ARGENTINA: IT TAKES TWO TO TANGO

In one of my favorite movie scenes Al Pacino asks a lady to tango with him and she says that she has never done it and she is afraid of making a mistake. He answers: "No mistake in tango, darling. Not like life, simple, that's what makes the tango so great. If you make a mistake, get all tangled up, you just tango on.(Scent of a woman). This is so true. Tango is more than just a dance. It's a relation.  That's why it takes two. It's all about passion. It doesn't matter whether you're young or old, fit or unfit as long as you tango. I don't feel like walking in Argentina, I fill I tango through it. 

My first steps brought me to Mendoza which is the province in north-western part of Argentina, famous for cultivation of wine and olives. It is a little bit unusual thing to grow the grape in the desert which is 60% of the Province. The melting snow and ice from the nearby mountains are used to water the wine yards. The kind of wine specific for this region is Malbec, originally imported from France in 1852. I visited two wineries in Mendoza, one ran by Wineirt family, now turned into museum and the other one, still active - Donaturo. The other one is specialized only in a production of red wine. In the opinion of Donaturo family, there are other parts of Argentina with the different kind of ground, clime and water, more suitable for the cultivation of white grape. Obviously, they tend to keep the standard in a production. Tasting the wine here Malbec, Merlot and Cabernet, I learned how to separate wheat from chaff: good quality wine needs to be the red color ( if it's brownish that means it's not good); to recognize the texture of wine moving the glass in rounds leaving the thick line with the drops called tears falling down the glass. In general, I prefer white wine with the meal, especially with the seafood. Red wine doesn't need anything because it's very thick, it's a meal itself. Maybe served with some croutons dipped in extra virgin olive oil which brought me to another factory- of olive oil. What I didn't know is that the olive oil for culinary purposes is derived from the black olives. Green olives are too bitter to make the oil with. I saw a grinding machine and big tanks for preserving and refining the oil. I love olive oil so much that I wanted to jump with my head first in the thank. Also, there are spa products made of olive oil, more than necessary for nourishing and moistening the skin in this dry area. 

City of Mendoza looks like a cute little Mediterranean place with a lot of parks. Once more on this trip, I ran into a local willing to show me the city. Federico, one in a thousands of Argentinians speaking English here, is from south of Province, studying an electro engineering and he has four siblings. He suggested to meet and to explore the city riding a bike which is possible to get for free. When we met the next day, Federico already knew few words in Serbian. Jeronimo, one of his brothers, joined us. After the ride, we went for a lunch where I met two of his girlfriends. They don't eat animal products so they took me to a vegan buffet. We got the food to go and made a picnic in the park. This was the most pleasant lunch I had in a while, sitting in the shade of a palm tree and having a nice conversation.  I told to Federico that Messi is my favorite soccer player. I like to see him dancing a tango with the soccer ball and then this game seems to be very easy. One day, maybe, Messi asks me to tango. I found out, unfortunately, that he is not so popular in Argentina. Messi hasn't won The World Cup yet so Maradona is still number one here.

Buenos Aires is a city of tango. Tango starts here late at night on the streets, in the clubs. I can say tango's in the air. I woke up in the middle of the night and went to a club just to feel the atmosphere. Dress code is suitable for tango: women wearing the tight dresses uncovering the knees for the steps which will put the accent on dancing and the high heels specially designed for tango; men are dressed in elegant suites and shoes. Couples are dancing on the floor until one of them starts its own show. I tried few steps, got "tangled up" and went back to watch professionals. Definitely, I have to learn it.

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During the day, Buenos Aires, gives un impression of an artistic city. The facades are all in the graffiti. The official culture considers graffiti as an act of villains but in the underground world are considered to be an act of a free spirit or will. Graffiti artist tango with the culture.

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Tango is still on and it dances me to the end of time and World. 

RED HOT CHILI CHILE

Red is the color of the blood that is spelt in Chile not that long ago, it's a color of facades in Santiago and the color of the wine floating through it. The weather is so hot in Chile. Chili is a stew made of everything above.

