Seeking Argentina

Argentina is famous among overlanders for its free or low cost municipal campgrounds. Chichinales has its own well shaded facility and we spent a night here. The pool was closed; don’t get excited. 

The toilets were open as well as a cold shower but I have to admit I have not seen one of these since I was in France half a century ago. I never did miss them either. 

The free campground is a nice touch but Argentina is a tough country to travel through with your camper. It is not Chile, not one bit. Chile is clean tidy and organized with good roads and high prices. Argentina is the most expensive country in South America that we have come across (Uruguay is said to be pricier) but it is not doing well. 

It’s not easy to get to talk to Argentines in random encounters as they shy away and get a look of panic in their eyes if you try to talk to them. We have had conversations obviously along this very long road and I have pieced together an unsettling view of Argentina. 

It’s annoying to pass through as a tourist in a country with crumbling infrastructure and mildly irritating bureaucracy but to live here is to know pain. If people do open up its to acknowledge the country’s failure, their inability to function collectively coherently and there is a curtain of shame behind which they hide. It really is painful to see it up close.

In 1982 the generals running the country decided the Falklands War would be a good distraction from the sorry mess that was the economy. That plan went wrong and the generals got overthrown and replaced by a civilian democratic government. But you know things didn’t go well because subsequent presidents keep bringing up the Falklands and there’s only one reason for that. 

In 2001 Argentina defaulted on its obligations and a struggling economy went catatonic. It took until 2015 to sort of sort out the bondholders claims but in 2020 the country defaulted on another half billion dollar loan.  So you can see why in 2023 when a performance artist with a shock of hair and 18th century side burns who said he could fix this once and for all got elected president. Everyone was fed up with the old order. Just like the United States in 2024. 

Unlike Argentina the United States had a functioning if ill balanced economy but slash and burn will have the same effect and I can tell you Argentina is not a happy place even though their government operates in surplus. 

I lived a work life of stagnating wages and no clear future until I got to Key West where my wife worked out a plan which we have been living. I never expected to see my life raft sink behind me but here we are in one messed up economy watching our own get torn down. Unlike a lot of people I am not convinced billionaires want to rebuild it bigger and better for working peoples’ benefit. But there again I’ve listened for years to people telling me the second amendment prevented a government take over. Apparently they too were bluffing. 

Argentines aren’t armed. Violent crime is on the rise even as fewer police are on the streets. We keep hearing from overlanders whose vehicles have been broken into so we never leave GANNET2 alone on public streets or parking areas. We don’t camp on the streets either choosing campgrounds or isolated wild camps far from city limits. Worrying like this is not how I like to travel 

I think what makes theft so unfashionable in Argentina is how much the country has slipped. They like to think of themselves, like Chileans, as Europeans but when you look around you see the sort of social decay common in poorer countries like Peru and Ecuador. Cars run on bald tires and rust patches, lines are long outside government buildings and gas stations, shopping in the supermarket is an exercise in frustration with a mixture of high prices (higher than the US) and empty shelves. We try to buy as little as possible. New tires for $250 each are available in Chile while here in Argentina I’ve been quoted $700 for one. We must get a new headlight bulb so we’re going to look for one in Mendoza because you have to keep headlights on in day time and I don’t like using my high beams as I get occasional irritated headlight flashes back. God knows how much it will cost. 

We don’t eat out much and when we try to buy off street vendors a sandwich we share might cost six dollars. The minimum wage here is three times less than the US, so imagine it costing $18 at home.

It’s just untenable but it is also a little scary. We are postponing a visit to Buenos Aires until next year hoping things will be better. If you walk the streets you must keep your phone on a leash to try to avoid it being snatched out of your hand. Petty theft is rampant we have been warned. As bad as it may be for us it must be hell for residents. 

I dread the thought of a similar descent into a lower level of economic insecurity at home. President Milei here has promised a better future but after two years of his chain saw attacks on government the people I spoke to are exhausted. 

I wanted to like Argentina a lot more than other countries and I expected to love it here. Through the grime and the frustration I can see what was, and for me the current state of affairs is a disappointment not a disaster. We got here two years too late, a time when the cost of living was low, the government was overspending and the elections were ahead and people had hope. 

It’s odd to me how the United States had a functioning economy, a growing stock market and investment plans and the voters threw it all away. I paid attention when the elders said you needed to save for retirement but now I learn I was a parasite at my union supoorted government job. I’m glad I’ve gone but our carefully crafted retirement seems at risk of dismemberment by an unelected billionaire playing Monopoly with our lives. And being cheered on by his next victims. 

We seem to have found our way in South America learning to be nomads in societies where summer camping is much enjoyed but permanence in a camper van is an oddity. We both still enjoy this life with all its challenges and are glad to be away from the intolerance of the US. 

