A Weekend Escape to Tandil

I love city living, especially in such a vibrant city like Buenos Aires. I am never bored and I’m always busy. But, being a girl raised in the naturally abundant Western Cape of South Africa, with its mountains, beaches, vineyards, fynbos reserves and untouched nature, a life surrounded by concrete and buildings and neon lights can get a bit much. I get a bit of cabin fever if I go too long without seeing a mountain.

So when my lovely flatmate asked if I wanted to go home with her to Tandil, a city in Buenos Aires Province, I jumped at the opportunity. A long weekend outside of the city, and a bit closer to nature, was just what I needed to recharge my batteries.

Nature and mountains in Tandil

So we set off just after midnight on Friday to get the overnight bus to Tandil. Another reminder of just how good the bus system in Argentina is, as we managed to sleep on the properly reclining seats, arriving at our destination 6 hours later having managed to actually catch a few winks.

After heading back to bed for a few hours, the weekend started with the sun shining. Tandil is just the perfect size city for a getaway – big enough to have lots to do, with a bustling down-town area with a great vibe, but not the massive crowds of Buenos Aires. Plus it’s surrounded by hills, which are the closest I’ve come to mountains since San Rafael, so that made me pretty happy indeed.

Tandil’s Castle

After taking a brief walking tour of the city while collecting some last minute items for lunch, we tucked into a big meal with family friends, followed by a drive outside of town to see a bit of the surrounds and get an idea of the size of the city (around 200,000 strong). Capitalising on the beautiful weather, we went for a walk when we got back, up the hill to the Moorish Castle – a slightly out of place structure, built to celebrate Tandil’s centennial, but offering great panoramic views over the city. From there we meandered down to the man-made lake in town, built to provide the city’s inhabitants with a water feature. While not particularly swimmable, the lake is a good place for water sports, with many people out and about on kayaks, as well as fishing. But the greatest attraction is the surrounds of the lake, providing people with places to sit in the sun, a bar, a mini beach and more. Given the surprisingly warm weather, everyone was out in droves, either relaxing by the lake, drinking mate with friends, walking, running or cycling. Really an idyllic setting on a Saturday afternoon.

Looking out over Tandil

Afternoon stroll in Tandil

Making sure my weekend had a truly Argentine flair to it, we went to an asado on the Saturday night. It’s funny how the most Argentine thing, is also the most South African thing, as the group of girls enjoying a feat of an asado (or braai as I would call it, since the two are so similar), with an array of delicious side dishes and salads, reminded me of a typical evening with friends back home. Although the timing was different. We got to the asado at 10pm, headed to the previa – pre-party – at 1am, and the club at around 3:30am. Pre-party is a misnomer – this is where the party was at. Basically a whole bunch of people from various friendship circles turn up at a house, in this case one with a dedicated party room – asado, big table, bar, disco lights and sound system – which turns into a great party in itself. I finally learnt to appreciate (and, dare I say, even enjoy) fernet and coke – the local drink of choice here, a strong alcohol made from herbs and spices, very strong, slightly medicinal and quite bitter. It is also an digestif and supposedly does not give you a hangover.

The night was also a reminder that all Argentines can dance well (actually I retract that statement based on a number of partners at salsa and tango lessons. But most Argentines dance well). Clearly I need to go back to salsa lessons, and throw in some bachata too. When we eventually made it to the club, I was a bit taken aback. In my mind I was thinking small town partying, like the time we went to Sol’s grandmother’s town in Mexico. A bit of a silly comparison in retrospect, given the size of Tandil. But I digress. This club was pumping. It reminded me of Springboks in Stellenbosch on the night of Vensters (basically the biggest night of the year in my university town). It was packed out, and had all the vibes of a big city club. Admittedly we didn’t last long here thanks to the heaving crowds (reminiscent of the subte at peak times).

Crawling into bed around 4:30 / 5am, we slept late, getting up in time for Sunday lunch with family, and another beautiful day in Tandil. After a lazy day, the weekend was rounded off nicely with an evening craft beer at Antares – an artisanal beer company that is a favourite back in Buenos Aires.

What made the weekend special for me though was the simple moments – relaxing in a family atmosphere, sitting around the dinner table, watching the Great British Bake-Off while enjoying afternoon tea and cake and making a Tiramisu for dessert, lounging on the couch watching nature documentaries, playing with the cats (including a gorgeous black kitten that reminded me so much of my own little purr monster, Allie), taking an afternoon walk in clean fresh air, sleeping late on a Sunday, home-cooked meals (by parents – your own food is never the same) and being surrounded by Spanish for the whole weekend (as opposed to the expat community that marks most of my weekends in the city).

