WE WISH TO APOLOGISE........

14th April 2015

Typical

I do enjoy a good whinge from time to time and I feel one coming on right now. People tend not to appreciate whingers, so let us call what follows a 'critical observation'. I was going to add 'constructive', but I don't think that would be strictly accurate.

I know I am not alone in railing about most of the transport systems in UK (amongst much else I hasten to add), especially those which actively involve rails, but I met someone the other day who commutes by train to London every day and was going apoplectic with rage about, in his case, First Great Western Railways. This hit a chord and prompted me to burst into print and have a bloody good 'critical observation'. I feel more people should do so but, in true British tradition, they tend just to shrug their shoulders, click their tongues and resign themselves to a "well, that's just how it is" sort of comment. Of course my observations will have absolutely no effect, but I find it quite therapeutic.

You might remember an old British Rail slogan back in the 70s 'Let the Train Take the Strain'. Nowadays, in the UK, it would be more pertinent to re-phrase that as 'Let the Train Cause the Strain'. Those with nothing better to do might have plumbed the depths of this long blog and perhaps appreciate that I have travelled on many railways throughout the world and therefore credit myself with substantial experience of Johnny Foreigner's railway systems. I feel qualified to make comparisons and there is no question in my mind that the British railway system is, in comparison with most others, appalling. Whatever bullshit the PR experts like to spin it is for the most part (comparatively) eye-wateringly expensive, inefficient, uncomfortable, overcrowded and, most frustratingly, unreliable. I have a theory regarding the reliability of British trains; they run just reliably enough to persuade you to use them. However, the likelyhood of a train being on time (or operating at all) is in inverse proportion to the urgency and importance of your journey.

OK, Britain does suffer from two main disadvantages, other than sheer bureaucratic inefficiency, which make improvements to the overland and underground systems difficult, if not impossible. Firstly we invented, installed and exported the damned things in early Victorian days. As a result the network is constrained by size of bridges, tunnels, stations and ancient engineering. Secondly, this country is overpopulated and crowded and becoming exponentially ever more so. Therefore the infrastructure seems continually to face a losing battle in keeping up with demand (same applies to roads, hospitals, housing and much else for that matter), let alone advance ahead into clear air. We have, effectively, run out of space and cannot, a la China, just flatten things at a stroke to put bigger and better stuff in place. I can think of many things which, if flattened, would benefit the country enormously. Hull springs to mind, and Basingstoke and Wolverhampton and Reading and ...........the list goes on. Sadly these places will just get bigger, uglier and nastier. I suppose one has to bear these restrictions in mind, but I won't let it hinder my rant.

What is the point of faster trains if they don't leave and arrive on time? I would much rather travel more slowly if it meant travelling in greater comfort on a regular service and getting there on time. One likes to be able to plan a journey to arrive on schedule having had a relaxing rest on board, not to travel at Mach 2 on a roller-coaster ride which, due to 'unforeseen technical problems' arrives late anyway, or maybe doesn't even start. Commuter routes into London have come under particular fire recently for scrum-like overcrowding and inevitable delays. Even the boss of one southern network remarked that the service is, in his own words.... "shit, and you would transport cattle more humanely". I remember the days when the journey time from London to Newcastle was about 7 hours. So slow perhaps, but they ran a sleeper service then and one  could have a night out in London, catch the 11.30pm train, travel/sleep in relative comfort, be woken in the morning with a cup of tea (in a proper china service) and disembark at Newcastle Central Station at 7.30am in time for a delicious served breakfast at what was then the smart, but inexpensive, Station Hotel before going to an appointment in the city at 9.00am. No longer. The best you can do is get a 6.15am service arriving, so quickly and inconveniently, in Newcastle at 9.45am, perhaps. Bloody inconvenient.

Aren't we all too often infuriated by the miriad delays and cancellations accompanied by automated  and thoroughly insincere apologetic announcements with, probably spurious, reasons for them. Frankly, I am really not interested in why the blasted thing is cancelled, delayed or which involves a bus journey half way. I suspect there is an overstaffed department whose sole responsibility is to make up ever more fatuous and imaginative reasons as to why we have been inconvenienced. We are all familiar with 'unforeseen engineering works', 'signal failure', 'debris on the line' (see previous blog), 'person on the line', 'animals on the line,' 'trees on the line', probably 'newts on the line', 'overhanging branches','overhanging bats', 'wrong type of of snow' (all two inches of it), 'wrong type of leaves', 'windy weather forecast', 'man overboard', 'staff delayed (ie slept in)' or the 'On-board Customer Services Manager (the conductor to you and me) having a nervous breakdown', etc. etc. The list is endless. I just want to leave and get there on time with the luxury of a comfortable and spacious seat without mortgaging the house to travel 1st Class. Some hope. As for planning to travel by rail on Sundays and public holidays; forget it.  Of course these peak travel times for the holidaying rabble are the periods carefully selected for 'ongoing scheduled maintenance' to 'further upgrade and enhance the modernisation of our network', no doubt inevitably for our 'safety and comfort', and which nearly always unexpectedly 'overun'. This 'ongoing maintenance' is, of course, like roadworks where you see lots of cones and speed restrictions but nobody actually working, and is never-ending. The result is often unruly and sometimes even violent scenes with heaving masses of furious delayed, diverted or just dumped passengers fighting to get somewhere; anywhere! Why do they bother, but then the roads and airports during these periods are probably an even worse option.

