The bus trip and the porteños

The Quo Vaddis (Steve’s Entry)

Of course, the primary reason for anyone to visit El Calafate is the city’s location as the gateway to the Parques Nacionales de los Glacieres. There are a few ways to see this incredible natural wonder. The easiest is to visit an overlook of the Perito Moreno glacier (more on that later), another is to take a mini-trek of a 90 minute walk on Perito Moreno by guided tour using crampons. Given that Paco is too young to take the hike on the ice (minimum age is 10) I decided on a third plan, a boat trip from Puerto Banderas that lasts the whole day and visit’s the faces of three glaciers, (Upsala, Spaegazzini and a combo of 3 little ones: Agassiz, Bolado and Onelli). We worried about Pancho’s sustained level of interest on a full-day boat trip, so we came prepared… or I should say that Supermom was prepared.

We had read about the boat trip in advance and wanted to make reservations ahead of time. Since our only full day in the area was to fall on a Saturday, I was anxious about not finding room on the boat. In the style to which we’ve now become accustomed , we found it impossible to book tickets more than 24 hours in advance of the day and ONLY in person and in cash at the office of the tour company in El Calafate. We were scheduled to arrive in El Calafate around 4:30 PM, giving us time to run down to the office before they closed at 9 pm. Of course, the flight was moved around so we were running a bit late. After dropping off our things at the hotel, we took a stroll down to town to book the tickets… turned out to be no problem.

Erin now: Ha! Stroll! Steve hauled a++ while I pushed Pancho. It was actually fine, except Steve was in a total Haas-style panic. So when Pancho and I arrived at the boat-tour operator, Steve had already sorted it all out, but I took over the details and then sent Steve to sign-up for the Mini-trekking. When we found him a few minutes later, he was set, but Pancho and I were disappointed. We had read that the tour offered mini-trekking for all ages and abilities, but not so. But then we headed to La Cocina, which that evening was warm and wonderful and the perfect end to a long day.

So Saturday morning (FYI, assume any conversation in El Calafate is in Spanish. We found that while most people spoke at least tourist English, they truly appreciated and supported our desire to practice and improve. Ana and Pablo at the Hosteleria Lumpama both speak English fluently, but Ana had told me that we would not be conversing in English once we arrived. Steve had no idea that Pablo spoke English until he needed to clarify something and had concerns about the communication barrier. I said, “speak to him in English.” Steve had no idea he could!).

OK, on Saturday morning we woke up at 5:30 to be ready for the bus that was due to arrive between 7 and 7:30. Steve and I were both beat and dragged ourselves downstairs for breakfast. When I saw the table prepped, with media lunas and cereal, I asked, “Is this for us?” to which Raúl answered, “Sí.” (OK, native speakers, need guidance here, would you use “Esta para nosotros?” or “por” in this instance? Because I used para since it felt like a gift to come downstairs and see everything waiting!)

We discovered, scarily, that Paco loved Tang. And he just told me he really liked the cake with the dulce de leche and the meringue dollops on top. (It was delicious). He liked the idea of it more than the actual cake and he pulled off the meringue and had me scrape off the dulce de leche.

The bus arrived at 7:15 at the door of the hotel, which is up a small gravel hill. As we left, Raúl presented us with our lunches that we had ordered the night before. The bus then continued for 4 to 5 hotels to collect everyone. It seemed to take forever to get to the main road to the Puerto Bandera. Paco passed out, then woke up when we got the to the port. Then, in true Argentine fashion, everyone had to get off the bus to pay the fee for the park entrance, half of the people then went on to a boat that would take them past the huge Perito Moreno glacier, and then half joined us back on the bus, to the other side of the port to take the boat tour of the other glaciers. At this point, a tired Pancho burst into tears and was in the middle of a time-out for hitting me (which he does when tired) when a man said to me in Spanish that he thought he could use something I did not understand. When I said, oh, I am not familiar with that, he explained it was a smack. I smiled and let Pancho keep crying and then the wife said to me as we got off the bus, Pancho is just tired, it is an early start for him. Then proceeded to tell me how impressed she was with Pancho’s understanding of Castellano.

