Travel - Santiago / Vinha del Mar

Pisco Sours

June 23 2007

I am so glad every country has a national drink. Brazil has Caipirinhas, Argentina has mate (OK, non-alcoholic), and Chile has the pisco sour. It keeps ordering in bars so simple; everyone is having one – or a beer. Like checking out all the top Mai Tais in Honolulu, we kept hopping from one place to another, rating them as we went.

We were staying in the Providencia district of Santiago, which was the closest one of the cities one could call charming.

While a river flows right through Santiago, it is apparently so polluted nothing can survive in it, but they are working on it as part of a three/four year plan.

The weather (again, it is now officially winter) was diabolical. Had one lovely morning, after a heavy rain, so the pollution cloud was almost gone, giving a majestic view of the mountains. The one day I was looking forward to fishing, was a cold, windy day, all day. Had hoped to take the cable cars/trams in Valparaiso, but it was just too cold and damp. Vinha del Mar had beach, surf, sea lions, but not enough clear weather to try for sea bass. Closest I came to one was with a fork. Lunch was superb, as the rain pelted down on the windows. It is June and I am trying to warm up by a fire in this castle-like restaurant. On the way back to Santiago, it started to snow – an event our guide could not remember ever happening. So much for global warming in South America. He said it was probably El Nina.

Travel - Buenos Aires

Paris of the Americas

June 15, 2007

Los Portenos: A city settled by Italians, speaks Spanish, wishes it were French, trades in English. As I learned from my Belize trip, always have a backup plan. This time it was to learn to tango. Booked the tour trip to the Tigre Delta with the idea of having a chance to fish, only to be told that the water had such a high mineral content – not polluted, just not … livable. The delta itself is a mass of islands, with 1-3 houses on each, approximately 3500, so it could pass as Venice of South America.

Just to keep it simple, stayed at the Mansion Dandi Royal in San Telmo district, because it had a tango studio downstairs. While Argentina is said to be cheap, with three pesos to the dollar, it adds up. Tango shoes were $100; street shoes won’t work. Passed on the hat, vest, pants … If a waiter volunteers wine, be aware that a bottle of Rutini will hit you for $50. Cabs and subway are best ways to get around. While there are lakes/ponds in the city, one is not, apparently, allowed to fish. Of course, every time I came across water, I had left my tackle at the hotel (well, it gets heavy.)

After one of our tango classes, we were invited to one of the dozens of melongas that may be open any given night – at 11pm. It is a dance hall at which the men sit to one side and the women on another (unless, of course, you are in a group as we were). A man invites a woman to dance and if she accepts, the implicit promise is that he will love her passionately – for three minutes. When the music stops they might just separate as if nothing happened. The tango is extremely macho: the man leads, and if his partner trips or cannot follow, it is his fault; so not a good idea to try a melonga unless you are very, very good. And if you think the double haul in a stiff wind is difficult, try doing it with your feet. The man has basically two controls. To go forward, he virtually falls on his partner, who is pushing or holding him up as she falls backwards. He has a hand behind her back with which he pulls her toward him or pushes her to the left, so she does a quarter turn. The left hand is held below the shoulder and does not serve any leading purpose (as it might, say, in the foxtrot.)

While you can buy DVDs there (at the hotel), you might want to get some practice in beforehand. Met two women from New York, who had been taking lessons for five years and this was their pilgrimage. Oh, they also spoke fluent Spanish, so it was much later in the week that we discovered they were, in fact, American.

So drink the beer, the awesome coffee, eat the empanadas, and pronounce BBQ as “paRISH-a” – even if it is spelled parilla. Despite what you may have heard, stick to filet when ordering beef at restaurants. All the other beef we had was tasty, but tough, gristly, and fatty.

Travel - Rio de Janeiro / Niteroi

And I probably won't fly down to Rio,
But then again, I just might.
-- Michael Nesmith

June 13 2007

When we discussed going to South America, I was hesitant about Rio. Everything I had read from Travel magazines, books, articles, websites/tripadvisor, said Rio was a very dangerous city. I could cover myself for theft as best I could, but anything more serious was a real problem. Even tourists being mugged on the climb up Corcovado. I really did not want to travel alone, with no one to watch my back.

The weather was clear, in the low 80’s, too chilly for the cariocas to be on the beach, but in June, it was really only a week away from the winter solstice. So no lovely Ipanema girls in dental floss, but also muggers were out of season. Stayed on the edge of Ipanema and Leblon (right on the canal separating the two), away from the more touristy Copacabana. Discovered this is a residential neighborhood, that goes back at least seven blocks from the beach, with no sign of favelas, the Rio slums – which turn out to be high on hillsides in the near jungle, because that is the topography from which the immigrants came. Tijuca is the largest city “park” in the world. Sort of Disney does the Amazon rainforest.

I did not look forward to fishing on my own, but thought of Anderson Cooper, and said, hey, I’m a reporter, this goes with the territory. I took a cab to the far/eastern end of Copacabana, and with my knapsack of tackle and rod, hiked up to the park where there is a rocky outlook. Seemed most people there were couples watching the sunset. There were perhaps three other groups fishing on some devilishly smooth and slippery rocks. I watched for awhile to see how they fished and with what. One guy was running a clinic in how to catch sardines, or baitfish for night out in a boat. The surf was heavy and I snagged virtually every weighted lure I had. I finally gave up when it became so dark I could not thread the line through a lure. Dark and shadowy, I made my way back, almost lost in the maze of trails and boulders. Just walked very fast and straight ahead, back to a cab stand.

The next day we were off to the old capital of Niteroi, which is almost Hampton-y. Gated here, gated there … Found one beach, again with a high, slippery outcrop of rock and a good ten meters above the crashing waves. Unfortunately, was not prepared, as I rarely carry more than 50 yards of line; so no casts beyond the surf. Showed our guide all the stuff I carry; he was very impressed with braid, some of the lures and variety of hooks. But not a nibble. Wrong time of day, bad surf, wrong moon phase … supposedly can catch small fish here …

Somewhere I had read that in seeing Sugarloaf and Corcovado, one should do one in the morning and the other at sunset. We had visited Sugarloaf the day before and now rushed back to Corcovado to catch the cable up to the top before sunset. Made a believer of our guide, who had never done this before. As the sun sinks over Sugarloaf (and some ugly radio towers), the lights from Copacabana (on one side) and the Bay (and its 17km bridge) come up. Curiously the almost Christmas-y lighting effect came from the favelas in the hills …

Must do:

Caipirinhas at the Copacabana Palace Hotel, outside by the pool, with a plate of canapés

Marius Seafood Restaurant