The trains in Switzerland are a good example of how it should be done. They really do run like Swiss clockwork, even during holiday periods, using printed timetables from pre-nominated (on paper) platforms, and almost invariably depart and arrive smack on time, with barely a rattle or jolt, despite, believe it or not, sometimes having quite a lot of snow to deal with. They, and all other European lines are not only more comfortable and efficient, they are also comparatively much cheaper than ours. British fares, despite the labyrinthine and random complexities of ticket types and pricing for which you need a degree in Applied Chaos Theory to begin to understand, are on average 3 times more expensive than in the rest of the world (with the possible exception of Australia.... a long 'critical observation' is warranted there (and given...see Ghan blog) where they sometimes throw in bed bugs, at no extra charge admittedly, to make your expensive overnight journeys that little bit more memorable. In fact I don't believe it is possible to keep track of British fares with their seemingly random increases well above the rate of inflation and the off-peak, super-off-peak and other combinations and the times when you can use them. A system which allows you to travel more cheaply on a 'split' journey (ie two single tickets using an intermediate station at which you don't get off) than one single straight through cannot be logical or fair. And why should a return ticket cost the same as a single? In most sensible countries a single price is simply half that of a return. Too logical perhaps, but I suppose here they would then just further increase the price of a return. As for those automatic ticket machines which, to the uninitiated, are more confusing and time consuming to operate than the control panel for a space shuttle....well don't get me onto that subject. The one (the only one on the platform catering for a busy commuter line) I regularly try to use is carefully positioned so that on a sunny day it is impossible to read the screen. A queue of three people normally takes about half an hour to clear and  involves much cursing and thumping of the screen, and at least one 'customer' fails to get a ticket at all. Normally me.

The inhuman crowding and cramped conditions on so many trains is unforgivable and probably dangerous. As you may have experienced, on most southern commuter trains and even on some longer distance routes, standing room only is the norm with baggage blocking the aisles. This is frequently the case if you happen to be travelling to a destination near which there is due to be an 'event', ie pop-concert or football match. The idea of putting on extra services or more carriages seems rarely to occur, or is impossible. Often when a long distance service is cancelled they even have the nerve to remove all seat reservations, for those with the foresight to book them, on the following train to cram on more victims from the cancelled one...for which they apologise of course. In any event the seats in standard class are designed for midgets and if they have a fold-down table it is barely big enough on which to balance a cup of coffee, let alone a book as well; many the occasions of overturned cup, soaked book and scalded lap. There is no space for the window passenger, even of normal size, to get out without the aisle occupant having to move, and at the seats facing each other over a table I have fought many an acrimonious under-the-table battle over leg-room supremacy. The central aisles are carefully designed to be narrow enough to prevent people passing in opposite directions or to become completely stuck behind the helpful 'buffet' trolley which, in turn, is probably stuck by luggage for which there is no room left in the luggage racks. Admittedly the situation is not helped by the increasing number of Very Fat People (VFP) whom you encounter. It really can be quite oppressive sitting next to someone with the proportions of a barrage balloon who literally overflows, sweating and grunting, into your space. The Amtrak trains in the USA don't have this problem. They take into consideration VFP of American proportions and design-in suitable space. OK, at the other end of the scale, I have travelled on one of those 'local' trains, in Sri Lanka as it happens, where people hang outside the windows and sit on the roof. They do this with good reason. I made the mistake of boarding early for a space inside the carriage on one of these and very nearly suffocated as a result. After 5 minutes into the journey I would have given anything for an outside perch, however precarious, if only I could have moved a muscle to get there, or indeed speak. But those trains tend to be short distance commuters and one can't complain as the fare is only about 2p. Or if you die en-route. The long distance express trains in India were excellent (and cheap) where, except in the very lowest class...and there are 8 classes....you buy a ticket which automatically includes a seat/bunk reservation. No seat available; get the next train. Ergo, no standing in the aisles. Same in China, Vietnam, Malaysia, Russia, USA, Canada, New Zealand, Australia and most other countries which operate big, or even not so big, networks.

Perhaps we should introduce a system, similar to restricting the size of carry-on baggage with airlines, whereby passengers are made to pass through a calibrated 'chute' and if too fat to get through it are escorted to a special freight style carriage with heavy-duty bench seats along the sides and no access to the rest of the train. I suspect this idea, like so many of my best, however practical, might not be politically acceptable.

Electronic timetable display boards at stations are another of my bêtes noire. These are essential to allow for efficient and flexible platform allocation, I was assured, and no doubt for our 'comfort and safety' of course. They are operated by railway staff with either a grudge against humanity or a particularly warped sense of humour.  I remember waiting for a train from Victoria due to depart at 1.10pm. I was pushing a friend in a wheelchair as it happened. By 1.00pm a crowd of us, like a colony of meercats, were craning our necks watching the electronic board which indicated 'no platform yet allocated'. At 1.05pm it suddenly flashed up the platform number. There was a mad stampede to get to the gates which, as it happened, were a considerable distance away. After a seriously knackering wheelchair sprint with a Paralympic qualifying time, we got onto the platform but, at the last minute, sweating profusely, I had to abandon my wheelchair-bound mate and dive into a carriage doorway just as it was closing to jam it open before the train left. An irate 'official' appeared (they do irate very well) and I had to convince him to load the wheelchair-bound person before I would let go of the electronically operated door. This might have been dangerous, but it was the only option if we were to get onto the train. I was probably lucky not to get arrested by the station gestapo for endangering myself. What were they playing at? Which reminds me of another theory; if you arrive for a train early, it will be delayed. If you arrive for a train slightly late it will have left on time.

