Steaks, tango, and futból.

(February 14-16, 2009)

After the tiny villages of the eastern coast, we made our way back west to spend two days enjoying the colonial charms of Colonia del Sacramento before bidding farewell to Uruguay, and moving on to Argentina. From the shores of Colonia del Sacramento, the Argentinian capital was but a one-hour ferry ride away. A whole other world.

Our first impression of Buenos Aires was through the windows of our taxi that swirved through a maze of busy, narrow streets lined with tall buildings. After having spent the previous week in the tranquil villages of Uruguay, Buenos Aires was grand and overwhelming. We arrived to the city with no plans and no expectations, but what was an unplanned day turned out to be a lovely, spontaneous way to spend our first evening in Buenos Aires.

And so it is that we made our way to the famous La Boca neighbourhood to enjoy a theatre-tango show. Again, we didn't know what to expect, but we definitely weren't expecting something so colourful and enticing. We were greeted by a man in a 1940's police costume who directed us through an elaborate decor, an authentic replica of La Boca neighbourhood, which set the scene perfectly for the lively bohemian street atmosphere of that time.

Upon our arrival, we were led to a small coffee shop before the show, where the entertainment began with two actors in over-the-top tango outfits circulating the tables and playing the roles of a seductive dancer and a charming lady's man. They passed around the tables, taking pictures with people in exaggerated tango poses.

Then, we passed from the coffee shop to the middle of the outdoor scene, where the show began with an old man sitting on the train tracks playing accordeon as the streets livened up with the actors dancing, yelling, and stumbling about. An everyday scene of people going about their daily lives in the neighbourhood. We were standing so close, and the acting was so naturally played out, that we almost forgot we were watching a show.

After the theatrical entertainment, we passed to a dimly-lit hall where small round whitecloth tables were arranged in front of a stage for the dancing entertainment part of the show. To the live music of four charming elderly men playing the piano, violin, cello, and accordeon, three couples took turns performing their best tango choreographies on stage. They swirved, spun and glided seductively to the dramatic melody of the band, encouraged by the band maestro who enthusiastically shouted at given moments: "Bueno!", "Eso!", "Muy bien!".

We were absolutely taken by the combination of the rythmic music and intricate dancing. Our "La Boca Tango" show was a lovely surprise. We couldn't have imagined a better way to learn about the culture and history of this wonderful, passionate dance. And we couldn't have imagined a better way to spontaneously celebrate Valentine's Day in Buenos Aires, the city of tango. We got back to the hostel inspired, and perhaps a little too confident about our non-existent tango skills.

We got to discover another side of Buenos Aires when we wandered around the San Telmo neighbourhood for its grand Sunday outdoor fair. There were endless booths set up in a market maze around the main square, selling everything from antique coins to grammaphones to silverware to paintings. There were also a wide range of creative street performers, everything from musicians to tango dancers to marionette puppeteers to hilarious mannequin posers.

Given the sheer size of the 13 million people metropolis, we opted for a city tour for getting around to see the main attractions and landmarks. Among other things, we saw the Floralis Generica monument, a giant metallic flower with motorized petals that open at dusk and close at dawn, and the Obelisco monument right in the heart of the famous Avenida 9 de Julio, the widest avenue in the world with 9 lanes (in each direction!). We also visited Plaza de Mayo, the main square where sits La Casa Rosada (the pink house), the government building with its famous balcony where Eva Perón rallied the Argentine people in the late 1940's, and also the site where Madonna sang her rendition of "Don't Cry For Me Argentina" for the film Evita in 1995.

We got a chance to visit the most interesting barrios (neighbourhoods) of Buenos Aires, from the rich sector of La Recoleta, to the newest neighbourhood of Puerto Madero, and finally to the historical neighbourhood of La Boca, where we had the chance to wander around its colourfully-decorated houses and artistic streets.

People could easily spend a few weeks in the Argentinian capital given its immense size, but seeing as we're not huge-city fans, after three days we felt we had appreciated plenty of what the city has to offer. And we were there long enough to realize that the cliché truly isn't an overstatement: Buenos Aires really is the city of steaks, tango, and futból.

defining (moments) indéfinis.