San Pedro is a small town in Atacama desert, after Bolivian border. Things seem to be more organized here on the Chilean side than the Bolivian. There's no shaking on the road, no problems on the border, no cold wether. It's not enough just to say it is warm here. It's burning hot. This place is full of tourists so the agencies don't have a problem offering an overpriced tours. Considering that I had seen the most of the things in Bolivia, nothing that is in the offer didn't fascinate me much. I decided just to "CHILL OUT" before I "TRIP IN" again for more than 20 hours to Santiago. Guys from the last tour, both called Nick from Canada and Wong Kee (whose name sounds like a Chinese fast food dish) from Korea were here, too. Since we had had such a good time in Bolivia, we agreed to hang out together for a while until we realized what to do next. They were also in two minds for the sightseeing. The nearest sight was two kilometers far, sun was burning so I suggested them to spend the day together, staying in the hotel. It was a done deal: I would make the dinner from whatever I had available, my husband would help me and they would bring some wine. Famous Chilean wine that I had offered to customers all the time working as a waitress but never really tried it. There was no better occasion than this one. I did some shopping: rice, squash, tomato, pepper, onion for the stew, cheese and crackers as an appetizer, chicken noodle soup and chocolate ice cream for the dessert. It wasn't anything special but nobody was very picky. I found all the necessary dishes at the hotel. They were late for a half an hour, the dinner was not ready anyway but nobody cared about punctuality when the whole situation had been improvised. There was no electricity, luckily the stove worked on gas. They brought four bottles of wine and we got to work. First, we cheered up to that pleasant moment, to life and new adventures. They are young guys, traveling a lot and seeing so many things. Mostly, we talked about our countries trying to represent them the best we could so the other side got interested enough to visit it. I talked a lot about Serbian famous rakija and the process of getting it, people so willing to host strangers, music festival, beautiful girls... They would enjoy Serbia. Also, I offered to accommodate them in New York, if they ever pass by. They got hooked very soon, so did I after hearing a lot about Canadian forests -meeting nothing but the nature over there and Koreans landscape that I had already seen in Kim Ki Duk's movies. We ate the dinner, drank all the wine, some extra too, and called it a night because the receptionist of the hotel was complaining that we were too loud. I was really happy to meet that people. The day after, we all took different routes: Canadians to Lima, Korean to some nearby place and me to Santiago.

"Dear Ivana, I've heard you're visiting South America and  you're coming to Santiago. Matilde and I would like to invite you for a cup of tea, one afternoon. I am on my way to Isla Negra, stopped by for a few days just to pick up some things. I hope you will not be very busy. Our Chascona is at Fernando Marquez de la Plata 0192, Bellavista. If you have any difficulties of finding it just ask someone."  Pablo

Hola Pablo, como Estas? 

-I knew for better days. Matilde's appologizing, she's off for some business. 

You have such a nice place here...

-Thanks, it's decorated as a yacht because I feel better by the sea. That's why I'm running to Isla Negra. I want to be buried by the sea. This house is meant to be only for Matilde at first but I wanted to be close to her so we both use it. 

It's so many people here...

- They are all my friends. I have so many of them and I often make parties. I never lost any friend. I like to say I have the seventh sense for friendship.

You real name is not Pablo.

-No, it's not. Jan Neruda was Hungarian poet. I took his name to deceive my father because he didn't appreciate poets at all. 

Are you a poet or a politician?

- What do you think?

You got the Nobel Prize for poetry so , I think, you should stick to it. 

- I got so many prizes for peace, too. One of them is Stalin Peace Prize. 

I'm a poet. Through the poetry I want to gain love for myself. And a politician. Through the politic I want to carry out love and peace for all people. I don't want the fascism happens ever again. People need to be equal. We often admire some master pieces but we forget they are the products of slavery.

Stalin is also a dictator. And you are considerd to be a Stalinist.

- Stalin helped fighting against fascists but later on, he become one. He created cult of personality, behaving exactly like Hitler. I don't aprove that.

- Do you want a glass of wine?

Yes, please. I love Chilean wine. 

- This one is Argentinian. I took some on my way back from the exile. What part of the city you're staying in?

Moneda.

- Oh, you're close to Presidential Palace.

Tell me, what is left from Yugoslavia? It used to be a great country with a great leader. 

Nothing. It left nothing. Your so called great idea didn't work for us. Can you believe that there was a war at the end of 20th century caused by the notion that South Slavic people should live together. And they had never wanted to live like that. The wounds from the war are still kind of fresh. It was hard to share everything with everobody. So the neighbors killed each other just to get some of leftovers.

- I'm sorry to hear that. Are there any real comrades left?

No. The politicians of new generation don't have any idea or program of what they're doing. They just want to gain some profit out of politic before their time is gone. They are able to say one thing today and tomorrow they will change it when they change their suit. The elections are just a charade. Dictators are just coming one after another over there. The last one represents himself as a democratically elected. And he wants a new elections for no real reason, just to gain more power for himself. He can't get enough of it. 

- What did you manage to see in Santiago?

Yesterday, I saw people dancing cueca (traditional Chilean dance) on the street. People of all generations participated. I had never heard of it before. It was very interesting. 

Today, I'm meeting my friend Gloria. She's taking me for a lunch to the fish market! She doesn't speak a word of English but somehow we understand each other. 

- How did you become a friend with her? 

Because of the book I forgot and she found it. And we both like your poetry.

Sorry, I need to go now.