On another occasion I was due to meet someone arriving at Euston. The electronic arrivals board indicated that the train was due in at platform 2. Several of us made our way to platform 2. No train arrived. We went back to the main hall to see that the board now indicated the arrival at platform 14. Our group ran over to platform 14. There was a train there but not the correct one. On returning rapidly to the hall we saw the board had changed indication back to platform 2! It was like one of those Benny Hill sketches as we all then scuttled back to platform 2. I'm not making this up. Some bored malignant joker at the controls was probably having a 'a bit of a laff' with his mates as he (or she) got us running back and forth across the station concourse.  This is not the sign of a civilised travel system.

It has been pointed out, frequently, that a major cause of much of this chaos is the result of the disparate organisations, with their vastly well paid and 'protected from shouldering any real blame' Übermensch, which are responsible (or more usually claim not to be responsible when it goes wrong) for various parts of the network operation. Network Rail (track infrastructure), Station management (station facilities), rolling-stock manufacturers (the machines), individual railway companies (schedules), ticketing organisations (confused pricing options), the Government (policy, I suppose) and, of course, the various Trade Unions who love to threaten, or carry out, strikes for yet more 'pie' just when you most need the system to operate efficiently at it's busiest periods. Pure blackmail of course. Can't wait for at least the Underground (as per the comparatively reliable DLR) to operate driverless trains.  I have probably missed a few other cogs in this complex wheel. No doubt there is an enormous 'Elf 'n Safety' organisation to stick it's oar in to further complicate the matter.... for your comfort and safety, of course.

What to do about all this? Sack the lot of them and start again? I haven't a clue, and anyway that is not the remit of this 'critical observation'.

I scratch the surface here, and have not yet even started on my pet subject;  the most irritating, stress inducing, tedious, mind-blowingly stupid aspect of rail travel, especially the Underground........namely those  ridiculous and patronising ANNOUNCEMENTS. To be continued and for which, I suppose, we wish to apologise in advance.

PS. Just back from a trip to London from Hungerford. Normal day return cost (with travel card) £17.45. Set off at 6.18am, peak period apparently (most sensible people are asleep then) when they do not accept travel cards; cost of day return; £54.50! I can fly from London to Aberdeen for less than that. There were only 4 other passengers on the 3 carriage train. I asked the conductor (sorry Customer Services Manager) "why so bleedin' expensive?". She said it was probably because so few people used it (am I surprised?) that they had to increase the price! Talk about a prime example of the Law of Diminishing Returns.

THE SAGA OF MY NEARLY LOST HAT

21st Jan 2015

My flat cap

I am very fond of my old tweed flat cap. It has been with me throughout my travels around the world for the past 10 years. It has survived attacks by high winds on ships, bridges, mountains and observation platforms (some on moving trains), the risks of sticking my head out of windows, the attentions of souvenir seekers and thieves, wild animals, my forgetfulness and, as far as I am aware, moths. Neither it nor I had considered South West Trains a particular risk.

A few days ago I was travelling on the last (delayed due to 'debris' on the line) train from Paddington to Hungerford. This involved a change at Reading. Being late arriving at Reading I sprinted across the whole width of the station to find the Hungerford train which, fortunately, was waiting for us London passengers and was imminently about to depart. On entering the carriage a sharp gust of wind blew my dear cap off and it fell, neatly, where else, between the edge of the platform and the side of the carriage. It came to rest on the gravel down next to the line. There was only a very narrow gap between the carriage and platform edge and it was below arms length. I contemplated squeezing my foot down to the gravel but my leg may not have been long enough and anyway the train was about to leave so I stood the risk of not only losing my cap but also my leg. If only I had my umbrella with me, but I lost that the previous week. There was no sign of any railway staff. I believe they go into hibernation at some point early in the evening, so no hope of assistance from that quarter. My cap was in sight, inside upwards, looking pleadingly up at me to rescue it. I couldn't do anything other than offer words of comfort and bid farewell and then board the train in a state of considerable grief and annoyance much to the bemusement of my fellow passengers. "Goodbye old friend" I sobbed quietly, "we have been so far for so long, done so much together and to lose you in such a banal way as this comes as a bitter blow". An old lady offered me a handkerchief and asked if there was anything she could do. She had a stick. Bugger! I could have used that, but the train was pulling out.

I searched the whole length of the train (only 3 carriages) for the conductor to whom I might be able to explain my grievous loss and hopefully persuade him to contact Reading station to effect a recovery. There was absolutely no conductor. I did not consider it wise to bang on the locked driver's door. So I sat in a state of misery and frustration for the rest of the journey. What to do?

On getting home I soon discovered that there are no direct telephone facilities for 'members of the public' to contact individual stations. I therefore resolved to cancel all appointments the following day and return by train to Reading railway station in the forlorn hope that my cap was still waiting for me somewhere. "Perhaps they have a lost property office to which some kind person had taken it", I mused optimistically. Some hope. I suspected that a member of the Reading station staff would now be strutting around the town showing off his/her newly acquired smart tweed cap.

