Buenos Aires to Rio Gallegos

1,380 miles

31
 it all started like this...well, it all started like this...well, it all started like
like this...well, it all started like this...well, it all started like this

32
well, it all started like this...well, it all started
like this...well, it all started like this...well, it all started like this
well, it all started like this...well, it all started
 x martes y miercoles x
D L M M J V S Destino: La Patagonia
1 2 3 4 5 6 7
8
15
9
16
10
17
11
18
12
19
13
20
14
21 3 y 4 de diciembre Modo: Avión y Taxi
22 23 24 25 26 27 28
29 30 31 Distancia: 2,100 kilómetros
Buenos Aires a Río Gallegos, Argentina

We are officially in Patagonia, and this month-long adventure is

underway. Last night, Andy and I met at Avenida Arenales 1849 for one
last equipment check, a round of good-byes and a parting shot of Jack
Daniels. Andy’s friend from Citibank, Ezekiel, un buen tipo, drove us to
Aeroparque Jorge Newberry at 22:30 for our flight to Río Gallegos at
23:30. After a quick check-in, we strolled out onto the tarmac under the
clear Buenos Aires night sky, boarded Aerolineas Argentinas flight #107
and got situated in aisle twenty-four near the rear of the Boeing 737.
We both passed out for the first destino: destination
hour of the flight, as we were worn- martes y miercoles: Tuesday & Wednesday
a: to. Also used as at, per and on.
out with all of the last minute details avión: airplane
and pre-departure preparations. un buen tipo: a good guy
After midnight, the leggy brunette Avenida: Avenue, Av. = Ave.
azafata: “stewardess” in Latin America,
azafata brought us trays of pasta “flight attendant” in the U.S.
salad and hot dinner rolls. Andy agua sin gas: water without gas
kiosko: kiosk. Sort of a South
opted for the tinto while I pounded American version of 7-11.
three glasses of agua sin gas. It was taxista: taxi driver
panadería: bread shop
lights out again after dinner until we facturas: croissants. Very popular
arrived in Río Gallegos at 2:45. breakfast fare in Argentina.

Inside the terminal, we grabbed our bags and walked outside where
the sun was already starting to rise. A taxi took us to the corner of
Avenida Zapiola and Avenida 9 de Julio for check-in at the Hotel Santa
Cruz. Ricardo, the taxista, drove us to a hostel that he considered to be
a good bargain (a top priority throughout this journey), where the owners
would charge us sixteen pesos for one night’s lodging. Upon arrival,
Juan, the night manager/receptionist/extortionist had another rate scale
in mind and offered us the room for a low, low fifty-four pesos. Realizing
that we could probably do better than nine pesos per hour of sleep, we
proceeded to the immaculate Hotel Covadonga for some cheap power
sleep. Before lights out, I ventured around the block to a twenty-four
hour kiosko and panadería for more agua and facturas for the morning.
Seven hours of deep sleep awaited me back at the Covadonga.

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