(passé, présent, futur)

[ wanderlust ]

(n.) : a very strong, innate desire to rove or travel about.

(n.) : une profonde envie innée de voyager, de parcourir le monde.

Pieds dans les étriers.

(11 février 2009)

Sous une pluie batante
nous sommes partis.

À la marche, au trot, au galop.
À cheval.





Après peu de temps,
le ciel s'est dégagé,

on s'est retrouvé seul sous le soleil.

Voyageant
au rythme des sabots,

rêvant
au rythme des vagues.



D'un côté, vents et marées.
De l'autre, dunes et rochés.

Devant, toujours
nadie, nadie, nadie ..



.. Sauf, peut-être,
Cabo Polonio.

Avec son énigme
cachée sur la rive,

et son phare
au bout de la péninsule.



Petit village isolé

sans eau courrante
ni électricité,
sans routes ni chemins.

Pour s'y rendre,
seuls les moyens d'antan..

À pied, à bateau,
ou à cheval.



Sur nos scelles,
nous sommes repartis
entre les arbres.

Sous un ciel limpide,
le soleil tout près
s'est perdu au loin.

"Estos momentos son por la memoria,

no por la cámara."
- Mauro Rios, notre guide.

Entre nous.

(9 et 11 février 2009)

Valizas.
Un village simple, tranquille.
Tout près, plages et dunes de sable.
On était inspiré. On était fou de joie.

El Rancho "Antrenu".

C'est sous ce toit qu'on a chaleureusement été accueilli
lors de notre passage à Valizas.

On y a passé des heures et des heures,
échangeant une partie de nos vies...

We hopped on a bus to Valizas, not knowing what to expect.
But yet again, we had a good gut feeling.

Once in Valizas, we wandered the desolate streets
with nothing but a vague address, "rancho #475".

Finally, we came upon a white ranch.
The door was open.

We caught a glimpse of Gustavo
in the shade of the cottage, with his family.

A little hesitant about our spontaneous visit,
we slowly walked up to the door.

Gustavo turned around before we even had a chance to knock.

He was surprised but elated to see we had kept our word.

It had already been a week since our meeting in Salta.

We had said we would try to make our way out to his ranch.

And we did.

Affectionately, he invited us in.

At once, he introduced us to his wife and kids
who looked intrigued as to why two strangers
had so casually walked into their cottage.

And so it is that we met Gustavo's wife Eliana,
two of their three children, Agustina and Emilio,
and the rest of the family.
A dog, a cat, and two parakeets.

Pepé was especially fond of Dominic.

Our friendship began with a puzzle,
as we were welcomed with curious and interesting questions
about our travels and our lives back home.

During another visit, they shared with us
a delicious homecooked meal, cajá for dessert,
and our first maté experience.

Cultural exchanges gave way
to a game of Spanish Trivial Pursuit,
and a serene walk on the beach at 2:00 am,
moved by the moonlight.

Hours and hours passed,
talks of nothing and everything,
the night passing between.

Tongues in Spanish, English, and French,
yet relating beyond words.

With the sun about to rise,
we parted ways with heavy eyelids,
and heavier hearts.

Our travels, forever changed.

La famille Cousin,
des gens remplis de bonté.

Deux.

(10 février 2009)

Punta del Diablo,
ancient village de pêcheurs

où les bateaux
se font légers,

et les rêves
se font bercer.

Centaines de coquillages
sur la rive,

une croix sur le calendrier.

Un de ces jours
dont je ne pourrai oublier.

Pieds nus,

mer entre les orteils,
vagues à l'oreille.

Derrière nous, que nos traces
qui s'effacent.



Playa Grande

éternelle,
naturelle.

Au-delà de la pointe,
nadie, nadie, nadie ..

Ensemble, tous les deux.
Sur une plage déserte,
à perte de vue.

Notre petit coin de paradis.

Mots et sablier,
contre bague et pensées.

Tel est notre bonheur.

Une douce mélodie
nous chantant l'océan,

on s'est endormi,

le coeur plein
comme la lune.

Comme si on y avait passé
deux ans.

