After the Jabs? Post-Pandemic Patagonia's Not Quite There

Proof of life?

On February 24th, I received my second dose of Moderna’s COVID-19 vaccine and, two weeks later, I undertook a full-scale grocery mission to Berkeley Bowl West for the first time in a year (my wife—also fully vaccinated now—was doing the shopping in that time, while I had only made occasional brief sorties to a neighborhood grocery). It felt like a milestone, one of the first, perhaps, in my quest to return to southernmost South America (even if, for now, I may have to settle for the pears on display here).

The aisles at Berkeley Bowl, on my first visit in a year

A nice pair?

I have yet to renew my passport—having waited purposefully until a new and competent administration took over the reins of government in Washington—but, in any event, I won’t be heading south until November at the earliest. That said, I couldn’t help but notice that LATAM Airlines was offering flights from Los Angeles to Santiago for as little as US$500 r/t. For some time after I returned from Chile to LAX last March 27th, the pandemic had closed the border to all but Chilean citizens and permanent residents but now, it appears, times may be changing.

 

Is Chile Winning the Arms Race?

Part of the reason, surely, is Chile’s success in vaccinating its population. According to Latin America Reports, five million Chileans may have already received their inoculations, and the government has agreements with China (Sinovac), Pfizer, Johnson & Johnson, and AstraZeneca to acquire 36 million doses (the country’s population is roughly 19 million). While President Sebastián Piñera’s second term has been shaky, there’s no doubt that his administration has been proactive in protecting the population (though there’ve been conflicting data on the Chinese vaccine’s effectiveness). Quarantines, curfews, and other sanitary measures also remain in force.

What does this mean for intending for potential foreign visitors (like myself and my readers)? Because of the previous US administration’s malfeasance and negligence, it’s been worrisome that US passports may have lost the cachet they once had but, as LATAM’s promotional fare would suggest, that’s not an issue at present. That said, any trip to Chile will run into various restrictions: there are several COVID requirements, including a negative PCR test, a sworn pre-boarding statement, a health insurance policy, an electronic tracking form on arrival, and an obligatory ten-day quarantine. Santiago’s Aeropuerto Internacional Arturo Merino Benítez is the only authorized entry point, and there are additional requirements for traveling beyond Santiago, especially to Patagonia, which may entail additional PCR tests.

 

How Hard is the Border?

These are Argentina's open border crossings - but with restrictions

In my case, the need to cross the Argentine border complicates matters even further, but I’m probably better placed than most. At present, the only non-Argentines permitted to enter must be relatives of Argentines and, being married to one for nearly 40 years, I technically qualify—but only if there’s a family-related issue at stake. There are just a handful of open crossings, the most convenient of which is Aeropuerto Internacional Ministro Pistarini, commonly known as “Ezeiza,” in suburban Buenos Aires. The only option in Patagonia is Paso San Sebastián, shared by Argentina and Chile, in Tierra del Fuego, but if I somehow managed to enter Argentina, a patchwork of local and provincial travel restrictions could make any such achievement a pyrrhic victory. Instead, I’ll wait.

And Then There Was One...

In a Eurocentric travel industry, South America often gets short shrift. It’s quite a distance for most Northern Hemisphere visitors, airfares are relatively high, and the continent’s stereotyped reputation for crime and disorder is a deterrent for some—even though, at present, Venezuela is the only real basket case in that regard.

On arrival at Santiago's international airport, Australians may feel singled out.

That said, some countries have also made it harder for themselves because of arbitrary visa rules, but there are fewer holdouts now. Argentina has eliminated the onerous “reciprocity fee” instituted by its previous government and Chile’s similar measure now applies only to Australians—as Aussie arrivals to Santiago’s international airport quickly learn (Chile does not inflict this fee at other airports and land borders, however).

Visiting the Cataratas do Iguaçu (the Brazilian side) has become less expensive for several nationalities.

The big news, though, is the breakthrough in Brazil. Every time I’ve visited the country—only infrequently—entering has been a hassle. That’s because Brazil has taken the “reciprocity” issue a step farther, requiring an advance visa from US citizens even for a day trip from the Argentine side of Iguazú Falls. The last time I did it, the Brazilian consulate in Buenos Aires told me to get the visa in Puerto Iguazú, where that consulate required me to change my US cash into Argentine pesos (in a local exchange house, at a disadvantageous rate).

The worst is over, though. Last month, the country announced that citizens of Australia, Canada, Japan and the United States may now apply for their visas online, at a cost of US$40, rather than in person or by mail at a cost of US$160. The idea, apparently, is to encourage tourism and, if so, it’s a good start—but even better would be eliminating visas entirely. That said, the United States will probably continue to require Brazilians to pay that same US$160 fee simply for a privilege of applying for a visa, with no guarantee (and no refund if no visa is granted). Still, it’s an encouraging measure on Brazil’s part (Brazil, by the way, will return your fee if it refuses you a visa).

