Don´t cry for me, Villa Gen. Belgrano

I had a wonderful week in Villa General Belgrano. The main reason was that there were several Argentine tourists there that took a liking to me and had me join them in many of their activities. It was very special, and at times exhausting, trying to follow along with the conversation. I think I was able to throw in enough humorous comments, sometimes intentionally and sometimes not, that I was welcome to be around, if only for comic relief. At the end, there were hugs and cheek to cheek "kisses" and promises of e-mail follow-ups, etc.

One thing is kind of sad about the Argentines. They are relatively sophisticated, fun, intelligent people. These folks in Belgrano were very warm and generous. What´s sad is that their country´s financial situation is such that, like most Latin Americans, the overwhelming majority of them cannot affod to travel outside the country they´re in. So they end up staying in hostels or going camping when they are on vacation inside Argentina.

The one couple, Herman and Marina, were wonderful. He manages a supermarket an she is a waitress in a restaurant. Both are about 30 years old, very gregarious and (I got the impression) make a pretty good living. But they stayed in the hostel and prepared their meals themselves.

They, and other Argentines, are always telling me about some other part of Argentina that I MUST visit. Frequently, this new place is only several dozen kilometers down the road. It´s a shame that I will be leaving Argentina without visiting Mendoza and the area around it, which is Argentina´s wine-growing region. It´s tempting to want to follow everyone´s recommendations, but Argentina is huge! Months from now, I´d still be chasing down yet another town just over the horizon.

In hindsight, I feel I´ve enjoyed myself more in small towns as opposed to big ones. The big city obviously provides the greater number of cultural offerings, like tango shows and museums. However, in the smaller towns, I have more interaction with other people. I need to make a point, in my further travels, of making sure I get to small towns. I definitely want to return to So. America to visit Chile, and southern Argentia, hopefully in the not too distant future. Maybe, I´ll make it some of those "other towns" at that time. And Mendoza and Argentine wine is just a hop, skip, and a jump from Santiago, Chile!!

Next report: on the way to Bolivia!
hasta luego

Bier, bier liegt mir im Herzen!

I felt duty-bound as your intrepid reporter to decide whether or not the "German" beer made here in this German-Argentine town of Villa General Belgrano matches up to my totally objective standards of what good beer should taste like. The village even boasts an "Oktoberfest" which is well known in Argentina. Literally thousands of tourists descend upon the place in October. They roll kegs down the street, in order to shake up the contents, then tap the keg about 10 feet abover the crowd below who are all holding out beer mugs. The beer sprays all over the place...what a terribe waste of beer! At any rate, a good time is had by all, as well as a good number of showers afterwards.

I walked into a local restaurant at 7 p.m. and said I wanted a local beer and a slice of pizza. Please note: the Argentines eat dinner between 9 p.m. and midnight. "Pizza!" the waitress exclaimed, "at THIS hour?!" Apparently, they don´t begin to fire up the pizza oven until close to 9. Oh well, just the beer then. Did I want a liter or the small bottle? I said, just the small bottle. Well, in Argentina it turns out the "small bottle" is 3 quarters of a liter.

I was always taught as a child, "waste not, want not." In addition, I had to be mindful of all the starving children in China. So, I drank all of it, on an empty stomach. As you can tell from this, my partying days are long behind me and one glass of beer goes a long way with me. I´m proud to say that I successfully navigated the pot-holed sidewalks and streets back to my hostel. There, I found out that the party was in full swing. For some reason, well into the night, I was able to talk with considerable fluency. Oh yes, back to the beer.

In Argentina and Uruguay, there are several large market beers that are quite forgettable. They´re not as bad as American national brands, but just not recommendable. Micro-breweries in Argentina are called "artesan Breweries" (cervecerias artesanales). Here in Villa General Belgrano, there´s Dos Pinos, Viejo Munich, Brunnen, and Don Otto. I had Don Otto and Brunnen. The brewmeisters make three kinds of beer: clara (clear) which is sometimes referred to as rubia (blond) , roja (red), and negra (black). I sampled all three, since of course I was on an investigative mission of considerable importance. The darker the beer the more flavor it had. At least, that´s the impression I got. The beers were good, but different. They didn´t taste like German beer, to which there is nothing superior. And, they didn´t have the (usually) strong hops flavor of American micro-brews. They were all good, but, again, not particularly recommendable. I think that´s because my preference is for the stronger hops flavor, but without the heaviness, say, of guinness. Bottom line: if you´re ever in Argentina, I heartily recommend these beers from artesan breweries. If you´re in CA, I´d stick to a micro-brew.

I made some terrific Argentine friends in the course of my week here in Belgrano. On one of the evenings, one couple made parrilla and invited me. Needless to say, I brought the beer. Whatever my previous negative thoughts might have been about parrilla, I was duly converted. German (this is the Argentine version of Herman) was an excellent barbecue chef. In addition, he had come up with some very good meat. The result was truly outstanding. He salted the meat perfectly and cooked it surprisingly slowly. His wife Marina tossed a salad and there was fresh bread. As I write this, I´m getting hungry all over again. So....time to go out for kaffee and kuchen! Tonight I´m off to Bolivia.

