After completing two weeks in Patagonia, our tour group flew to Buenos Aires to travel back to the States the next day. However, most of our flights didn’t leave until that evening, so Sebastian, our diligent OAT trip leader, scheduled an activity not originally on our itinerary to keep us occupied our last morning. It gave us an unusual and unexpected perspective into another aspect of Argentine life.
The evening we flew into Buenos Aires from Patagonia, we were treated to a very nice farewell dinner, included in the price of our tour. The gang was all there for our last dinner together:
Through all the varieties of food we had sampled the last two weeks, I still had not had a really good Argentine steak, so I was very pleased when we were all served this simple but very filling meal:
It was one of the best steaks I’ve had in my life. Driving back to our hotel after dinner, we passed this festive ship at the Buenos Aires docks:
The next morning, we boarded a tour boat for a cruise up the Rio de La Plata and the Lujan River. North and east of Buenos Aires is a large inlet from the Atlantic that I would ordinarily call a bay, but it is instead called Rio de La Plata, which, of course, designates it as a river. I think this distinction is made because the flow is continuously outward, it never fills with salty water. The river is over 100 miles wide at its mouth and Uruguay is on the other side, though we couldn’t see that far. Our tour boat stuck fairly close to the Argentine side.
At first there were sights of northern Buenos Aires along the shore:
As we turned onto the Lujan River, a tributary of the Plata, we entered a much more natural area:
I was expecting more of the same for the rest of the ride, with perhaps some interesting birds to see. But soon, we began to come across houses built along the river:
What amazed me was that houses could be built so close to the waterline. I asked Sebastian about flooding, and he said there is essentially no variation in the level of the river. It draws from such a large area that any fluctuations due to seasons or rain are completely averaged out, nor is any influence felt from tides at the mouth of the river. Some of these houses are vacation homes and weekend getaways, but many are also full time residences. There is a thriving infrastructure of taxis, delivery boats, and schools along the river:
There are also companies that workers commute to by river:
We also came across the home and museum of a historical Argentine figure that has been enclosed in glass for preservation:
Eventually, signs of more conventional riverside development began to return:
and then we came to an amusement park:
The photos above show all the major attractions of the park, which is notable because this is the largest amusement park in all of Argentina. No wonder South Americans love to fly to Disney World in Florida.
Just a short distance upriver we got off our boat at a location known as El Tigre. We strolled past some scenic old buildings:
The tracks you see in the photo above were used to transport boats from garages to the water’s edge. We had lunch in this building:
Our tour bus had driven out from the city to meet us after lunch. From there, it took us to the airport to wait for our flights back to the States. But there was one more bump in the road before we could go. After a couple hours in the waiting area with my cousin Tom and his wife Kathy, an announcement was made in Spanish, which none of us understand. However, a crowd of locals began streaming toward the check-in desk. Fearing the worst, we fell into line behind those that had reacted more quickly. When Tom and Kathy made it to the front of the line, they waved for me to join them at the podium. There, we learned that our flight hadn’t been canceled but that a large block of seats couldn’t be used. No explanation was given, but I theorized that the supplemental oxygen in that area wasn’t passing some test. All three of our seats were in the affected area. The gate agent took our tickets and then disappeared for about half an hour while we stood at the desk. When she returned, she informed us that I’d been given an alternate seat on the same plane, but Tom and Kathy would have to take a later flight to Miami and then transfer to a flight that would take them home to Seattle. I felt guilty, particularly since I’d been behind them in line, but the agent explained that there was no connecting flight from Miami to San Diego, so I had to stay on the original route through Houston.
Knowing I’d be exhausted after a twelve-hour overnight flight, I’d made a reservation at a hotel close to the airport in San Diego. Not being able to sleep on planes, I was glad to have a place to crash close by. I was also glad the next day, when my daughter drove me to my friend’s ranch north of San Diego where I’d left my RV and saw that it was still fine after three weeks unattended. My big Patagonian adventure was over, and it had been one of the best experiences of my life.
It was now the middle of October and I’d committed to spend Thanksgiving in San Diego with my family. I was glad to just rest up for a few weeks. I had a college reunion to attend in Houston on Nov. 11 to 13 and chose to fly rather than drive the RV since it'd be a rush to get there and back before Thanksgiving. The reunion was a great time, and Thanksgiving back in San Diego with my daughters and in-laws was wonderful, too. Then I started looking forward to Christmas with my sister's family in Omaha, to which I'd also fly. But that was another month away and I was tiring of just hanging out in the RV park, so I took off for a short, extemporaneous “walkabout”, which is the topic of my next post.
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