Buenos Aires and Home to Seattle

Friday February 6 – Drake Passage

When I posted my last entry, early on the second day of the Drake crossing, the day looked like it would be a little more bumpy… but by noon the sky turned blue and the wind died and we were on Drake Lake all the way to the Beagle Channel. Around 2:30 in the afternoon, we were enjoying the sun on the bow when we saw Cape Horn in the distance. Completely randomly, half an hour later I was listening to my music player… it was on shuffle, and a song by Great Big Sea came on, with the lyrics: “have you ever been ‘round Cape Horn, where the weather’s never warm, wish to God you’d never been born…”

I guess I missed out on the notorious Drake Passage… I *almost* feel like I missed out on the genuine Antarctic experience… but no regrets there!

Later that evening we had farewell cocktails and then dinner. After dinner, Jamie had put together a slideshow with the best photos submitted by everyone, and then a few of us stayed up late in the bar. Without the seasickness meds in my system, I was able to enjoy the evening.

Saturday February 7 – Ushuaia

After drinking and staying up way too late, the 5:30 wakeup call was rough. When I looked out our porthole window, we were dockside in Ushuaia. It was a sunny morning. We had breakfast and disembarked. Met a few shipmates in town at a coffee shop, and tried in vain to find a place to ship some of my extra stuff home. Eventually headed to the airport for my flight to Buenos Aires.

We arrived in BA on time and I grabbed a taxi to my hostel. It is full-on summer in BA, pushing 90 degrees and fairly humid – kind of a shock to the system. I checked into the hostel and went out for a long walk around town. Buenos Aires is a beautiful city… it is often described as very European, but that’s a comparison I can’t make. It did remind me of Washington, D.C… the architecture, the buildings all the same uniform height, and the broad tree-lined avenues. They even have an obelisk, which is nearly a twin to the Washington Monument.

Sunday February 8

Late in the morning I walked across town to the San Telmo Antique Market. It was an attractive old neighborhood. The market itself was crowded and touristy, mostly stalls with local art and souvenirs. The Lonely Planet said that Jenna Bush had her handbag snatched there several years ago, while surrounded by six secret service agents. I kept close check on my wallet and camera.

In the afternoon I went to a futbol (soccer) game. I went with a guided group, which turned out to be a good idea for a first-timer. Getting into the stadium was kind of a maze; at one point, we were waiting in a long queue, which backed up outside the stadium grounds a half-mile along the shoulder of a freeway. The home team was “River Plate” – one of the two pro teams in BA (River is second fiddle to the Boca Juniors; kind of like the Mets to the Yankees). We were right next to the “general admission” section, which offered a great vantage point of the hardcore fans, packed full of people and banners and flags… just before the start of the game, a drum corps marched into the crowd, leading the crowd in singing and dancing which went literally non-stop for the whole 90-minute match. It was a good match, played to a 2-2 tie; the home team had a 2-0 lead until they let their guard down and gave up two goals in the last 15 minutes, including the tying goal during extra time. One memorable experience was the mass of humanity getting into the bano at halftime. After the game, police in full riot gear were stationed around the stadium (this appeared to be the standard procedure) and the visiting fan section was cleared out first, with a half-hour before they let anyone else leave the stadium. The precautions are no doubt based on past experience, and they obviously worked.

I went back to the hostel, had just enough time to shower, and then I was off to a tango show (tango dancing is a big deal in BA, to put it mildly). It being a Sunday night, there was a small crowd; probably only 20 patrons in an attractive little dinner theater. And yet another small-world experience… the host sat me down at a table with three friendly Brazilians; Eduardo, Lucia, and Thaise. They all spoke some English, and I noticed Thaise spoke it perfectly. Thaise asked me where I was from and when I said Seattle, she laughed incredulously… she’s been living in Seattle for the last 2 years – and had just come to BA from Seattle, via Brazil, a few days prior. I also had some things in common with Lucia, who works for an environmental consulting company.

I enjoyed the tango show… even with the small crowd, the musicians and singers and dancers gave us their best. It was all appropriately melodramatic. The show was apparently about the history of tango, but it was all in Spanish.

After stopping by the hostel briefly, I went out again… off to see a milonga at an old café called Confiteria Ideal. Milongas are where the locals go to tango; the Lonely Planet suggested going to a milonga to see a more authentic tango experience. At this point it was 2 a.m. on a Sunday night. There were about 30 people when I got there. It was fun to watch… everyone was there simply to dance, and people mixed and matched regardless of age. One of the best dancers was a man I guessed about 65-ish; a few younger women were dancing with him… it’s considered an honor for younger women and men to dance with experienced older dancers. There was one old couple probably in their 80s, bowed with age but dressed up and dancing slowly along, a young couple in jeans, and others more dressed up. Everyone was obviously experienced. Some danced with more flair than others. It was a beautiful atmosphere… late night in this historic old café… arched ceilings and marble columns, chandeliers casting a sepia light.

I walked back to the hostel… 3 a.m. at this point, I went up to the rooftop bar, had a beer, chatted with a guy from California who is in the wine trade and a few other people I overheard talking about travel experiences in Portland, OR. Eventually they all disappeared and so I sat there enjoying the full moon, my last look at the Southern Cross, and the excellent vantage point of the surrounding old buildings and towers.

Monday February 9

I got up, checked out of my room and stowed my luggage, and proceeded to spend the day walking all over the City… another nice hot day. I started out with a short trip on the underground system, called the “Subte”… in particular I wanted to see the old ornate wood train cars they’ve preserved on the original line.

From there I walked to the main Cemetery, a massive necropolis packed with grand vaults containing the remains of Argentina’s politicos, military elite, writers and artists, presidents, and just generally well-to-do. The biggest attraction was of course the tomb of Eva (Evita) Peron, but I didn’t pause long there… I was mostly fascinated by the art and architecture of the vaults, each like a little building; many adorned with figures of angels or gargoyles.

After the cemetery, I stopped at MALBA, the Museum of Latin American Art. I only made one museum stop, and this one had been highly-recommended – and I could see why. Both the building itself and the art collection were outstanding, and it felt like it would have been right at home in New York or Paris.

Finally I went back to the hostel, had some time to relax and wait for my ride to the airport… watching trashy American television in the lounge (prepping for my re-entry). I ended up sharing a cab on the longish ride to the international airport with a gal from Brussels, and we exchanged travel stories. Got to the airport and checked in, and met another traveler on my flight, a nice retired lady from Texas, and so we talked over dinner at the airport. The flight took off on time, and I was asleep within an hour.

Tuesday February 10

I was surprised to wake up only an hour from our landing in Dallas. I had a tight connection in Dallas, but customs was incredibly easy, and I made my Seattle flight with time to spare for my first good cup of coffee in a month (my usual quad Americano) and some breakfast tacos.

The Dallas-Seattle flight was also uneventful, and when we landed in Seattle, it was, of course, snowing. It never snows in Seattle in February.

All in all, I was amazed at how on-time and smoothly the travels went – connections, luggage, weather – considering as far as I traveled and all the connections in strange places. Valerie picked me up at the airport and we drove straight to my place – good to be home.