- Ok, thank you for stopping by. Stay well and enjoy your trip. Send my regards to everybody!

I will! Thank you for the hospitality!

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I met my friend Gloria and ,before lunch, she took me to the Museo da la Memoria. It was all about the dictatorship and the repression of the human rights. Chile, feeling a great deal of it on its own people participated in funding the regulations against humanity. The civil war in Ex-Yugoslavia found its place in the museum too. 

1973. Augusto Pinochet, Commander-in-Chief of Allende's army, made a Coup d'Eta in Chile and started 17 years of dictatorship. It all started with the bombing of Presidential Palace in Moneda, part of Santiago where I stayed. Allende was forced to resign. I think that's what happens when the Governament relies too much on the army. Pinochet's idea was to open the market to the global trade, opposite the socialist idea of the market controlled by the state. As usually, United States, seeing it as an opportunity against the socialism, supported the Coup. Since Pinochet took it over, there was nothing in Chile but the fear, blood, detention and poverty. More than 30 000 people, considered a political enemies, were dissapeard without the trial and without the trace. The youngest among them was 13 year old boy. Despite all the effort of his family to find him, he is just another brick in the wall of dictator's history. It is belived among the people that  Pinochet was responsible for the death of Pablo Neruda, receiving mistreat from the medical stuff. Finally, 1990 after the public protests against repression Pinochet rezigned. What's more interesting, Pinochet had never been taken to the court for the acts against the human rights. After the first democratic elections, he simply continued serving the army as a Commander-in-Chief until he retired. He was arrested on the accusations against humanity once, in London but released very soon because of the lack of evidence. United Nations may forget about this period but Chilean people never will. 

After Gloria had showed me Chilean history we had a lunch at the fish market. It's not only a place to buy the fresh fish but it's full of restaurants. We chose one, De Agusto, and to the sound of serenades enjoyed the soup from seafruits, salmon and mussels topped in parmesan. I liked her soup more than mine so she let me have some. I was happy to see her again. I learned some new Spanish words from her.

It was a time to go on. I wanted to see more of Chile, going all the way down to Patagonia but it's the peak of the season, bus tickets are sold out and the plane is too expensive. I felt forced to exile in Argetina, just like Pablo Neruda. 

BOLIVIA: TO GO OR NOT TO GO

Bolivia is named for Simon Bolivar who had some higher goals on his mind- to get rid of Spanish royalists and create Federation of Venezuela, Colombia, Ecuador, Peru and Bolivia. The idea so familiar to the people from Balcan. Another great man, Che Guevara was executioned in this country fighting against social differences. Both of them had riched their goals but only for a while. After long period of conflicts, finally it's Republic of Bolivia living in the peace with neighbors and trying to survive in this "laissez- faire" World. Social situation is not on level Che had wanted to die for and it's obvious that Bolivian people try to get the money on the side whenever is possible: immigration officers, receptionist at the hotel, touristic agencies, bus and taxi drivers. I was present in every situation almost ended up in the jail trying to get the justice from the immigration officers. Maybe that's the reason for this countries to be so popular, offering the ways to survive from the moment of setting the foot to the border.

Bolivian people might not be wealthy but they can celebrate. Oh, boy, they can. Again, I'm at the right place at the right time just for the Carnival in La Paz. There's no special name for it. I'll give you some key words and you can call it whatever you want: water bombs, all-purpose cleaning foam, water guns. It's a lot of water pouring around and, on the top of everything, comes the rain from the heaven above. Better to get my plastic red poncho ready, if I want to watch this game of getting soaked wet. It sounds like a fun for kids. But not for younger only, I see an older man throwing a water bomb (a balloon filled with water exploding when it hits the target) on a young girl. If that was her age companion, it would be fun. In the middle of this water-war it's a parade with the people in the costumes, even riders on Harley Davidson (I hope that is not a just a costume, too) but nobody will go home dry. High maybe because of the weed is on sale. It's the Carneval!!! 

I  have one more reason to celebrate. After having so much trouble with the visa at the border, I thought about skipping Bolivia. I was kicked out from the bus where I forgot my husband's bag and the book "The Blind Watchmaker". I turn the Earth upside down trying to find it. Everybody just shake their heads in a negative way. It's my last day in the city so I go to the station to buy the ticket for the next destination. In all that chaos, a girl approaches me, trying to explain me something in Spanish because she doesn't speak English. She keeps saying: "Libro, libro!" I am in a hurry, saying to her that I don't speak her language, but she pulled my arm in order to get my attention. What I understand is that she has found the book at the bus. Fortunately, she wasn't blind. Knowing the driver would throw it in the garbage, she has kept it with here. I can't believe what I'm hearing. But that's not all. I tell her I had a bag too, so she goes to the agency and arranges for the bag to be brought just before we leave La Paz. Her name is Gloria and she's from Chile. After the things has been set, we have a nice lunch and she explains me what to visit in Santiago.  I'll see her once more, at Uyuni, south of Bolivia. Maybe, I'll meet her in Chile, too.