The next day, uncomfortably bareheaded, taking a short broom handle with a hook on the end with me and, more in hope than expectation, I caught the train back to Reading. We arrived at the same platform from which I boarded the previous night. I went to the section of the train where I lost my cap and, wonders to behold there was my beloved cap lying, dry and undamaged, exactly in the same place on the gravel where it had fallen. I could now easily reach it with my broom handle. Morale was high, perhaps too high because, in my euphoria, it was then that I made a fatal mistake. There were several railway staff on the platform now, amongst whom was a group of three women wearing yellow high-vis vests. To the one standing near me I announced in gleeful tones that I was so happy that I had found my hat and could now recover it with this handy stick I had brought with me. Instead of a cheery reply the reaction this produced from Ms Yellow-Vest was akin to her being confronted by a swivel-eyed Jihadist announcing he was about to pick up his AK47 and suicide vest from the tracks below. Within seconds I was surrounded by her two colleagues and a further uniformed panjandrum who shouted at me that under no circumstances could I pick up what was on the track and to "stand back from the edge of the platform at once!". "What is the problem, why can't I retrieve my cap?" I queried politely to the grim faced panjandrum and the sour looking women. "Procedures", was the unsmiling reply. I again asked what was to stop me hooking my cap. "It's not safe" I was told grumpily, "the track might be electrified". "But it's not electrified, there are no electric rails or electric overhead wires and the train is a diesel one", I helpfully explained to him. At this point he was on his radio and had summoned two uniformed policemen. Quite a crowd was gathering to witness this, by now, interesting spectacle. It was apparent that the police and 'staff' now surrounding me were itching to find a reason to slap the old cuffs on me and whisk me off to an interrogation cell somewhere. As politely as possible, realising that one wrong word would see me spread-eagled in an arm lock on the platform while further reinforcements were called, I pitifully enquired as to how I could get my cap back. "You'll have to wait until the train leaves and then we might be able to get a qualified person to retrieve the object from the line" was the answer. I couldn't help but point out that my cap wasn't on the 'line' it was on the gravel. "It's on railway property and you are not permitted to trespass onto it", I was told in threatening manner.  I could see that any further form of question or request would only exacerbate an already hostile situation.  I could hardly believe that such a trivial matter could engender such a ridiculously over-the-top response and I was, understandably, becoming quite cross....but successfully managed to bite my tongue.

I noticed that the train was due to leave, back to Hungerford, at 1.48pm which gave me just under an hour to kill. I would obviously miss this train home but might rescue my cap after it had gone. I sloped off in bad temper to find a coffee and was carefully watched off the platform by the self-appointed 'security services'. I had no doubt that any early return would be monitored and a snatch squad dispatched with great glee to arrest me.

I went back to the platform at 1.45pm to find the train still there and the electronic signboard indicating it was now not due to depart until 2.48pm. I didn't dare sneak along the platform with my stick as I was convinced that a smirking polizei would be gazing at me on some CCTV screen. There was nobody around to ask why the delay (they were probably all waiting in ambush positions), so back to the cafe and a another hour's wait.

On the next trip back to the platform, the train was still there with a notice stating that departure time was further delayed to 3.48pm. Eventually I found a black uniformed goon who, when asked  the reason for the repeated delays of the Hungerford train, told me "It's been reported that there's an obstruction on the line". I didn't bother to ask "what obstruction?" and could I really be imagining that the presence of my cap on the trackside was the cause of this ridiculous situation. I had a horrible suspicion that it was.

By chance, on the way back to my season ticket seat in the cafe, I met another black uniformed personage who just happened to be carrying one of those spring-loaded litter sticks. I'm not sure whether he was on the way to my platform, but asked him whether he could do me a big favour and come with me to see if he could rescue my cap. He came along and I pointed out my cap on the the ground and asked if he could just pick it up. I noticed at this point that my previously unblemished cap was now covered in some brown coloured substance. With great reluctance and grim expression this employee of the railway company, after saying he was 'not really allowed to do this without supervision', simply picked it up. I resisted telling him that I could have done that 2 hours ago with my own stick. I suppose I'm grateful that he didn't think it necessary to call in the bomb squad.

So, much joy! My trusty cap and I were reunited. It was indeed covered with brown goo which on closer inspection and a wary sniff, fortuitously perhaps, turned out to be congealed chocolate drink. Who tipped that onto it? No passengers had boarded the train.  I have my suspicions.

As a final and totally unnecessary rejoinder, my litter-stick weilding 'saviour' told me "you must wash that hat before wearing it". "Oh thank you for that sound advice" I said "I was just going to put it on my head straight away because I really enjoy the sensation of slimy chocolate all over my balding swede". This statement was not well received.

I duly washed out the cap in the station loo. I think this was the first wash it had ever had, and then caught the now 'unobstructed' train back to Hungerford.....with mixed emotions.

Glad to get my beloved cap back, but utterly bemused by the sullen bunch of unhelpful, indeed hostile, jobsworths who made such an appalling fuss over such a trivial situation. I could never before have imagined such bureaucratic, humourless, rule-bound, elf 'n' safety ridden lack of initiative displayed by station staff together with their police back-up squad. From my worldwide travelling experiences, much of it on trains, I think only in the UK (with the possible exceptions of Russia and Australia...see Trans-Siberian and Ghan blogs) could you find such an unhelpful and bossy attitude. It's hardly surprising that our expensive and unreliable transport systems are plagued by unnecessary delays and cause so much frustration to passengers.

