Fleeing South America and Why Not Stopover in Tierra del Fuego

 Part One – Leaving Rio

 It all started with the taxi ride from the Windsor Hotel in Rio to the airport.  We planned to leave our hotel by 4:30pm.   There was some discussion with the door men about a suitable taxi for us, being a family of four with luggage.  (See Todd’s Brazil journal for lead in)  It was decided that the hotel would arrange a car big enough for us.  We all went to wait on the street, and noticed to our left there had been some sort of car accident, so the police were there, with lights flashing. 

 The curbside pull out area in front of the hotel was blocked by an unmanned brown car that the doormen pushed forward to clear the area.  This made enough space for another car, an older 1970’s blue Ford to leave as well. These older cars are often lovingly nursed along in Brazil where the per capita income is the equivalent of US$2900 per year, but this one wasn’t.  It was smoking badly, and I thought it may have been involved in the car accident.  The minutes were ticking by, and our flight was scheduled to leave at 7:25pm. I thought it would take about 30 minutes to get to the airport.  The driver of the blue car, an elderly man, slammed the hood shut after making an adjustment which stopped most of the smoking, and got in.  He drove the car forward 20 feet coming to a stop right in front of us.  There was a burning smell emitting from the engine.  The doormen started loading our luggage into the blue car’s trunk, and told us this would be our transportation to the airport. 

 It was getting late, and we couldn’t speak Portuguese.  I did my best to convince the men that this was not going to work, this was not a taxi, it looked unsafe, etc…. but before I know it we were chugging down Rue Domingo Ferreira, and into the crazy traffic usual for a city of 5 million people.  It was now 5:00pm.  I had a few choice words for my dear husband, describing the bad feeling I had about this car.  He gave me the look which said, you can kill me later, but please pray now, since I think we will need it.  The driver sensed the tension, and smiled at us, muttering what I assume were Portuguese reassurances.  I noticed the speedometer didn’t work, and the fuel gauge either didn’t work, or was on empty.  I thought, “Oh God, what have we gotten ourselves into.”

 There was no air conditioning, and the windows were all down, except Lauren’s on the left behind the driver, which didn’t work.  She was hot, and had her own backpack and Todd’s computer case on her lap.  Todd was in the front seat with a small suitcase on his lap.  Katie and I were in the back with Lauren.  Traffic was heavy, although only 67 of 1000 people own cars in Brazil; I think they are mainly in Rio.  The first of three tunnels leaving Rio was long, and there did not seem to be much ventilation.  After about three minutes, I was a bit light headed, and told the girls to breathe shallow.  I rolled up my window, but it was very hot in the car.   By the end of the tunnel, we were all a bit woozy, and had just cleared our heads when we entered tunnel two.  The car still emitted a burning smell, and there was white steam puffing from the heat vents.  By the end of the third tunnel, Lauren had her head on her coat, and I asked her if she was ok to make sure she was still breathing.  Katie held my hand.  We finally left downtown and chugged onto the highway to the airport. 

 We were on a bridge about 10 minutes later when smoke started pouring from the car, so our driver honked his way though three lanes of cars and pulled over.  There was no shoulder.  He got out, avoided the speeding cars in the lane next to him, and opened the hood.  He did something with (we thought) the radiator.  Todd asked if he should get out and flag another cab, but I laughed in a hollow way because this would be almost impossible on a bridge with cars roaring past at 50 mph.  I thought, “Please God, get us to our flight.” 

 The driver got back in, and the car started.  I sighed, and smiled reassuringly at Lauren and Katie.  We moved into traffic, but our driver had burned his arm from the steam.  I gave him a can of Sprite that was unopened and still cold to put on it.  I looked at his weathered face, and the big red welt on his arm just above his wrist.   He had grey hair, and was wearing a worn collared shirt that had been neatly ironed.  I knew as fact he needed to get gas, fix his car, and tend his burn.  Perhaps he was the uncle of a doorman at the hotel, or just talked them into giving him an occasional fare.  Sobered, I considered how much even the poorest have in the US.  There are 600 shantytowns in Rio alone. 

 We arrived at the airport terminal, which seemed to swirl with honking cars, shouting security and emotional partings.  He gave me back the Sprite, now warm.  We unloaded our bags from the now silent blue Ford.   The agreed upon fare was 60 Reais, or about $20 US.  I pointed to his blistered arm and said, “OK?”  He smiled and replied, “OK.”  I placed a folded 100 Reais bill in his hand as part of a handshake, and said, “Obrigado,” then extended the pull arm on my suitcase to enter the building with Todd and the girls.  I glanced back through the automatic door, and saw the driver head to another taxi for a bottle of water stored in his trunk.  The hood of his car went up again and he filled his radiator.  As the tinted doors closed I thought, “Please God, watch over this man.”

