Thursday 7 January 2010 Colonia

Or...I should really know better when it comes to immigration

“You want to go up the lighthouse?” the bored-looking security man asked.

“si....”

“Not me, I think it’s a bit boring”

Ah, ok...erm...

Not to be deterred, I paid my 15 Uruguayan pesos anyway and starting the long clanking climb up the metal spiral staircase, despite it being hot and having only just eaten lunch, inspired by the promise from my trusty guidebook that you can see Buenos Aires from up there on a clear day. Lord knows why that struck a chord – I’ve been itching to get out of there for the last month; why do I want to see it?

Well, yes you could see it and yes the ‘you’re-over-there-I’m-over-here’ factor was quite satisfying – modern, glassy tower blocks of Puerto Madero (think mini London’s Docklands) rising in a line to different heights like sound levels on a stereo.

Colonia’s metaphorical sound levels meter is well within the green – an idyllic Portuguese colonial town that seems to have escaped the extensive redevelopment of similar areas in South America, this is now a UNESCO world heritage site. Being only a stone’s throw from the hub of Buenos Aires (just imagine the catamaran is the stone and the throw taking it an hour or so across the giant rio del plata estuary), its a mecca for day trippers, weekenders, and, er, people who need to renew their Argi visa in a hurry (we’ll get onto that shortly). And yes it feels like a tourist town: restaurants EVERYWHERE, signs in English, multiple offices where you can rent golf-buggies to tour the town in, should the less-than-mile-square historical area be too taxing for you to potter around on foot after your huge parrilla lunch.

But despite this being the middle of peak season, and yes admittedly bumping into the same people you met on the boat several times during the day, it doesn’t in any way feel crowded, and you can always find sanctuary on the dock one of the little beaches, or equally one of the tree-shaded squares where I am now, feeding the mosquitos their late lunch and tapping away on my laptop. (I was amazed to find I can get a wireless signal here – tempting to facebook everyone I know: “guess where I am?!! Sitting in amongst some old ruins in the middle of a park in a town that time forgot in Uruguay!” (Except wifi shows no mercy and leaves no settlement forgotten and unsullied by its.....rays....).

I was steaming with curiosity by the time I left to come here this morning: various different sources had heightened and dampened my interest in Colonia by turns: was it a tranquil escape from the city or a dull backwater town where people only come to die or get a fresh visa (yes yes, I will get on to that. Just a minute)

So I was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed when the alarm went off at 5.30am, hurrying the taxi along to the port, one of the first in line for boarding in the predictably clinical departure lounge, eagerly awaiting, waiting patiently, waiting quietly, slightly fidgety, downright clicking my tongue..... I’ve gotten used to ‘Argi time’ (not yet a standardised concept and one of the many reasons we in the hostel have cited for Argentina still being a developing nation. Anyway...) but a 45 minute delay takes the biscuit even for them. And talking of biscuits, I hadn’t had breakfast yet, so was getting pretty cranky. We eventually left 30 mins late, but managed to arrive a whole hour late. Ah well, I caught up on some of that sleep!

What I do need to do today is decide if I want to come back on Monday. Here’s the story now – are you sitting comfortably?

So I knew my 3 month Argi visa would be running out early Jan... late December I checked some prices for a Uruguay trip, and it all seemed pretty steep to me, when I’d read that you can just get your visa renewed at the office of immigration for much less money. So I kept meaning to ask boss Nico, an Argi, to ring them up and see if I needed an appointment, how it worked etc. But then it was Christmas, and then the office was shut, and then Nico said there wasn’t a hope in hell of me getting an appointment so soon. So, back to the Colonia idea, but all the day trips were sold out until the 11^th. “Ah!” I thought: “I entered on the 12 October! 3 months, leave on the 11^th, no problem!” And went and bought the ticket for a bargain $174 pesos.

Problem... I realised, waking up with a jolt a few days later..... not a 3 month visa... a 90 day visa. Subtle but important difference: my boat was booked for the day AFTER it expired.

Bugger. Stupidity!

So the only way to do it was to go overnight (luckily, working for PAX as I do, they got me a free night at their ‘hostel amigo’ in Colonia). And the ticket was $240. No worries, no worries, not much difference, I’ll just go and get a refund. Nope – non refundable, and non-exchangeable to friends who also need to go: the ticket had my name and passport on. So I now have two tickets to Uruguay – one I can refund but have to use, and one that I don’t need but could refund.

*sigh* bloody Argis

So today my tasks are 1) get visa renewed (tick, by default), 2) buy new notebook and replacement linen trousers (fatface why hast thou forsaken me and worn out in the crotch???) and 3) decide if I want to come all the way back just for the day on Monday, seeing as I’ve spent the money and all...

We’ll see – there is a nice beach just a mile or so away, but it is an awful long way to go for a beach day.

Maybe I’ll go and ask my new friend at the lighthouse what he thinks I should do.

a few photos to come when I can charge my phone!!

7 January 2009 Buenos Aires part 2

Or: officially the worst blogger in the world.

