Toward the end of November 1971, it became painfully clear that I was not going to be able to find a job in Argentina—especially one that paid enough for me to live and repay the charges for my airline ticket in dollars rather than pesos. So Lili and Mama Bassi insisted that I needed to visit Bariloche (a tourist city in the southern part of the country). They showed me how to sign up for a tour group to spend a week there. I was not at all convinced but they insisted. So I signed up, took the train to Buenos Aires, spent the night with Christina and left early the next day for a tourist junket to the top of the Patagonia.
Sunday November 28
Up early to go to old, small airport. I am first to get a ticket, then people in my group have coffee with medialunas (Argentinian croissant) at a wooden bar with a footrest like in old cowboy movies. There is brownish picture of gauchos. To get to the airplane, we first get on a bus, then get in a very small plane. I AM SCARED OF FLYING!! The stewards, wearing brown and yellow turbans brown and green and yellow costumes serve us little sandwiches and orange juice. Everybody in my group sure looks old or married.
Fantastic view of B.A. as we leave. We fly over the Andes. God how they fascinate me. As we get off the plane, there is a tour group leaving –they are very happy and are singing. In contrast, my group stands around, very stiff. We all get on a bus— 2 girls behind me are speaking French. At the hotel, I meet one of the girls—named Denise, around 30 years old, blonde, from Belgium, wearing a red suit and continental class like Madam Pompidou. We agree to go walking after unpacking. Back at the hotel, I bathe and come down for cocktails where I meet aNorth American couple, Helen and Juan (or his American name, Jack) and eat dinner with them.
On our walk, Denise and I meet two guys, Louis and Santiago. We drive up Cerro Otto with them. Louis has a Torino and drives a bit too fast. Picks red flowers for us. Coming back, we stop by the ski area. (Its cold on mountain) Louis is a little weird. Then we go dancing and driving by the lake…its nice driving by the lake with stars above— lake has a special silver skin. Magical. Me Encanta.
To bed.
Monday November 29
10:00 I go down to have breakfast of cafe con leche and dry cold toast. Denise and I are the only ones there. Everyone else has already eaten. Then we go out strolling. I forget I am in South America. Bariloche is really European. Houses have roofs and lot of wood. The lake is blue blue with big mountains in background. City looks German. Rock buildings or stained wood with a few small, winding streets. Many touristy things.
Denise, after much haggling, buys a beige wool pants suit and grey cashmere seater with pink flowers $15.00 total! Back to hotel and change. Then we go to confeteria Suisa next door and eat perfectly horrible ham and cheese sandwich. The girl speaks German with Denise. It is almost time for our excursion to Cerro Catedral at 2:00 when we get back to the hotel. Helen and I sit together on the bus as we go up the mountain. God the mountains are like magnets. I can’t take my eyes off them. Beautiful yellow flowers up a winding road. We stop and get in line for aerocilla (chairlift). You don’t sit in the aerosilla: they come roaring up behind and hit you and you just fly along. Unbelievable peace and tranquillity riding up mountain to top.
Then into a red confiteria. Beautiful wood, modern, open fireplace. Windows all around with view of mountains and gorgeous lake. Expensive coke. Back down mountain.
We take the bus back to the hotel. I’m tired and dirty. Bathe and go down for dinner with Denise, Helen and Jack. I call Louis and tell him we are too tired to go out. Will call him tomorrow. During dinner he comes to hotel to pick up friends. Asks me to eat with them. No I’ve already eaten. OK. Then he returns… OK I will go but only for 1 hour. After dinner, Denise and I decide we won’t go but they return with a bunch of people… Can’t make a scene. Off we go to CuCoo. Coffee. German decor. Everyone loud and funny. I run into friend from Christina’s office in Bs As. She is on her honeymoon. Back to the hotel.
To bed.
