La Ultima Cena enTierra del Fuego

I cannot remember where Steve left off yesterday. So, we checked out the sled dogs, which were actually a little sad since they were each chained to their doghouse. From there we headed back to Macondo, our hotel, and had a quick rest before heading out to return the rental car to Leonardo. We did our last minute end of the world shopping, but we were increasingly tired and Paco was increasingly loud, so we thought we should hit an early dinner (bummer, since I never got my fin del mundo hat). We headed to “Gustino“, a place in one of the bigger hotels that is run by a local wine distributor.

Side note: I have not managed Paco’s naps well this week and as a result dinners have been difficult. It is my own fault, one would think I would know by now. Bariloche and El Calafate were fantastic for his schedule, but since then the siesta and the late dinners have been very tough. Mostly, I keep forgetting to be even stricter than I am at home. I think it is hard to stop everything so your kid can nap at the hotel, but really, that is what we should have done. We should have just kept driving after we left the dogs so he could have taken another short nap. But Steve and I were both anxious to get back, turn the car in and get some last minute things. As a result we paid for it with a grouchy whiny child. We now call this version of our offspring, “Seniorito Vino” since neither Steve nor I can remember the adjective for “whiny” in Spanish.

So we headed to “Gustino”, a nice wine bar that was recommended in the tour book. While the menu was perfect for me and Steve (stuffed with fish) for Paco it was a struggle to find something. We whipped out the iPod and ordered a bottle of cold viognier and basically turned our child into a zombie so we could have one evening meal in peace (the lunchtime meals have been great). I had the king crab (a regional specialty) appetizer and Steve had the 3 tastes of the region: a marinated trout that was, at that point, the most delicious thing I have ever tasted, the local muscles and the crab as well. Paco had broccoli and cheese of which he ate a bit. But by now he was so tired (despite sleeping in the car a decent amount) that nothing could do right. The appetizer went well, though, thanks to “Arthur” on the iPod (the first time we have let him watch at the table.) and the fish with the viognier was delicious. We had ordered Paco the pork loin at his request and it came simple and yummy. However, Srito Vino had changed his mind to beef and after a tantrum (“I wanted carne de res!”) he and I went outside for a break. We saw a pub up the street and I promised him a hamburger (which he has not liked in Tierra del Fuego) if he could just let us eat in peace for a few minutes.

We came back and Steve was enjoying his trout and talking to the Americans, Ralph and Steve, at the table next to us. Steven from Portland had joked that it was ok to be near whiny Paco because we were almost finished. I liked the frankness. Our waiter, a lovely man from Cordoba, put in an order for baked sliced potatoes for Pdub. I had ordered salmon ravioli, that is now the most delicious thing I have ever tasted. Despite having a cranky Paco on my lap, with his iPod and shoveling the food into my mouth, it was just incredible. I handed P over to a now finished Steve and ate and drank my wine and we continued to chat with Ralph and Steve who were friends from Portland, OR and on their way to Antarctica (again, so jealous).

A side note on my Spanish: People are so kind about us practicing. If there is something that needs clarification, they may speak English, but really, it is mostly Spanish with the people, even in touristy Ushuaia. That said, our waiter from Cordoba did not speak much English. He had gone into a long explanation of the olive oils for bread in Spanish, we had had a huge discussion of the ravioli (his favorite and I can see why). When the dudes from Portland sat down, he did not give him this rather heartfelt discussion of the oils. And the olive oil he had recommended was quite astounding. I asked the waiter why and he said, “I cannot explain in in English.” As I said before, I don’t think I am speaking particularly well, but my level of understanding I think has improved.

Paco was exhausted as was I (and the potatoes were taking forever) and I decided to leave Steve with the Portland guys to enjoy at least one evening on his month long vacation without having to juggle Paco. So we left him and started to head to the pub. Thankfully, Paco had changed his mind and was up for salami and cheese at the hotel. Our hotel is 3 blocks up a straight, SF style hill and then another 4 blocks from the restaurant. We have been taking taxis, but the cool stormy air just felt so good. Paco seemed to get a 2nd wind. He then helped me carry the stroller up the 3 blocks and somehow found his sweetness. When we arrived at the hotel, the clerk Carolina was waiting with her camera to take a photo of our impy. He shockingly obliged and then took her photo several times. Carolina and I got on well and we chatted for a long time before I got Paco to the room for his late night snack. Steve arrived as the brushing teeth battle started. We managed to get P to bed, but it was 11:30 at the end of the day. When will I learn?

Today, Saturday, we are on the plane for Buenos Aires. The weather is suddenly cold and rainy, which is more appropriate for Ushuaia. I joked with Aerolineas Argentina that my suitcase was full of clothes I had not worn. Paco was on full Srto Vino this AM at the hotel and I just held strong and was basically this mean mom with a timer and a leftover fractura (baked good) from yesterday (that he was not allowed to touch until the whining ceased for 5 minutes straight). Finally, after a morning of whine, Paco stopped whining. It was a miracle. I heard the angles singing in my ears. Since then, he has been an lovebug and is asleep next to me on the plane right now. For my child, routine and firmness are the path to amiability.

The security line for the flight was massive as there were two flights leaving at the same time. One of the large Antarctic cruise ships returned to harbor this morning and the flights were filled with people having just returned from their Antarctic excursions (you could tell by all the logo wear) who were waiting for their flight to Santiago, Chile and Buenos Aires. It is easy for us to forget what a crazy adventure we are on when you see these people who have just been to the Antarctic continent. Paco was invigorated by the cold, and by my new found firmness. But I could see Steve get edgy as it came time to board. Because really, the adventure part is at an end. We have been further than I ever thought I would drag my child. I certainly never thought I would get to Tierra del Fuego and want to hop a ship (and the reduced price of $4000.00) to Antarctica (When Steve joked about moving our flight to CA up, I was thinking, ooooooh, he could take Paco and I could go to Antarctica).

I think Steve is torn between wishing our flight home were tomorrow and wishing we were on a plane to El Calafate or Bariloche instead. After the fresh cool air here it is hard to get excited about hot, humid and polluted BA. Paco even teased us that he did not want to go home ever (ha! The child is lying, but I appreciate the effort). As for me, I feel as though I have just begun. I keep re-planning the trip in my head. With more notice (because I was not sure we would go until about 2 weeks prior) what would I do differently? Now that I know more, how would I plan it? I think if we ever come back to Tierra del Fuego it is more than a decade away. But at least now I know where to get the best pasta I have ever had.

My main regret is not taking photos of the random people we met along the way. The waiters, the hotel clerks, the teachers. The culture outside of BA is so different, so relaxed and welcoming.

But then, I am pretty excited to take Paco to McDonalds, and to get a decent espresso. However, I was very sad to leave Patagonia. I have never thought of myself as a small town person, but it is easy to imagine the café I could open, or the job in a hotel I might get, just to stay immersed in this rich region and finally get the hang of the subjunctive tense..

More from Buenos Aires.