GAWD HELP US!

BUENOS AIRES - FINALE

8th - 10th Apr 2014

Argentine Air Force post Falklands.

Back to Buenos Aires in the rain. In fact it cleared up by mid-morning and the remaining two days I spent there were warm and sunny with blue skies. I noticed (that evening)  the weather reports on BBC World TV were telling us that storms and heavy rain were occurring here and the foul weather was to continue. It wasn't and didn't. Not only are these weather 'experts' unable to forecast remotely accurately, they can't even get the present weather correct. It makes me entirely cynical when reading weather reports, past, present and future.

A relaxing couple of days spent wandering around Town. Left: A delightful 'Oirish Bear', one of several in the city, but this one, in Thames St, Palermo district, was a particularly hospitable watering hole.

It served a selection of 'home brewed' beer (right) and excellent food. Definitely recommended.

I couldn't resist a return visit to the Tango 'milonga', the Canning Salon, in Palermo (left). Quite an extraordinary, and popular, venue. Very old-fashioned but the clientele varies from old-age pensioners to youngsters who all thoroughly enjoy their tangoing, some very good at it including a few extravagantly dressed 'poseurs' showing off their dancing and chat-up techniques. As with most Argentine entertainment it doesn't get busy until about 2.00am which is normally well past my bedtime. The drink is cheap, despite which I remained firmly a spectator.

Another common sight on the streets is the dog-walker (right). This lady had 10 in tow. I would imagine the scope for a major fur-flying bust up is quite high.

There are several large grassy parks in the north and north-west of the city including a botanical gardens (infested by cats) and a large zoological park. Left: A statue in the botanical gardens.












......and an impressive monument outside.

















Left: Horse-drawn carriages are available as per Central Park in New York.













Right and below: Modern art dotted around the parks. I was quite intrigued by the 'aeroplanes and aircrew' and the Don Quixote style horsemen, all made from scrap metal.

Right: The pilot...!

Right: "Don't Fry For Me Argentina"!

On the day I was due to get to the airport there was to be a full-scale General Strike in Buenos Aires. Typical! I had to hire a private car (no taxis, let alone metro or buses) and set off very early to avoid potential 'demos'. The streets at 6.00am were, understandably, remarkably empty. I got to the airport at 7.00am for a 12.15pm departure. Fortunately BA Intl. airport has a decent restaurant/cafe with free unlimited WiFi  so able to amuse myself adequately. I'm still a bit pissed-off that I had my Kindle nicked in Mendoza. I managed to spend my remaining pesos on a bottle of duty-free and pots of the rather disgusting sweet goo that is popular in Patagonia. They will make excellent Christmas presents.

Initially to Madrid, Barajos, airport. As explained at the beginning of this journal Barajos is one of the worst airports I have experienced. Bugger all facilities, no free WiFi, confusing signage and a rather bolshy lot of jobsworths to not help you (none of the information desks was manned). It put me in a bad mood. Of course, I had to re-check in my duty-free booze because it was not packed in an EU-compliant tamper-proof bag and also the 'dangerous' pots of potentially explosive Patagonian goo, and virtually strip-searched going through security. It involved lots of queuing. Actually it didn't really because I adopted my well tried and tested anti-queue  technique. This involves, quite simply, walking with great confidence up to the front of any queue and stepping in. I have yet to find anyone who objects; they either assume you have a right to be there or are just not prepared to 'make a scene'. It really works, believe me! Some call it 'queue barging'. I call it 'enterprising'.

So back to grotty Gatport Airwick at 8.00am the next morning. I was, however, pleasantly surprised at the passport/immigration check. The staff were actually wearing smart(ish) uniforms and an unusually polite lady directed me to the 'electronic' check-in. This was queue-less and simply involved scanning my passport while looking into a camera. Magic; in and out in less than 5 minutes. 

My observations on Argentina:

1. Travel. Excellent, good value, comfortable and reliable buses with good roads (other than parts of Patagonia and Tierra del Fuego). No trains, even when advertised. Not ripped off by taxis (avoiding the obvious bandits). Flying as per Europe; expensive with tedious procedures and restrictions.

2. Food. Excellent steaks and 'empanadas' but not so hot on vegetables. A 'veggie' would find it challenging in Argentina. Monopoly of processed cheese and ham sandwiches at cafes (to the exclusion of all other). Cheese (processed) features largely on all menus. Although seemingly 'queso' obsessed they don't even appear to have a selection of other more exotic types. Poor breakfasts with a lack of hot food and, if anything other than tea/coffee with a sticky croissant, cold processed cheese and ham! Good cheap wine.

3. Accommodation. Generally excellent, lots available and great value at the lower end. Curiously, in the less than luxury places, no plugs in bathroom sinks! Always helpful and polite staff which are also apparent at bus stations, restaurants, information offices and just about everywhere else.

4. Comms. Free WiFi and often quick broadband at all hotels and many bars/cafes.

5. Money. Irritating necessity to hunt out 'blue market' exchange for your foreign currency. The rates varied inconsistently from around 12 pesos/USD in BA to 9 pesos/USD in El Calafate. The 'official' rate was 7.8 and thus ATMs were out of the question. I am not an economist so don't understand the complexities which underlie this system.

6. Things to see and do. Lots, with varied cultures, geography and climate. Slightly disappointed by the much acclaimed trout fishing down south!