Uruguay, pulling on our heartstrings.

(February 4-8, 2009)

Our point of entry into Uruguay was the city of Salto, which was but a transition stop on our way to our first destination, Tacuarembó. We were exhausted following a long day of travel and only a few hours of restless sleep on the banana-shaped mattress of a sketchy hotel room in the border town of Concordia, Argentina, but we were quickly rejuvenated by a chance encounter with an admirable man at the Salto bus station. He approached us as we were waiting in line to buy bus tickets, and we were surprised to be spoken to in French. He explained that he had lived eight years in Belgium, and his eldest son had spent a year in Saskatchewan as part of a student exchange. That is how it all began.

Gustavo Cousin, a generous man indeed.

In his voice, we could tell he was enthusiastic to be conversing with French Canadians, and he was all excited at the thought of sharing his dear hometown of Salto. Had we had more time, we gladly would have went to visit the grapevines on his home farm, but we now had our next bus to catch at noon. Nonetheless, he still offered to personally take us in his pickup truck to visit the termas (hot springs) on the outskirts of town. ''Même si vous n'avez pas le temps de vous y baignez, au moins vous pourrez les voir. Attendez-moi ici et je passe vous chercher avec ma camionnette!''

The termas was a vast villa of warm swimming pools, tropical trees and picnic tables. A beautiful, peaceful place. Uruguay has many hot springs, which take their warm water from natural sources, 800 meters underground. We walked around the grounds and then Gustavo treated us to some good local mandarin juice, and even better conversations.

We exchanged travel experiences and at one point, we told him we were planning on spending time in Punta del Diablo, a tiny village on the east coast. Coincidentally, he told us he was soon leaving on a family vacation to his rancho in Valizas, only an hour away from Punta del Diablo. He gave us the number of his cottage, and told us we were welcomed to drop by and meet his family if we happened to make our way to the village.

When he drove us back to the bus terminal, we wanted to give him 10$ US in return (for having driven us to the hot springs, paid for our entrance and the orange juice), but he graciously refused. ''Non non, c'était mon plaisir. Mais peut-être si vous avez une pièce de monnaie canadienne, par contre, j'aimerais bien en avoir une comme souvenir''.

Señor Gustavo Cousin wanted nothing in return but a little Canadian coin keepsake. Although we both hadn't kept much Canadian money when we left, we managed to find a few scattered coins. We left him with a looney, and two quarters - an original one, and another one with a Vancouver 2010 Olympic logo. He was glowing. He gave us hugs and departed as we walked into the bus station with a perma-smile. These are the experiences we live for.

The bus ride to Tacuarembó was a highlight in itself. Among the passengers on our bus, there were a few gauchos, original Uruguayan cowboys wearing berets and baggy pants tucked into their leather boots. They really stood out in the crowd, as though they had stepped out of a western movie. The entire ride to Tacuarembó was made up of a beautiful nothingness. Aside from the occasional herd of sheep and cattle, there was nothing but fields, crops and sunflower patches. And, of course, authentic gauchos on their caballos.

Arrived in Tacuarembó, we went out on a hunt for a place to stay after the only three hotels in the city had not a single room available. Apparently, it was one of the busiest summer holiday weeks and the city was invaded by vacationing Argentines. Luckily, we kept walking a few blocks and came upon a little pensión, where we gladly took the last room available in the tiny guesthouse. We didn't stay long in Tacuarembó; the only real reason why we took the detour to the city was to see the land of the gauchos and to discover a bit of the lesser-known northern regions of Uruguay. The detour was worthwhile if only for the tranquil, untainted landscapes that made us daydream along the way.

We then took to the road again on an overnight bus in direction of Montevideo, where we arrived in the early morning hours. The modern and spotless bus station was the first of many delightful surprises to come. We had a good gut feeling about Uruguay, and we were excited to discover its capital city.

After walking around the captivating streets of Ciudad Vieja (the Old City) and enjoying a little jog along the port, we treated ourselves to a contemporary dance performance at the magnificent Teatro Solis. We were so charmed by the theatre that we returned the following day for a guided tour of its grand refined halls.

