Tag Archives: Architecture

In transit 2 – Bariloche to Puerto Varas

24th March 2018

Our time at the very swanky Llao Llao Hotel was all too short, and so we embarked on the next stage of a transit which would eventually take us to our next major segment of our South American odyssey, a couple of days in Easter Island. But Tierra del Fuego to Easter Island is a major schlepp, and so we did in sections, taking in some popular tourist sights en route, as described in part 1. Some more sights awaited us in the second part of the transit, as we travelled from Barioche to Puerto Varas. This is a well-established tourist route, having first been undertaken in 1913 and, notably, by Theodore Roosevelt in 1916 (it was apparently Roosevelt who, basing his knowledge on the recently-established Yellowstone National Park, suggested that the areas surrounding this route be set up as a national park before modern life could damage it too much; and so it came to be, in around 1927). We had catamarans and buses instead of sailing boats and wagons, but essentially the route we travelled was the same; and we had a guide called Eduardo to explain to us what was going on, which was occasionally reassuring.

We started in Puerto Pañuelo, which is conveniently located a few hundred yards from the Llao Llao Hotel.

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The boat took us to Puerto Blest, which is very scenic, but not very photogenic (WALP Factor 8, but all rocks and forests), so people spend a lot of time feeding seagulls.

where we joined a very short bus ride to go to Lago Frias, a volcanic lake. At the end of Lago Frias is the Argentinian end of the border, where passports are checked and you have a chance to see a replica of the motorbike that Che Guevara rode across the Andes back in the days before Andrew Lloyd Webber became a national hero.

The border crossing is a multi-stage process. At the far end of Lago Frias, the Argentinian border staff leave the boat before anyone else is allowed to, so that they can set up their computers and so forth in a hut beside the above bike and another small hut selling snacks. They check passports and then get back on the boat to go back home, as did our Argentinian guide, to be replaced by a Chilean guide called Victoria. She and the ongoing passengers then board a bus, which grinds its way up a rough and winding track to the actual border. A few hundred metres further on, there’s a photo stop to see a local volcano named “Tronador”, or “Thunderer”, so-called because of the noise that the glaciers make as they break up.

We were very lucky with the weather, as we could actually see something. Given that this area receives on average three metres of rain (yes, ten FEET) every year, and that it rains some 228 days a year on average, I think we got privileged access.

After this, the bus grinds on to the Chilean border, at a small village called Peulla, where everyone has to get out and open their luggage so that Chilean border guards can check that you haven’t brought anything illicit in. Once again, I had an agony of indecision as to whether to declare all four of the cameras I had with me, but decided not to; and the customs officer couldn’t have shown less interest in my luggage, which made this a good decision.

Peulla is a lunch stop with a choice of two local hostlelries, one of them being a hotel where we had grilled fish with vegetables (Jane) and fried fish and chips (me). We ate in the hotel’s conservatory, which featured a rather novel idea – a sprinkler (arguably a length of hose with holes in it) cascaded water on the transparent roof, and the sunshine through this made rather lovely patterns in the room itself.

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There’s one more boat trip after lunch, which takes the journey on to Petrohué. This is the longest ride, but features nice views of another volcano, called Puntiagudo.

(translated: pointy tip) which looks a little like a local version of the Matterhorn, and another volcano, called Osorno, which I would think that many people would think was Mount Fuji, if they didn’t know better.

After this final boat ride, you take the last bus journey, 50km journey into Puerto Varas. However, the excitement doesn’t dim, even at this late stage, as there’s one final tourist attraction to visit, and time presses. In fact we cut things so fine that we had to sneak round the side of the visitors’ centre to get in to see the Petrohué waterfalls. I’m very glad we made it, as this is a splendid sight.

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And our vulcanological insight was further enhanced on the last kilometres into Puerto Varas, with views of Calbuco, an active volcano which has erupted, and violently, as recently as 2015.

Puerto Varas is a pleasant town. We stayed at the Hotel Cumbres, which styles itself as the best hotel in Puerto Varas, and I see no reason to gainsay this. We had only one day there, and so, since the sun was shining, we decided to go for a wander around. Before we did this, though, we saw an astonishing morning mist on the lake (Llanquihue).

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There’s little to make Puerto Varas out as exceptional (the hotel receptionist couldn’t when pressed, suggest a single thing worth visiting), but it’s a nice town, with the colourful buildings that we’ve seen elsewhere in Chile and Argentina.

and the same rather alarming approach to electrical wiring.

It’s called the city of roses, for good reason

and has, at one end, a hill which has been pressed into service as a park, named after a significant founder of the city, a German called Bernardo Philippi. One can climb the 500 feet to the top, where there is a giant cross, which is illuminated at night.

So, this was our transit, from Bariloche to Puerto Varas via Petrohué

Tomorrow we’re off to Puerto Montt, to fly to Easter Island via Santiago. I’ll report in from there in due course – stay tuned!