Yes....STILL in Buenos Aires

Apart from being the worst blogger in the world, what on earth have I been doing with myself for the last.....3 months?

Not quite sure how it happened, but having taken my 2 weeks of Spanish lessons, pottered around a few of the sights, and gotten far too obsessed with tango far too quickly, I was moaning to the hostel owners Nico and Kaylee that I wasn’t ready to leave yet, and nearly choked on my choripan when they asked if I wanted to stick around and work on reception for them for a bit.

It was a big decision - I hadn’t really planned to stop and work so soon, I feel like reception jobs are going to haunt me for life, and I was really just enjoying not working!

Buuut.... I have no time limit, it wasn’t going to really drain my resources at all, and I felt inspired by Danny Wallace, who spent a whole year saying yes to everything, and wrote a book about it...

I guess I’ve got nothing to lose, I might as well get the experience when its offered to me so I have something to fall back on when i DO run out of money, and it’ll be nice to spend Christmas with people that I (will by then) know.

It’s been fun – I’ve learnt a lot about Argentinian society (equal parts fascinating and shaking my head saying 'bloody Argis'), I’ve met some great people who might have otherwise passed me by, made friendships all over the world that’ll last a lifetime, and yes, mum sent me a Christmas box (thank you mum!).

But spending 3 months in the same big city, mostly in the same window-deficient building, with only 1 day off a week, does start to wear away at your soul, so, Christmas and New Year commitments fulfilled, notice was served, and I’m flying down to Ushuaia (the bottom of the world!) on Friday 15^th to work my way up Patagonia on my overland mission up as far as the equator. Sitting here in a park in Colonia tapping away on my little eee pc seems like a curious parallel of my first day in South America, jet-laggedly wandering through Ibirapuera park in Sao Paolo, occasionally stopping to sit on a bench to tap out some random thoughts.

This definitely feels like starting again.... no, not quite.... its act 2 – act 1 was so intense and overwhelming that we need a glass of wine and a small pot of overpriced vanilla ice-cream before we can fully appreciate act 2. We don’t want to get complacent and jaded and start fidgeting in our seats, checking out the tall dark and handsome in row 4 now, do we?

So Christmas and New Year in BA: was it AMAZING? People ask me; was it really different?

Well I don’t want to sound grumpy at all, but..... it wasn't quite Christmas. All the little PAX elves were working hard – busy days in the hostel, and not much relaxing or enjoying to be done when there’s 45 people to check in, check out, give directions to, feed a banquet, clear up after... you know.... so satisfying to see your guests having a good time, but, no, not really Christmas. I’m suddenly filled with equal parts of respect and admiration and sympathy for all the professions for whom working over the holidays is a regular given: health workers, hospitality, the emergency services. I salute you all, but this alone is almost enough to put me off choosing one of these wholesome and worthwhile careers for myself.

Christmas didn’t start to show itself until early December here – a far cry from the mid-October capitalist rush to cash in on the season of us so-called ‘developed’ nations. And it started slow: a few big shops with a banner or two, and Christmas music (White Christmas? Really? It’s 30 degrees outside!!), then big ‘Christmas Tree’ style light installations along one of the main avenues (guarded against vandalism 24 hours a day of course), and gradually the food in the shops and the decorations and promotions on websites (it being hot, chocolate was widely and disappointingly dismissed in favour of nougat and this yummy peanutty candy called mantecol). But it was all just rather lacklustre. Accuse me if you will of being part of the Disney generation, but this is the capital of Argentina! The Paris of South America! Come on!

Apparently the government does usually make more of an effort – the word ‘recession’ seems to be cited whenever I choose to complain to a local about Christmas, or the lack of variety of food in the supermarkets, or whatever.

We felt much better once we had ‘Christmassed’ the hostel: tree up, tinsel round anything that didn’t move, fairy lights round the bar, and a whole little troop of santas little helpers set to work making paper snowflakes, paper crowns and cotton wool snowmen and snowballs.

But it still wasn’t quite right.

Yes admittedly the weather is too hot, but chatting with Ozzie passengers, they reckoned it didn’t feel right either. It wasn't the weather.

It was only long after the asado and pudding had been cleared away, and we were sitting around a bottle of wine getting all misty-eyed and reminiscent, that we realised that what we missed most about Christmas at home wasn’t even the Barbie on the beach (Australians), the spicy dried fruits the pervade every dish (the British, of course), crackers (everywhere, except, it seems, Argentina) or filling shoes with sweets on xmas eve (Germans – don’t ask). No, it’s not the national habits or religious rites that seem to make Christmas Christmas, it’s the little things.

Its what time you open your presents, who plays Santa, those family members you only see once a year, falling asleep in front of the queen’s speech, the exact dish you always cook for the family meal, the in-jokes....whatever: it’s the little family rituals that we miss – and that’s why Christmas anywhere else in the world will never be the same.

The endless repeats on TV, the warring in-laws and too many pairs of novelty socks? Sorry, that’s Christmas too....