The man in the photo above  came in to clean the campground after a long weekend of families enjoying the woods. His three dogs followed him around playing and barking at the grumpy old American dog who didn’t want to play. We talked a little about our trip and I joked about how quiet this private park was. Private? he said…this is public. Yes I said but we get to enjoy it alone so it’s as good as private. He looked around nodding. The locals had left as had the friendly Brazilians in their van. We were alone. 

The night before a nice lady waiting for her husband to bring the car back advised us to move to the other end of the campground where the lights came on at night. It’s safe here she said but it’s better near the lights so we moved. Layne was up at two in the morning and saw a police car on patrol. 

We are moving north slowly into central Argentina and indeed we were camped in the north bank of the Rio Negro which is generally accepted to be the northern boundary of Argentine Patagonia. So technically we are out of the region we originally set out to visit. New countryside awaits us. 

And they say the further north you go the poorer Argentina becomes. 

This journey might get interesting as we approach Bolivia, the poorest of them all. 

Out Of Patagonia

We woke up to the squawks of parrots squabbling in the eucalyptus overhead. Layne postponed her parrot hunt and went back to sleep. Rusty and I went for walk. 

I try to be really careful and not be reckless or risk injury but boy howdy, scrambling up a little hill to get a better view I took a face plant. Blam! Straight down as I tripped in a root. Luckily I hit dirt, my camera was dusty but undamaged and the blood I lost came from scratches and splinters. Rusty thought I was an idiot and stayed close by as I collected myself. 

This was a pretty nice spot to spend the night. The air was cool, the Southern Cross was overhead and we were alone. 

Meanwhile herself got diverging useful done. She washed the fruit and put away her laundry. 

Oh and the she went photographing parrots. 

I found Gauchito Gil the truckers’ guardian hanging out near the rest stop. He deserted from the Triple Alliance War of 1864 (Argentina Brazil and Uruguay fought Paraguay) and while on the lam he became a cattle rustler eventually getting caught and sentenced to death. He promised his executioner he would cure his son who was ill and after the man cut off Gil’s head he went home and prayed to Gil to cure his son. So you’ll see these red shrines all over Argentina and I’m told Bolivia. Now you know. 

And sure enough as we got ready to leave after lunch (yeah, did yeah a slow start, we’re retired) a truck showed up for a nap. 

Argentina is a weird country. The President promised a new start for a country beset by inflation and a devalued currency and he promised a change. He got elected after waving a chain saw around to symbolize his cost cutting program. 

Check out this roundabout. Work has ceased. There is no progress, no workers, no parked equipment, no activity. 

The new traffic circle is three quarters finished but it’s going to remain like this until somebody in charge figures out how to restart a stalled country. 

President Musk waved his own chain saw around in imitation of Milei and his cost cutting doesn’t fill me with much hope. I’ve never seen forensic accounting  carried out  the way his twenty year olds are trashing institutions and as I look at Argentina slipping into physical collapse I dread the future. 

I talked to a lady at the campground and she told me about her 34 year old daughter living in a wheelchair. She told me about the immense hassles to get a chair, the bureaucracy to get help, the paperwork to get her daughter a chance at a life. Then the gravel roads, the mud sidewalks, the immobility. I found Key West totally wheelchair unfriendly but I knew not what to say. This gravel garbage is an inconvenience for us but for locals it’s just another sign of collapse. That and sky high prices. 

There you are driving down the highway and then you are in Darwin. The man is everywhere in Patagonia but we’ve crossed the Rio Negro so we are in the pampas. Patagonia is behind us. 

I can’t say I saw any difference. The mesquite bushes stretched to the horizon. The sun shone. The road ran straight. It was still 90 summer degrees. But it was no longer the mythical Patagonian desert. 

They sell fruit from truck trailers here. We stopped at a gas station and the attendant said the bathrooms were wrecked and the water faucet was wrecked and they were out of regular. This town sucks he said to me speaking about Choele Choel. 

It’s one of the larger towns in central Argentina but we skipped it. Up the road we found a potable water faucet in an unattended city park. I filled our tank using the water bandit (the blue rubber nozzle below) to attach our hose to the faucet. 

One guy said hi and asked a few questions but most of the day users looked away when we waved. We freaked them out which made me miss cheerful friendly Chile. Economic depression takes its toll. 

A gas station without a line, just for the record, they do exist. 

The sign said “fried sandwiches” and what we got was a bag of fry bread. Not what we expected but delicious. We like to shop roadside to help spread the wealth. 

In case you are hard of seeing this is where we spent the night in a free municipal campground. 

With a nice view. 

Rusty liked the grass. Steak and corn on the cob for dinner. With fry bread of course. 

Las Grutas

You spend four days at the beach and then you want to get going. The feeling that it’s time to go just grows on you in a way that is organic, unbidden and not specific to any particular reason. You just know it’s time to go.

