At Palacio Barolo

Southern South America – Terminus – Long term Travel – The Travelers – The Nature of Long Term Travel – Going Home

At its Southern tip South America looks like an inverted cone, squeezing all travelers into a limited area. Thus, it seemed to us that the continent was suddenly full of overlanders from Europe, America and Australia. In contrast to the rest of our journey, we were greeting at least one expedition vehicle a day.

Buenos Aires seems to be another such meeting point. People are either starting or finishing off their grand adventure. As a terminus for such travelers, we have started to run into people that were, until recently, just names on a web site or an email. This is how we finally met Karin-Marijke and Coen, veteran wanderers of the world for the past six years.

The southern tip of South America looks like an inverted funnel

People choose many ways of long term travel. The most common are the backpackers, who, having taken time often off for about a year, rely on public transport to satisfy their wanderlust. Then, much fewer, are mobile travelers with expedition vehicles frequently fitted out to be a home away from home. Almost everyone has an end date in mind, people return for friends, family, work. But there are those who have made a lifestyle of traveling, their home is on the road, their holiday is visiting the place where home used to be.

“Strange”,”Weird”, you say? But when you meet permanent travelers like Karin-Marijke and Coen (Amsterdam) or Rick and Cathy (US), they come across as the sweetest, least eccentric people you could imagine. Yet it is not easy to be continuously on the road, dealing with strange cultures, unfamiliar languages and unknown surroundings. The friendly grocer changes frequently, you have no idea where to get a duct tape, or even what it is called for that matter, and how much money the next bank will give you. The comfort of the familiar is never an option, only the challenging unknown remains.

Karen-Marijke and Coen

Yet even the unfamiliar becomes routine, and it has to be said, even the most frustrating day traveling is no worse than a bad day at work. It is comforting to know that most timelines are self imposed and can be changed. Likewise, some things are so hard to change that resignation is the best policy.

As the end of our trip approaches, we ask ourselves, could we travel like the veterans? No clear answer comes to mind. Nine months ago I would have said no, I miss our friends and the comfort of a daily routine too much. While this remains important to us, we have been away for so long that I wonder if staying in one place would make me restless. I guess I will find out soon enough.

Contemplating Koi

To a certain extent this post assumes familiarity with the Borges’ short story “Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius”, which you can find here.

The freeways around Buenos Aires form a vast labyrinth with snaking asphalt paths. “Take that exit. No that one, THAT exit!” “Fuck! We almost got creamed by that bus, you’re going to get us killed!” “Shit! Is this where we’re supposed to be?” “We’re lost. Where the fuck are we going?” “I don’t know. According to the GPS we’re right where we’re supposed to be.” “Okay, we’re on Pasco. And there’s Moreno.” “Here it is. WTF. Where are we?“

I owe the discovery of Uqbar to the concurrence of a mirror and an encyclopaedia.
-Jorge Luis Borges, Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius

GPS: Fail. We were to meet Luis Alvarez at Pasco 261, cross street Moreno. That is exactly where we were, but it looked like a rough neighborhood with low-slung buildings. As it happens in Argentina, we were immediately surrounded by friendly and helpful people, who after their initial empuzzlement on finding us in Ramos Mejía, soon pointed us in the right direction. Several days later Luis called to say: “I was just reviewing Borges’ ‘Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius’, and did you know that the mirror that led to the discovery of Uqbar was located in Ramos Mejía?” Sometimes the universe conspires to show us strange things – this time it had led us to the starting point for my favorite short story.

Zodiaco – 1953, Xul Solar.

The story is rooted in the philosophy of George Berkeley, that objects are known by our perception of them. In fact Berkeley goes so far to say that that is the only way we know objects, so if our perception of the object changes, it changes the object itself. So that “cute colorful wiggly thing” drastically changes to “Oh shit, snake!” when it chews on your tent mate and leaves him writhing with agony. Borges cleverly keeps introducing unusual objects and concepts until Tlön is set to overwhelm Earth by displacing all perceptions about it.

For example, there is nothing equivalent to our word ‘moon’, but there is a verb that for us would be ‘to moonrise’ or ‘to moon’. ‘The moon rose over the river’ would be ‘Hlör u fang axaxaxas mlö’ or, literally, ‘Upward behind the lasting-flow it moonrose’. (Xul Solar translates this more succinctly as ‘Upward, behind the onstreaming, it mooned.’)
-Jorge Luis Borges, Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius

Desarrollo del Yi Ching – 1953, Xul Solar.

“Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius” betrays the the strong influence of Xul Solar, a friend of Borges’ who lived on Laprida street in Buenos Aires. There is a curious and quirky exhibition space where he used to live that is dedicated to his work, mostly art, but also the musical instruments and games he invented. It is difficult to categorize a person like Xul, the closest I analogy I can come up with is that he was a latter-day-Buenos-Aires equivalent of Leonardo da Vinci. Among the recurrent themes in his work are his fascination with the number twelve and the development of new languages to express his ideas. Two of his rather ambitious projects were neo-criollo, a new language for South America, and Pan-lingua, a formal universal language to express axioms, facts, and their derivations. This inspired me to think about everybody needing their own language to communicate that which is important to them. To me I use language in two ways – to communicate with myself (internal dialogue), and to communicate with others.

Tu y Yo – 1923, Xul Solar.

So why a personal language, isn’t English sufficiently rich enough to express my personal experience? I would say no, how many times have you had that feeling “Augh! I just can’t express myself. It was on the tip of my tongue and now it is gone.” For example how do I represent the indescribable joy and serenity of watering my orchids at 5:30am in the morning? If I create a token, “Orchibliss”, I can interact with that feeling in an abstract way and improve my internal dialogue. I find that English in particular is quite restrictive in the words used to express the sensations of taste and smell. Most likely I would find Xul Solar’s languages deficient as well, if perhaps not in the same areas.

Xul Solar also encoded his artwork with a language of its own, one that unveils a transcendental state or euphoria and scholars are still trying realize the many layers of meaning in his paintings. Luis Alvarez told me “I have grown up with Xul Solar’s paintings and I always liked them, but now they speak to me.”

Recoleta

Recoleta – Real estate of the dead – A deadly Merry-go-round – Rest-in-peace? (Map this!)

“La Recoleta” is a famous barrio, or neighborhood, of Buenos Aires. It brings to mind old and lofty mansions, dignified open air cafes and the exclusive cemetery of Recoleta.

Grand entrance

Jorge Luis Borges, in his poem about the cemetery of Recoleta, mentions the “dignity of death”. We visited the cemetery in the early hours of the morning, when no-one was there save for a few workers. Wandering among the still-dark and ornate sepulcres lit up by the early rays of the sun and stained glass, it certainly seemed so – peaceful and permanent.

Later, once the peace was disturbed by the harsh light of late morning and tourists, we took an official tour. This was when we discovered the true reality of Recoleta, that “Rest in Peace” was only temporary, ruled by the vagaries of fortune. These mausoleums, lavishly adorned with stained glass windows, elaborate statuary and elegant structures born from fertile imagination, are bought and sold on the real estate market. And when a mausoleum is sold, everything has to be emptied out, including the poor souls “resting in peace”.

Rest in Peace, which does not seem to happen very often in the Recoleta.

Borges used to live in the Recoleta, not too far from the cemetery. Here, in an imposing old building, he almost died climbing the stairs. He called Recoleta the “place of his ashes” but is not buried there. In the last few years of his life, he returned to Geneva, where he had also lived as an adolescent. He is buried in the Plainpalais Cemetery in a simple grave.

Eva Perón’s tomb

The dead at Recoleta have been moved for reasons other than profit. In the twentieth century, a drama played out in Recoleta with the body of Gen. Pedro Aramburu, one of the leaders in the miltary uprising against Juan Perón. Fearing that the leftist Peronistas would regroup around the embalmed and almost sanctified body of Eva Perón, Gen. Aramburu supposedly orchestrated its removal from public eyes. Evita’s corpse initially toured the homes of various military personnel, then embarked on a transcontinental journey until she was finally buried in Italy under a false identity.

The Borges family mausoleum

Fast forward to the return of Juan Perón to power. By this time, Gen. Aramburu had been kidnapped and assassinated by the Montoneros, a left wing Peronist guerrilla group, and his body was supposedly resting in peace in the Recoleta cemetery. The Perón supporters, upset that Evita’s body was still touring Europe, stole Aramburu’s body and vanished into the night. After a successful bargain of “a body for a body”, both were eventually returned and currently (and hopefully, permanently) rest in peace at Recoleta.

