Monday Musings - Mar del Plata, Money and Baseball

Today’s entry will be a potpourri about Argentina and sports. It ranges from the serious (the effect of Argentina’s Dirty War on my wife’s family) to the utilitarian (money and exchange rates) to the whimsical (my own tenuous link between baseball and Patagonia).

Southward Bound

Maru Sanllorenti's hometown of Tandil

As I prepare to head to Buenos Aires, early next month, my wife María Laura Massolo and our daughter Clío are already there (but will return to California before I leave). Their trip is partly vacation but also a family mission, as the remains of my brother-in-law’s first wife—a victim of Argentina’s 1976-83 military dictatorship—have been transferred from her hometown of Tandil to a new Panteón de la Memoria (Pantheon of Memory) in the Cementerio de La Loma in the coastal resort city of Mar del Plata.

My brother-in-law's first wife disappeared shortly after giving birth in 1976.

Maru's mother Eva and son Manuel at Mar del Plata's Panteón de la Memoria (photo by María Laura Massolo)

Abducted on the street in the Buenos Aires Province capital of La Plata in 1976, Maru Sanllorenti is survived by family members that include her mother Eva (now aged 94) and her son (my nephew) Manuel (now 43), who was an infant when she disappeared. My wife accompanied her brother Carlos (Manuel’s father) to Mardel for the ceremony there, then returned almost immediately to Buenos Aires, where Clío arrived on Friday. Yesterday, both of them attended a talk that Manuel regularly gives to visiting tour groups at the city’s Parque de la Memoria, which includes a commemorative plaque with his mother’s name.

Manuel Massolo (right) recounts his mother's story to visiting US tourists at the Parque de la  Memoria.

Money Matters

I haven’t been to Argentina since last year and, consequently, my recent information on exchange rates, prices, and transactions has been mostly second-hand. Since last month’s elections, though, exchange rates have remained relatively stable, and my wife informs me that a fine Peruvian dinner for three at downtown’s Chan Chan cost about US$10 per person, including three entrees plus a beer per person. It’s not an elite restaurant by Buenos Aires standards, but that’s still excellent value.

Our neighborhood cueva, on Palermo's Cabello street, was closed on the weekend.

Changing money, though, always requires reorientation. Bank lines are long, exchange houses are mostly downtown, and there’s still a difference between formal and blue (informal) rates. The difference isn’t huge, though, and the informal exchange houses known as cuevas are fewer than they once were. My wife has used the one near our apartment in Palermo, which remains open, but Dan Perlman of Casa Saltshaker informs me that street changers have taken over the business near his apartment (including the weekend’s Plaza Francia crafts fair outside the Cementerio de la Recoleta). Street-changing, of course, holds potential risk for the inexperienced—not the least of which is counterfeit currency.

It’s possible to change at ATMs, but that has its own issues—on the weekend, when our neighborhood cueva was closed, my wife paid a bank charge of US$10 to withdraw approximately US$50 from the machine. I’m not sure what the maximum withdrawal is at the moment, but it’s almost certainly low by international standards. In Chile, I regularly withdraw the equivalent of US$300 per transaction, but Argentina has been roughly half that—making the service charge a true burden.

Baseball and Patagonia

I love baseball and, for decades now, I’ve enjoyed saying that I leave for South America after the World Series and return in time for Opening Day. This year, I’m still stateside, through two weeks without baseball, but I’m looking forward to being back in Buenos Aires (where I’ve played the game myself) in another fortnight.

Actually, the month of October was a big disappointment, as my own Los Angeles Dodgers fell to the mild card (sic) Washington Nationals in the National League Division Series, and I didn’t pay a lot of attention the subsequent rounds or the World Series itself. The Dodgers were clearly the NL’s best but, as they say, anything can happen in a short series. Of all major sports, baseball is probably the likeliest for a lesser team to prevail—there’s really no such thing as an upset.

The top three finishers in the National League's Most Valuable Player voting

Last week, though, the post-season individual awards drew my attention because of a friendly rivalry with my Wisconsin-born but Chile-based friend Todd Temkin, who’s a diehard Milwaukee Brewers fan (his Cerveceros lost to Washington in a one-game playoff for the right to meet the Dodgers). Todd (who splits his time between Valparaíso/Viña del Mar and a farm in Futaleufú) and I disagree on who’s the NL’s best player; his choice is Milwaukee outfielder Christian Yelich, while mine is LA’s versatile outfielder/first baseman Cody Bellinger.