I’ll let Steve describe the boat, but it was impressive. We found again, that Paco gave us special treatment as the purser ensured we found 3 seats together on the upper level. However, unlike previous boats I have been on, most of this boat was enclosed. I suppose the climate is unpredictable. Paco insisted on wearing his life jacket (I am the dorky mom who brings it from the States), but quickly grew tired of the crowds outside and seemed more content to be inside the boat, where, really, we had a perfectly good view. We traveled for about an hour through the impressive Lago Argentino, the largest lake in Argentina (that is this awesome whitened blue due to the minerals from the glaciers), before arriving at a wooded area that now I cannot read on the map. (Mental note, add here later). Here there is a restaurant and a trail to the other side of the point. I took Paco on my shoulders and we hauled out to the end of the trail. It was beautiful. Paco had not been feeling well (and there was a big fight about chocolate on the boat. Steve and I are now convinced it was two mistakes we made as parents (involving chocolate and communication) and as well, the Dramamine we had let him take when Steve took his.) I was concerned about his eating. So I was a bit anxious to get back to the restaurant when it started serving to make sure we had options other than the ham and cheese sandwiches (with, I am not exaggerating, easily had 3T of butter on the bread) that we had brought with us. That, and I had to go the bathroom. Steve and Paco hung out at the end of the trail while I tried to beat the crowds back to the restaurant. I grabbed a table (it was all family style) or rather 3 chairs of 6 and waited for my boys. Steve showed up with a smiling Paco on his shoulders. When they sat down a couple about Mike and Judy’s age, also from Buenos Aires joined us to share the table. For the rest of this conversation, I have to refer to them as Mike and Judy, for reasons that will become clear in a minute. The food was a choice of 3 menus, the plate of the day which was a fried fish with ham and cheese melted on it (ham and cheese seems to be a big thing here, Steve and I are both weary of it), a lomo (nice beef loin) with fries, and a spaghetti Bolognese, all came with soup that was pretty garlicky. Now, the following story was all in Spanish, which makes it even funnier, but if you know my in-laws, and can imagine them there instead of this couple from BA, you will have an idea of the events…

So the soup came and Paco was hungry, so he was picking at his ham and cheese and drinking his water. A few minutes passed and the manager of the restaurant (hereto referred as el jefe) came over and told Steve the sandwich had to be put away and the water. The food was in front of Paco’s plate and Steve and I had already ordered. Steve did not quite understand, but then got it and told Paco he had to wait until our food arrived and we would share it. Paco, burst into tears and then realized there was bread on the table. Finally, our waiter Horatio, brought the water we had ordered. The Judy asked if Paco could have his sandwich since he was a just a little boy and the other food was not ready yet. My eyes filled with tears at her kindness because we had not even exchanged a word before except to motion that there was room at the table. She gave me a hug, called me niña and said, basically, this is stupid. Horatio had come back to say the Jefe said no. Upon which the Mike and the Judy discussed in a rapid Spanish that I could not really get that this was ridiculous, the soup was spicy, there was no kids menu, what did these people think? Paco was 3, not 10 and we had ordered meals for ourselves. I think there were some Spanish words in there that I would prefer not to know as well. Upon which, the Mike decided enough was enough and went up to the manager and basically stayed there, arguing with his hands for several minutes until he returned and said, in Spanish, “La bruja dijo que el niño puede comer lo que quiere.” I think I got that right. Which basically translates as the witch said that the child can eat what he wants. Then we all discussed how not Argentine that was. For me, normally, Argentines own their children as a community. People are fast to give you advice and help and hate to see a child cry. I also find that Steve and I tend to let Paco cry if he is misbehaving and that this is very difficult for the Argentine. The main with the spanking idea is rare (he was probably not Argentine!). They really want us to just hold and kiss him and maybe give him a cookie. Paco is often given cookies or candy in many situation and usually no one will let us pay for them. In an accumulation of 6 weeks of my life here, I have twice, twice, had someone not offer me their spot in line, wave me in front or just stop everything and everyone to help me. My German friend Anne jokes that the Argentine custom of pulling the stroller to the front of passport control is unheard of in Germany, and if anything the stroller just slows you down. I had to laugh as the Germans looked at us strangely in Bariloche and El Calafate, where, between the stroller and having a kid named Francisco, we have often been given special treatment at the German tourist’s expense.

Anyway, the Mike and the Judy felt horrible, and could not believe it. The Mike even tried to buy our lunch. Between their kindness and their fortitude, we felt like in that moment, we had Steve’s porteños parents with us.

We got back on the boat and between the food and the Tylenol, Paco was much better. But he and I still felt horrible and stayed inside most of the time. Glacier report and photos coming soon…I am sorry, I am beat and need to join the boys in a nap. FYI, we are in Trelew now, but sick and pooped. So taking it easy today. Love, Erin