food locations music people


Buenos Aires was just a stopover. My singing coach who is living there part of the year, was still in Berlin. And another girl from the capital i met during my time in Colombia, was still travelling in Mexico. So i had no real reason to stay, especially since Maggie and Bryan would be coming to Rosario for a visit. I spent only a day before taking a bus to Rosario where i met Andrea on the terminal. We had a day to ourselves before the Canadians rolled into town. It was quite exciting when the door bell rang and we put two more bikes first in the lift and then on the balcony, where mine was already leaning next to Andrea’s. The next day we all went to the river where there’s usually a refreshing breeze and enjoyed once more being together and leaving the bicycles on the balcony for a while.


Taking a bus first and then hiring a boat, we went to one of the island in front of Rosario. We brought the guitar as well as hot water to prepare Mate and spent the day at the beach.


We had already met Soledad, Agustín and Patricio, a cycling trio, when we stayed in Cafayate. For our reunion they organized an Asado next to the river. This is our lovely group.


Asado is a big thing in Argentina. Almost a form of art to some, the procedure takes time until the coal breaks into tiny pieces and can be spread out to get an even and constant source of heat. One could argue if all this is necessary for a get-together but the social aspect is integral part of it. Leaving enough time for the asador to socialize and tend to his drink, which here in Argentina is usually a Fernet mixed with Cola.


A lot of people we met are musicians and so music was also an integral part of our days here. Once they were a duo playing the clubs in Rosario. Now for another time Andrea & Nieves were singing in the living room.


Food was abundant these days and we made something special out of each meal. Fruit and Bryan’s pancakes for breakfast, or Maggie’s Chili for dinner, there was always an idea ready when we were getting hungry and we enjoyed preparing and sharing our meals.


It was a sad day when Maggie and Bryan were finally leaving after staying an extra three days, but as we all know: goodbyes are a part of travelling. And there is always a part in you that knows that you are left that much richer then you were before, which outbalances the sadness. They would be going to Gualeguaychu for its famous Carnival celebrations. You can read about it here and their account of Rosario here.

locations people

bahia blanca

After crossing to Argentina again, the bicycle part of this trip had come to an end and i continued by bus. First towards the Atlantic and then towards the north. After the privitization of the train network in the 90s, the majority of railways had closed down and now only a fraction of the network is run by several small companies. To break up the journey to Buenos Aires, i took a bus to Bahia Blanca to continue from there by train. After buying a ticket, which costs less than a fifth of the bus ticket, i checked into a hostel close to the train station.


Ants are usually not what you want your hostel to swarm with, but here they added to the atmosphere.


The yard was filled with them as well and next to them parked a freak or tall bike. The first use for these machines was for make it easier to light gas lamps in the late nineteenth century.


Old bicycle parts were also used in creating some of the ants. Here a cogwheel was used to creeate for the fangs.


The next day at the station, it felt like travelling back in time to the early days of train travel.


The railways and the station look almost abandonned and nature is taking them back one grasshalm at a time.


The sky was darkening and once we were finally on our way, the rain blurred the vision out of the windows and together with the smells and noises added to this unreal atmosphere.


The train ride itself is an adventure. There are more comfortable classes, with the ‘pullman’ even one above the first class, but they are generally booked out quickly and all that remains is the tourist class. Which isn’t very comfortable but has a nice little feature: You can convert two double seats facing in one direction, so that they face each other, by folding the backrest of one seat to the other side. Thus enabling groups to suit their news best. After chatting to a father and son duo for a while, they asked me to get up and created that new seating arrangement in seconds. All the while the son was holding his new guitar he was too reluctant to put in the overhead compartment. Later he played a little bit and after only four weeks of lessons, that were included as sort of a test run to see if he has the motivation to play, i was glad the father was satisfied and willing to let him continue. Even though, the train ride takes at least twice as long as with the bus and is less than half as comfortable, it might be the richer experience for some. Soon some news about Buenos Aires and beyond.



food people travel

lago carrera

After taking the turnoff to Puerto Ibañez, it was mostly downhill towards Lago Carrera and a tailwind was pushing me swiftly along. And then one last look back…


A common view in Patagonia, a body of water with snow capped mountains looming in the background. This was my goodbye to this wonderful place.


Then the Lago Carrera came into view and in the evening i took a ferry across it together with two other cyclists from germany.


The wind was blowing strong but i still preferred to spend the crossing on deck. I camped in Chile Chico and tried one of the homebrewed cervezas, the son of the familie running the campground made himself. The next day it was only some kilometers to the border before crossing into argentinian territory again. One could see the road for miles ahead and besides the changing colours of the lake…


…not much was to be seen besides some armadillos.


The road kept following the lake with the only difference being that it now was called Lago Buenos Aires. And it was pleasant enough with another tailwind keeping the pedaling effort to a minimum until reaching the small town of Perito Moreno. On the nice municipal campground my neightbour had pitched the same tent as mine in the other available colour less optimized for stealth camping.


From here it would be all buses, and hopefully a train in between, until Buenos Aires.