The pure joy of our son Eli’s November 23 arrival in Buenos Aires is captured on our faces in these photos, taken the day he met us.
After a gourmet lunch (courtesy of Peter), we headed out to explore the Palermo neighborhood in Buenos Aires, taking in its enormous urban park, Parque Tres de Febrero (commonly known as Bosques de Palermo), watching an international soccer match on TV in a local bar, and eating a traditional Argentinian steak dinner. Despite that he was just stepping off a nearly twenty-four hour journey, Eli did not miss a beat!
All of us were charmed by this row of restaurants under a railroad track. So of course we had to stop for some limeade.
The next day, we took a self-guided tour of Buenos Aires by bicycle. The weather was spectacular, and, even though some of the sites were repeats for Peter and me, they were better still when Eli came along.
of the Argentinian president
(who lives elsewhere)
On our final day in Buenos Aires, we (okay, mostly I) spent some time fretting (and consulting news sources and my Chilean contacts) about the situation in Chile. Per the news, a national strike was planned in the morning, just as we were scheduled to land in Santiago. Most people in Argentina (and one of my Chilean contacts) advised us not to go, but several others said we should press on (with caution). Aside from fretting and consulting, we enjoyed some down time in the apartment and a wonderful graffiti tour of Palermo.
The graffiti tour included a stop by this apt depiction of the dire situation in the United States. Relatedly, we learned a few days later, Chileans’ favored name for the U.S. president is “cabeza de piche” (“piss head”). Inspired by Chilean comedian Felipe Avello, they often troll POTUS social media accounts with various spellings of the epithet.
I offer my deepest apologies to the Joker and to Urine, both of whom justifiably should be quite insulted by these comparisons. And, spoiler alert, we made it to Chile.
Back to a happier topic, here is some more graffiti from the Buenos Aires tour.
The municipality of Buenos Aires has also gotten into the graffiti act and has sponsored certain murals. Just in the best viewing spot for the below mural depicting a young woman taking a selfie (painted by Martín Ron), activists posted flyers (also seen below) asking why the government gives men a mural monopoly.
In honor of these activists, I’ll end the graffiti tour portion of this blog with one for the team! The below mural is painted by Josefina DiNucci.
And here’s Eli, taking in our last day in Buenos Aires and cooking up a storm.
With that, we concluded our three fabulous weeks (P&C)/three fabulous days (E) in Argentina. On Tuesday November 26 we headed to Chile.
Despite fears of a national strike, we landed and drove to our first stop in Viña del Mar without incident.
Notably, Viña del Mar was not the plan. For many years, I have longed to visit Valparaiso, a small coastal city that lies to the north of Santiago and is known for its colorful bohemian architecture and culture. But with the tension and conflict that has befallen the country, it is not, as nearly every Chilean warned, “recomendable” to stay there. So we opted for its twin city next door, Viña del Mar. But the next morning, we headed off to tour Valparaiso, aiming to return prior to commencement of the daily mid-afternoon protest, which all too often involves violence by police and/or protestors.
The below staircase area in Valparaiso’s Cerro Alegre (“Happy Hill”) declares “We are not hippiest. We are happiest.”
But even in Cerro Alegre, all is not happy at the moment as reflected by the popular protests. And across Chile, hundreds of protestors have suffered severe eye injuries, including blindness, caused by police-fired rubber bullets and tear gas. The injured eye has become a movement symbol featured prominently in slogans, graffiti, and street art.
After touring the relatively calm Cerro Alegre, we headed down an “asensor” (elevator, or funicular) to Plaza Sotomayor to tour the central square before protest hour.
Down below, the city was quite gritty, its walls covered with political graffiti. The public art was even more grim.
After wandering through the center, we came upon this staircase next to another asensor. Without really knowing where it led, we headed up.
At the top, we wandered to a scenic overlook and began taking pictures.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed and briefly became concerned about two men walking toward the overlook, but I quickly convinced myself not to worry. Then one of them approached me, squatted down, and broke a glass bottle on the curb some ten inches from my feet. Glass shattered, and for a moment I wondered if this was somehow connected to the protest movement. Then I saw the weaponized bottle and heard the man yell “la mochila” (the backpack) to his friend.
I am firmly of the belief that one should never hold onto property at the risk of physical injury. But instinct triumphed over reason. I grabbed my backpack (hard) and screamed the deepest, darkest, loudest, screamiest scream I ever did scream! The men yanked on my pack and I fell to the ground.
Peter and Eli were about 20 meters away from me (as were several other bystanders). Peter saw me on the ground, saw two men standing over me, and heard my deep, dark, loud, screamy scream. He ran toward me with what I can only imagine was quite the killer look in his eyes. The men let go and ran up the hill.
Peter and I (okay, especially—most especially—I) stepped over that fine line between bravery and stupidity, but luck saved us! Since that time, I have heard stories of people whose faces were slashed or even who were killed in similar incidents. I have not stopped thanking my lucky stars! And now that I’m “practiced,” I hope will do the smart thing and let go if this ever happens again.
We had planned to leave Valparaiso and Viña del Mar that afternoon in any event, but after the bottle/backpack incident, we headed out post-haste. On the way, Eli and I took a moment to unwind on the sand dunes that border Viña and the Pacific.
Our next stop was in Zapallar, a small and very tranquil beach town north of Valparaiso and Viña del Mar. We stayed in Casa Wilson, a charming mansion turned bed-and-breakfast. Casa Wilson is run by the late Wilson’s grandson, Samuel, who was quite the gracious host. The peace was a welcome respite after our Valparaiso run-in.
Finally, we headed to Santiago. Again, while we normally would have stayed in the center, we opted instead for an upscale, nondescript neighborhood (Los Condes) on the advice of our Chilean contacts. Like Valparaiso, the central areas in Santiago are covered in graffiti related to the protest movement.
Sadly, the beautiful building that houses the fine arts museum is now covered on all sides in graffiti.
For our final day in Santiago, we opted to head for the hills, where we climbed to the top of Cerro Manquehue. Especially at the top, the gravely ground and steep incline were challenging, but well worth the effort!
And on December 1, we bid goodbye to Eli, but this time only for three weeks! Although leaving this amazing South American adventure will be so very sad, I am hugely excited about seeing everyone in my life again, and, most especially, about reuniting with my two children. The four of us have not been together since early August. In honor of my anticipation, here is an August picture of me in my “happiest place.”
This blog entry ends on December 1, but due to technical difficulties, I am only now posting it on December 8. In the meantime, we have completed an ecstatically fabulous 5-day trek through Torres del Paine in the Chilean side of Patagonia, which I am saving it for my next blog post. Here’s a little teaser, though…
Wonderful! Can’t wait to see you guys.