Un Día con Los Jorges

We spent most of the night last night worried about Paco, who clearly had a fever throughout the night. It was easily controlled by Tylenol and we gave him the option to stay in the hotel. Both of us a honestly thought the glacier would not wait for good health. And well, we made the poor child suck it up.

Once again, Raúl was there for breakfast and we enjoyed the morning chat and sweets. Paco loved the ham and ate a ton. There had been a miscommunication between Pablo and Ana and me and Raúl had not known that we needed lunch for the day. I had some of the day be fore's still in the fridge and Raúl  gave us a ton of apples. So we were fine.

Since late last night Steve discovered he would not be able to do the mini-trek, (in the end out of principle, I think). He joined us for our early remiss taxi to the Perito Moreno Glacer. We were expecting our buddy Jorge, whom we had met Friday night, with his new Chevy wagon. We knew his car had working seatbelts, which is not to be taken for granted. Jorge is my age, and full of the Argentine gift for the gab. So we were a bit surprised when he sent another Jorge, this one older and in a mid-90s Ford Escort. Still a Jorge is a Jorge and this Jorge seemed perfectly nice and the seatbelts worked.  We asked him if he spoke English and when he said "no", we cheered!

We headed out to the Perito Moreno Glacier. Jorge the 1st had tried to get me to leave later, so he could take someone to the airport before us, but I had wanted to beat the crowd. The Perito Moreno Glacier is just massive. (Include link here). From El Calafate, it is about an hour to the park entrance, where you pay 10$ US per visiting adult, but Jorge, because he is a local, was free. In addition, they are very big on "pack in in, pack it out", and we were handed a trash bag to take back to El Calafate. Then another 30 minutes later, we pulled over to see the glacier. Yesterday we had seen the tallest and largest, but oh, my goodness, this is just huge. (Steve, enter photos here).  Steve just pointed out that its significance is that it is actually advancing,  (Steve adds) apparently, the last such glacier in the world to be doing so (wikepedia here). Jorge happily obliged us by taking photos of us together. All 4 of us were freezing and I was wishing I had brought my other jacket.

A few minutes later we arrived at the outlook, and after using the facilities, begun the many steps down to the glacier outlook. We rook the old wooden steps so we did not hold up the tour of early risers that had arrived when we did.  Panchito got tired pretty quickly and spent most of it on my shoulders. We spent ages down there.  There are 3 or 4 different outlooks, which is nice, because you kind of get your own special moment to just stare.  Pancho was fascinated by the falling pieces and there was one particularly huge one. (Photo here).  Jorge, had wisely opted to stay up high where it was warm and there was coffee. So we traded photo-taking with the people who seemed nice. Pancho did not want to leave but it was quite cold by the glacier and I was getting a bit concerned. With the promise of chocolate caliente, Pancho re-mounted my shoulders. I left Steve on the intermediate balcony with two Australians and an Oregonian thinking it would take me forever to reach the top. The Barilochean training must have served me well, because I was not dying, despite the 35 pounds of love on my shoulders. Paco and I went into the cafeteria and chose all sorts of things to snack on, chips, sandwich, hot chocolate and café cortado.  $30 US later, Steve joined us and we warmed up at the top. Jorge had gone back to the car…after our long break in the cafeteria, we found him drinking mate with a buddy in the parking lot. Note on mate: if you don't know what it is, let me know, but it is very Argentine. They drink it much more here than in BA. It is hilarious. I BA if you see a person with a thermos and mate walking along the street, they are usually Uruguayan, but in the south, it is the practice!

Side note about Paco: He hit homesickness at this point and announced he was saving his sandwich for when we get back to California.

It was already 11:30 and we were aiming to be back at the hotel by 3PM. Our choices were to take the Barcquito (the little boat) into the channel in front of the glacier, or to head out to Lago Roca, where it is supposed to me a magnificent vista. Paco opted for the vista, as did I, and Jorge seemed surprised. But, he was up for it. The road to the Lago Roca is mostly gravel and it was a long drive for Jorge. Paco and I passed out. Steve was fascinated by the wildlife. When we arrived 90 minutes later at the campground, it seemed worth it. We took our picnic and walked through the campground to the lake. I stayed back and Steve and Paco spent some time adventuring. Paco looked at the condors flying above and commented that they did not seem as big as those on Go, Diego, Go since Diego was riding on those in the air.  Side note: the cold from the glacier seemed to break Paco's fever, because it did not come back all day.

We had our small picnic before heading back to Jorge. It was a long drive to the Lago, but it seemed worth it. I think Steve really enjoyed the wildlife and I enjoyed being away from the crowds. Paco was frustrated that there was a pool table in the campground center and we did not want to take the time to play. Ah, perhaps next time. On the way back we saw 12 huge condors flying above the road. It was absolutely incredible. There was one particularly huge one. Paco announced that was the daddy condor and that it could, indeed,  handle Diego.