And now it seems that Borges’ sojourn in Europe may also end. Recently, a proposal to move Borges’ body from Geneva to the family mausoleum in the Recoleta has been put before Congress. This brings to my mind lines written by Borges,

milagro incomprensible,
aunque su imaginaria repetición
infame con horror nuestros días.
– Jorge Luis Borges, “La Recoleta”

Underground

The meaning of a String – Reading Borges – At the library – Ricardo del Ponte – Today’s Borges. (Map this!)

No puedo combinar unos caracteres dhcmrlchtdj que la divina Biblioteca no haya previsto y que en alguna de sus lenguas secretas no encierren un terrible sentido.
– Jorge Luis Borges, “La Biblioteca de Babel”

agcttttcat tctgactgca acgggcaata tgtctctgtg tggattaaaa aaagagtgtc
tgatagcagc ttctgaactg gttacctgcc gtgagtaaat taaaatttta ttgacttagg
tcactaaata ctttaaccaa tataggcata gcgcacagac agataaaaat tacagagtac

The meaning of the above string stands somewhere between pure nonsense and extra-ordinary. It is also possible that it is one of the most amazing phrases that humans have known, but the chances of that are slim. You have probably guessed that the string of letters is not particularly random; for one it is a tedious repetition of only four letters A-T-C-G, letters that encode DNA sequences. This particular one is a part of one of the 4493 genes that make up the genome of Escherichia coli K12, a rather useful organism to science. The Library of Babel, if it existed, would contain the blueprints necessary to create all living beings, all those that are extinct, and all those yet to evolve.

Fred Gault was shocked that I had never read Borges. “You must start with this story, ‘The Library of Babel‘.”, he opined. Since then I have read much by the Argentine author, but “The Library” was the first, so I HAD to visit the library that inspired it. Out of the way, in the Boedo district of Buenos Aires, the Miguel Cané library is a small branch library where Borges worked between 1937 and 1946. I had imagined a vast library with the stacks stretching almost to the vanishing point, but the entrance to Miguel Cané indicated a small local branch.

…debe existir un libro que sea la cifra y el compendio perfecto de todos los demás: algún bibliotecario lo ha recorrido y es análogo a un dios.
– Jorge Luis Borges, “La Biblioteca de Babel”

For a higher resolution video click here

“It is forbidden to take pictures here!”, said the man severely, in between puffs of his pipe. His thick glasses and light blue lab coat gave him an air of authority.”Who are you, and what do you do here?”, I asked in a loud stentorian voice, barely able to contain my anger. I had driven 37,743 miles, taken two subway trains, and walked several blocks to Miguel Cané, and I resented being pushed around. “I am Ricardo del Ponte, in charge of cataloging, and a Professor of History.”, replied the man, “And I repeat you may not take pictures!”

I had come to Miguel Cané not expecting to see much, but as I talked to the man my anger ebbed. Here he was in real life, a passionate and eccentric librarian. Our conversation covered Aaron Copeland, Beowulf, Wagner, Edgar Allen Poe, and a vast array of other topics. With intensity and passion he described the UDC and the codes for its main categories. His manner softened. “Come, I will show you the room where Borges studied”, as he shuffled to the stairs.

One of the first English translations of Borges’ work were done by Norman Thomas di Giovanni, in collaboration with him. After Borges’ death, his widow forbade any subsequent publication of those translations.

A small corner of Miguel Cané is dedicated to Borges, the small room where he studied Gibbon’s “Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire” and Dante’s “Divina Commedia“. A case in the corner displays several of first editions, including Ficciones. “I understand the importance of Borges to Argentine literature, but I find some of his work rather infantile.”, confided del Ponte. With the energy of a boy he showed us the rare book room, filled with irreplaceable volumes. “They aren’t in the UDC system yet, but they will be!”, he said with glee.

When we got back to the apartment, I started to do the research for this article and received quite a shock. In my ignorance I had assumed that Borges, given his stature, had been in charge of the Miguel Cané library, which was turned out to be false. If this were The Garden of Branching Paths, and I had arrived at Miguel Cané in the late ’30s or mid 40’s the man in the light blue lab coat would have been none other than Jorge Luis Borges, for his real job was that of cataloger.

Working Hard at Kaiken

The Material World – On the shores of Fagnano – Daring the weather (Map this!)

Both Neena and I are big fans of the book Material World, where photographer Peter Menzel photographed people from all over the world with all their possessions. One day, while driving we had the idea to do the same with all our things.