Another leisurely walk in the city revealed more artisan kiosks, more culture, and more little treasures. We were charmed by the discovery of the marvelous atmosphere that is the Mercado del Puerto. Art, music and culture all around. Exquisite craftsmanship, beautiful paintings, bongo players and musicians winding through restaurant terraces stringing folk songs on their guitars. So much heart, so many talented hands for a city of just over 1 million people. We couldn't believe how much cultural flavour could flow through a small country with a population of no more than 3 million. A third of Uruguayans live in the capital city, and we quickly became fans of Montevideanos with their friendly demeanor, their maté cups, and their spontaneous tango dancing in the streets.

We couldn't get enough of Montevideo, so much so that we delayed our departure in order to enjoy more time in the city. For exploration purposes, we rented bikes for a refreshing tour along the harbour. We stopped at an old lighthouse, wandered through a pleasant shady park, and got a kick out of observing people playing some kind of beach tennis with what looked like long wooden ping-pong rackets. On the seat of our bikes, we discovered a different side of the city, and even more reasons to be infatuated by it.

The art of ruins.

(February 2, 2009)

One of our highlights in Paraguay was exploring the sites of Jesuit ruins in the villages of Trinidad and Jesús. We first visited the ruins in Jesús, where we arrived after a haphazard car ride venture. After waiting at a bus stop for a bus that never came, we were offered a ride by a guy who seemingly took himself for a taxi driver. We met a couple from Ireland who were also trying to get to the ruins, and so we agreed to hop in together and share the ride there. There was a decent-looking white car parked nearby (which we assumed was the taxi), but then the guy had us follow him a little farther to where his actual vehicle was parked. Under a tree, almost hidden in the woods, we came upon what looked like an old, abandoned car. Well, calling it a "car" is putting it mildly. At first glance, we didn't even think it had a motor so much so it was rotting and missing pieces. It looked like nothing more than a huge piece of scrapyard junk on four wheels. And we were indeed right about the missing pieces, since the car was lacking, among other things, a starter. We then realized why it was parked uphill off the road - to start the engine, the guy had to release the brake in order to accelerate down the hill.

We exchanged skeptical looks with the Irish couple, who were also chuckling discreetly. The Irish guy was sitting up front in the passenger seat, where the door almost fell off after he had tried closing it. The interior of the doors was pure metal with wires sticking out everywhere. There was barely no lining inside the car and no rearview mirrors, lest the one dangling on the driver's side, which our chauffeur casually held in place with his hand. It was all very reminiscent of our previous scrapyard-bus ride to Ybycuí.

Oh but it was all for the sake of adventure, we told ourselves. At least that was until, not much farther ahead, we saw a rickety bus stranded on the side of the road. We soon figured that was most likely the bus we had been waiting for, and that one of the wheels it was missing was probably the reason why it had never showed up. And so, ironically, we were reassured to know that our decision to get a ride down the deserted cobblestone streets in the dilapidated car had actually been a wise choice. And, as it turned out, the safest of two options. Almost impossible, but true.

In the end, the sketchy and bumpy ride was well worthwhile for what awaited us on the outskirts of the village. A field of grand, historic ruins. The Jesuit ruins in Paraguay are some of the best preserved works and dreams of early Jesuit missioners during the colonization of South America in the 17th century. The missions were created in 1609 and developed for over 150 years, much to the benefit of the indigenous Guaraní people, whom the Jesuits befriended and protected in the vast area of lands granted to them by the King of Spain. However, with the expulsion of the Jesuits in 1767, all of their hard labor and good intentions were reduced to ruins, now merely proof of their existence.

But the proof is so much more than crumbling concrete and stone structures. Their was an ancient smell in the air, walking among the ruins, admiring the labouring efforts of Jesuit missionaries who built walls for their homes and temples on the very same grounds, centuries ago. Their dedication, still evident in the details of their work, is absolutely impressive. As it has been too often the case in history, what a shame the Jesuits were expulsed from their native settlements. Observing their unfinished works, we could not help but realize how much greater the potential of their impact could have been.