Dinner will probably take place at Futaleufú's Martín Pescador.

Hand-written menu at Martín Pescador

On one level, that’s a subjective judgement, as they’re both elite players, but Todd suggested that we place a bet on the Most Valuable Player award, “given to a player in each league who has contributed the most to the success of a player’s team,” according to the Baseball Writers Association of America. Depending on which player scored most highly in that poll, the loser would treat the winner to dinner—probably at Futaleufú’s Martín Pescador, with its frequently changing menu.

On my last visit, I enjoyed gnocchi with morels...

and a cheesecake for dessert.

As it happened, Bellinger edged out Yelich for the award, while Anthony Rendón of the champion Nationals came in a respectable third (the vote takes place at the end of the regular season, so the Nationals' playoff success was not a factor here). I’m looking forward to that meal, probably in March, when I’ll be updating Moon Handbooks Patagonia there. If Todd’s not around at that time, though, it could happen in Valparaíso or nearby Viña.

Chaos in Chile?

In 1978, when I first traveled to Chile—then under the dictatorship of General Augusto Pinochet Ugarte—there was an 11 p.m. curfew in the capital city of Santiago. That put a dent in the city’s commerce and nightlife—though young people adapted with parties that lasted until dawn—and, of course, its political life. Not so widespread in the provinces, the curfews gradually gave way and, since the return to democracy in 1990, Santiago’s been a 24-hour city.

Chile's capital as seen from the hills of Parque Metropolitano

Or at least until last Friday, when all hell broke loose in apparent response to a relatively modest increase in Metro subway fares. Starting as a social-media encouragement of fare evasion, it escalated into a wider disorder that involved arson, looting and then declaration of a state of emergency by President Sebastián Piñera. According to Guardian correspondent John Bartlett (a personal acquaintance of mine), “[T]he headquarters of Italian energy company Enel were engulfed in orange flames as the sounds of helicopters and wailing sirens filled the night sky.”

President Piñera's initial statement on the events in Santiago.

In truth, the discontent is far more than just transport fares, as many if not most Chileans have struggled with dictatorship’s legacy of hyper-privatization on issues like health-care and old-age pensions, even as the country has become—on paper at least—the continent’s most prosperous on a per capita basis. Income distribution, though, is wildly skewed in favor of the very wealthiest—many of them in Piñera’s cabinet.

This stenciled mural in the borough of Quinta Normal suggests the inequalities of contemporary Chile.

Certainly there was need to restore order, but the tone-deaf Piñera made it worse by stating, publicly, that “We are at war...” and sending troops and tanks into the streets. That evoked unwelcome memories of the Pinochet years, even though Piñera himself supported the plebiscite vote that ended the dictatorship in 1990. Speaking more diplomatically, the general in charge of security in Santiago seemed to contradict him in saying that “I’m not at war with anyone.”

Santiaguino friends with whom I’ve been in contact have offered useful perspective on this. Marializ Maldonado, who lives in the working-class borough of Renca, wrote me on Saturday that “We were in the Plaza de Renca, with lots of protestors everywhere. Incredible and unexpected. After a group tried to loot a supermarket, [the authorities] dispersed us with tear gas.” She then went home.

Martín Maldonado (no relation to Marializ), who lives in the middle- to upper-middle class borough of Ñuñoa and teaches at the Universidad de Santiago, forwarded me a brief video of a peaceful cacerolazo (pot-banging protest) there. He suggested that there are two separate issues: One is “a movement that rejects economic policies and claims in favor of health, utilities, salaries and transport.” There’s an incisive analysis of these issues by political scientist Patricio Navia in Americas Quarterly.

Curfews have expanded beyond Santiago.

On the other hand, says Martín, “there’s a covert movement that loots supermarkets, shops, public buildings, buses and the Metro, and then burns them.” The university is closed until at least Wednesday, and the curfew now extends from 8 p.m. to 6 a.m. According to the Metro de Santiago website, the city’s subway system has suffered some US$200 million in damages.

