A learning experience and my final northern day

After another relatively chilly night sleep underneith an almost full moon, we got up and got moving to a somewhat late start. Today was to be my last day on the ride, and we had asked around to find out the schedules for the buses returning to Cafayate. We had decided to do about half a day, and then I would stay put and wait for the bus to come by, and he would continue heading north to Salta.

Needless to say it didn’t happen. As we rolled our bikes out to jump on route 68, Mariano discovered he had a flat. Which I learned very quickly is a pain in the ass, involving removing tires and tubes and instaling and blowing up new ones. Which can take a while. So after we had manuevered our way around the situation, and began to set out again…it became clear that his back up tube ALSO already had a hole in it. So we had to stop, flip the bike again, remove the tube again, and go looking for the pinprick sized hole, patch it, let it dry, put it all back together and reload everything. By that time…it was too risky to get on the road, for fear of my bus just passing us by! So we stayed put and waited instead….a lazy afternoon in the hot sun in Alemania.

The rest of the day and the eventual return home was uneventful (accept that I went out that last night some people I met in the hostel, stayed out until 3 in the morning, when my bus was to leave at 6…and I woke up at 5:45. And I made the bus. WTF!), but the last day of my bike trip was a very interesting lesson in the dificulties and the snags of traveling the way Mariano does. Now I understand why his days go so unplanned and he never knows where he is going to be next, because you never know what will happen and how far you will actually be able to go. You have no idea what the terrain is going to be like, how your equipment is going to be, how your body is going to feel, and what the weather will present you with. All of these small details that we pass over everyday in our lives, the attention to the most important and simplist things….and that is what I was looking for on this trip. Learning to live in harmony with your surroundings and yourself, taking the unpredicable in stride and focusing on paying attention to the little things, the uncomplicated things, where you are going to eat, where you are going to sleep and even where you are going to do your business. There is a simplicity in the life style that one leads on the road, a necesary tranquility to take things instride, and a forced SLOW DOWN from the fast paced, glossed over, seperated from nature life that we all live.

The canyon and beyond

After a rough nights sleep in a sleeping bag that wasn’t warm enough (had been warned about it, and knew i was just going to have to suffer through it), I awoke slightly stiff and with a still aching (and I swear to god swollen) ass. But the cool crisp desert air, the morning sun and its caressing warmth, and nice hearty breakfast of oatmeal and raisins got me ready to hit the road. We splashed our faces in the river (nice ICE COLD snow run off), got on our bikes and headed off.

The scenic visuals on this day were going to prove to be spectacular. We were now riding through the middle of the canyon, which was littered with various marked unique land and rock configurations as well as miles and miles of colorful, exotic mountains and valleys. The odd land formations had tell-tale names like The Frog, The Obelisk, The Castles, Devils Throat and The Amphitheater. I normally don’t do this, but it is so beautiful there I want to throw up some pictures that might not be mine but they capture what I saw better than our cameras could. And maybe I need to make you all a little jealous, and my stumbling words just won’t do it justice….

Oh look! I managed to muster up one from LAST YEARS visit to this area with my friend Ana Maria. Like I said, I love this part of the country so much, it is the only part that I have returned to.

This what we were riding through. And luckly…mostly riding at a slightly down hill almost the whole day! But we had decided that we were going to take the time to stop at some of the more potent of these natural wonders. Most importantly for me was the one I had fallen in love with on my last visit, the Amphitheater. The Amphitheater is given its name because over millions of years a river naturally carved out the side of a mountain to form a space that has perfect acoustics. One can go and stand in the middle of mother earth’s very own aural perfection and hear a conversation in wispers on the other side, or talk to a friend next to you and hear them from far away…or even better, is when people come and play the andean siku, that teared pipe instrument and it simply has a hauntingly perfect echo. There are few places on earth that bring me such peace. There is constantly a cool air running through it, brushing your face and adding to the soothing melody which arrives perfectly at your ears because of the earths natural wonders.

Sorry my visual image isn’t as unclouded by humans as my aural image was.

This is where we stopped for the longest period of time, mostly because he couldn’t pry me out of there! And finally when we were leaving, I happened to run into a friend of mine from La Plata, Jessica with her family, who actually happen to be from Newton. I couldn’t even imagine what was running through her mother’s mind, running into another person from newton, halfway across the world, who riding a bike through part of argentina with a long hair, semi-crazy looking argentina. It was nice to speak english for even 5 minutes, concidering it had been almost two weeks since I had even had a moments break from Spanish.