There was no one else was around. It was just the two of us as we walked around for hours admiring the ruins, with a lingering presence of history in the air.

Looking into the unfamiliar world of Paraguay.

(January 29 - February 1, 2009)

Farewell Portuguese, hello familiar Spanish.

Having crossed over from Brazil (one of the continent's richest countries) into Paraguay (the second-poorest country), we could notice a difference as soon as we arrived at the Asunción bus terminal. The contrast was even more emphasized once we ventured out into the city and guided ourselves to a walking tour of the capital's historical sector. Even more interesting than the few museums and buildings we visited was something between and beyond the landmarks - that it to say, the stark contrast of social disparities. We had been told this about Asunción, but to actually see it was quite a shock. The Palacio Gobernio and Palacio Legislativo (government buildings) are prestigious and extravagant structures, one resembling a smaller version of the White House and the other a modern museum.

And then, merely meters away to their sides are the tin roofs and crudely-built houses cramming the streets of a shantytown. It was inconceivable and gut-wrenching to see. We had witnessed social-class disparities in other countries before, but such contrasts are usually more evident in city suburbs or rural sectors. Here, however, they exist side by side, seemingly as neighbours.

Otherwise, another thing that overcame us in Paraguay was the unbelievable, scorching heat. The temperatures easily reached 40°C in mid-afternoon and fell to merely 25°C late in the evening. We had some hot humid days in Rio, but this was a kind of dry blistering heat we had never experienced before. It is no wonder why all Paraguayans carry cardboard heat shields in their cars.

Aside from the heat and poverty, another thing we encountered in Paraguay were the cucarachas. Our first night in Asunción had us scrambling around our hostel room, trying to find ways to get rid of our unwelcomed roommates. At one point, there were four of them scurrying in the corners as we sang the Spanish folk song "La cucaracha, la cucaracha.." in hope of getting their attention. They didn't fall for it. And so Dominic went into full-out sandal attack mode. Dominic Turgeon, kind gentleman by day, cockroach hunter by night. Here's a picture of one of his victims.

And something not as disgusting as the cucarachas but that made us feel just as uneasy was the bus ride we took from Asunción to the village of Ybycuí. We had never seen a bus so old and so sketchy in our lives. It looked like something that had been put together in a scrapyard. But at least we had a good view of the road, since there were holes in the metal floor right by our feet. It was a bumpy, uncomfortable, and stuffy three-hour ride, but on the bright side, our run-down scrapyard bus somehow held together and made it to the village in one piece. Getting off the bus in Ybycuí, we were greeted by horses, goats, and chickens. The simplicities of a small, authentic village. The true insides of Paraguay. With its well-kept main street and its tiny shops selling everything from rakes to potatoes, it charmed us right away. It was our first taste of South America outside its big city lines and tourist attractions, and it tasted raw and refreshing.

It is in Ybycuí that we fully understood why the days in Paraguay revolve around the afternoon siestas. All work and activity in the village came to a halt for most of the afternoon so that people could escape the heat and relax in the shade of their homes and balconies. It seems to be a national passtime to sit outside and do nothing but sip terreré. We soon found out that the inconvenience of the siestas, for foreigners like us, is that it is impossible to find a place to eat supper at a usual Canadian time. No restaurants open until 8-9 pm. Our first night there, we were wandering the streets in search of a place to eat, and we stopped at a small, empty restaurant. There was no one but us there but the owner kindly said she would make us some burgers and fries. That is where we ate the world's best papas fritas (french fries). They were so good, we returned for some more the next day. By the time we finished eating, it was nearing 10 pm, and people in the village were just stepping out to eat. Not just adults and teenagers, but everyone, young and old alike. The restaurant was full of parents taking their young kids out for ice cream at 10 pm. Motorcycles and scooters were roaring about everywhere in the village... the night was just beginning for the Paraguayans, while us two lone Canadians were heading to bed.