Few busses, full of tourists, arrives at Uyuni at 5.30pm. With no place to stay, approximately a hundred of hungry and tired souls need to kill some time until the sunrise. They get a drink, have some breakfast and then all of them are going south. Numerous agencies offers similar tours by different price. First comes first served. The tours are arranged and all of us get into the groups. There are six people in my group: two of us from Serbia, two girls from Japan and their peers from Canada. Later on, it turns out to be the funniest group. We don't know precisely the schedule because the guide doesn't speak English. It remains a mistery. 

Our first stop is the graveyard for the trains. These rusty cans are not going anywhere now. Back at the time, they were a mean of communication between Bolivia and Chile. Just like everything else's, their time is gone.

One the way, we make few stops to the places with souvenirs that nobody cares about so the guide needs to give us something what will put the bread on his table. He doesn't say where we are but I see in the water the reflection of the sky and clouds at the exactly same color  as they are. I think it's a mirage but the others see this too. It's so real. And salty, too. We are at the Salar de Uyuni, in Potosi. It's Bolivian "Salt Lake City".  It's very shallow, it used to be whiter, saltier, but the wind and pollution make the color less intensive. I run out the car. Silhouettes of the visitors in the lake makes the scenery more interesting. The salt is sticked to my feet and it scratches when I try to take it off. I can use it as a natural peeling. I notice through the clear water that the bottom has the structure of a honeycomb. We have a lunch at the small island in the middle of the lake. It's stupid to ask if anybody needs some salt. If I had a bottle of tequila with me, I would stay here forever. It's time to go but nobody gets into the car. We all crave for more salt. I can't even think about what I would missed if I didn't solve the problem with my visa.

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Driver takes us to the place we'll spend the night but nobody tells us the place is not very hygienic: no flashing water, no hot water, no heating, but full of flies. We have a nice dinner and we go to sleep still full of salt from the lake. Bolivians are waisting water for the festival but  they don't have it enough at home.

Next morning, Japanese girl's alarm wakes me up to see the sunrise. It's a bit cloudy so we can't see it in all the nice colors it appears, it's nice anyway, especially the landscape of the mountains and the sky where a few shades of blue are melting. I wish I had this view from my apartment but a few shades of grey buildings is all I can see.

Driving the dusty road after the breakfast, watching quinoa plantages and chewing coca leaves I try to forget a filthy place we stayed in. Canadians make sure the music suits the landscape.

Miles and miles of Bolivia are made of red-rock formations. 

We're in The Andian Fauna National Reserve Eduardo Avaroa. The rocks are different size: the huge ones are animal shaped: pig, turtle, elephant... Beside their significance for genealogy, this rocks are the perfect place to hide if when you need to pee. The smaller ones are like pebble stone, creating big dunes. It's so chilly that I want to pick one of the clouds from the row to wrap myself in. Once in a while a salt lagoon shows up with flamingos. I feel sorry for this birds, they must be freezing here. During the winter, temperature is around -20. This is summertime here, so it's only - 18. One of the lagoons appears red from minerals that contains with the thunderstorm and lightning in the distance as a perfect special effects added.

The day is over and another "all-exclusive" place is waiting for us.

It's 4.30 pm, freezing to death outside and nobody knows where we're going because the driver doesn't understand our questions. All we know is it needs to be so early so we don't miss the colors. Driver goes by red rocks and the dunes of the red pebble stone. There's a lot of them around. And here we are, in front of the geysir. It looks like a boiling pot, but thousand times stronger. I put my hand in the steam and it warms my freezing hands, not for a long, though. There are the mountains, red and brown, far away from the steam and I need to catch them with my camera. This is one of the situations when I forget that I feel cold, that I didn't take a shower for two days, that I exist at all. To take the pictures, as much as I can, is all that matters. I don't want to forget a thing I see here. The ground is full of craters with the steam coming out. This place looks like another planet. Mars, maybe. I need to check it up one day, too. Maybe I should call the agents Molder and Scaly 'cause I don't feel the gravity any more. I've heard they reopen "The X-Files". Or, I just need a shrink. 

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Near the geysers, it's an erupting volcano Licancabur. Keeping an eye on them. Like Mordor. It stands between Bolivia and Chile. On the other side is the place where I'm heading to, San Pedro, Chile. 

The last stop on this tour through the Galaxy is a hot spring. I already have caught a cold so I only dipp my feet to get some warm. The Sun helps me out a little bit.

Once more, I would be such a fool if I turned my back to Bolivia at first. I'm so glad I didn't.