Little Germany on Foot

Today I took the local bus out of the village of General Belgrano to an even smaller town called La Cumbrecita. It´s probably only about 20 miles away but it took an hour and a half to get here over a dirt road. The landscape reminded me of the eastern Sierras: lots of rocks, wild grass and occasional arroyos with trees and vegetation and a creek. They do take advantage of the rocks. There were rock walls that extended for hundreds of yards (yikes! the work!) separating whatever from wherever. Even though the dirt road appeared to be out in the middle of nowhere, I was surprised by the palatial summer homes leading off the road. There would be trees and hedges hiding what was behind them, but I could occasionally spot swimming pools, tennis courts, and magnificently groomed park-like grounds. If I lived in Buenos Aires, I would also want to spend the weekend in a place like this!

Like Belgrano, Cumbrecita was also founded by yet another displaced German looking for a second Black Forest or Baviarian Alps. The village is located on both sides of a steep ravine with the river down below. The area is green and shady, due to a large number of cedar and pine trees which grow thick on both sides of the arroyo. What´s interesting about this village is that you have to park in a lot outside town, and only pedestrians are allowed in the village. You walk past dozens of houses, all looking like something straight out of the Black Forest: balconies,. red tile roofs, planter boxes on the balconies, garden dwarves in the front yard. Overlooking it all is the huge Hotel La Cumbrecita. It´s about 4 stories high with balconies at every level and a large overhanging roof. There are planter boxes with flowers.It looks like a small scale Claremont Hotel with just as dramatic a setting.

At a nearby much smaller hotel, I saw a sign, in German, that said: "Here it´s clean enough to be happy; and dirty enough to be healthy." There were bed comforters draped over the balcony railings, getting aired out for the day. Many of the stores have signs in German and offer German kitsch for sale: beer mugs, chocolate, and , of course, German pastry.

The main attraction of the town is its numerous walking paths. You can walk to a waterfall, or to a delightful swimming pond, and you never seem to be very far away from coffee and pastry or a micro brew beer. About 98% of the tourists are Argentinians. It´s very nice to hardly ever hear another American voice. Occasionally, I´ll overhear an English accent or German.

Next time: Argentine (German?) micro-brewed beer!
Prost!

Deutschland in Argentina

Greetings fronm the village of General Belgrano. Like George Washington, this general never slept here. Nevertheless, the place is terrific! I traveled for about 2 hours out of Cordoba heading into the "Central Sierras." This name is actually a bit presumptuous. It makes it sound like mountains. It´s actually more like foothills.

When I stepped off the bus, I could smell the odor of freshly cut wood. I had to walk about a half mile to the place I´m staying. Along the way, I could see where people had begun stacking their firewood. It´s the end of summer here. Any place where people have to "get their wood in" ranks very high in my book. The landscape reminds me again of the CA foothills: scrub oak, but lots of green vegetation, not CA "golden" or brown.

In 1939, the German warship (Panzerschiff) Graf Spee decided to sail down the coast of South America sinking English merchant ships along the way. Due to faulty English navigational charts (it absolutely could NOT have been faulty German engineering or seamanship), the Graf got a little too close to shore, got trapped by the English battleships, and was seriously damaged. It pulled into neutral Montevideo, Uruguay, where the crew was ultimately interned in Argentina. Over 100 crew members ended up in the lovely foothill town of Belgrano. For some reason, many of them found life in this rural village much more attractive than a sailor´s life on board ship during wartime. They sent for their wives. The result is this little town, which looks like it was transplanted from the Black Forest or Bavarian Alps. The houses are 2 to 3 stories tall (I think we would call them Tudor style), with large wooden beams, arched red tile roofs, window planter boxes and large wooden shutters. Church services, to this day I´m told, are offered in both Spanish and German. There are stores offering chocolate and pickled herring and other German delicacies. There´s Tante Liesbeth´s Cafe, several Hofbraeuhaeuser, Haus der Musika, and many others. As California´s Solvang is to Denmark, so is Argentina´s Belgrano to Germany.

The bus station is about the size of the Quincy airport office. There was a little old lady walking nearby and I asked for directions, in Spanish. She brightened up and said "Sprechen Sie deutsch?" I said yes and she was absolutely delighted at the opportunity to tell me in German that my hotel was just a good piece ("ein schoenes Stueck") up the dirt road. It´s funny because I have subsequently learned that the number of folks in this town who can speak German have dwindled considerably and understandably. And the first person I spoke to responds in German!

My "hotel" is something of a hostel at the end of a dirt road in a small ravine with a creek running through it. This place is idyllic. I have a room which looks out onto the coutryside and a roll top desk in my room to write on. It rents for $10 a night, including breakfast, and for another $3.50, I can get the main meal of the day at 1 p.m. This is the greatest!

I am sitting now in one of the several outdoor kaffee und kuchen shops and agonizing with indecision. Should I have Black Forest cherry cake (Schwarzwaelder kirsch kuchen) or apfel strudel, or pflaumen torte or this great looking strawberry torte or Dresdner stollen. That´s only the beginning. There´s several other great-looking things as well. Before the waiter came, I had a sudden burst of inspiration. I thought to myself, what would my good friend Don do under these trying circumstances? That´s easy, he´d order them all! So, I´m now eating schwarzwaelderkirsch and it´s absolutely scrumptious. I will take the stollen home for later tonight. I´ve got about 4 days here. I´ll have 2 delightful kuchen a day and that way, I will have sampled most of them by the end of the week! Thank you, Don, for your unwitting but very effective extra-sensory communication. The risk, of course, is that I won´t have enough room left to do justice to the Germnan-inspired local beer I intend to sample tonight. I´m just going to have to steel myself to face the challenge!

As always, I remain your intrepid reporter, ever ready to leap into the chasm of yet another sinfully gluttonous gastronomic experience. Excelsior! and Guten Apetit.