After we joined them for some goat cheese stuffed fried tortillas, we headed onward and left them to enjoy their own piece of mind in the Amphitheater. And then we began to ride. And ride and ride and ride. Mariano pushed ahead at a healthy pace, up and down hills and around windy canyon roads. We really pushed ourselves for about 3 hours straight, and luckily there were as many windwhiping down as there were exhausting up. At a certain point it started to seem a little merciless, knowing that this was only my second day on a bike…my legs were starting to feel it, my ass well obviously it killed, my arms and the back of my neck were sunburned into stiffness, and I was sweating under the desert sun (lucky down hills are like built in fans, or I would have been in puddle of salty water). We finally decided to call it a day at about 3:30 in the tiny little village of Alemania. We had done about 40 miles, 30 of them in the last three hours, and after we stopped I found out why. Because he had learned from the day before and from conversations with people along the route that the wind tends to pick up at about 4 in the afternoon, and make cycling just that much harder. Though it had been a rough stretch and had pushed me alot, I was thankful for his foresight, and besides I totally got to prove myself!

Alemania, where we put the tent for the night, is a tiny tiny little village of maybe 20 families along route 68. It used to a larger town, when it was a stop in the railroad that lead from buenos aires to Salta, but now it was just a dusty little spot on the map with a small boarding school, goats, and no electricity. And the locals we talked to made it very clear that they didn’t WANT electricity because then the tourist could come and build things….

By burned I did mean burned, I think that I am the same color as the wall behind me.

San Carlos + Gravel = pain

So I rented a bike in Cafayate, strapped all of our gear and food on the backs, and early on a Monday morning we took off, into the great open road, me with very little training and him with no real route that we were going to follow or destination. It was an amazing feeling of freedom!!!!!

We started out at a slow pace, as he told me is the best way to warm up the body and be able to hold a pace all day. It was a nice even flat road, with the sun shining on us and gorgeous mountainous scenery on all sides. I honestly thought I had died and gone to heaven, this was the way to travel. We went for about 10 miles, at a steady even pace on a nice paved road. I just enjoyed the ride and took in all the views and new sensations. The country side around Cafayate are desert plains, filled with ground hugging plants, some cacti, and beautiful mountainous views. It actually looks alot like Arizona…maybe a slight comparison could be made to the Grand Canyon…only not as deep and not as WOW.

The first real city we came too after leaving Cafayate and heading north on route 40, was San Carlos. It is a small, neat and well trimmed village, similar to Cafayate. The reason we had chosen this route however was because in Cafayate we had gone to a restuarant that had a local artisanal beer called Me Echo la Burra or The Female Ass Threw Me Out (I don;t really know how to translate that well….The Ass (feminine) Kicked Me Out?)…which happened to be made at an estate in San Carlos. So obviously we had to check it out, nothing better than beer and biking my friends!

First we stopped in the cute little main square…which is really just an excuse to get to show everyone a picture of me…with the bikes in the back ground!

And here we are eating a semi liquid lunch at La Vaca Tranquila, which is the name of the estate where the beer is brewed.

It was a FANTASTIC heavy red beer…which sat in there the whole rest of the bike ride and made me feel sick. But it tasted good when I drank it!

Then we got back on the road again, and directly post beer we decided to back track a mile or so and head down another road, this one not so smooth or beautiful. It was a nice graveled country route, that cut a path between route 40 heading north west and route 68 heading due north through the canyon.

This is when it all started to catch up with me a bit more. The sun was bright in the sky, the beer was sitting like a dead weight in my stomach, and I finally understood completely with every bone in my body why Mariano complained so much about gravel roads. They just jostle everything, and they make pedaling soooo much harder. And I was finding that weird things hurt, things I hadn’t expected to hurt…well obviously my ass, but also my wrists! But I toughed it out!

So we did that for another, much longer, 10 or 12 miles, until we were in site of route 68, which was our final destination for the day.

And here is a shot of the valley that route 68 winds through…oh man, I was tired but the excitement and anticipation was raging! Look at all those colors

We then finished off the gravel road, and turned on to route 68, heading north. It was nice and paved. I was happy. But we also turned off into an amazingly strong head wind (another thing that Mariano would complain about alot before, and that I came to truly understand first hand) and it was getting dark and we didn’t have a specified place to camp AND we didn’t have any water to cook with. So we trudged forward, seeing where we could get to before night fell.