In general a hassle-free (apart from losing my Kindle), safe, most enjoyable and educational journey. It was also great value for money, provided you got a good exchange rate!

That's it amigos! Hasta luego.........Where next?

IGUAZÚ

4th - 7th Apr 2014

Part of the Iguazú Falls. The Garganta del Diablo bit. (The Devil's Throat).

Got to the bus station in Retiro, central Buenos Aires, just in time to get a ticket for the 2000hrs bus to Puerto Iguazú. This is a 20 hour overnight journey and this time I was in a Cruzero del Norde 'Cama Suite' bus which was incredibly luxurious and, for the comfort and service provided, remarkably cheap (£50) considering it replaces the cost of a hotel room and includes drink and meals. 

The seats (left) are within curtained off mini-cabins and go completely horizontal to make a comfortable bed. There is also an 'entertainments' console which, for once, showed up to date films in English. It is a two storey bus and I had an upstairs bunk; much better for viewing.

We were also treated to a pre-prandial 'aperitif' (whiskey) and a little 'amuse-bouche' before dinner was served. The three course meal was delicious and served with unlimited wine by a rather attractive, and attentive, 'hostie' (right). A somewhat better service than that provided by Aerolinas Argentinas! 

I slept very well. Whether my snoring allowed any of my fellow passengers to do likewise I never discovered. Actually there were only a few of them on board and at a relatively safe distance from me.

The route follows the Río Uruguay up the north-eastern border with Uruguay and passes through grassy pastureland with plenty of cattle farming in evidence. At the northern end it then follows the Río Paraná, the second longest river in South America after the Amazon, along the border with Paraguay, through the city of Posadas, into the north-eastern province of Missiones. This is so named because it was the region successfully developed by Jesuit Missionaries before the Spanish kicked them out in the late 18th century. Remember the film 'The Mission' starring Robert de Niro, Liam Neeson and Jeremy Irons? This was what it was all about and was filmed in the Iguazú area.

We arrived in the small town of Puerto Iguazú at 4.00pm. It is a pleasant enough, if rather sleepy place, but nothing to write home about. It is surrounded by some smart chalet style hotels (I was staying in a relatively modest establishment in the centre) and it's whole raison d'être seems to be to cater for tourists visiting the Falls. There are one or two decent restaurants and bars, but it certainly doesn't push the boat out when it comes to entertainment. On the Sunday I was there just about all the shops in the  town were closed. There is a rather good Japanese restaurant which presumably caters for the large number of Japs who visit the place. Iguazú Falls is on the Japanese tourists' 'life-time list' of places to visit.

Left: Plenty of tourist tat on sale and, as always, rack upon rack of mate mugs.














The next day on down to the Falls National Park, about a 30 minute trip by road. The Falls themselves occupy a large area on the river Iguaçu. The border between Argentina and Brazil runs down the centre and the Falls can be viewed from both sides. The more comprehensive viewing area is on the Argentinian side.

There are two main 'viewing' routes to follow, the upper and lower. A little train (left) takes you (unless you want to walk) to the upper route and a series of well constructed paths, elevated walkways and viewing platforms take you across the wide river, between islands, to see the dramatic 'Garganta del Diablo' section. (photo at top and above).

As said, the waterfalls cover a wide area on different levels and, unlike Niagara or Victoria Falls, you can't see all of them from one spot. Each waterfall is given an individual name. Below are some random photos of different parts.

This sub-tropical rainforest boasts much exotic wildlife. Large carp-like fish were visible in the upper parts of the river, while  totally different species live in the lower river. A few caimans were lurking around  The place was swarming with different kinds of butterfly. They were very pretty and tame and harmless....

....Unlike some of the monkeys, and especially rather nasty racoon-like creatures called coaties (left) which infest the place. These greedy little beasts are aggressive in scrounging food. They have become used to being fed snacks by tourists who think they look 'cute' and therefore associate bags being carried with food. They would attack a carrier bag and it's owner if given half a chance. Mine was hidden under my jacket.

Warning signs are in place to try to stop people feeding them. They have unpleasant looking long snouts and viciously sharp teeth and make squeaking noises. The sign here (right) shows the sort of injury they can inflict. I most certainly gave them a wide berth but some punters were actually going up to them to stroke them. I didn't see anyone get bitten (unfortunately, as it would have provided some spectator amusement), and I am sure the stupid victim would have tried to sue if they had been.

Left: A boat ride goes from a riverside jetty on the lower level. All things you don't want to get wet are put into a waterproof bag, including socks and shoes.

Initially it goes upstream and, after a last chance to take a photo, takes you right into and under a couple of the cascades (such as this one, right). Yes, amongst much screaming and yelling from the passengers, you get absolutely drenched. What fun.

At least the weather was very warm which made drying off easy.

Then the boat travels a few miles downstream to a jetty where you get onto an open truck for a 'jungle safari' with a guide who tells you all about the various exotic birds (such as toucans, parrots, macaws etc.) and animals (such as monkeys, tapirs, pumas, jaguars etc.) which live in the area. We saw bugger all. Not surprising considering the number of vehicles and humans about the place. We were then told about all the different types of tree (which couldn't run away) including the capok tree with it's bulb-like fruit in which the fibrous strands grow. I hadn't realised that is where capok stuffing comes from.

There are plenty of park wardens, such as this charming young lady (right) who politely gave me instructions on where to go. Interestingly she, and all the others, carry 9mm pistols. Im not quite sure what the threat is. Coaties perhaps.

