An Adventure Happened on the Way To Visit the Tios...

We are back, and I have finally downloaded the pictures from our road experience. I will refer to it as a "car adventure" rather than a trip because the destination is of minimal importance considering the number of hours spent in the car more than doubled the number of hours at the destination.

As we loaded into the car last Wednesday morning at 6:30am, our neighbor was also outside and warned us to take a different route than the one planned to pick up Griselda because there were strikes blocking the roads. Being an illiterate who doesn't read the local newspaper or watch the local news, this was the first I had heard of anything and didn't think much of it. We took the route indicated and picked up Mario's sister without incidence. We continued on our merry way about an hour farther and then our troubles began with this:

This was our first road block created by trucks supporting the farming industry, who are reeking havoc with the nation's roadways as form of protest for the government having raised the retentions, or taxes, on agricultural goods exported from Argentina. The economic details will be saved for another post, and this one is only focusing on how I spent 72 hours in a car with a baby in 6 days.

At our first road block we were given instructions something like "turn right and drive until you see the cementary. Continue driving on the dirt road until it ends, turn left onto another dirt road, and you will shortly make it back to the highway." okay, easy enough, a mere 1/2 hour lost...

By the second road block Mario was threatening to join the first sign of a drivers' revolt and take the steel steering wheel security bar with him to fight out way through. Unfortunately for the inner hoodlum within, we only had to sit around a mere 45 minutes until they allowed the cars to pass. At a subsequent road block we had to race around the grassy shoulder as the truck driver was RUNNING to his truck to block the shoulder as well when he figured out cars could still pass. A little later we had to drive down off the embankment onto what at first appeared to be a dirt road, but quickly just because a faint path in shoulder high weeds with no way to turn around, which we had to follow for 20 minutes until we found a road to take us under an overpass and to the small town that had other roads to make it around the road block.
Gabe was NOT having any more to do with his car seat, and passed the time as we crawled along jumping in his seat, and on me. I know, really safe, but seriously, we weren't moving. Every time we got moving again and I had to strap him in I had to break out new WWF moves as he screamed bloody murder and fought against me with every ounce of his 22+ pounds (which are amazingly forceful!)

After the last drive through the bush, the car started making a terrible sound as we got back on the road. After driving another 45 minutes in panicked silence, we finally decided to pull over and find a mechanic. The first one we found told us we probably broke the AXEL, but he couldn't help us so we had to go somewhere else. Mind you we're 6pm on the last working day before the Easter holiday.... When we finally located a new mechanic, we were more than relieved to discover that the piece that covers the engine from below had merely been shoved upward and was bumping things it shouldn't. It was returned to it's correct position and we finally made it to Mendoza at midnight, 530 miles and 18 hours later.

Foolishing thinking the worst is over, we leisurely get up at 9 am the next morning and head across the mountains to the border. On the way we stopped at Puente del Inca (Inca Bridge) a natural stone bridge that has a mineral water source that makes the rocks turn all these amazing colors of orange and green. In the 20's a hotel was constructed there iwth all the showers and baths using water that came from the natural sulfur springs. The hotel was abandoned and the bridge was finally closed to tourists a few years back for fear that it would break. Supposedly there is a legend for the the bridge came into being, but no one could remember it.

Here are Paco and Alicia (we caravaned with them) in front of Cerro Aconcagua - the highest peak in the Andes in all of the Americas. It was beautiful.

After multiple, seemingly pointless, road stops by Argentine military, we finally entered a huge tunnel in Ar gentina, and exited the other side into Chile. YEAH! A little sign pops up, 4 km (2.5 miles) to the customs control. And about 100 feet more, we are stopped by this:
Yes folks, that is a LINE OF CARS 2.5 MILES LONG! For the next six hours Gabe played, whined, ate, cried, jumped, screamed, and tried to pull off all the poor little piñata chick's "feathers".

I wanted to kill myself, or more likely kill the annoying border agents who randomly allowed some people to SKIP the line, and drive to the front. After many hours of irritation, I went to ask whey some got to cross without waiting and others had to poke their eyeballs out in desperate boredom in the line. (of course I had to cause trouble, you all know me). However, there were so many other people already yelling at the border patrol, and fighting with the people in cars that had passed that I just started giggling with an overwhelming feeling of contentment that someone else was already fighting my battle, that in the end I couldn't contribute anything more.

6 hours after we entered the line, we made it passed the border patrol, and in the pitch black on night we curved our way to Esteban and Estela's house. I don't know anything about the path, we couldn't see anything.

Another 265 miles and 15 hours later, we finally showed up exhausted on the door step of the mission home in Rancagua, Chile.

The next two days we hardly left the house, and they were completely fabulous. We sat outside and talked while the kids played.


We ate lots of delicious food prepared by Estela.
We played ping pong.
Mario and his brothers and nephews played tennis.

With an amazing amount of moaning that occured in the stretching afterwards.
And Saturday afternoon we celebrated Easter with basket for the kids, and more candy for the adults.
Unwilling picture subjects.

We went youngest to oldest to break the piñata. Gabe mostly wanted to just pull more feathers off, but did manage to get a light "tap" in with the help of Tio Esteban.

Pilar could not be convinced to wear the blindfold, so got to hit it without.
Tomas almost knocked out his brothers with his back swing, but did give it a good hit.
Santiago's downward bat managed to knock it off the string, but it still did not break.
That was quickly fixed with a good batting from Pablo.
No instructions were needed for what to do after the piñata was broken.

Estela's then wisely arranged a babysitter for the 5 older kids so we could go out to eat.
When we got up to leave Sunday morning, there were lots of tears all the way around. Poor Pilar was devastated to leave her cousins, and all the adults had wet eyes. As always when we are all together, I remember how much I truly love my sisters-in-law and how sad I am that we don't live closer to each other.

The trip back over the mountain was much better this time, with only a little more than an hour lost at the border crossing. We could also see in the daylight what we had descended in the black of night a few days before:
Do you notice not a single light or guardrail on this spiraling mountain road??? We arrived to Mendoza quickly enough to enjoy sightseeing a bit.

Mario in front of Lake Potrerillos:

Gabe and I at the border crossing.
A lovely fountain in Mendoza.

A charming park.
Mario served his mission in Mendoza, and loves it. He's always telling me how clean and nice it is, which was in fact true. And it has a shopping trolley! I'm ready to move!

Unfortunately for us, when we got back to Mendoza that night we discovered that the strikes had not been resolved, and Monday's trip back was similarly hellish to Wednesday's trip out. This time we actually saw a few frustrated travelers fighting on the road, and on one alternate dirt road we got stuck in the mud. However, much having much experience being stuck in the mud on a trip to Africa a few years back, together with Griselda and Paco we quickly pulled a bunch of weeds to throw under the tires for traction and we were back in action.

And now if you've managed to read this far, I promise not to write so much the next time!