Friends outside Santiago tell similar stories. Christián Guntert, a German who teaches at the Universidad Católica in Valparaíso, was returning from a field trip with ecotourism students when he found the roads blocked with burning tires and had to walk into town. There he saw burning shops in the commercial downtown, with firemen and policemen attempting to restore order. Todd Temkin, an American who’s lived nearly 30 years in Valpo and Viña del Mar, said “they burned a couple of supermarkets, a car dealership, and the Cathedral. Lots of looting. Also quite a bit of looting in downtown Viña.” He was, he told me, “heartbroken.”

The Impact on Tourism?

Curfews are expanding to other cities, but I did find one exception to the chaos. Andreas La Rosé, a German who operates the Casa Azul guesthouse in tourist-friendly Puerto Varas, said “Everything is calm, just all supermarkets are closed.” Prosperous Varas may have been spared the destruction, at least to this point, but he worries about how this might affect the upcoming tourist season.

Chilean operators, of course, are hoping against hope that everything remains calm, but there’s certainly concern. While attractions like Torres del Paine are likely to remain so, getting to them through the capital and larger regional cities like Punta Arenas could be problematic. This is a matter that’s likely to come up tomorrow (Tuesday the 22nd), as I attend AdventureConnect San Francisco, an event where many operators from the Magallanes region will be present. I already know several of them, and I’m hoping they’ll be candid about the upcoming season.

Floods & Mud: Summer Storms Hit the Andes

In the early 1980s, I hitched a lift on a flatbed truck from the Chilean mining town of Calama to San Pedro de Atacama and, about halfway there, we found ourselves in near whiteout conditions – in the arid Atacama desert, not just rain, but snow. Fortunately, I arrived safely but now, whenever I think of the world’s driest climate, that still comes to mind.

Last April, while spending several days in San Pedro, I did not experience any rainfall, but storms in the Andes caused flash floods that washed away segments of roads in the Quebrada de Quitor, briefly closing access to my accommodations at the Hotel Alto Atacama. Today, though, it’s much worse, as the online Santiago Times reports that heavy rains have left nearly 5,000 people in San Pedro without running water and electricity. Highway damage has also closed the Paso de Jama border crossing (pictured above) to the Argentine provinces of Jujuy and Salta.

Some similar has happened in Argentina, where mudslides caused by heavy rains in the upper drainage of the Río Mendoza (as seen in the video above) have closed the international highway to Chile – according to the Buenos Aires daily Clarín, the road has been cut in more than 20 places. This is the most important border crossing between the two countries, as international trade relies on the route; its timing is particularly unfortunate for the tourism industry, as cross-border traffic is abundant at this season. Mendoza’s annual wine harvest party, the Fiesta Naiconal de la Vendimia, begins the first week of March.

To make things even tougher for border-crossers, repairs of the international highway on the Chilean side presently require one-way traffic: westbound vehicles from Argentina may travel during daylight hours (8 a.m. to 7 p.m.), while eastbound vehicles from Chile must travel at night (8 p.m. to 7 a.m.). Until the Argentines manage to clear the road on their side, though, this is a moot question, and it remains to be seen how it affects the summer season.

Meanwhile, any Argentines vacationing in Viña del Mar who need to be back to work on Monday will have find an alternate route, and the road over the Agua Negra pass (pictured above), east of La Serena and Vicuña, has also been closed. The next closest crossing is the Paso Vergara (pictured below), east of the city of Curicó, but that involves a detour of more than 200 km south of Santiago and, once across the border, several hundred km more north to Mendoza.

What with all the currency controls, it was already difficult for Argentines to travel outside their own borders, but this is making it difficult for those who could to return. The rest of the summer could be a real challenge.

Notes from Valparaíso

When I’m in Valparaíso, I often stay at The Yellow House (pictured below), a cozy B&B run by the Australian Martin Turner, his Chilean wife Lissette, and their two bulldogs. On Cerro Artillería, at the west end of downtown, it was a pioneer accommodation in a hills neighborhood whose development and renovation have lagged behind that of more fashionable areas like Cerro Concepción and Cerro Alegre, whose boutique hotels and fashionable restaurants have set the pace in this scenic city.

