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There were many reasons for Anne and me not to go to Ushuaia: It was expensive; the only buses that ran there were old, unreliable and departed at inconvenient times; the pages on my passport were running out and getting there meant getting stamped out of Argentina, then being stamped in and then out of Chile and then getting stamped back in Argentina (and the same on the return); getting from there to Buenos Aires, our next destination, would mean taking a 52 hour bus journey.
I could go on.
It was, however, the one main reason for going that swayed us and rendered all the other arguments redundant: The fact that Ushuaia is the southernmost city in the world and it'd be frigging cool to say that we'd been there.
As I mentioned before, the bus times were inconvenient. Well, borderline ridiculous actually. To get there from El Calafate, it meant catching the 3am bus to Rio Gallegos - the transport hub of the south - where we'd connect to the 9am service to Ushuaia, stopping for two borders and one ferry crossing en route.
We finally reached the deep south at around 8pm and whilst we usually don't like arriving at destinations at nightfall, something was different here, as the city had a very laid back feel to it.
After enlisting the help of a local café/bar owner to call us a taxi (we went back there the next day to give them our custom in return for their generosity), we got settled into our hostel and ordered some takeaway BBQ food for dinner, complete with intestines and blood sausage (black pudding) - both of which were actually not that bad.
On our first full day, we did what we like to do best and that's just stroll around the town, take a few photos and generally just get a feel for the place.
The first thing I noticed when coming into the town the night before was a sign that read 'Las Malvinas Son Argentinas' - The Falklands are Argentinian. Although we had seen some references to the claim over the South Atlantic islands whilst making our way through the country - such as road names in various cities and a couple of lads holding a banner that read 'Los heroes de Malvinas' in Rio Gallegos - I thought that given the geographical location, we might encounter more of an acknowledgement here and perhaps a resistance to anything British. I wasn't wrong.
It took a good 20 minutes to walk into town from our hostel but the first thing we noticed was the Plaza Malvinas in the south east of the city. This is simply a square that is a shrine to those from Ushuaia who were killed in the 1982 conflict, with some captioned pictures encircling it that kind of describe a timeline of events from that year. Needless to say, it was all very one sided; much like the Imperial War Museum in Saigon, Vietnam.
When you dig deeper into the town, you unearth more hostilities against the Brits: There's a sign painted onto a wall next to the port that reads 'Prohibido el amarre de los buques piratas inglesas' - Tying up English 'pirate' ships is prohibited.
That was it; I was completely hooked and looked around for more.
Whilst getting a special 'end of the world' stamp in the tourist information shop, I found a leaflet that was written in English and was simply titled 'The Malvinas; a fair claim'. I took one with me to read over a coffee. People donned t-shirts with the aforementioned slogan that indicated the islands were Argentina's and there was some other graffiti paying homage to the 30 year anniversary of the war in 2012, as well as signs for a 'fun run for the Malvinas' - I'm not sure what that was going achieve. Maps all across the city (and the country for that matter) referred to the islands as 'Islas Malvinas (ARG)' and gift shops sold tacky memorabilia on the subject too. Ironically though - and this really made us laugh - tours of the city were conducted in a London-style double decker bus, painted in sky blue. Possibly a nod to the British missionaries who actually founded the city 180-or-so years ago.
Back in the hostel and now completely engrossed in all things Falklands, I decided to research more about how the UK claimed them and a few other islands in the 1830s. Spain had handed all of the territories in the region to Argentina as part of their independence a few decades earlier, but it seems that the British, having occupied the islands previously, were intent on having a presence in the South Atlantic.
Now, I don't dispute that the UK unlawfully invaded and that they were clearly in the wrong, but we are talking about a time when countries expanding their empires was commonplace. Land was won by armies as well as treaties.
After the Union Jack was planted, all Argentinian residents on the island were encouraged to stay yet decided to return to the mainland by their own free will. Therefore, the current population is primarily of British origin and as such, they favour the self-governance offered under the UK monarchy as an Overseas Territory than any changes that would undoubtedly occur if they were to be passed back to Argentina.
To put it simply: Too much time has passed to now interfere and although Argentina may still feel quite bitter, it's now impossible to enforce any new governance.
After seeing what I had in the town, I was a little dubious as to how my nationality would be received by any locals that we engaged and so I mentioned to Anne that if we stumbled into a hostile situation then I was most definitely Irish. Anne misinterpreted this though and so whilst having an innocent beer at a local bar, the waiter enquired as to where we were from.
"Finlandia y Irlandia", Anne responded.
"De donde in Irlandia? Belfast?"
"Er. No. Dublin" I stammered. The lie was already too big.
It might have been alright had he not fetched his manager over to excitedly tell him of where his two customers had travelled from. The manager, still speaking in Spanish, looked at me and said "now, you're not really from England, are you?" while making a sort-of stabbing motion to his chest.
I laughed it off as I think it was meant in jest, but it still made me uncomfortable enough to spout off Irish phrases such as 'top of the mornin' and 'to be sure' every time either of them walked past after that.
On the whole, and even with the blatant frictions, it still didn't put me off what was such a beautiful city. With the backdrop of the Southern Andes and being right on the Beagle Channel that stretches out to the Atlantic, if I've ever seen a photographer's wet dream then this was it. We spent a good few hours happy-snapping away as the sun fell behind the mountains and the twilight matured into darkness, before walking home discussing whether there was a gap in the market for a 'Red Lion' pub in the area.
The first of two excursions we took during in our time there was a boat trip on the aforementioned Channel - named after HMS Beagle that 'discovered' the area - that got us up-close and personal with a few sea-lions and other sub-antartic wildlife. We had booked with Tengo & Che (they're our recommendation for boat tours in the area, people) and were very happy that we had done so: The smaller boats that they operate mean less people and less sheep-herding. This equates to a more personable experience, which was made all the more enjoyable by the knowledge of Maxi, our guide.
The second trip was a 4x4 adventure which was somewhat disappointing. We were promised off-roading, hikes and wildlife; all we got was a short and somewhat s*** drive down a dirt-track, a quarter of a mile stroll down a driveway and a few playful puppies.
Ok, so the dogs we enjoyed, but still, we felt a little short-changed, even with the 'carne asada' BBQ meal.
Perhaps the lunch would have been better received had we not have visited La Estancia the previous night. This is Ushuaia's premier parilla (grill) restaurant and you can help yourself to as much beef, chicken, sausage and lamb as you like, as well as unlimited trips to the salad bar should the meaty ensemble not suffice. We ate that much that we had to take a taxi home. Totally worth it though.
As they say, time flies when you're having fun and before we knew it, 5 days at the end of the world had passed. Geographically speaking, the only way was up; but we were both still wondering whether Ushuaia, coupled with El Chalten, would be the pinnacle of our South American adventures. Time will only tell.
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