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December 24th, 2009

 

We have not left yet. Aaron's bag is still in Buenos Aires and looks to be there for a few more days. The good news is we will have less to carry as we are leaving without and hoping it gets sent to a town down the road. The bad news is obvious...there are things in this bag that make a characteristically human life go better. Especially when you are hitching and camping along the side of the road.

I have had sometime to mull over the hitching experience ahead...reasons why it will not be successful:

1. There is very little traffic ...especially at Christmas.

2. The weather in these parts can suck and is almost always windy (the forecast is rain).

3. The source of rides is truck drivers looking for someone to speak spanish with...my Argentinian trucker spanish probably is inadequate and Aaron...

4. Truckers are reluctant to pick-up hitchhikers for liability reasons.

5. There are two border crossings...rides don't like to take hitchers across border crossings.

6. The bus system is very good, comfortable and not that expensive.

 

So why don't we take the bus, stop somewhere famous to hike in the mountains, get back on the bus and arrive in El Bolson for new year's eve? Because that is not what this trip is about. It is an exploration of types of travel that attempt to get closer to the "ground" and the people. Hitchhiking maybe a dying art but still needs to be explored as it fits the bill. The 2 safest places to hitch on this journey are Patagonia and Canada. So from here 2000Km to El Bolson it is...we do have a time constraint though so at some point if we are not making any progress the concept has been explored and I think we can move on. Of course we must suffer greatly first otherwise you wouldn't have anything to read...vamos a ver.

Looking forward to the challenge, Kelvin

 

December 31st, 2009 - The Hitching Experience

 

We had an adventure. Unfortunately the adventure was less about hitching and more about trying to hitch. The 2 real rides we got on day one were great. We didn't make long lasting friends but that was not the expectation. I enjoyed the little connections and moments one can have with strangers when so far from home.

The first ride was a little unexpected. Three teenagers pull over in a tiny car and offer us a ride. It was going to be a tight squeeze even without our packs but, yep, shut the door, we fit. They offer for us to partake in some of their supplies. We flip through tunes on the stereo, discuss random topics including why Argentina on all its maps still thinks it owns the Falkland Islands, and stop at the scenic viewpoint. They are not that much different than us at their age but it is soon time say our good byes at their destination, one town up.

After the cargovan stops and tells us to hop in, Aaron throws open the side door with some velocity as Aaron* would. To our surprise there is a family with a dog already in back. I did not really understand why, but this made me giddy with excitement. I soon found myself sitting in a bean bag chair in the back of a cargovan with 4 kids, a dog, and Aaron shooting the shit about nothing...the 12 year old is on facebook, listens to Jason Miraz and has a cell phone. After a few bumps, a pee break for the dog and the sharing of treats, mate and coke they drop us off in Rio Grande. We are left feeling happy with the lovely day before Christmas we have had. We camp in the dunes between the road and the Atlantic.

If on Christmas Day our goal was to hike 15km we would have succeeded. It wasn't so by the time we got dropped off 8km behind our starting point I was feeling pretty down. The bus store I was sitting in front of was closed and there was a woman across the road with a taxi in her driveway, staring at me. She probably just wants to sell us a ride to somewhere. Eventually I walk over to see what is up. She tells me that she thinks that this bus station may not open today and she wants to offer as a cafecito (a little coffee), since everything in town is closed. Hmmm...why not? So we head into her house packs in tow. The little coffee soon turns into sandwiches, followed by big hunks of meat left over from a Christmas dinner. Estela and Ricardo restore faith in humanity and I am back to a positive frame of mind. We leave with a couple of prayer cards and an additional offer of dinner if we cannot find a place to eat later.

We head off to another bus store. 2 minutes into our walk we come across a smiling man working on his truck. He enthusiastically engages us in conversation. Before we know it, we are in his little shop being given photo postcards that he has made himself. He carefully stamps two envelopes with his name and info and puts two photos in each for us. We stamp, as we often do, a piece of paper for him with our stamp, Antarctica to the Arctic www.ratheroddjourney.ca. I am not sure if he uses the internet but he takes it happily anyway.

We finally arrive at a bus store that is open and has tickets for the next morning. We also are pleased to discover here Martin with his westfalia waiting for some friends. Martin was our provider of water on the parched highway earlier in the day. We had left him with a "see you on the road again someday". We just didn't expect it to be so soon. There also were a few other great people we met on the first few days of this event. Travelling is special when no one is buying, no one is selling.

Days 3 onward would have to be described as disappointing but we did our best to keep it an adventure. The myriad of hand gestures became a source of discussion as to "what the hell did that mean"? There was the frantically pointing down left, right, circular and other variations of presumably directions where they were going, the pointing to the wife and kids in the passenger seats, the shoulder shrug, the emphatic something that can only be interpreted as "no, get a bus", the thumbs up, the honk, the flashing of the lights and the number one sign which we interpreted as only one of us. We also entertained ourselves with taking pictures that tried to capture the absurdity of our situation - see hitching videos.

So, does hitchhiking make sense as a means of getting somewhere for two guys? Except in a few places where it is part of the local culture and the distance to the next place is short, no. It is a little sad but understandable. Luckily there now is rideshare in most western countries that achieves relatively the same goals without sacrificing safety and certainty. Rideshare will likely be explored when the journey hits the States.

*Note - For those that don't know, cousin Aaron Eisses is the guy that can move that pile of dirt like no one else. Just don't ask him to be specific as to where he puts it.

December 31st, 2009 - A stop in the night

 

Last night we took a night bus to El Bolson. At about 2:30am the bus pulled up to a police checkpoint. As per usual the police were asking for ID. In our tired state we did not make much effort to get it out as they normally don't bother with us but this time was going to be different. "Pasportes" Si. "Bolsas" I pass over our luggage claim tags. "Venga" We get up and follow the officer off the bus. We make our way down from the top deck of the bus to see 4 officers and a dog standing around Aaron's bag. I feel an internal sigh go through my body. Aaron opens the bag as instructed. They point the dogs nose into the bag. "Fuma?" No, pero el si. They pull out the water purifier. "Que es esta?" Agua purification. I open every little part of it as instructed. More and more of Aaron's clothes get pulled out of his bag. The nose of the dog does not appear to be terribly interested. "Fuma marijuana?" Noooo, no, no. Woops, I guess that is what he probably meant before when he asked "Fuma?". One of the guys puts his hand into the bottom of the bag as if he has found a secret compartment. "Que es esta?" "Support for the bag", Aaron replies. Es para hacer la bolsa mas fuerte, I add. "Support?" Si Apparently, Aaron's english is better than my spanish. After doing some final checks, they finally give up and apologize for the inconvenience.

As we walk to our seats at the back of the bus, everyone is staring at us with dead serious expressions on their faces. I cannot help but smile imagining all the chatter on the bus about the gringos that must have just transpired. When we get to our seats we joke that the dog just probably liked the funk of Aaron's clothes that he wore for 7 days straight. Maybe they routinely search backpacks tagged for the hippy capital of Argentina, who knows. We were back on the bus no worse for wear.