Welcome to Argentina, definitely a less than 3rd world experience

  Even the stories did not prepare us for the border entry. Up through very poor looking deserted ski areas and a hot springs town high in the Andes, we climb to treeless expanses of multi-hued mountains. Even my photos through the bus window are impressive. The colors are reminiscent of the painted desert in the southern US. 

  There is no stopping for anything except the border. That’s the limitation of taking the bus.

  We go through countless snow sheds a bit like the drive from Alberta to BC through the Rockies, and eventually through the long Christo de Redeemer tunnel. The top is at 3500 meters, border at 3150m, but we don’t notice any problem with thin air.

  Fortunately this bus has a toilet. It is a less than savory experience. Everywhere here you must remember to take toilet paper. I wished I had taken a spray and roll of kitchen roll too! However, we want to stay hydrated so I am drinking lots of water.

  There is an AV system, they show 3 movies in Spanish, all far too loud.

  We arrive at the immigration station some 10 miles in Argentina . We are told this can take anywhere from a short time to 6 hours! Aiyeee! We are already behind 4 buses and a few cars. Soon the cars are 3 deep beside us. 

  The conductor gets on and and makes an announcement of some sort. Should we get off? We are some distance from the covered area, out in the fierce sun with the wind howling. Surely we don’t need to line up? No, it appears people are getting off to buy food from a couple of small kiosks or to find the bands (toilets.) We stay on the bus and eat our ham/cheese/tomato croissants, coconut cookies - ah joy that I made these ahead.

  Later - it’s off the bus with your papers. There is a Czeck family with two boys and a small disabled child who cannot walk and they are accommodating enough to let dad line up with the 5 passports, leaving the family on the bus. 

  We are not long in the sun/wind, later under the covered open air customs hall. The Chilean customs officer is dressed like a skate border - unkempt hair, beard, sloppy jeans and jacket, no uniform. Unbelievable! But he is friendly enough as he stamps our passports, and keeps our Chilean policy record. Note to self: Glad we replaced those and didn’t add hours to our bus border crossing.