The fresh air and mountains (well, hills, but close enough), and laid-back pace did me a world of good. For a whole weekend I had no laptop, didn’t put my wifi on my phone, and was unconnected to the wider world and work. It was blissful, and since returning I have felt a renewed sense of calm and relaxation, and more motivation for work.

Luckily for me, my mom is arriving in Buenos Aires in 10 days, and I have taken 2 weeks off to travel with her, so I’ll be spending a bit more time in Argentina’s mountains very soon!

On Getting Lost

My greatest asset whilst travelling is my sense of direction, apparently passed down on the Eberhard side family from my gran and my dad. Unlike them, I don’t need to know where North and South are at all times, but I do need to know how I’m oriented in the city. For example, in Buenos Aires the river is my guiding point. Along with my sense of direction comes an inherent stubbornness. I have a tendency to look at the map before I leave and then to just walk whether I know where I’m going or not. I also don’t ask for directions since I have (too much) trust in said sense of direction. This way often involves a short period of being lost, followed by new and unexpected discoveries, a greater knowledge of the city, and me finding my way without a problem. Every now and then, however, I end up completely lost.

Yesterday I went to San Isidro, a beautiful area outside of the city, alongside the river. Lucia was kind enough to drop me off on her way to work, and I assured her as I got out the car that I knew where I was going, I had looked at Google maps before I left. Not that I had a map with me, since I don’t own a physical map of anything outside of Buenos Aires city.

The tree-lined streets of San Isidro

I soon discovered that I had not zoomed in sufficiently on the map to get a sense of the distances. My second (and biggest) error was writing down the places I wanted to see, but not writing down their addresses or even a vague sense of where they were. So I walked, and walked, ever grateful that I’d put on my tourist garb, including my running shoes and rain jacket. My sense of direction served me well as I guided myself to the area where I needed to be, central San Isidro, albeit that it was further than I anticipated from my drop-off point. Not that I was complaining, since I was walking next to a racetrack, where they were training the horses, so I was very happy.

I found the area, walked around the charming cobbled streets, got stuck (predictably) in a bookstore for ages, found the cathedral and the lookout point, and then things went downhill. Literally, in that I had to walk down to get to the river area, where I was determined to find the elusive Peru Beach (without using my good sense to ask someone where it was). That’s when things went figuratively downhill as well.

Graffiti on the way downhill to the river.

As I walked, the area quickly became less picturesque, and very unlike any descriptions of the place I had read. I could tell I was heading toward the river but this didn’t seem anything like the windsurfing/bicycle rental/bar-lined river-front I was imagining. Spotting some buses in the distance, I thought, oh yeah, now I’ve found my way. But I had the sinking feeling, even before it was confirmed, that I was at the bus graveyard, where the buses go to sit in the turnaround between their routes. And there was the water and a yacht club. As I looked around, at this point very tired, I suddenly didn’t feel so safe, and did not want to take out my camera or make it obvious I was a foreigner, or lost. Cursing myself for not paying more attention, I headed further down the road, even with my gut instinct telling me I was going the wrong way. I saw another touristy looking man (backpack, walking shoes)* going that way, and followed (stalked) him, to the point that he crossed the road several times. A good distance later the road ended at a much fancier yacht club. Finally realising I had no choice, I asked the guard at the club where I was and where I could find Peru Beach.

*In retrospect, not a tourist.

The river and Peru “Beach” at last!

Lo and behold, the lovely gentleman not only spoke English and could give me easy directions, he was also an ex-flight attendant who had been to Cape Town.

Set on the right path once more (even though I had to trek all the way back to my starting point), I learnt an important lesson in travel attitude. The same area that had felt so unsafe and looked so unkempt and (dare I say) ugly whilst I was despondent and tired, suddenly did not look so bad or unsafe, but had a charm to it, a working man’s dockyard. So much of what we experience when we travel stems from our particular emotion at the time.

Cat sleeping at the windsurfing school / grill house I stopped for a much needed coffee.

I think the reason I tend to always have good travel experiences is my attitude to my surroundings. I notice now more than ever how when I’m excited or happy and relaxed, I look up at my surroundings, seeing the beauty everywhere. When I’m tired or stressed, I look down and see litter, uneven pavements and city smells. All it takes is a moment to step back, remind myself where I am, to really appreciate my surroundings.

Taking the coastal train back to the city

Disclaimer 1: I made it safely to Peru Beach, which was a bit disappointing. I’m not sure why I was expecting an actual beach along the river. Also, I can imagine this place is great on the weekends, when there is a market and everyone comes out from the city. Not so much in the middle of the week on a rainy day.

Disclaimer 2: I did not learn my lesson. I set off again without a map today, this time in the south, outside of the city. But my sense of direction got me where I needed to be with no problems.