In transit – 1: Ushuaia – El Calafate – Bariloche

20th – 22nd March 2018

After the several days of not packing and unpacking, we then had a burst of moving about and staying for very short periods in places.

We disembarked from Ventus Australis in Ushuaia, which is the capital city of the region, which means the island of Tierra del Fuego and the other islands that make up the region of Tierra del Fuego. And possibly the Malvinas as well – there’s a war memorial to the fallen of the Falklands war there.

We only had an hour or so to wander around Ushuaia. so we just walked along its main street (named after the liberator, San Martin). It’s a pleasant place – the buildings are often colourful and attractive

 

and there’s a dramatic backdrop of mountains.

 

The local standards of wiring seem a little alarming to European eyes (this was an example from Punta Arenas, but not untypical of the South American wiring we saw pretty much everywhere):

 

Ushuaia is something of a centre for skiers and snowboarders – the mountains can be reached in under an hour, and so I can imagine it draws a goodly winter sports crowd in the season.

After our short ramble around, it was time to depart for El Calafate, which would be the staging post for an excursion to the Perito Moreno Glacier (see separate post). We thus had an afternoon to wander round this much smaller, but very charming little town. Like Ushuaia, many of the buildings make great use of colour.

The sun was shining, which helped, but there was a very pleasant vibe here. I think the town is very much a tourist centre, and this gives it a laid-back feel which I enjoyed.

I particularly liked the way this public phone service is presented.

The town’s founders, back some 130 years or so, planted poplar and willow trees, which makes it very green. I should imagine that the abundance of trees is a wonderful boon for the local dogs, of which there seem to be many and whose hobbies also seem to include chasing cars and barking a lot at each other at night.

The town has several parks which also add to the overall charm.

 

Mind you, this one near our hotel was called the Parque Manuel Belgrano, so that gave us a score of two names with uncomfortable UK overtones in just the one day.

Our hotel was called the “Esplendor”. Unlike the Singular, it didn’t quite match up to the pretensions of its name. It did all the basics well (good food, comfortable beds – surprising given how lumpy the pillows were – and obliging service). I guess it was probably cool a few years ago, but decor based around plastic elk horns is no longer edgy, and the woollen knitted lampshades are bizarre to my eyes rather than charming. Some of the decor is a bit faded and in need of a refresh. But, hey, we slept well there and persistent searching revealed enough electric points to charge phones and cameras, so these complaints tend a bit towards nit picking.

We had a great insight into the Argentinian preference for a carnivorous diet when we ate one evening at a very good restaurant called Mako. After what seemed like a rather gruff reception, the service turned out to be very friendly. To accompany the inevitable (and delicious) Malbec, chosen, with help, from a great long list, we ordered a plate of grilled meat that was advertised on the menu as being for two people. My religion forbids me from sharing a photo of it, but it could easily have fed a family of four. Here’s the nearest I can permit to a photo of food, which is the barbecue being operated in the window (something we saw in other restaurants as well).

The “Calafate” in the town’s name, by the way, is the name of a bush, which produces a berry that has many uses – for jam, for ice cream, for beer, for a liqueur which, added to a Pisco Sour, transforms it into a Calafate Sour. It’s a spiky bush. Sorry, but the berry season has passed, so I can only show you thorns and leaves.

After our short stay in El Calafate, the next stop was in San Carlos de Bariloche, to give us another staging post before the next big segment of our odyssey.

It’s an hour-and-three-quarters on an aeroplane to get to Bariloche, and this journey started from the small but perfectly-formed El Calafate airport (perfect, except the WiFi wasn’t working, but otherwise nicely organised with charging points for the mobiles, cafés and helpful signs telling you what facilities were available airside).

We never got to see Bariloche itself, except in the passing rain, but it looks like an interesting city, with a Swiss-German architectural heritage, funiculars to take you up a steep hillside, and vast numbers of hotels by the lake. It seems to be a year-round city, with skiing faclities just 20km away for the Winter, and lots of lake-based things like fishing an attraction for the Summer.

Our destination lay some 25km to the west of Bariloche, at the swanky Llao Llao hotel. “Llao Llao” is pronounced “zsow-zsow” (with the “zs” as in Zsa Zsa Gabor) and is the aboriginal name for the Indian Bread fungus which affects the local version of Beech trees. For those who have followed this blog, you’ll have seen a picture from our condor hike about a week ago.

We arrived yesterday in torrential rain and howling wind. Today the rain has gone so revealing a decent view from our hotel over lake Moreno.

 

The rain may have gone, but the wind still howled. Nevertheless, we went for a walk which, by reason of missing a turn, became a 10-mile hike on to a trail that involved a 350-metre ascent. However, the view from the top was quite nice

Panorama - View from Cerro Llao Llao

 

and on the way we saw a lapwing

a brown caracara

and ended up with a nice view of the Llao Llao Hotel to finish off the walk.