Tues Nov. 30
Up early—usual bad breakfast. Excursion leaves at 8:30. Denise and I sit together near front of the bus where we drive by presidential home. Can’t see it as it is surrounded with a lot of trees. Bariloche is a retreat area for the Argentine elites. The lake and the mountains are so magnificent. Stop at another aerosilla. Ride up is nice and peaceful again. Denise says Switzerland is better – her parents have a chalet there. I think I would like here the best because there are too many people in Switzerland . Get to top. We are on top of mountain with lakes and islands all around and the mountains close behind. It is impossible to describe the grandeur. The lakes, the colors it is all just magnificent But the wind is blowing like Dixie and it is colder than a witches tit.
They are building a confiteria up there and the men are working in sweaters. Cold. Back down. No wind, so peaceful. Denise and I go to CuCoo for lunch. Have hamburgers. Hard French bread, uncooked meat. Denise then eats another sandwich. We go back to hotel, bathe and take a nap. Up for dinner with the Californians. Into living room. Denise goes to bed early. Helen and I talk more. I try to explain the situation of the subculture. I like her.
To bed.
Wed Dec 1.
Up early, choke down breakfast. Bus leaves at 7: for San Martin de los Andes. Denise and I are in the back seat: it is cold and we cannot hear the guide, a woman today. Boy I really can’t understand her. Helen is sitting up front. Boy, the bumps back here are something else. Then we start up into the mountains. Oh. It is beautiful, we cross lots of streams with clear, clear, clean, cold water and the trees are enormous. Huge. The bus feels like an insect crawling through them. The road is narrow and winding up the mountain. Denise just has fits about the back of bus: she is about to be sick. We stop at a resort for coffee. Purple flowers and golden wooden buildings. Change tire on bus. Denise hollers and gets seat on front of other bus. Good I have 2 back seats to myself. I really feel the closeness of the country and cherish everything. I can stretch my legs. We drive along a river in a deep gorge. Stop for photos of a waterfall.
On to San Martin where we a hit section of bumpy road. Good Lord. What bumps. I doze off. Wake up coming down steep mountain winding into San Martin Village of red roofed houses. Lovely from above. Pass a shack with ragged children with cheeks blistered from wind and cold. Looks like tiny shots in their cheeks. Streets are wide, clean and empty. We go to a German restaurant for lunch. I’m starved. The waiters are in German dress and there is a wagon wheel hanging from the ceiling. First, we have a hot plate of cold cuts —tongue, pickles, celery etc. then vegetable soup (excellent red wine) then spaghetti, then steak with fried potatoes, then flan and coffee. All very, very good.
San Martin sits in a bowl and the sides are carpeted with thick green forests all around. Lovely little spot. Jack goes into rest room and a woman is there with her pants down.
What are you doing here?
What are YOU doing here?
We start back, go a different route, thru drier land, sandy with cows here and there. On the curves, I feel like the bus is going to lose us. I’m nervous. Looks very much like Arizona with rocks, strange formations formed by wind. Stop at Parque Diana some dirty (real) gauchos who are tying and branding a wild hog. Squeals. We stop at Casa de Piedra which is a rural village in an area which was first used by Indians as a refuge and now is used by gauchos for drinking mate etc.
Finally we get back to Bariloche and a nap before dinner. Down to eat. Denise meets a French speaking man who asks her out OK then he returns to say he has a friend for me. Muy bien. He is 40ish, employed by Exprintec. No English. We go to Grisu, a discotheque. Hector (from our tour group) is there with his girlfriend leaving his very pregnant wife at our hotel. He sure was surprised to see me and Denise! Discotheque is typical of ski resorts with a fireplace, a view of the lake, different levels etc. Victor has a 1 track mind so I dance a lot and look at stars a lot. Am just fascinated. By lake. Back to hotel.
Finally to bed.