Bolivia is now the outlier. Following the example of Argentina’s previous government, it instituted a visa requirement that requires any US citizen to pay US$160 at any Bolivian consulate (that’s even more restrictive than Venezuela, despite that country’s notoriously contentious relations with the US). Again, in fairness, Bolivians must go through the same process to enter the United States, with no guarantee that the request will be successful.

Three Flights Home...

Only a couple days earlier, this sign in the Buenos Aires barrio of Barracas had pointed me in the opposite direction.

It’s been a week now since I left Buenos Aires, and a busy one as things piled up in my absence, but my 24-hour odyssey from the Argentine capital to my home in California was a memorable one—good in some ways, and not so good in others. Going from mid-summer to mid-winter wasn’t that great a shock—I can’t say I miss the River Plate’s hot, wet and sticky January and the Bay Area’s cool damp climate is nothing like the brutal “bomb cyclone” that hit the eastern US not so long ago. Still, there were ups and downs (figuratively as well as literally) en route.

Aeroparque Jorge Newbery is Buenos Aires's domestic airport, but also has flights to neighboring countries.

For the first time, my return trip started from Aeroparque Jorge Newbery, Buenos Aires’s city airport that’s just a ten-minute taxi ride from our Palermo apartment—as opposed to the more distant Aeropuerto Internacional Ministro Pistarini, in the provincial suburb of Ezeiza. One attraction was the fare: only A$100 (about US$5) door-to-door, while a comparable service to Ezeiza costs A$950 (about US$50). A taxi-bus combination to Ezeiza would have cost about A$350 (US$18), but it would have taken considerably longer.

Argentines and others trying to leave the country at Aeroparque immigration.

That convenience came at a price that I hadn’t quite anticipated, though. I had flown out of Aeroparque before, but never on an international flight. The security line moved pretty well but, once I reached the immigration line, there was a lengthy backup. While the only international flights are to neighboring countries—my first leg was to Santiago de Chile—there simply weren’t enough posts, and enough personnel, to handle everybody expeditiously, at least on a Friday afternoon in high season.

On top of that, there weren’t enough gates for all the flights, so passengers were milling about waiting for the announcements and, then, most of us had to board buses to the planes parked on the tarmac. Eventually, we departed about half an hour late, which caused me some concern as I had a relatively short window for my connecting flight to Lima. I wondered, and still wonder, whether Ezeiza—accustomed to dealing with large crowds and many more planes—would have been a better option.

The secondary security checkpoint at Santiago's international terminal

That said, the LATAM flight over the Andes was comfortable enough, with limited food service that I declined—I’d already eaten a good lunch, so I didn’t feel like a savory medialuna (croissant) with ham and cheese. On landing in Santiago, I was surprised to find a secondary security line in the international terminal that slowed matters down some more, and equally surprised to find that I had to place my daypack and computer bag in trays rather than sending them through as is.

It was indeed the last pisco sour (at least until I return to Chile in March).

That said, I did manage to grab a pisco sour before boarding my flight north. I was disappointed, though, not to see the airport’s new free book exchange, but there simply wasn’t time to walk past every gate. I did notice, however, that Australians are now the only foreign visitors who remain subject to Chile’s “reciprocity fee.”

Only Australians now pay Chile's "reciprocity fee" to visit the country.

From there to Lima, the flight was uneventful, though I was pleased to find that LATAM is now offering Chile’s own emblematic Carménère varietal to accompany meal service, rather than some generic Cabernet. To my mind this was long overdue, even if this particular vintage was not an elite version. Switching planes again at Lima, we went through yet another secondary security line—which I had experienced before here—before continuing to Los Angeles.

Chile's signature varietal is now available on LATAM flights out of Santiago.

The connection was tight, so there was no time for a Peruvian pisco sour, but on board we had a surprisingly good choice of meals, and the first time I ever recall receiving a printed menu in clase económica (coach class). It was also rewarding to see Peruvian touches on the grilled chicken, though the huancaína sauce was far less “spicy” than the English translation might suggest. The only downside to the flight was tropical turbulence that interrupted my hard-earned sleep.

The flight from Lima to LAX offered diverse dinner and breakfast options, even in coach.

The immigration lines at LAX were long, but they moved much faster than those at Aeroparque.

Arriving early at LAX, I breezed through immigration and headed to my rental car—even though it’s only a one-hour flight home, I prefer driving to the indignities of the Transportation Security Administration, and it also helps me unwind. The only downside here was that, given the recent Montecito mudslide, I could not take US 101 to Santa Barbara and, instead, drove north on Interstate 5 until I intersected California SR 46, leading past Cholame—marking the spot where James Dean met his death in 1955—to intersect 101 at Paso Robles.

The memorial to James Dean at Cholame

In recent years, I’ve grown to enjoy Paso Robles as an ideal lunch break between Southern California and the Bay Area, all the more so because it has an appealing central plaza like so many cities south of the Río Grande. At La Cosecha, I ordered a shrimp and scallop ceviche, plus a lemonade squeezed fresh on the spot—almost exactly 24 hours after I boarded the plane at Aeroparque—before continuing home.

Ceviche and chips at La Cosecha, Paso Robles