The next stage of our journey is another transit to take us on towards a more major segment, which is a visit to Easter Island.

Santiago, Chile – cue queues

11th March 2018

We arrived in Santiago on schedule, after a relatively crash-free flight. BA acquitted themselves pretty well on punctuality, food and service, and they didn’t even mind that we were very nearly late because we forgot to get our foreign currency until absolutely the last moment.

During the flight I became concerned about potential problems clearing customs because the customs form instructs one to declare anything other than “normal baggage”, by which they mean (agricultural produce aside):

  1. One video camera
  2. One other camera
  3. One tablet or PC
  4. One “sound and image recorder and reproducer”, by which I assume they mean “iPod”

Since I had four cameras with me, I was worried that I might not emerge into the arrivals hall with all of them still in my possession. (By the way, I had deliberately and reluctantly decided to leave the drone at home exactly because of this possibility.)

So, we landed and queued:

  • to be able to leave the aeroplane (swanky sods in first class go first);
  • at passport control;
  • at the baggage carousel to collect bags;
  • and then, surprisingly, to clear customs, for which the queue was probably longer than for passport control, because every bag was X-rayed.

However, there were many people on hand to speed the queue and……the contents of my bags were completely ignored and we were free to go.

It actually took just an hour from landing to walking out into the arrivals area to find a complete absence of drivers waving a card with our name on it. But José turned up shortly and so we were smoothly transferred to our hotel, the Cumbres Lastarria, which, this being 11am, didn’t have a room ready for us. So, with four hours to kill, the obvious thing to do was to blunder about Santiago. The weather was conducive to this idea, being sunny, blue skies and mid-twenties. Tourism has its own rewards, sometimes.

This enabled us to find our final set of queues for the day, as we decided to visit Cerro San Cristóbal (a nearby and substantial hill recommended by a neighbour). It turned out that we were not the only people to have this idea, and so barely an hour later we were on a funicular railway creaking and clanking our way to the top. As we went up, it became increasingly clear that we would have a pretty spectacular view over the city:

And, while the view from the top was pretty spectacular,

being British, we had to hasten to join the next queue, for the gondola ride across and down the far side. To be honest, although the view from this cable car was pretty nice, I’m not entirely sure that it is worth the extra money. But you do get a view of Chile’s highest building, the Costanera centre (also, we’re told, worth a visit, as the view from the top is good – it’s 74 stories tall)

Whilst up the hill, the searing Chilean heat persuaded us that we should try a traditional drink, called Mote. Since this is nearer a meal than a drink, I can only hope that people don’t give me too much stick for publishing a photo of one. I suffer for my art:

On the subject of food, we indulged ourselves in some local dishes at El Galeón, a restaurant near the central market in Santiago. Reineta a la plancha is a grilled offering of Chilean sea bream, and Pastel de Choclo is not a chocolate tart, but a very nourishing (i.e. substantial) offering based on sweetcorn (which is called choclo around these parts) and chicken.

Our final set of queues came about the next day, as we endured the torturous city traffic with a very nice guide called Ronald Aylwin Lyon (Chilean, but of British heritage five generations before, and an occasional guide, since he has an alternate life as a pianist, composer, teacher and jazz musician). However, the day before had seen a new President, Sebastián Piñera, taking office, and the official celebrations meant the closing of several key roads in the city, and the ramifications mainly took the form of huge traffic jams. Eventually we abandoned motorised transport and walked about on foot, which enabled us to see the lovely architecture in the city’s Concha y Toro neighbourhood (yes, it’s named after the family who make the wine).

(I love the anachronism between the 18th-century Italian architecture and the cabling under the balconies)

although it’s clear that the local tendency for earthquakes means that those buildings which survive need bracing.

Uniquely, among all the various places we’re visiting on this junket (stay tuned, now), Santiago is the home of the brother of a neighbour. We went to visit him and had a very pleasant evening drinking wine (Chilean, of course) and talking about the country; this also afforded us the chance to explore how to use the local metro, which is very cheap and quite easy to use. The best thing to do is to get a “bip” card, a smart card which you can charge with money so that it allows you through the barriers with a cheerful “bip”.

As you walk about the city, among the humdrum graffiti (of which there is plenty, some of it with artistic merit), you can stumble across hugely colourful murals and other striking wall paintings.

 

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And we also walked around the downtown area where there was palpable excitement about the possibility of the new President passing a parade of many military bands, who had gathered for the occasion.

Around our hotel, in the Lastarria neighbourhood, there is some lovely mural art and architecture.

And that’s about it for the first instalment of our holiday adventure. I hope it gives you a flavour of how much we’ve enjoyed our short stay here, and stay tuned as we plunge south to Patagonia and Tierra del Fuego.