Encore très beau et très chaud.
Mais nous petit-déjeunons tôt dans le jardin, à 7h30, et là, c’est très agréable. Jens part à 8h. A partir d’aujourd’hui, je change mon rythme: je sors tôt et reste à l’hôtel à l’heure la plus chaude.
Je pars donc vers 10h et marche jusqu’au centre. Je vais au bureau du tourisme.En parlant de tourisme, il y a peut-être un bureau mais il n’y a pas de touristes. Depuis que nous sommes ici, je n’ai pas entendu parler une autre langue que l’Espagnol. Bien sur il peut y avoir des touristes d’autres pays hispanophones. Mais je ne vois pas de gens qui ont l’air de touristes, en tout cas.
La dame est très aimable, me donne un plan, des brochures sur les choses à voir, des musées, un domaine produisant du vin, une salle de concert … Cette dame a une marque sur le bras, comme un gros bleu. Quand elle voit que je porte mon appareil photo à la main elle me dit de faire attention de ne pas me le faire voler. Puis elle me raconte qu’un jeune en moto a essayé de lui arracher son sac. D’où le gros bleu sur son bras. Heureusement pour elle (malheureusement pour le voleur), le gars a été déséquilibré et est tombé. Elle a récupéré son sac et elle est partie. Pourtant San Juan a une réputation de ville sùre. Tout le monde ici met en garde contre Mendoza, ville qui, d’après les San Juaninos, est pleine de voleurs. Mais c’est vrai que le première fois où nous étions ici, en nov. 2009, en repartant nous avons rencontré à l’aéroport de Mendoza un jeune Italien qui s’était fait volé son sac dans un internet café dans cette ville. Et il se méfiait pourtant, il avait mis son sac entre sa jambe et le mur. Mais pendant qu’il était occupé sur internet quelqu’un a réussi à voler son sac.
Je me promène un peu au centre. Beaucoup de monde. De très longues queues devant les banques. De nombreuses boutiques où l’on trouve de tout, genre Nille en Norvège. De nombreuses galeries couvertes relient les rues. Certaines chics, d’autres moins chics, avec de toutes petites boutiques de lotteries, montres et piles, bonbons, cigarettes. Même au centre les rues sont ombragées. Heureusement.
Puis je commence à revenir et m’arrète pour fair une photo d’un jacaranda en fleurs, un grand arbre qui, en pleine floraison, est couvert de fleurs bleues. Celui-ci a passé son heure de gloire mais il reste un coté un peu fleuri. Une dame m’aborde et me dit que l’arbre était encore plus beau il y a quelques semaines. Elle me demande d’où je viens, Norvège. Je crois que pour les gens d’ici la Norvège est un petit pays froid quelque part en Europe. C’est comme si on demandait à un Norvégien où se trouve l’Uruguay. Un petit pays chaud quelque part en Amérique du sud. Et elle se met à me raconter sa vie. Elle a environ 50 ans, vit seule. J’ai droit à la mort de ses parents, l’histoire de ses cousines, l’histoire de sa meilleure amie, ses maladies, ses rêves (voyager), ses regrets (ne pas parler français et anglais). Elle veut m’accompagner, me demande où j’habite. Cela commence à bien faire et je prétexte que je dois partir rapidement, mon mari m’attend. A le fin, cela a bien duré un quart d’heure, elle me dit que c’est à mon tour de lui parler de la Norvège. Mais je pars, mon mari m’attend. Surement une femme seule qui n’a pas grand monde à qui parler.
Rentée à l’hôtel, un tour dans la piscine me rafraichit. Petit lunch, journal. Il s’appelle Diario de Cuyo mais les gens disent seulement Cuyo. Quand je vais l’acheter je demande le Cuyo, et je me sens presque San Juanina. Puis après le journal … une petite sieste, moi qui n’en fait jamais. Je m’endors. Puis blog.
Jens rentre, piscine.
Diner des restes d’hier dans le jardin. Il fait bon dehors vers 9-10 heures. Mais la chambre reste très chaude alors on met un petit coup d’air conditionné pendant qu’on dine dehors. Quand on rentre la chambre est fraiche. Mais quand on arrête, la chambre redevient chaude en 5 mn. On se tartine d’anti-moustiques avant de se coucher.
Still very beautiful weather and very warm.
But we breakfast early in the garden at 7:30, and it is very nice. Jens leaves at 8am. Starting today, I change my rythm: I go out early and stay at the hotel at the hottest time.
So I go at 10 am and walk to the center. I go to the tourist office. Speaking of tourism, there may be an office, but there are no tourists. Since we're here, I have not heard another language than Spanish. Of course there may be tourists speaking Spanish. But I do not see people who look like tourists, anyway.
The lady is very friendly, gave me a map, brochures on things to see, museums, a wine producing area, a concert hall ... This lady has a mark on hier arm. When she sees that I carry my camera in my hand she told me to be careful. Then she tells me that a young man on a bike tried to snatch her handbag. Hence the big mark on her arm. Fortunately for her (unfortunately for the thief), the guy lost his balance and fell. She recovered her purse and she left. Yet San Juan has a reputation as a safe city. Everyone here warns against Mendoza, a city which, according to San Juaninos is full of thieves. But it is true that the first time we were here in November 2009, on our way back we met, at the airport in Mendoza, a young Italian who had been robbed of his bag in an internet cafe in this city. And yet he was conscious of the possibility of being robbed, he put his bag between his leg and the wall. But while he was busy on the internet someone managed to steal his bag.
