I am writing from the warm comfort of the Hostel Antarctica, Ushuaia, Argentina. Ushuaia is the southern most city in the world. Outside the sun is shining down on a winter wonderland. More of this later.
Since last posting the World Cup has been run and won. The Spaniards deserved the accolades of World Champions. As much as I would have hoped to be in Buenos Aires to celebrate an Argentine win, it wasn’t to be.
The day after the final I traveled by ferry (yes this counts as sea time - Benn could you ensure the appropriate paper work is lodged) to Colonia del Sacramento, Uruguay. The historic quarter of Colonia is a UNESCO World Heritage site. Control of the city passed back and forth between Spain and Portugal, then briefly to Brazil before the formation of Uruguay as an independent country.
Since last posting the World Cup has been run and won. The Spaniards deserved the accolades of World Champions. As much as I would have hoped to be in Buenos Aires to celebrate an Argentine win, it wasn’t to be.
The day after the final I traveled by ferry (yes this counts as sea time - Benn could you ensure the appropriate paper work is lodged) to Colonia del Sacramento, Uruguay. The historic quarter of Colonia is a UNESCO World Heritage site. Control of the city passed back and forth between Spain and Portugal, then briefly to Brazil before the formation of Uruguay as an independent country.
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| Looking across the Rio De La Plata towards Buenos Aires |
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| Coloina, Uruguay. |
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| Colonia, Uruguay. |
Despite its charms, my primary purpose for going there was to renew my 90 day tourist visa for Argentina. It is possible to pay a fee for renewal but it is more than the cost of the day to Colonia.
This done the next day was for goodbyes. Giselle, Alicia, Alejandro, Martin, Marcos and Vanessa at Café Origen, where I spent the majority of my time outside the Hostel, my last day coffees were on the house. Dennis, Natalia, Andrea, Armando and Chicho at the Parrilla. Rosario, Alejandro, Maria, Elva, Alfonso and Adi from the Hostel Carlos Gardel.
By midday of the next day I was I was high above Buenos Aires bound for the city at the end of the world.
Ushuaia spreads out on a bank of the Beagle Channel. The backdrop for the city is the Martial Mountain Range. Down here it is as if someone used geology as their plaything, they thought to themselves, let’s just see what we can do.
During the winter the days are short. I arrived in the afternoon and after settling in at the Hostel I did not have time to fully appreciate where I was. The evening I spent arranging passage to Cerro Castor, the ski field 30 kms from Ushuaia, where I would spend the next five days snowboarding.
For these five days I did little more than rise in time to have breakfast and catch the bus to the mountain at 9am when the sun was just starting to reveal itself. I tore up the mountain, and a few parts of my body, then returned to hostel each night with enough energy to cook a meal then fall into bed to recharge for the next day.
It is hard to find superlatives for this place. Any day is good when traveling. No work, at no one’s beck and call, as free as a bird. Good is the starting point. Add to this extraordinary scenery and a mountain to slide around and you can find the adjectives.
I may not be able to find the words but I have become accustomed to the feeling I get when I am somewhere special. It is a feeling that I don’t deserve to be where I am, I don’t deserve to be seeing what I am seeing. This is the feeling I had each time I rode the chairlift back up Cerro Castor.
This done the next day was for goodbyes. Giselle, Alicia, Alejandro, Martin, Marcos and Vanessa at Café Origen, where I spent the majority of my time outside the Hostel, my last day coffees were on the house. Dennis, Natalia, Andrea, Armando and Chicho at the Parrilla. Rosario, Alejandro, Maria, Elva, Alfonso and Adi from the Hostel Carlos Gardel.
By midday of the next day I was I was high above Buenos Aires bound for the city at the end of the world.
Ushuaia spreads out on a bank of the Beagle Channel. The backdrop for the city is the Martial Mountain Range. Down here it is as if someone used geology as their plaything, they thought to themselves, let’s just see what we can do.
During the winter the days are short. I arrived in the afternoon and after settling in at the Hostel I did not have time to fully appreciate where I was. The evening I spent arranging passage to Cerro Castor, the ski field 30 kms from Ushuaia, where I would spend the next five days snowboarding.
For these five days I did little more than rise in time to have breakfast and catch the bus to the mountain at 9am when the sun was just starting to reveal itself. I tore up the mountain, and a few parts of my body, then returned to hostel each night with enough energy to cook a meal then fall into bed to recharge for the next day.
It is hard to find superlatives for this place. Any day is good when traveling. No work, at no one’s beck and call, as free as a bird. Good is the starting point. Add to this extraordinary scenery and a mountain to slide around and you can find the adjectives.
I may not be able to find the words but I have become accustomed to the feeling I get when I am somewhere special. It is a feeling that I don’t deserve to be where I am, I don’t deserve to be seeing what I am seeing. This is the feeling I had each time I rode the chairlift back up Cerro Castor.
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| In awe. Do I really deserve to be here? |
sorry bout the delay, but you know how it is with government work.
ReplyDeletePaperwork submitted, tier two sea-going badge in the mail.