Basically in the middle of no where (I would have marked it exactly on the map in the previous entry if I had the slightest idea), we found a small artisenal vender who was closing up shop. There was a beautiful semi covered flat area, by the river bed where we decided to pitch our tent and we went over to beg for water from the kid closing up. The wind had really really picked up at that point, and we already knew that cooking was going to be hard, so we asked him straight out if he would mind if we brought our cooking stuff up and cooked under the awning along the side of his ceramics shack, that blocked out perfectly the whipping wind.

So we borrowed water and bought a bottle of locally grown and manually foot stomped wine from him, and then proceeded to use his side porch area to cook ourselves some instant polenta. NOTHING HAS EVER TASTED SO GOOD IN MY LIFE. Honestly…we ate and just sat there in silence for a good long time, too happy and exhausted to talk. The moon happened to be full that night, and lite up the whole canyon with its eerie white luminescence, and blocked out the millions and millions of stars that shown in an unpolluted sky.

I had managed to bike about 30 miles my first day, which wasn’t too bad, threw unpaved roads and into a head winds. My legs had only started to burn and want to give out in the last few miles, and the wrist aches were dwindling. And my soar soar bike seated ass….well that I was just going to have to deal with

Finally, I get my ass on the bike

The day had been spectacular. Actually the week had been brilliantly amazing. As I had previously said, this was my first time traveling with children, in a more family geared atmosphere, having to temper where we stayed and what we did to what they would and could do. It was an incredible experience, adding a new and amazing dimension to travel…they are so curious, the are so thrilled by small new things and they have totally different interests and points of view. Wandering around with Inti, attempting to guess the whats, whys and hows of archelogical sites made me think about why I was here looking at this, and didn’t just breeze past it; watching them realize that they can conquer a hill and then totally enjoy the view from the top, as they build confidence in them selves and experiences that shape their lives; teaching them the beauties and wonders of traveling and exploring their amazing country and the greater world; having them run up and grab your hand while you are walking because they want to be with YOU and share this with YOU and you realize that you want to share every moment with them…I could never give back what those girls gave to me on that trip. Then I add in Maria Elena who’s dream it was to travel to this part of the country and who had never been able to travel with her daughters either, and was simply emotionally involved in everything we did, and Mariano settled right into the familial pace of the trip…adding to it by cooking us dinners and breakfasts, and adoring the girls right along with us!

On the day of the pachamama, we parted ways. Mari and the girls took off for La Plata, they had to get back and start school again (which they did not what to do, they wanted to keep traveling!), and Mariano and I began to make plans for our personal adventure. I was going to join him for three days of his bike trip. Not just rent a bike and ride around with him, but keep going north with him, and then I would come back alone in a bus with my bike and he would keep going…actually doing part of his trip with him. What an oppurtunity!

So after a day or two of just hanging out, exploring Cafayate, just being together, and having an epic empenada eating contest (got to a dozen…washing it down with like jug of wine) we decided to finally get on the bikes.

The route of our trip was through the Quebrada del Cafayate or the Quebrada del Rio de Las Conchas, going north from Cafayate towards the provincial capital, Salta. The plan was three days up the Quebrada, including stopping at the various gorgeous natural wonders along the route.

View Larger Map
Check out the map, it is interactive and you can zoom in on the different parts. I would HIGHLY recommend zooming in on the parts around the red line (the second day of my trip) because the canyon is famous for its amazing colors and you can actually see the different colored mountains from the satellite image!

As any good trip should go, nothing really went as planned, and it was an interesting experience for the two of us trying to work through some of the difficulties that confronted us….but it was an amazing learning adventure!

Las Ruinas de los Quilmes – Leading us to the Pachamama

So we got up in the morning, with our nerves all in our bellies, excited for probably one of the best and most important days in all my time in Argentina. We left Mariano (he had been there previously) and the four ladies set out on an adventure. I say adventure especially since we already knew that the ruines were 5 kilometers from where the bus would drop us off…which meant we had to walk (with the girls in tow) or hitch a ride (which isn’t easy for 4 people).

So we get to the drop off point, get off the bus…start to walk and stick our thumbs out, and the FIRST car that passes us happens to be pick up truck and offers if want to sit in the back! Que suerte!

Maite’s expression of exitement is really just too much

So as we pull up in the nice hot northern argentine desert sun, these BEAUTIFUL ruins stretch out in front of us.