Thurs Dec. 2
Sleep late then go messing around and run into Jack; we go for hot chocolate and medialunas and talk, then go to the to beauty shop to pick up Helen. We laugh and laugh. I go to change money: changes at 825. Bunch of damn crooks up here! It is much better in Rosario. It is so cold. My ears hurt like hell. Finally back to hotel after eating pizza. I go to bed and sleep until Denise comes in. We go down for dinner. She has a date with Cecil. Victor calls. Apologizes for not coming for coffee and asks me to go out. Fortunately I am hoarse enough to sound convincing when I tell him no. Helen starts to tell a joke and starts laughing. We all start laughing until the entire restaurant is in chaos. We wait in Denise’s room until Cecil calls then
I go to bed.
Fri Dec 3
I have breakfast with Helen and Jack. Then we go walking Everytime I walk out those mountains are more fascinating. My temperature comes back up and I return to hotel and go to bed. Denise wakes at about 12:00 and asks me to go to lunch I stay in until 2:00 when the bus leaves for the Cascades. We drive out to the South past villas misesrias (slums)—how do the people keep warm in those houses!! Start thru mountains, not so steep as Wednesday but still scary. Past lakes, mountains—one mountain completely covered with snow—beautiful. Stop at a small waterfall. Helen climbs out on log and we follow and we all almost fall in. The water is so clear and clean and tastes so good. Beautiful yellow flowers. Back in bus and on to cascades. Have to walk a bit down the path. Each time the sight is more impressive. First the water is green and then more and more foam smaller cascades until the big one—magnificent with smaller ones all around—the water is a beautiful shade of blue-green.
We go back to cafeteria for hot chocolate. Bunch of people run off without paying. A small house about the size of a dog house with a statue of the Virgin and a can of flower sits in the yard. It is there to pray for illness. Back to hotel. I doze a bit .We stop for hot chocolate with Jack and Helen in a little place in a galleria. I eat a sandwich. Helen gets cake but doesn’t like it so Denise eats it. Back to hotel. Bathe and down to dinner.
Up to bed.
Sat. Dec. 4
Up early. Down to breakfast. Bus leaves at 9:00 for Isla Victoria. Denise and I finally get a front seat. Short drive out to port where we get on launch (blue and white) sit up front. Ride is slow and smooth. We’re drinking cana cognac. Boy is it ever good and warms you up nice. Jack stays up with pilot to take photos. We arrive at island. Climb up mountain… it’s a steep climb with beautiful scenery. I have a long talk with Graciela. a Peruvian doctor. I can understand her much better than I can the Argentines. She is really nice and I am sorry we didn’t get to know her earlier in the week. Island is larger than I thought. Walk to hotel for lunch. Marvelous place fantastic view with terrible food. Cold plate of matambre (Argentinian stuffed flank steak ) is awful, soup, lasagna. Steak and pumpkin in syrup.
Back to launch. Graciela tells me about the earthquake in Peru….how they were stacking people everywhere and how the streets were opening and swallowing children. The area has not yet recovered.
The water is beautiful the colors of Sheaffer’s Ink—turquoise blue. To the red forest. I think little men come out every night and paint it. It is the only one in the world. The other one in Japan was destroyed by fire.
Back to launch. The water at dock is completely clear —I can see little fish and the bottom. I’ve never seen clean water like that. The ride back is long and leisurely. I stand on the bow and watch mountains and a small castle.. there is a couple in a rowboat—no other boats. Back to hotel. Graciela, Denise and I go for chocolate at CuCoos. Good chocolate cake too but expensive. Back to hotel. Nap. I get up and I wear long dress (backward) Everyone likes it. We three sit in den and have a great discussion about life.
To bed.
Sun Dec 5
I am up early for breakfast. Helen and Jack are already packed and downstairs—I go up to pack. We are all downstairs. I leave 2 pesos for maid. 1 peso for bellboy We sit around then go next door, Denise wants to buy coonskin cap: I buy post cards. Bus finally comes and we drive to airport. Check in no overweight. Lunch of turkey salad.
God I wish I were not so scared of flying. We finally land in Bs As.
