Wales and Whales

This past week was an Exam Week for my students here at the UNLP, which means I didn't have to give discussion classes. I subbed for two teacher friends at their institutes on Monday and Tuesday, and met with a lawyer I've been meeting with for English-language discussions, then on Wednesday I was off...

But where to go? I had initially planned on revisiting rainy Valdivia, Chile, so I could eat sopaipillas, drink Kunstmann beer, and eat burgers with guacamole on top. And compulsively say "po" at the end of every sentence. And revisit my Tía from when I lived in the pensión there as an exchange student 3 years back. But alas, as I evaluated the amount of time it would take to get there (35 hours each way by bus, and a plane would cost $800-plus USD) and the amount of time I had (5 days left until I had to be in class again), I realized it would not add up. What was I to do? I putzed around for a few hours in BA, and came upon an Argentine travel book with whales and penguins on the cover. The Welsh Peninsula, it read. I took it as a sign. So began my quest.

PUERTO MADRYN

I had wanted to explore further south for a while now. The time had come. It was a modest 14-hour bus ride to arrive there. I got on the bus with only one days' worth of extra clothes and a camera, all stuffed into my hippie backpack.

Yes, Puerto Madryn, settled by Welsh people (they're still there and they still speak Welsh and drink Welsh tea with Welsh scones), traversed by English corsair Sir Francis Drake and the author of Le Petit Prince, that Saint Exupery guy.

When I first arrived, and walked to the end of the pier, the city-slicker bonaerense voice inside of me shouted out "¡Ay no! ¿Qué hiciste boludo? ¡No hay nada acá, volvé ahora!" Just at that moment, said voice was immediately silenced by the prehistoric rumble of a whale's nostril shooting water vapor 10 meters into the air. Two others soon followed, a mama whale and a baby. I checked into a hostel and extended my return ticket by a few hours so I could to a full-day expedition the next day.

I had come alone, but traveling alone you're never really alone. Wait, can I fit alone into that sentence one more time? I met Fede, an Argentinean theater teacher who teaches at an International Bacchalaureate school in BA, who had also come alone for his school vacation. We met a nice Swiss girl and went out in search of the elusive Puerto Madryn night-life. The first few bars looked depressing: one old guy asleep on the bar, a bartender watching a second-tier soccer team on the TV... blah. We walked a few blocks, asking every passerby if they were from here and, if so where to go.
-No, we're from Spain.
-No, we're from Buenos Aires.
-No, I don't speak Spanish.
We eventually came upon a guy sitting on the sidewalk drinking a bottle. The dude was from there, and he happened to direct us to the only bar with more than two people in it on a Thursday night. It was named for a flower. We entered and had only one drink each (they were expensive) and soon after saw a group of recent high school graduates and their teachers stream onto the dance floor, chanting "BARILOOOOOCHE" and requesting cumbia song. The night was a success! We danced for a while and then I fell into a deep coma that lasted until 7am the next morning.

We set out in a van and headed to the top hooking peninsula of the semi-circular bay. This is where my narrative ends and the pictures begin. I saw whales (up close and personal in a little boat), orcas (we even saw them kill a seal), sea elephants, seals, penguins, armadillos, guanacos, and other critters.

Mission Completed.

I arrived again in Buenos Aires on Saturday afternoon and then went to see La Isla Desierta with Agus, as per Fede's recommendation. It was an amazing play put on entirely by blind actors in complete darkness. They used the other four senses impeccably: sound, touch, smell... ok, not taste, but who cares? It was the best play I have ever... not seen! We then ate Armenian food and headed home.

Success! The whole trip was sunny and warm and perfect.