Mari started to cry…I may have started to cry. We had made it, and it was beautiful, more than I had dreamed or imagined. We had a guided tour of the lower parts of the ruines, by a native to the area who swore he had Quilmes blood. He gave an empassioned talk about how they had resisted the Incan invasion and had managed to resist the Spanish conquest for over 150 years, until they were finally desimated and marched to Buenos Aires. But there were many who had fled before that, and their blood still runs in the veins of the local people.

After this amazing talk, we headed up to the watch towers on the hills surrounding the site to get a mind blowing birds eye view!

Mari was in another world the whole time

And I simply couldn’t believe what I was seeing

The ground radiated power from another era, I knew that I was walking on sacred ground, I could feel it in the air of the place, in the plants, in the rocks…an amazing energy. We visted the huge stone in the middle of the ruins which was the sacred stone, and in looking at it I could absolutely tell why they had seen it as sacred. It was massive and looked like it had been stabbed right out of the earth, it was at a violent angle with sharp edges….in that same impressive essence that mountains when you think about the earth squeezing them up and outwards. Tremendous.

After walking around in the boiling sun for a few hours, looking, exploring, apreciating, and absorbing the energy emiting from this ancient site, it was time to start the long trek back to the road to catch the bus back to Cafayate. We began our walk a little later than we should have, foolingly expecting to have the same luck on the trek back as we had had coming into the ruins. Needless to say, that no car stopped to pick up us for lovely ladies, and we missed the bus back….we were about half a mile away, down a straight away and we just saw it pass.

The next bus was going to come 4 hours later…so we simply settled in to wait. And wait and wait. As the sun started to fall in the winter desert sky it started to get rather cold, and so we made a decision, even with the girls in tow, that we needed to get out of there….so we stuck out our thumbs. All of us….what an adventure!

And who finally stopped to pick us all up….a nice old trucker. Running a sugar route between Catamarca and Salta. He was so lonely on this 10 hour drive and was just delighted to have the company of three lovely ladies. He just talked and talked and talked the entired hour drive back to Cafayate about his family and his farm etc. The girls were just wide eyed, they could not believe that we had hitch hiked…and that it had worked! It was an amazing almost end to an amazing day…the end that awaiting us back in the cabin was Mariano with a suprise asado. It honestly could not have gotten any better, to get home after such an exciting and emotional day to meat slow cooked with love by argentine hands.

After an amazing dinner, and a valiente attempt to finish off our jug of wine…at the stroke of midnight it became August 1st, which is the day of the Pachamama. The pachamama, if anyone remembers from my workshops with the kids at City Bell the previous year, means mother earth in Quechua. To celebrate this day and honor the mother earth, the indigenous Quechua people traditionally dig a hole in the ground and put offerings in it, to honor the mother earth and to ask for good luck in their harvest and work the year to come.

So we had our own homage to la pachamama.

We put in there wine, mate, cigarettes, raisans, and salt. And then we closed the whole back up. And there ended my most perfect day in Argentina, asking for luck from an indigenous god. Oh how far I have come.

To Salta: Mari living a dream

While the ruins of los Quilmes is actually technically in the province of Tucuman, the closest city from where to venture out, is actually in actually Cafayate, in Salta. I have been to Cafayate, it was the farthest south that Ana Maria and I made it on my trip the previous winter, it is the only city in Argentina that I have returned to within my year and half here. I love it there. Maria Elena dreamed since her child hood about setting foot in Salta, and she loved it there. Between the two of us it had the makings of a magical finally to my trip with her, and then you throw in Mariano’s early arrival and his ability to find us an amazing cabin just for the 5 of us….and it was honestly surreal.

Look at us playing family!

So the first day there we explored the city.

Took another hike up another hillsides to this time get a view of scenic Cafayate. Which was a completely different land scape from Tucuman, more arid and desert-like and littered with vineyards, where they grow a sweet white wine called Torrontes.

Maite is contemplating hard after our hike up…that or she is taking a nap!

In that afternoon we met back up with Mariano, and the took the girls out to a goat cheese making farm.

And then to finish off the day, to a winery…

We looked pretty good going in….

And maybe not so good coming out!

But we walked off our hangovers from a tasting of wine, since the next day we would finally reach the pinnacle/mission/goal/aim/dream made reality of our trip north, the ruins of los Quilmes.

Tafi del Valle: My Argentine found us, and we found ruins

When we got on the bus in San Miguel de Tucuman, it was warm, desert winter weather..