The reason that brought us to Ybycuí was its national park nearby, where we spent another sweltering-hot afternoon in some of the walking trails. Our first little hike of the trip. We walked up to small waterfalls and then through isolated woods, which unexpectedly led us to the historic site of La Rosada, an old iron casting foundry that was overtaken and destroyed during the War of the Triple Alliance from 1864-1870. Getting to the Ybycuí National Park was an adventure in itself (crammed in a tiny bus with a dozen people too many), but getting back from the park was another adventure altogether. Since there was no bus returning to the village from the park, we were told that the only way back was by means of hitchhiking, a safe and common thing in the area. So we sat nonchalantly waiting for what looked liked a decent ride, when a nice SUV stopped by the side of the road to let us in. In the middle of nowhere in Paraguay, where there are practically no tourists, we ended up hitching a ride back to the village with two Americans (stationed for work in Asunción). Both working for international organizations, they had lived and traveled everywhere. In the village, they stopped and treated us to beer and good cultural conversations before continuing on their way.

After Ybycuí, we left on a brutally-hot five-hour bus ride to Encarnación, a one-day stop on way to our next destination of Trinidad. So we didn't see much in Encarnación, but we did see water. And plenty of water. Upon arriving, we were walking to our hostel when a man we crossed on the street smiled at us and, out of nowhere, poured a big jug of water on Amy-Lou's head. He then raised his arms and yelled proudly, "Encarnación!". We laughed and didn't make much of it, since the man looked like the delirious and intoxicated type, and besides, the water was actually refreshing in the scorching heat. Dominic was almost jealous he didn't get a jug poured on his head too.

Unknown to us, that water jug was a sign of more watery adventures to come. After checking into our hostel, we thought we'd walk downtown in search of an internet café, but we had no idea we were about to become perfect targets for the happening Carnaval festivities. Arrived at the city's main square, we walked right into the middle of a zealous water-balloon war.

Arriving in Encarnación, we had noticed a few kids having fun with water balloons, even a few who tried throwing some at us (but missed) from their balconies. And so we thought throwing water balloons was probably just something people did to pass time on Sunday afternoons in Encarnación. But as we got closer to the main square, the sidewalks were literally covered with coloured pieces of busted water balloons, and we then figured it was celebration time in the city and the water balloons must surely be a Carnaval tradition. And then, little did we know, we turned a street corner where the water-balloon headquarters were stationed. A crowd of frenzied water-balloon soldiers started running after us, not letting up for a good three blocks before they stopped bombarding us with water missiles. It was an intense kind of water-balloon war we had never seen. The kind of adventure that wasn't exactly pleasant in the moment, but one that we definitely look back on now, and laugh.

With memories in our pockets.

(28 janvier, 2009)

On n'aurait pu imaginer une meilleure façon de quitter le Brésil
que par un aurevoir chaleureux,
et un dernier coucher de soleil à couper le souffle.

We could not have imagined a better way to part from Brazil
than to be sent off by a warm farewell,
and one last breathtaking sunset.

''Et avec toute cette grandeur,
j'vas toujours être un rêveur.''
- Paul Miranda

Um pequeno paraíso.

(January 28, 2009)

In the wonderful company of Kelcy (from Brazil) and Ran (from Israel), we took advantage of our last day in Foz do Iguaçú to visit the lively Parque dos Aves (Bird Park). We were there for over three hours, in awe at the wide variety of tropical birds, butterflies, and reptiles. We could even walk freely among some of them inside large cages... truly a mesmerizing experience. A highlight was this one area specific to butterflies and hummingbirds, where we could wander around quietly as gorgeous butterflies and hummingbirds flew literally right in front of our eyes, by our ears, and over our heads. We all wanted to capture a photo of the impressive metallic blue morpho butterflies, but they seemed a little camera shy and never stood still. But all in all, it was nothing short of magical.

We saw birds of unimaginably vivid colours (and even one bird species with stylish mullets), we nearly got attacked by a few toucans, we got our feet pecked at by curious large birds with puffy hairdos and a fetish for shoelaces, we held a parrot on our arm and a boa constrictor around our neck, and we finished the day off to the acoustic sounds of a salsa band, enjoying a good meal with two genuine individuals.

To quote one of them : ''I don't know if heaven exists, but if it does, I imagine it to be something like this. Birds, butterflies, harps, good friends, and complete serenity.''