The following day I took a trip to the Brazilian side. Immigration is very relaxed here; just a quick passport check.

Before we got to the Brazilian Iguazú National Park, I was encouraged to stop off at the Parque das Aves (bird park).  It is an impressively large and well maintained 'walk-through' aviary containing every species of sub-tropical bird you can think of, plus snakes (anacondas; nasty looking aquatic things), reptiles and butterflies. An ornithologist's dreamworld.

Lots of toucans (left) which were so tame that you could stroke them. I didn't. Not sure if those beaks could take your fingers off and I wasn't going to risk it.

....and hundreds of different species of parrots and macaws etc. I saw one Japanese lady being attacked by a parrot (I think she was trying to feed it) which was quite amusing,

Although not so extensive, and no boats, this side has a couple of more dramatic viewing stations, one of which is reached by going up in a lift to a high platform.

There is another platform from which you can, should the urge take you and you can spare $30, abseil down one of the higher gorges.

The Brazilians also do helicopter flights over the Falls. This is a contentious issue and the Argentinians want to stop it as it wrecks the tranquility of the area (as per Victoria Falls).

Below: More photos of the Falls from the Brazilian side. So many of these, but once you've seen them you won't need to go there.

Left: Some marvellous rainbows are produced through the water vapour.

Right: This anorexic lady was getting close up to photograph and feed a coatie. I was hoping.......but it didn't. They say when an anorexic person looks into a mirror they see a fat person looking back at them......

So that was my tour of the Iguazú Falls. Most educational and enjoyable it was too. 

Onto a 'cama suite' bus the next day for a relaxing and well catered-for trip on the long road back to Buenos Aires. It pissed down with rain overnight. Only the second bit of rain I have experienced in 6 weeks.

Arriba arriba..........

TIERRA DEL FUEGO 2

1st - 4th Apr 2014

El 'Tren del Fin del Mundo'. Camila

Ushuaia became home to a penal colony at the end of the 19th century. A large jail housed up to 800 of the most notorious convicts and political prisoners. It was built and operated on much the same lines as Port Arthur in Tasmania (Australia). The convicts played a large part in building the town and to do that they needed timber. A narrow-gauge railway was built to take them up into the forests to fell trees and bring back the logs and ran as such until the jail closed in 1947.

It now operates as a popular tourist attraction. There are five small locomotives, two diesel and three steam in current use. One of the steam locomotives, called Camila (at top), was built in Daventry (England) in 1995 and was the one pulling the train on which I travelled.

The (now) home station is 20 mins taxi ride west of the town. I imagine the original one was actually in the town itself. There were 5 carriages and we certainly didn't go very fast. The journey is uphill for about 10 miles at fast running pace, and then back again. The whole trip, including stops, takes 2.5 hours.

The train stopped halfway at a little station called Macarena where we disembarked to wander up a path to view the Macarena waterfall (left).

There is a recorded commentary broadcast into the carriages in both Spanish and English (fortunately). Quite educational but sometimes difficult to hear.

Right: On the other side of the tracks was a reconstruction of three Yámana Indian 'huts'. Rather flimsy affairs if you ask me, especially considering the Yámana didn't wear too many clothes (see previous blog). You would have thought with so much wood around they could have done a bit better. DIY was obviously not their strong point.

Left: We crossed the Rio Pipo which looks a promising little trout stream....













Right: ....and on up into the national park area where several pax got off to go hiking, or pig-sticking or whatever you do in a national park.












Left: At the top end there is a parked carriage devoted entirely to loos.

Right: There are still large areas consisting of grass and  tree stumps; the result of the convicts' labours.

Quite an amusing little journey I thought.

The old jail is in what is now the Naval HQ complex and is predominantly a maritime and natural history museum, as well as a museum of the prison itself (plan right). It features much detail and many models of ships from the past, and very extensive, maritime history of the region. Just about any sea captain and explorer of note from the earliest days onwards visited this place. Lots of tales of disaster, and much success, rounding Cape Horn.

Left: The front door; the original prison entry.


















Right: I'm not sure how Admiral Lord Horatio Nelson fitted into the picture as I'm sure Trafalgar is quite some way away, but this poster was prominently displayed.  Perhaps he called in due to some erratic navigation.

Left: A model ship, of which there were many. This one is of the 'Beagle' in which Fitzroy and Darwin sailed in 1833.

Right: One of the prison wings. Most of the cells contained a display of some kind. One floor of cells was entirely devoted to modern art featuring, almost exclusively, penguins.












Left: A typical cell with a typical convict carrying a typical (stolen) Waitrose carrier bag.

...and giving the naughty man a jolly good talking to. Their uniforms remind me of someone's racing colours. Can't remember whose.

As mentioned, decorative penguins featured to a large degree throughout this museum. Can't think why because I don't think there are any live penguins on the main island. I never saw one. I suspect there are some colonies on outlying islands, including the Falklands, before you get to the main bunch in Antarctica.

Right: A convict penguin. Female?

...and another bloody penguin.
















I had arranged to go fishing the next day. This part of the world is the Mecca for trout fishing enthusiasts, especially in the rivers around Rio Grande to the north, where there are, reputedly, enormous brown, rainbow and sea trout. Anglers come from all over the world to fish for them. It is, admittedly, coming to the end of the season which finishes on 30th April.