I say goodbye to Jack, Helen and Denise. I wait with Graciela until her friend comes and I go to Retiro and get an earlier (5:30) train than I had planned to take that is going to Tucuman. Everybody very Indian—one man looks like old Jose from my childhood. On the way to Rosario, I sleep, eat a sandwich. When I get to Rosario, I catch a taxi for home on Sarmiento Street. Nobody at home.
Mama Bassi comes in about 10:00 She had gone to meet me.
Lili drops by: they haven’t been to bed.
We have bread, cheese and coffee and talk.
Then to bed.
Looking Back
Present Day Reflections
These last two months, I have read the small green Argentine travel journal for the first time in 53 years. I have been astonished by much of what I have discovered. Here are some take aways…
Noticing my Spanish gradually encroaching into my writing…some words like aerocilla being the only word I know for something (skiing had never been a part of my lifestyle in Seminole!)
Noticing how spoiled I was by my “Mama Bassi” cooking for me. Olga Bassi was a real chef and I ate like a queen!
Realizing that not only was I dealing with a totally different national culture and language but a different social class. My rural West Texas raising had not prepared me for the middle class lifestyle of Liliana and her family and friends.
Noticing how lucky I was that nothing really bad ever happened to me—even though I either was “locking myself in a room” or “getting in cars with strange men”. I really had a grade A guardian angel!
Remembering being a tourist in Bariloche and coming “home” to 535 Sarmiento Street in Rosario. Coming through the door to the smells, the sights where I had lived with Mama Bassi, in fear, in excitement and always in love. And knowing that in a few days, Lili, Milko, Mama Bassi and I would take my luggage to the train station for me to take that last train ride to Bs As and to another Braniff jet back to Texas.
Remembering drinking mate and listening to Norberto say that if anyone in Argentina talked about Argentina the way, Cassius Clay did, it would lead to their disappearing, and
….remembering my cold fear from watching police shove a man into a van in broad daylight
…juxtaposing those recollections with images of the “Mothers and Grandmothers of the Plaza de Mayo” protesting about the 10,000 to 30,000 people who were disappeared between 1976 to 1983 by Argentina’s military dictatorship.
Being conscious that later that decade, Milko and Lili (who had had three children) because of the political and economic situation in Argentina migrated to Brazil.
Knowing now that Lili and I never saw one another again but we communicated regularly with those thin sheets of paper that we used for airmail correspondence before email. She wrote about all these difficulties and the hard decision to leave Argentina because of the situation there. She wrote about her terror when guerrillas stopped the bus that she and the children were on and held them all at gunpoint—then abruptly let them go. Having seen their lifestyle in Rosario, I found it hard to fathom the courage it took to try to continue life as migrants in another country.
Lili had learned the English curse words well and it always tickled me when she’d write about “the damn stupids”…They were living in Brazil when she was diagnosed with breast cancer and she wrote about “the damn stupids” were going to operate on the wrong breast! It wasn’t long after that I received a letter from her family that she had died.
Remembering that over the next 20 years, those months in Argentina were the foundation for my studying in Guatemala and working in Algeria and the USA with students from around the globe and each individual who came into my life was an opportunity for me to develop my mind and soul.
Remembering how scared I was
…and today on the verge of my ninth decade, being so grateful to my young, scared self
Remembering the kindness, graciousness and hospitality of so many people throughout Argentina
Remembering how Lili came into our small West Texas town and touched so many of us there. For me, she was then and remained a door into another world – a world that I had only known through books and National Geographic magazines. But in the Fall of 1971, she opened the door to her mother, to her home, to her life and welcomed me in. I went through the door and was never the same again.
Remembering you Luli…
And thank you to all of you who have been reading along with me for revisiting Lili, Mama Bassi, Milko, Christina, the guys in white hats and so many lovely lovely people so long ago. In the words of an old Argentine tango by Carlos Gardel
Adios muchachos campaneros de mi vida…de aquellos tiempos…
