through the ceiling, lights, and fans. As I was on the second of three floors, it didn’t make any sense that the roof caved in. Besides, it wasn’t raining. I dressed and ran downstairs and saw Lucas. The look on my face told him to come and see what was wrong. Once he did, he hollered for Diego to come with a ladder. Diego climbed up into the space between the ceiling and the floor above (big enough for him to stand in). It turned out the water tower on roof disconnected from a pipe and several hundreds of gallons of water were plummeting into my room.
I got my own waterfall after all.
And my third room in this hotel.
Day 6, Friday
I woke up to Laura knocking on my door today – to tell me to stay in my room as the stalker taxi driver was outside and waiting for me.
Day 7, Saturday
Today I got out again and went to the Wanda gem/mineral mine – which I found fascinating, and then 300 kilometers of driving out to the pretty decent ruins of San Ignacio.
No broken toes, personal waterfalls, or stalker taxi drivers today.
Day 8, Sunday
As I was checking out of the hotel, Lucas, the guy who helped with my personal waterfall, told me that with my luck this past week, I would be crazy to ever come back to Argentina. And yet, there is still so much I want to see, so…
Who says traveling solo is not without entertainment?
Now it was time to again fly to Buenos Aires, spend the night, and leave on a 10 pm flight home.
Day 10, Tuesday
Nothing happened on Monday other than getting to BA and my hotel.
What was delightful about the hotel I stayed at is that they had a lounge on the top floor where I could hang out after I had checked out of the hotel. A long morning walk, seeing not much of anything, and then hanging out in the lounge, a change of clothes for winter, and then off I went.
I was able to check my bag a bit more than two hours before the flight from Buenos Aires to the US. (I was forced to check my bag due to cabin weight restrictions for flying within Argentina). Yay. But security had not opened up and there wasn’t a whole lot to do in the airport. We all lined up and waited. The line was rearranged a few times, but eventually we were allowed to go through security. When I got to the front of the line, the agent looked at my boarding pass, turned, and closed the line down. Uh oh.
I had to go through the xray machines first, but then he had me follow him through the departure gates, down a boarding hallway, downstairs, and outside into the pouring rain. The agent grabbed my carryon and jogged over to another area. I limp/fast walked over there and around a corner into a space that looked as if a bomb went off – piles of broken concrete, big holes blown through the walls, with suitcases and people in the middle of the chaos. I had no idea what was going on.
Somehow I understood enough Spanish to get what this one guy was looking for.
A bomb.
I told the agent I could hand it to him immediately. As my suitcase was opened, I had baggies of Hershey Kisses (for the airline cabin crew) on top. It didn’t take long for the escorting agent to ask for some chocolate. I was able to get to the bottom of my 27 pound carryon and pulled out a package of hand warmers. I had brought 40 of them with me because who knew how cold it would be in Antarctica, but I didn’t need them. As they were expensive, I was bringing them home so that I could return them to Amazon.
The packages of hand warmers were arranged between the rails of my carryon handle – three rows packed – looking as if they were C4 explosives. I didn’t dare take a photo of the ‘room’ we were in as I didn’t want to spend another night there. Who knew what mischief would happen then.
The agent was thrilled that the hand warmer packaging included Spanish in their instructions. Once they sorted all of that out, I had to sign a bunch of paperwork, and I was escorted back to the gate. Before we got there, I was handed a new boarding pass.
With the dreaded SSSS coding, meaning I would have to go through extra screening. It is supposed to be random, but it was highly suspicious to me that the next two flights BOTH had the extra security coding, even though I was on a connecting flight. Sure enough, as we got to the boarding area, they had set up the extra screening to the side. I just walked right up and handed them my boarding pass and went through the screening.
LESSON: whatever – always pack your sense of humor and your patience. Tylenol isn’t a bad idea either. Or Mace.
P.S. By now I have flown more and out of the last four flights, the first two had SSSS on them – that is four flights in a row, for those that are counting, that I ended up with the ‘random’ SSSS code.