I met my guide/ghilly, Juan-Carlos, and his boss, Serge, at 9.30am outside a fishing shop in town. They had arrived in a large 4X4 pickup with a quad bike stowed on the back. Unfortunately Juan-Carlos did not speak much English, and Serge absolutely none. This was to prove a bit tedious as I was rather left out of the conversations and 'plans'. I had imagined we would be tootling over to one of the many rivers near the town. Wrong! It was a two hour, 150km drive, stopping for coffee en-route, north up towards Rio Grande and the river Ewan which is, by all accounts, a renowned trout river. It was in fact quite an interesting journey not seen previously as on my arrival into Ushuaia it had been dark. The scenery over the mountain passes was impressive and I was interested to notice several ski-lifts and cable cars. Apparently the skiing here (June to September) is excellent. Also many attractive lakes further on.

After parking the 4X4 by the side of the main road, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, they off-loaded the quad-bike. Self and Juan-Carlos then set off for a 40 minute (I thought it would never end) jolting cross-country ride across rough tracks, streams and steep hillocks until we eventually reached the confluence of the North and South Ewan rivers near the coast. Serge was following us on a bicycle!

Left: Self and Serge at the roadside 'Start Point'.

This river, being tidal, was slow running with incredibly slippery slimy banks. It was quite difficult to remain upright. We started fishing at 1.00pm just upstream from the river junction. "Perfecto!" said Juan-Carlos. Where have I heard that before?

We thrashed the water for about two hours, up and down, and not a nibble. It was at this point that Serge joined us, on foot. His bicycle had broken. Then, three of us, back on the quad for another long trek across the prairie to an inland stretch of the river. Perfecto again, I was told.

The three of us fished on, and on, with several changes of fly and location, until about 6.00pm with absolutely no result.

It was then decided to go back (phew, I was getting a bit saddle sore by now and my waders had leaked), to the place where we started, but not without bogging the quad in a deep muddy ditch on the way which involved much pushing, heaving, cursing and getting covered in muck. I had visions of a very long squelchy walk.

Left: A bunch of guanaco amused by our efforts

A couple of others were fishing here by now as dusk was setting in. One of them had caught a decent sea-trout which encouraged Juan-Carlos on to greater efforts and, at about 7.30pm, he duly hooked and played a fine sea-trout himself. Perfecto! He didn't have a landing net and so, as I held his rod, he slithered down to the water to lift out the, by now, tired fish. The tide was out and there was a lot of very gluey and slippery mud to cross. In lifting the fish from the water he slipped, dropped it and the hook came out. Mr Trout swam away flicking a few V signs as he went. Oh dear! I don't think I was entirely to blame and J-C was remarkably sanguine about it. I know you won't believe me when I tell you we reckoned it weighed about 15lbs.

It was now pitch dark and, quite thankfully, they decided to call it a day. Navigating by the stars, as far as I could tell, it was back across rough tufted grass, ditches and sage brush (only a couple of back-tracks) with three of us on the quad to a 'lone tree' where Serge had dumped his broken bike. With that hoiked on board the going was even slower and more uncomfortable. We eventually got back to the main road at about 9.30pm. My legs were very wet; my waders had leaked badly and my dry socks were in the pick-up. Then, guess what? Serge discovered that he had lost the car keys! After much searching and unpacking of bags they were eventually found. Dry socks on and quad loaded, off we set for the long drive home. We did at least have some coffee and sandwiches (cheese and ham of course) on board which were very welcome. It was to be made an even longer journey after Serge got a telephone message to say that one of his other clients had had a road accident somewhere to the west and would need collecting. We stopped at a cafe where a replacement car (after only 30 minutes fortunately) arrived to take myself and Juan-Carlos onwards. With much difficulty in translation I gathered that he is a ski instructor in the ski resorts around here during their winter. He has also instructed skiing in Andora. We arrived back in Ushuaia shortly after midnight.

Despite the language difficulty my guides were remarkably cheerful and amusing company and probably rather disappointed that we had had such a long and 'fishless' day. I was just a bit knackered.  To be honest, I begin to think I am to trout what green kryptonite is to Superman. The fact that it was the tail end of the season probably didn't help either.

Most fortunately the Dublin Bar was still in full swing and I had a decent steak with a reviving tincture or two. That was indeed Perfecto!

The next day, back to Buenos Aires. I had decided, against all my principles, to fly this leg due partially to time constraints and also the fact that the east coast road does not look particularly interesting (although it might have been amusing to spot the Yakkyda community around Puerto Madryn and Trelew).

Left: Leaving Ushuaia.

The expensive flight, in an Aerolineas Argentinas Airbus 340, to Buenos Aires was well up to expectations. A long wait at the airport  and during the 3.5hr flight only one measly cup of tepid coffee/tea was served together with a  little cardboard box containing two sweet biscuits and a small bag of things with the consistency and taste  of  blotting paper. No alcoholic drinks were available (I would have loved a beer) and despite only 72 of the 300 seats being occupied (I counted), the cabin service was perfunctory to say the least. That's air transport (tourist class) for you.

We landed at 1630hrs and I rushed off downtown to the central bus terminal for the next leg of my journey. This is to be up to the north-eastern corner of the country on the borders with Paraguay and Brazil to the town of Puerto Iguazú and the famous waterfalls nearby. It will be quite a contrast in weather and scenery to Tierra del Fuego I expect. I don't think I'll bother with the fishing up there.