We wanted to realize the photo in front of a dramatic backdrop, but the weather in Patagonia is fierce and unpredictable. After weeks of scouting out locations we decided to do the shoot at Hosteria Kaiken on the shores of Lago Fagnano, in Tierra del Fuego.

We started early in the morning, a little after first light and worked into the afternoon. By the time we were done capturing the images the wind had kicked up and the sky was overcast. Much to our surprise the best one turned out to be the 40.81 megapixel panorama stitched with twelve images, not the single shot.

Our Material World. Click here or on the picture to explore further

To view the 39.19 megapixel panorama click here.

Lovely pastries, Ushuaia.

A year since Tulum – Aspiring to Change – Change.

A year ago we celebrated Shreesh’s last birthday at Tulum, the Mayan site gorgeously overlooking the Atlantic Ocean in the Yucatan peninsula of Mexico. How long ago that seems! We have traveled much since then, both physically and emotionally. We have visited the rainforests of Costa Rica and Panama, snorkeled in Honduras and Belize, paid homage to Darwin at the Galapagos Islands. We learnt Portuguese in Brazil, video editing in Panama and practised macro photography in Guatemala and Peru. We met people and cultures and friends. And as our trip comes to a close, we feel that we have grown a little.

After a year on the road, Shreesh said “I was hoping to change in a big Che Guevara type way, but that has not happened for I still remain a humble and optimistic Ernesto.” Then along came Argentina. It is ironic that the country Che Guevara left was the one that forged changes in us. And it is also fitting that the catalyst would be Argentina’s neighbor and an ex-enemy for many years, Chile.

Click here for larger pictures.

The reason for change can be directly attributable to Ovidio Lagos,an Argentinian author and journalist. While visiting Chiloé in Chile, we came across his travelogue about the island. A mix of history, legend and stories of the common people, the account is not only fascinating reading, but also an example of a type of travel which we have since aspired to. A form of travel where you look beneath the surface, connect with the people of the land and keep ears and eyes open for their stories. And although it is wonderful to visit the famed glaciers of South America, the penguins of Antarctica and the awe inspiring Iguazu Falls, cities like Valdivia and Talca have more meaning for us and just as enjoyable for their stories.

As our journey comes to a close, we feel satisfaction that the year and a half on the road wasn’t just self indulgent travels. We have learnt many useful things but we feel a fundamental change, Argentina has given us the the confidence to dig deeper, a new perspective of observation and the drive to be more engaged. This is why of all the countries we have traveled through, Argentina remains our favorite, by far.

Happy Birthday, Shreesh. What a year its been!

Armadillo

The Orcas – Peninsula Valdes – Obsession – Orca Watch.  (Map this!)

Glued to our binoculars, we focus on a point far away on the beach where sea lions are basking in the sun. Some of the unsupervised pups are frolicking in the sea, oblivious to the Orcas a hair’s breadth away. We see the fins getting closer and closer and suddenly, one no, two whales are out of the water and on the beach. Although we can barely tell, one has a baby sea lion in its mouth. Yes, definitely, because the gulls and the petrels are starting to circle.

An unfortunate in an Orca grip

The Peninsula Valdes is a World Heritage Site known for its amazing whale watching. We are “accidentally” here in perfect time to watch the Orcas devour baby sea lions. People from all over the world come specially for this sight, we hear of a couple from the UK that stayed for 3 weeks until they saw a successful kill. National Geographic and the Discovery Channel have sent a whole team of photographers and videographers here; needless to say they are in a prime location some fifty feet away from the action.

Peninsula Valdes awakens obsession in people and they make drastic changes in their plans to visit the whales. Being on the windswept plains we too became obsessed with a pressing need of seeing an Orca kill. Weeks and months from now, I will be unable to recapture this evanescent drive. Maybe one day we will stumble upon this blog entry and remember and return, only this time armed with a telescope…

Armadillo	A Pod	Danger	Fox

Meanwhile, us and twenty other folks are huddled against the cold Patagonian winds, united in our mission. We swap stories with our fellow hopefuls, eat salami and cheese when we remember lunch, listen faithfully to every braodcast on the park ranger’s radio reporting the movements of the orcas. We run from one end of the observation point to another, following them until a bend in the peninsula forces us to let them go. We will wait patiently until they return for the next kill…

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