One factor in Artillería’s recent development may be the fact that it has a working funicular in a city whose reputation relies, in part, on this unusual but entertaining means of public transportation. When I last updated Moon Handbooks Chile, though, “Valpo” had nine functioning funiculars of the 14 that remain (there were originally 33, but the rest have been dismantled). Today, though, Ascensor Artillería (pictured at top and below) is one of only four that remain in service. The El Peral, Turri, and Reina Victoria funiculars all serve the conspicuously tourist-oriented areas of Concepción and Alegre.

Maintaining and operating an antiquated technology, of course, present challenges, and a couple others could return to service shortly. On the other hand, UNESCO has reportedly threatened to revoke the city’s World Heritage Site designation if authorities don’t make a greater effort to restore the remainder to a usable state. In fact, the ascensores make it easier for everybody – not just tourists - to get around this hilly city.

Meanwhile, thanks in part to its funicular, Cerro Artillería has gained attention as an accessible area of new businesses – such as the up-and-coming restaurant Casa Cuatro Vientos (pictured above), in a landmark house with spectacular views of the harbor (their annual New Year’s Eve dinner offers the best views of the city’s legendary fireworks show). Other cafes have arrived, and Martin and Lisette have set up a separate cooking class business, Chilean Cuisine, in a luminous loft apartment just across the alleyway from their B&B. I attended one of those classes (pictured below) on Friday and, when I have time, I’ll give a more detailed account of it.

Climate Change: From Santiago to Valpo

No, this will not be a polemic on global warming, though I share concerns over the environmental crisis of our time, and Chile’s one of the frontline countries threatened by climate change. Rather, this article will describe the dilemma of those who travel from hot, sunny Santiago, to cool, foggy Valparaíso (pictured above).

Recently I gave slide talks on Patagonia and Buenos Aires in the Santiago B&B/hostel La Casa Roja (pictured above and below), which gave me the opportunity to answer a wide variety of questions on those destinations. It wasn’t limited to that, though, and several people asked me about the best excursions in and around Santiago, and one of my top choices was Valparaíso, the country’s most colorful and unique city. Though I’d always recommend staying overnight or longer, bus service to Valpo is frequent (about every 15 minutes) and fast (two hours) and, making it an ideal and inexpensive day trip.

There is one surprise, though, that unsuspecting visitors need to know. Though it’s been hot in Santiago the entire month, it normally cools off at night, given its 550 meters above sea level; that hasn’t been the case for most of March, and that means many young visitors are only lightly dressed. If they’re going to Valparaíso for the day, that can be a problem – it can get cool or even chilly here.

That’s because, like San Francisco, the twin cities of Valpo and Viña del Mar (the famous beach resort), sprawl along a Pacific shoreline that’s only a short distance from the cold Humboldt Current. That helps create the convective fog known as the camanchaca, similar to the afternoon fogs that spread inland over San Francisco – and legendarily leave Midwestern tourists shivering in their shorts and tee shirts. On the coast here, the daytime temperature here is typically 10° C (18° F) cooler than the Chilean capital, especially when the camanchaca comes ashore. Even if it’s clear and sunny, as it is today, it’s advisable to carry a sweater or jacket in this naturally air-conditioned city.

We Have Our Winners! The Buenos Aires Giveaway

When last Friday dawned and I had only one (correct) entry in my contest to give away two copies of the new fourth edition of Moon Handbooks Buenos Aires, I pleaded with readers to enter the contest to give the other copy away. As it happened, I needn’t have worried too much - another six contestants correctly identified Belgrano’s Iglesia de la Inmaculada Concepción, the church that figures prominently in the late Ernesto Sábato’s masterpiece psychological novel, On Heroes and Tombs. It is popularly known as “La Redonda” (The Round Church) because of its circular design and cupola.

Given that so many came up with the right answer in response to my plea, I’ve decided to give away an additional five copies as I close the contest this morning. Four of the respondents came from the United States, one from Mexico, one from Chile, and one from Belgium, and I hope they’ll put them to good use.