   

Part Two – The Argentineans & Their Airline

 After departing Rio de Janeiro we learned we were scheduled for a 2-hour “equipment change” as part of our non-stop flight to Auckland, New Zealand.   Our Aerolinas Argentina flight 116 set down in Buenos Aries at 11:30 pm.  At that point we expected to be in New Zealand in just over 15 hours.

 We were all sitting in our usual ‘departure area formation’ - Todd on the computer, Lauren engrossed in her latest novel and Katie, tongue in teeth, getting to the next level on her Game Boy, and I, of course was reading my usual trashy novel.  We had already looked around the airport and planned activities for the flight, which included the purchase of chocolates in the duty free store.  Katie added a small toy black and white puppy to her backpack menagerie.  Had we also bought batteries and a Phillips screwdriver, it would have whimpered, barked and opened & closed its eyes all the way to Auckland.  In retrospect, it was lucky that we didn’t as tempers were short by the time we arrived 21 hours later.

 An announcement was made in Spanish that made several people around us groan.  This immediately perked up my ears and we then heard in broken English that due to weather conditions we would be making a stop in what sounded like “Australia” on our way to New Zealand.  Now, my understanding of geography is not great, but it seemed to me that Australia would be farther than New Zealand So I asked Todd go to the counter and find out, since his Spanish had proved quite handy on the trip, to ask the logic behind this decision.  He came back and let me know that we would not stop in Australia, but ‘Ushuaia.’  Where was Ushuaia, you may ask?  I did.  It is the largest town on the island of Tierra del Fuego at the very southern tip of South America.  As for the weather conditions they spoke of, he reported that there were severe headwinds on the way and we would not have enough fuel to complete the flight without stopping.  .

 We boarded the flight late and then just sat there.  I’m not sure if it was the South American way or just the case with our flight crew, but 30 minutes after our scheduled departure there was still no announcement.  We were all sitting in our seats, waiting to move away from the gate.  And nobody was complaining.  Usually you hear something like, “Well folks, we’re just waiting for a few late transit passengers,” or “Good evening, there are some last minute mechanical checks being completed.”  Another 30 minutes went by and we finally departed with no explanation.  I could tell it was shaping up to be a long night.

 We flew for about 5 hours and landed for our ‘brief’ refueling in Ushuaia.  On the ground while taxiing, they announced that we would not need to get off the plane.  I chatted with some German fellows across the aisle who told me it would be illegal to refuel the plane with everyone aboard, but most of the passengers on this flight were asleep, it was 4:30 in the morning and the lights were still off in the cabin, so we thought the pilot was afraid of a mutiny at this point and may have been bending the rules.  We pulled up to the gate and sat there.  Another 30 minutes went by and they announced that we had to leave the plane.  A few groans.  We shuffled up the ramp, bitter cold seeping in around the seams.  Think northern Alaska in April.  To the uninitiated, we must have looked like a plane full of zombies carrying our airplane pillows and blankies with us, which they encouraged us to do.  The terminal was actually pleasant, newly constructed out of local woods, like an alpine lodge.  There were many seats and off to one side, a smoking area which would slowly fill the large room with second-hand smoke.  There was also a snack bar with coffee, juice and sandwiches with mystery fillings and no crusts.  We guessed that the locals serving these snacks at inflated prices were making more money in one night than they could in a week, feeding trapped transients trying to maintain mental function until re-boarding.

 The next 5 hours went like this:

 Hour 1:  No announcements.  Read guide book.  Drank coffee.  Watched sun start to rise over the mountains across the bay.

Hour 2:  Mumbled announcement in Spanish – no English announcement.  No crew around to get clarification.  Frustrated mutterings around us in many languages.  Crowd gathered around Todd as he pulls up atlas on his computer to show exactly where in the world we are.  Secondhand smoke thickens.  Switched to drinking water.  Katie slept on floor.  Lauren played GameBoy.  Took more pictures of the fantastic scene outside with the sunrise slowly turning the mountains pink. 

 Hour 3:  Asked for clarification of earlier announcement from flight attendant who shrugged and hurried down the “No Entry” hallway to the crew sanctuary.  Mountains now glorious pink and white.  Lights in small town across the water start to turn off. 

Hour 4:  Joined Katie sleeping on the floor with as many airplane blankets as we could find.

Hour 5: Another mumbled announcement.  People around us started to move, get up and stagger towards the plane.  We rouse Katie, and reboard.

 Only 12 more hours to New Zealand!

 Thoughts on Tierra de Fuego.  I wish we could have paused our trip to explore this place.  The view from the window at the airport almost made up for the length of the unplanned layover.  It was magical, revealing mysterious tundra leading to craggy mountains covered in snow.  It seemed the end of the earth, as many early explorers thought.  I hope to return someday to explore the unpopulated peaks, valleys and waterways.