So we slept through our alarms and got up at seven and got in gear. The plan was to be at the laundry in the town of Las Grutas, a seaside resort where the laundry opens at nine. 

First of course young Rusty needed a walk to set him up for the day. He was under observation as we passed the Clampett campground. They brought a full sized grill, a revival meeting sized tent with chairs and pictures out an adorable puppy. 

Daniel came by on his early way home. He and Layne had exchanged WhatsApp numbers so if we go to Bariloche we know where to stop. He was great company. 

There was a pair of American vans  the beach but they parked so far away you can hardly see them. One is the family that nearly came to blows with a German in Arequipa over their cats so spending time with them seemed riskier than we’d like as we aren’t much into physical violence. The other van was a Promaster similar to ours but apparently they were traveling together do they disappeared in the distance. People maintain their social oddities when overlanding and I prefer to keep my distance. My wife likes to live dangerously.   

The road to Las Grutas started with two and a half miles of the usual gravel smoothed only slightly by the grading last Friday. 

The remaining forty minutes to town were spent at sixty miles an hour enjoying black top.

“Las Grutas - place of emotions. Welcome.”  Very nice. 

First stop was at La Anonima, the Patagonian supermarket chain but that didn’t open also till nine so we pressed on into this bright shiny town looking for the laundry service. 

The idea was to get in first thing and get the clean laundry back as soon as possible which it turns out was five pm. Plus the large bag of clothes cost twenty bucks to clean. Argentina is not cheap. 

This town is modern it turns out: vegetarian food available. 

This was the Monday of Carnival weekend which runs through Tuesday (today as you read this) so businesses were as likely to be closed as open. 

I’ve included a Wikipedia page on the town partly gut information but partly also because it’s a translation from the Spanish original and it reads that way. It gives me hope that Artificial Intelligence is still identifiable as  such. “Wide tidal amplitude,” made me smile. 

We try not to talk about chores in our retirement as that sounds kind grinding work so we call them jobs. After we dropped off the laundry we went grocery shopping which Layne found less than satisfactory finding some shelves at La Anonima were empty and even sliced cheese was missing. Not the end of the world but we moved on to a fruit stand…

…and empanadas for lunch. And we found a self service car wash; how cool was that? I expect we aren’t the only beach goers anxious to wash off sand and salt. I spent six bucks shampooing rinsing and waxing the Beast. 

Of course this being Argentina streets are not all paved and last nights thunderstorm that bypassed our beach camp hit the town head on. 

But the sun was out, the bread was fresh and younger love blossomed in matching clothing under the fresh green trees. 

These are a few random shots of an Argentine beach town, no Spanish colonial architecture and no massive cathedrals. 

Gas lines especially on a holiday cone as no surprise. We are planning to see Bolivia before we go to Brazil for the winter and Bolivia is a failed state with shortages and lines so we call this good preparation. 

And because this is a beach town I took a walk to the beach on Carnival Monday and it reminded me of the Adriatic coast of Italy in summer. If you like crowds you’ll love this. 

I used my phone so it’s not great photography but you get the idea. It’s said the Atlantic waters here are warmer and better for swimming. I guess the secret’s out. 

My idea of hell but I expect I shall have to submit to overheated solitary confinement as the legend requires. 

I would bet a Venezuelan or Haitian refugee making ends meet under the sun. 

Standing and bending all day. You have to be tough to live in exile. 

I saw the Rimini hotel and I thought of Rimini on the Adriatic, an Italian town loaded with beach umbrellas souvenirs and summer crowds. Apparently someone ended noticed the resemblance. 

Some smart people take their maté to the park for some peace and quiet. We stopped here to seek out some cheese, successfully though Layne looked askance at the unknown brand in her hand. 

We hoped our clothes would be ready at 4:30 and they were so we took off due north. We had not found a potable water faucet nor had we located showed but the other jobs were done. Van life in Argentina is full of romance glamor and excitement. 

I asked at a gas station truck stop place and they had excellent hot showers to two bucks apiece. I got four gallons of gas, as much as would go in just to set off across the Pampas with a full tank and we went looking for somewhere  to park. 

One of the great fears of life in a van is not knowing where you will sleep but I actually enjoy the uncertainty. I remember on our first trip after we got GANNET2 new from Custom Coach we took three weeks to go to the Great Lakes and one night we couldn’t figure out where to park in the Upper Peninsula and we got quite stressed driving into the night to find a rest area on Highway 25. We have been doing this so long we don’t worry any more. Something will come up. We’ll make do. And we did in an informer’s area under some eucalyptus trees. Rusty, the chief security officer kept a close eye on the cows…

…and I kept a close eye on the magnificent array of stars. Of traffic there was almost none. 

We had roast chicken with a sunset for dessert. 

The better part of van life in the middle of nowhere alone.