Jennifer Rose of Morelia, Michoacán, who previously won a copy of the third edition of Moon Handbooks Argentina last year, was the first to respond correctly here. I also have two overseas winners, including Natalie Usher of Viña del Mar (Chile), who says that “Now I can persuade my husband to take a couple of days off so we can finally make it to BA.” Steve Behaegel of Merelbeke, Belgium, requested a copy of Moon Handbooks Argentina in lieu of Buenos Aires “because most of the time we travel Patagonia and do not linger too much in Buenos Aires.” Steve had entered an earlier contest, but had been too late with the correct answer.

Stateside, I got a correct answer from Butch Cassidy expert Dan Buck of Washington DC, who adds that “I met Sabato at an Argentine Embassy function in the 1980s and had him sign my copy of On Heroes and Tombs.” David J. Leffler of New York City wrote that “I have relatives that originally lived in Buenos Aires and now live in Córdoba. My aunt came to the country in the 1930s from Germany and her daughter, my first cousin, now lives in Córdoba.”

The other winners were Darek Przebieda of Burbank, California, whose wife Analía (an Argentine) operates Eureka Travel, and Robin Page West of Baltimore. For those of you who haven’t yet sent me a mailing address, please do so, and I will have the books in the mail as soon as possible. I will, however, be contacting you individually as well.

That’s all for the time being, but please keep an eye on this blog for future contests. And, while you’re at it, help me pay for my postage costs by clicking on one of those little AdSense ads every so often - always presuming it’s something that stimulates your curiosity, of course.

From the Epicenter: Chile, One Year Later

For the last ten days or so, since sending off the finished manuscript of Moon Handbooks Patagonia, I’ve been slowly working my way through the area affected by the massive Chilean earthquake of February 27, 2010. I managed a brief visit to Santiago a couple weeks after the quake, but was unable to visit the area in and around the offshore epicenter, which was 105 km NNE of the city of Concepción, and 105 km WSW of the city of Talca.

Last week in Concepción, though, I visited my longtime friend Rolando Rodríguez, who was shaken awake at 3:34 a.m. on the day of the quake and, after the shaking stopped, went immediately to turn off the gas in his solid middle-class home; it suffered no structural damage and was beyond the area affected by the tsunami that hit the nearby port of Talcahuano. Some things were thrown from their shelves and, in the ensuing days, he and his wife lacked electricity, water and food, which were only available through emergency services. They and their neighbors, meanwhile, kept a watch for potential looters, as rumors were running wild - in fact, though there was some looting of supermarkets and other businesses, there were no mobs of looters in residential areas. “We were watching out for something that didn’t exist,” he said.

Rolando’s friend and fellow CONAF employee Jaime Verdugo was not so lucky - but in a sense, even luckier. He was in his eighth floor condominium in the Alto Río building, which he bought for its views over the Río Biobío and its convenience to his downtown workplace, when the quake hit. Thrown into a closet, he stayed there as the building separated from its base and tumbled backwards; had he been on the opposite side, he would have been crushed - as were nine other residents - but, astonishingly, he survived even as the building toppled and split apart between the fifth and sixth floors. Anticipating a tsunami, he decided to stay put but then, scenting a natural gas leak, he left the closet and managed to flag down emergency workers who pulled him out of the building’s ruins (pictured above)

Meanwhile, only a few blocks away, the 15-story Torre O’Higgins (pictured above) still stands despite its sagging upper floors because, according to the Ministerio de Obras Públicas (Public Works Ministry), it needs to be stabilized before it can be demolished. That’s due to take place by July but, in the interim, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere in the vicinity if another quake happened. Ironically, the banners offering offices for sale still hang from its sides.

All that said, despite a few vacant lots where lies a bit of rubble, Concepción has pretty much returned to normal. The same was true in Angol, Chillán and Valdivia, the other cities I’ve seen en route - only minor damage is still apparent, except in Talcahuano, where the brunt of the tsunami hit and even knocked the historic Peruvian ironclad Huáscar up against the docks (pictured above, it’s since been repaired). That said, even the vulnerable Talcahuano waterfront is getting a major upgrade.