The road back to El Calafate went faster and Steve slept in the back of the car. When we arrived back at the hotel, I over tipped Jorge as I think he undercharged us for the Lago Roca portion (man, it is hard on the suspension) and he drove with such care that I never felt unsafe. That is a big statement when you drive with the Argentines  (Especially since Jorge is from BA). Though El Calafate has a slower pace that infects everyone. Including us!

We were walking back into the town to grab a few souvenirs when who should pull over next to us, but Jorge the 1st. He was full of apologies and asked how it all went. He explained that is was a full work day, thank god, and he knew he had left us in good hands. He then offered us a ride into town, for which he refused, I mean refused, to take money. We got out of the car and Steve commented once again on the friendliness and genuineness of the town. We rushed through the town to meet and have a fast snack at La Cocina again. Well, of course, fast does not exist in Argentina when it comes to food. So 35 minutes later, our food just arrived when Raúl showed up at the appointed time to take us back to the hotel and then on to the airport. It was all fine, but a bit hurried. I have to love Argentine air travel, though. The flight is delayed and as a practice you are not allowed through until 1 hr before the takeoff time. We have become used to this (with some effort) and were hanging out in the café when the security opened up and all the Europeans rushed to the security. The flight was delayed and we still had an hour. So we enjoyed our coffee and Paco his juice until the line went down and we moseyed over to security. Upon inspection the officer noticed our tax documentation was off and asked us to wait. He went over to the tax desk and retrieved a missing tax stamp we had needed to Paco's ticket. In my mind, had we not had Paco, he would have sent us over and told us to get back at the end of the line. Who knows, but it just seems like traveling with a child in Argentina is easier than any place else we have gone. We got to the gate and after some chatting with some very nice Italians we were once again waved through first to board. Poor Paco was absolutely exhausted at this point and we again got looks from the Argentines about the time outs! Eventually, by us pretending to sleep, he slept himself and we had to wake him up when we landed in Trelew. There was a kind, Brasilian woman behind him who wanted to play with him. I had to mouth the words "no no!" So he would sleep instead.

Side note about Trelew: We cannot pronounce it. Every time we do: (kind of like TraaLeu) an Argentine corrects us and we cannot get it right. Steve and I joked last night it was like that SNL sketch with Nuni and Nooni: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Schoeners. Trelew is not the tourist center for the area, that is Puerto Madryn, but we wanted to be closer to the penguins and there is a dinosaur museum here.

We landed just fine, but sick and tired Paco wanted to be held. So while Steve waited for the luggage we went in search of the car. Steve was having fears of the hour that we had in Mendoza waiting at the Hertz Desk. But not the case. There was a good 10 minutes of a German struggling to communicate with the Argentine agent, but the lot porter spoke English and there was eventually a manner of communication. When it was my turn, Fernando, the agent was full of apologies, had the paperwork completed, explained that the road that was gravel was not paved and  the car was brought to us. Fernando then told me to make sure Paco wore his jacket, as it was cold and waited outside with us until everything was sorted in the car before entering back inside. Not, however, before giving us his cell phone number.

We made our way into Trelew and found our hotel. But the grumpy night-time clerk was less than helpful and Paco was starving. Steve, superdad, went around the corner to a restaurant, ordered us dinner, then brought the bags up, then went and got dinner. Shannon and Cindy, this place reminded me at fist of the place in Genoa, perfectly fine, but a scary element none the less. I was almost in tears because I thought the windows on the room were boarded shut due to crime, when he walked over and opened the heavy wooden shutters that were closed due to the summer heat. He also snuck in ice cream for me, including our new favorite, dulce de leche with chocolate chips and a delicious banana (I am not a fan of banana flavored anything, ever since  I was 6 and had to sit through The Jungle Book movie next to Colleen eating a package of banana flavored Now and Laters. Yuck, she denies it was her, but it was) for Paco. The banana was the hit, but Paco stuck to Vanilla and Steve and I ate it all.

We decided to sleep in tomorrow and do the penguins Tuesday. We are all just too worn out and too sick, I think. Both Steve and I really enjoyed the long day. I am not usually one for tourist cities, but El Calafate is something spectacular. The townspeople are from all over Argentina, people who seem to be looking for a quieter and easier life. Usually I am a California snob about landscapes, but the enormity and spectrum of colors humbled my arrogance. It is the glaciers yes, with their blues and white and black streaks, but too the huge rocks left by glaciers years ago, the massive valley walls with colors of brown that could not have words and the sheer quietness of it all. Neither Steve nor I wanted to leave. I was fine if we missed our flight. It was just so relaxing, and yet we did so much. There is so much more I want to do. We told Paco, we would come back when he is 10 and we can all walk on the ice together. Steve and I both were half-joking, half-dreaming about selling our house in San José and moving to Bariloche or El Calafate. But Paco would have none of it. He told us he liked his school and his friends in California. He talks of his two friends Natalia and Dominic often, more since we have left Bariloche. Ah, he likes Argentina, but he is still our California boy!

More from Trelew, Treleu or Trelau, however it is pronounced.