I walk a bit in the center. Many people. Very long queues outside banks. Many shops where you can find all kind of things, like Nille in Norway. Many shopping arcades connecting streets. Some smart, some less chic, with tiny shops selling lotteries, watches and batteries, candy, cigarettes. Even the center's streets are shaded. Fortunately.
Then I start going back and stopp to take a picture of a flowering jacaranda, a large tree which, in full bloom, is covered with blue flowers. It has passed its heyday but it had many flowers still. A lady approaches me and tells me that the tree was more beautiful a few weeks ago. She asks me where I come from, Norway. I think for the people here Norway is a small, cold country somewhere in Europe. It's like asking a Norwegian where is Uruguay. A small hot country somewhere in South America. And she starts telling me her life story. She is about 50 years old, lives alone. I get the death of her parents, the story of her cousins, the story of her best friend, her illnesses, her dreams (travel), regrets (do not speak French and English). She wants to come with me, asks me where I live. This is starting to be a little bit too much and I say that I have to leave because my husband is waiting for me. At the end, it has lasted at least a quarter of an hour she told me that it's my turn to talk, to tell her about Norway. But I leave, my husband is waiting for me. Surely a single woman who has not many people to talk to.
Back at the hotel, a swim in the pool refreshes me. Light lunch, newspaper. It is called Diario de Cuyo but people just say Cuyo. When I buy it I ask ”Cuyo”, and I feel almost like a real San Juanina. Then … a nap, something I never do normally. I fall asleep. Then blog.
Jens comes home, swimming pool.
Dinner is leftovers from yesterday in the garden. It starts to be nice, not too hot at 9-10 pm. But the room is very hot so we put on the air conditioning while we eat outside. When we enter the room again it is cool. But when the air conditioning stops, the room becomes hot again in 5 minutes. Before we go to bed we put on mosquito repellent.
But we breakfast early in the garden at 7:30, and it is very nice. Jens leaves at 8am. Starting today, I change my rythm: I go out early and stay at the hotel at the hottest time.
So I go at 10 am and walk to the center. I go to the tourist office. Speaking of tourism, there may be an office, but there are no tourists. Since we're here, I have not heard another language than Spanish. Of course there may be tourists speaking Spanish. But I do not see people who look like tourists, anyway.
The lady is very friendly, gave me a map, brochures on things to see, museums, a wine producing area, a concert hall ... This lady has a mark on hier arm. When she sees that I carry my camera in my hand she told me to be careful. Then she tells me that a young man on a bike tried to snatch her handbag. Hence the big mark on her arm. Fortunately for her (unfortunately for the thief), the guy lost his balance and fell. She recovered her purse and she left. Yet San Juan has a reputation as a safe city. Everyone here warns against Mendoza, a city which, according to San Juaninos is full of thieves. But it is true that the first time we were here in November 2009, on our way back we met, at the airport in Mendoza, a young Italian who had been robbed of his bag in an internet cafe in this city. And yet he was conscious of the possibility of being robbed, he put his bag between his leg and the wall. But while he was busy on the internet someone managed to steal his bag.
I walk a bit in the center. Many people. Very long queues outside banks. Many shops where you can find all kind of things, like Nille in Norway. Many shopping arcades connecting streets. Some smart, some less chic, with tiny shops selling lotteries, watches and batteries, candy, cigarettes. Even the center's streets are shaded. Fortunately.
Then I start going back and stopp to take a picture of a flowering jacaranda, a large tree which, in full bloom, is covered with blue flowers. It has passed its heyday but it had many flowers still. A lady approaches me and tells me that the tree was more beautiful a few weeks ago. She asks me where I come from, Norway. I think for the people here Norway is a small, cold country somewhere in Europe. It's like asking a Norwegian where is Uruguay. A small hot country somewhere in South America. And she starts telling me her life story. She is about 50 years old, lives alone. I get the death of her parents, the story of her cousins, the story of her best friend, her illnesses, her dreams (travel), regrets (do not speak French and English). She wants to come with me, asks me where I live. This is starting to be a little bit too much and I say that I have to leave because my husband is waiting for me. At the end, it has lasted at least a quarter of an hour she told me that it's my turn to talk, to tell her about Norway. But I leave, my husband is waiting for me. Surely a single woman who has not many people to talk to.
Back at the hotel, a swim in the pool refreshes me. Light lunch, newspaper. It is called Diario de Cuyo but people just say Cuyo. When I buy it I ask ”Cuyo”, and I feel almost like a real San Juanina. Then … a nap, something I never do normally. I fall asleep. Then blog.
Jens comes home, swimming pool.
Dinner is leftovers from yesterday in the garden. It starts to be nice, not too hot at 9-10 pm. But the room is very hot so we put on the air conditioning while we eat outside. When we enter the room again it is cool. But when the air conditioning stops, the room becomes hot again in 5 minutes. Before we go to bed we put on mosquito repellent.
A monument dans un parc
A monument in a parc
Une maison qui est prête pour, peut-être, un jour, être rehaussée.
A house which is ready to have, maybe,one day, one more floor.
Les motos
The bikes
Le clocher de la cathédrale
The cathedral belltower
Le jacaranda
The jacaranda tree
Corbeille
Basket
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