All this raises the question, though, of comparisons between the Chilean earthquake (8.8 on the Richter scale) and the recent, larger quake in Japan (9.0 on the Richter). Both were among the largest seismic events ever recorded, but the Japanese quake has killed far more people - perhaps upwards of 10,000, compared with 500-plus in Chile. Leaving aside the issue of relative damage caused by strike-slip (Chile) versus thrust fault (Japan), the big issue in human terms is Japan’s far greater population density - its population of 127 million is roughly eight times Chile’s 16 million, and the population density of 336 per square km far exceeds Chile’s 23 per square km.

Beyond Santiago, which has about six million inhabitants, Chile has no city larger than about 250,000 residents (though the Valparaíso/Viña del Mar and Concepción/San Pedro conurbations total about half a million), so the population is far more dispersed than in Japan. The destruction of low-slung adobes in towns like Talca (which I am about to visit) meant fewer fatalities.

Still, given the magnitude of the Chilean quake, the relatively minor human damage and quick recovery is a tribute to the country’s emergency services and resilience. The issue now raising its head, though, is nuclear power in a seismically vulnerable country - according to a recent survey, 86 percent of Chileans object to reactors. The highly regarded ex-president Ricardo Lagos, who originally supported nuclear-powered plants for a country with limited fossil fuel resources, has reconsidered their seismic safety in the aftermath of the Japanese experience. While public opinion surveys can be notoriously erratic in the aftermath of catastrophic events, such opposition is unlikely to disappear any time soon.

Tacos Chilenos

Despite the title, this article is not about food. Despite the longstanding links between Chile and Mexico, the taco is not really part of the Chilean diet, and the country’s misleading name itself has nothing to do with the spicy peppers that give Mexican food its character (even if, in fact, you can find pretty good Mexican food in Santiago, less so elsewhere in the country).

For reasons that, as a nonnative Spanish speaker, I have never been able to fathom, taco has two separate and utterly unrelated meanings here. In one usage, a taco is a traffic jam (¡un tremendo taco!). I’ve seen many of those in Santiago (though I generally get around public transportation here, I did have to drive yesterday and found myself briefly bumper-to-bumper at rush hour).

In Chile, women wear tacos.

At the same time, tacos (in the plural) mean a woman’s high heels (tacones of four or five inches are not unusual) and, if Olympic competitors had to wear them, Chilean women might bring home more gold than has ever come out of the country’s mines. In general, urban Chilean women wear high heels to work, but I’ve seen them in the most unlikely places - once, for instance, I met a small group who were trying to hike the coast range summit of Cerro La Campana in shoes more suitable for the boutiques of nearby Viña del Mar.

In another instance, in Santiago, I saw a woman on high heels while using crutches - perhaps the ultimate example of “unclear on the concept” - to get around the city’s infamously uneven sidewalks, which can be treacherous enough for those with sensible shoes and total orthopedic health. In fact, at one time, even Carabineros policewomen dressed in skirts and (relatively low) heels that would have made it difficult to run down a malefactor - not to mention their disadvantages in a hand-to-hand scuffle. According to Carabineros lieutenant Guisela Soto Valenzuela, “We have used trousers since the year 2000, thank God, because for women in operative units it was difficult to run with skirt and heels.” Now part of the security detail at the presidential Palacio de la Moneda, the 25-year-old Soto Valenzuela adds that, “In any event, the default option in the palace detail is trousers and boots.”

There are signs, though, that the everyday default option of heels continues to change. According the daily Última Hora, the Asociación Chilena de Seguridad (Chilean Insurance Association) and Sernam (the national women’s service) have begun a campaign to get Chilean women out of their heels and into sneakers, at least to get to work. Their statistics tell them that heels cause 800 multiple contusions, 830 hand and wrist contusions, 1,400 knee contusions, 3,600 ankle sprains, and 7,000 accidents en route to or from work, at a cost of 32,600 lost work days.

On the Metro, tacos are not recommended footwear.

Frankly, that doesn’t seem a huge number in a country of 16 million citizens, even if only half of them are women and many of those women would have no need for them (I’m discounting the handful of men who might wear heels). Yet the warnings are clear: yesterday, leaving Estación El Golf on Línea 1 of the Metro, I photographed the above warning: “Walk Safely. Walking is Good for You. Wear Sneakers on Your Way to and From Work.”

Even if well-intentioned, a campaign against sexist violence used cluelessly homophobic language.