And when we got off a few hours later, after passing through semi tropical rainforest, we were up high in the mountains and it was damp and cold again!

In Tafi del Valle it becomes time to introduce another character to the story, in which case we need to back up a few paces. My silly biking Argentine, Mariano, had also been heading north…well he had actually been heading north for almost 4 months at this point, but we had decided to try to meet up in Salta, because he happened to be in the same region at the time. He got there early though, because he found the roads and the travel rather barren through out Catamarca, and so he rushed through…and got there early enough to meet up with us for a day in Tafi del Valle.

So we spent the day together, all of us exploring the town. We took a hike up to a higher point so that we could see the town from a birds eye view, but also to show the girls that they could do it, and that it was really fun to go out hiking and trekking and exploring.

Needless to say, they enjoyed themselves thoroughly on the climb, and with the feeling of satisfaction getting there!

And of course we had to have some mate, laced with a bit of sarcasm

And in general just had a wonderful day, exploring this beautiful valley town.

The following day we made a quick stop before we continued north, in the adjacent city of Mollar, where there is an archeological sight filled with indigenous carved pillars.

Recently Inti had been taking a real interest in archeology and in discovering and understanding ancient cultures, so as an anthropologist and wanting her to continue to develop her interest in studying and career, went around with her and asked her why she thought the pillars were carved the way they were, what they might represent, etc. To great success…by the end of the trip every time we would end up somewhere with older structures she would attempt to make deductions about its existence. A wee archeologist in the making…and honestly one of the most enriching experiences of the trip. To watch her curiousity grow, her childlike questions, her mind still creative and not constrained by adult assumptions.

Tucuman: The familial adventure, a new way to travel

Over 6 months ago Maria Elena had invited me to a documentary screening in Quilmes, the city between Buenos Aires and La Plata where she was born and raised, to see a peice about los Indios Quilmes, the tradegic story about the origins of the name of the city. Warning: slight lecture, history lesson! Once upon a time in northern Argentina, the province of Tucuman, there lived an indigenous tribe called los Kilmes. They were a seditary society, and lived under the shadow of one of the many hills through out the desert northern region. They had resisted the conquest of the Incian empire, and when the Spanish arrived to that region in the 1530’s…and they continued to resist the imperial invasion until 1667 when they were finally defeated. Legend has it, that as the tribe was being defeated, all the women threw themselves willfully from a cliff side, so as not to allow the Spanish to rape them and force them to have mixed children. After the city had finally been defeated, the survivors were rounded up, captured and forced to march from there home in the north east of Argentina, all the way to Buenos Aires. Some 1,000 left the region and it is told that only about 200 actually arrived to the suburb of Buenos Aires, which was renamed in their honor (I am sure they were real honored), Quilmes. Sound somewhat familiar? In a trail of tears kind of way? So that is the origin of how the town outside Buenos Aires got named Quilmes. Maria Elena has always had a passion and an afinity for indigenous populations, and after seeing the video and the footage of the remains of the ruins of the city of Los Quilmes, we decided then and there that we MUST make a pilgramage.

While that might have been the origins and the mission of our trip, there was no way we were going to go all the way to the north east of Argentina just to see that, so we rounded up her two daughters, Inti (13) and Maite (8), piled into a bus and went up there. This would mark the first time Mari had ever been to the north of her country (and she almost didn’t come back!), the first time she had ever been able to travel with her daughters, and the first time I had every traveled sort of with a family of my own…at least it felt that way because I was responsible and in charge. Having traveled alone or with friends for so long, I hadn’t realized just how distinct, enriching and wonderful an experience this could be.

Our first stop was the city of San Miguel de Tucuman, which is the capital of the province, and a very historically significant city for Argentina. My gosh another history lesson! This is a dense blog! In 1816 an official declaration of independence from Spain was drafted and signed in the famous Congreso de Tucuman, though it was not officially recognized by the spanish crown until 1862. This city represents the origins of their independence, and the very first stop on the trip was House of Tucuman, a reconstrution of the original, and a national monument.

A moment of national pride that I had the honor in partaking in, and listening to the girls chatter about all they had learned about this place and event in their history classes.

We also ate famous tucumanian empenadas

I pulled out a few stops to put us up in a hostel so that the girls could get an idea of what they were like, how you can meet other interesting foreigners and such and the whole culture of hostel based travel.