Lately, though, Sernam has sparked a far greater controversy with the language of its recent campaign publicizing the issue of violence against women. Common on buses and Metro trains, these display images of men such as the soccer referee depicted here, who says that “Every weekend I get called ‘faggot’ at the stadium.” Then, continues the ad, “A faggot is someone who mistreats a woman. Let’s say it to those who deserve it.” The campaign’s pejorative language has engendered strong condemnation from gay organizations in the country and, at the very least, it's clumsy - if not reprehensible - to try to equate wife-beaters and homosexuals.

Argentine and Chilean Coastlines Rate Highly

Annually, National Geographic Traveler magazine (for whom I write occasionally) produces an annual survey of “destinations rated” and, in the new November-December issue, this year’s list evaluates the “world’s great islands, beaches and coastlines.” In a print magazine, of course, there’s not room for much more than a list of all 99 places - Newfoundland’s Avalon Peninsula comes in first - but the online version goes into more detail.

I was pleased to read that two Southern Cone destinations - the Chilean fjords (No. 4, pictured above) and Argentina’s Península Valdés (No. 10) made the top ten of places “In excellent shape, relatively unspoiled, and likely to remain so.” Chile’s Viña del Mar (No. 56) made the mid-list as “a mixed bag of successes and worries, with the future at risk.”

In fact, there are two sets of Chilean fjords. One lies along the west coast, where Navimag passenger ferries between Puerto Montt and Puerto Natales make occasional incursions from the inland sea of the Aisén and Magallanes regions to the edge of the Southern Patagonian Icefield, and the Skorpios cruise line visits Parque Nacional Laguna San Rafael and offers a longer tour of the continental glaciers.

In this case, though the article doesn’t make it clear from the beginning, the fjords in question are those on the south side of the Isla Grande de Tierra del Fuego, visited only by the relatively small vessels of the Cruceros Australis line. Traditionally, their Mare Australis and Via Australis vessels (carrying about 120 passengers each) shuttle between the Chilean city of Punta Arenas and the Argentine port of Ushuaia; this season, they will be adding the Stella Australis, capable of carrying about 200 passengers with greater amenities, to the fleet.

This, of course, contrasts with huge cruise ships that carry thousands of passengers and are, fortunately, incapable of navigating the narrow glacial channels in question here. According to one of Traveler’s anonymous panelists, “Local officials are aware of the damage cruise-ship operators have done elsewhere and working to create a sustainable tourism strategy.” Cruceros, for its part, has created an elaborate statement of its own environmental goals.

Meanwhile, on the Atlantic coast of Chubut province, Argentina’s Península Valdés draws praise for facilities “that are set up in a way to minimize their impact on the local environment.” The anonymous commentators, though, differ in their assessments: One dissents that “Development is relatively unregulated” and, from personal experience, I would say that the growth of the gateway town of Puerto Pirámides (pictured above) is cause for some concern.

Península Valdés, like most of Argentina’s Atlantic coast, is a desert, with no surface streams and an annual rainfall of only 246 mm (less than ten inches). Over two decades and at least half a dozen visits to the reserve, I have seen Puerto Pirámides expand from a oversized fish camp to a substantial village, with many more hotels and restaurants, that depends on groundwater for its existence. Some of those hotels, such as the Hostería Ecológica del Nómade, are designed to limit their environmental impact, but the town’s growth is nevertheless a serious concern.

That happened a long time ago in Viña del Mar (pictured above), Chile’s traditional seaside resort, whose proximity to the capital city of Santiago ensures an invasion of tourists not just in summer but year-round on weekends. According to Traveler, “overbuilding has damaged the ecology of its beaches, and peak season crowds and traffic are poorly handled.” For my part, I prefer the neighboring city of Valparaíso, with its quirky geography and colorful hills neighborhoods.

One other coastal destination caught my attention in this month’s Traveler, but it’s not part of the ratings game. A photo gallery on animal migrations includes a nesting colony of black-browed albatrosses - to my mind, one of the world’s most beautiful birds - in the Falkland Islands. I’ve been to several albatross colonies there, most notably on Saunders Island (pictured above), but I don’t recognize the one in the Traveler photograph; from the topography, my guess is that it’s remote, hard-to-reach Steeple Jason Island.