After we had gotten a nice dose of history (and nice, not wintery weather) we moved on towards our final destination, to a city called Tafi del Valle, which was gorgious and more proof that it is the journey, not the destination that counts.

Rounding out Argentina, my second trip Norte

Now that I am unemployed again, and can honestly not think of any more excuses to remain in Argentina and to keep my mother at bay from wanting me home, I made the decision that it was finally time to head back to the US. After a glorious year and half in this amazing country that has become my home, I needed to head back to the states, recharge those old batteries, and look for a job…a career (and you are all saying, in this economy, really? is this the right time?).

But if you think that I am going leave Argentina without wrapping a few things up, with out having a few more amazing adventures with the people I love so dearly down here…then you don’t know me. Gotta go out like a bang. I am not leaving without going on a trip to the north (favorite region of the country!), with Maria Elena and Mariano (my two favorite people).

As there were two major parties involved, this trip had a duel mission, which shaped the trip profoundly. 1) with Maria Elena and her daughters (of course the girls are going to come, all the schools are closed for a MONTH due to the swine flu, so lets get out of there and go somewhere warmer and nicer) we had a pilgrimage to the ruins of Los Indios Quilmes in Tucuman 2) to get my ass on that bike with Mariano and do at least part of his trip with him, be it only a few days.

You had better believe that this had the makings of the most amazing and fullfilling trip in my entire stay in Argentina, surrounded by the people here I had come to love most, in the most beautiful and ethnic region of the country. It lived up to my every expectation.

Sacred Earth

Did any of you know that there was sacred/holy ground in Buenos Aires (I am talking about the Christian sort, not the actual holy ground that the city is probably built upon and belonged to the demolished indigenous tribes who once inhabited the area)? A veritable little Jerusalem, a haven for Christians and kitcsh seekers from all over the world alike?

Welcome to Tierra Santa, the religious theme park, located smack dab in the middle of Buenos Aires. Home of the largest live action nativity scene in the world. With a 30 foot Jesus statue that resurrects hourly.

Nancy and I made a trip to Buenos Aires, specially to check it out. One the way to the park, god seemed to have figured out that I may have been going more out of morbid curiosity, and to get a few good laughs rather than to take it seriously as a religious experience. After we arrived in Buenos Aires, we changed buses to one we knew took us to the park, but we got on it going the wrong direction. God silenced those around us (including the bus driver who allowed us to get on going the wrong way) and made us so blindly trust worthy that we didn’t get off the bus when we realized that we weren’t going in the right direction. So we ended up an hour and a half later in Lanus, a poor suburb of Buenos Aires…or as we came to call it La Anus del Mundo, the anus of the world. So we got on the next bus going back to were we came from, and three hours AFTER arriving in Buenos Aires, we finally set foot on that sacred ground. I guess you could call it a pilgrimage….the more trials you have to suffer through the better it is. And the more guilty you feel about not having gone and asked the bus driver earlier in the trip…the closer to heaven you are. I learned so much about Christianity that day.

But get there we did. It was extremely kitsch, including a motorized nativity scene, creation (with dinos and people hanging out), the resurrection, the last supper. It was huge, and very well built, telling all the stories of Jesus’ life, the different stations of the cross…

set in a full recreated ancient isreali rural village setting. We decided to take part in the action a bit, feel like we were really there, personally connect with the story being told….or maybe we just wanted to hit on some of the plaster sculptures. Nancy went the interracial dating route.

As you all know my type well, I went for the bruts and the alcoholics.

Their was live arabic dancing (these ladies where our direct competition, I took them down with machetes soon after this picture)

And the personnel were even dressed like people from the period, both rural villagers, and Roman soldiers. We decided that we could give a couple of winks to the real alive humans as well.

They did have really good authentic middle eastern food though, and honestly the park was really really well done. There was obviously a lot of thought and time and effort put into all the details, and into being equal and true to many of the cultural and ethnic realities of the time. Many of the statues were black (though NONE of that actors, I honestly would challenge you to find a black Argentine!), the houses represented different crafts and occupations from the time, and there was a mosque, synagogue and an homage to Ghandi (!?!?!?!?! just for good measure I guess)…though none of those would have existed then, it was nice to see them thinking off all three of the major Judaic religions (but definitely no other ones were represented). It was extremely interesting however, and interesting to know that someone decided to take on such a controversial subject for a theme park.

After we had spent lots of time making moves on both living and un living humans, I decided to really how Nancy how it was done back in the age before Christ.