I hope this is my last post before leaving dry land. I have been in Ushuaia almost a week. I am not a bartender yet, I remain simply a tourist. There is as of yet no Good Ship Orlova. Just me, a smattering of Europeans who will soon be dining room supervisors, hotel managers, chefs, and our new home, Tierra Del Fuego. Playing the part of the tourist, I have partaken of the essential activities one might expect of the camera-wielding subset. I've strolled museums, hiked up a glacier, driven to the end of Routa 3, the farthest south it is possible to drive in the Americas, visited a National Park, photographed local wildlife, and, last but not least, done some good old-fashioned wanderin'. In the course of these events I have done a wee bit of learning, the more interesting bits I intend to share with you, good reader:
1. Ushuaia was born a prison-town. Today this bustling little burb of 70,000 inhabitants is exceedingly charming, but there was a time when finding yourself here meant that you were probably a serious extortionist, fraud, or had committed multiple murders. Over a century ago, Argentina took to sending their most deviant criminals to this isolated, wind-swept, barren, rocky island and gave them the task of building themselves a prison, a railroad, and housing for those who would come down and maintain these sites. The prison functioned until after World War II, when it was closed amidst criticism of un-humanitarian practices.
Today the old prison building is the Museo de Maritimo, but don't be fooled by the narrow name. It is a fascinating, many-winged bird. It boasts an art museum, an untouched cell block where one can read 70-year old graffiti left by criminals of yore, a penguin exhibit, and even a space where children from the local elementary school display their puerile diaramas. All of this alongside the usual maritime-themed subjects such as pirates, shipwrecks, maps of yore, and model ship after model ship after model ship, yes, sometimes even in bottles.
2. The great Canadian beaver is a plague on Tierra del Fuego. They are everywhere, they are gigantic (to the tune of 50 kilos), and they live twice as long as their North American cousin. What is worst is that they wreck havoc on the natural flora of the island by doing what they do best: Felling trees and building dams.
How did this munching, Frank Lloyd Wright rivermammal find itself tens of thousands of kilometres away from its native land? The answer is, of course, foolish, short-sighted economics. Long story short, Tierra del Fuego is Argentina's Yukon Territory; or, for the American among you, its Alaska. It is unparalleled in its beauty, but its remoteness and fickle weather patterns make it necessary for the Argentine government to provide incentives in order to maintain settlement. At some point in the recent past, straight up economic incentives were no longer cutting it, and those in power were forced to come up with different, perhaps more creative ideas. I like to suppose it happened like this: An official in Buenos Aires, inspired by the heady days of Canadian colonization, trapping, and the Hudson Bay Company had a "Eureka!" moment: Tierra del Fuego is the perfect climate for beavers! Beaver pellets are a rarity in these parts! Perhaps the introduction of beavers could inspire a new wave of colonists...modern-day trappers, if you will!
So it was decreed: The beaver shall be introduced to Tierra del Fuego.
...Of course an unintended consequence of this plan was a sudden, explosive proliferation of beavers on the island due to the fact that that they have no natural enemies here. Therefore, today beavers run free, creating dams, swamp land, and exterminating indigenous trees in their wake, in a course of events that has been repeated over and over again in history. A perennial lesson, learned the hard way, once again.
3. Taking a look at a political map of the island of Tierra del Fuego, one will notice that it is split down the middle: Chile reigns over the western half, while Argentina controls the eastern half. Curious. How did this come to be? The answer to this question is a rare instance of papal intervention resulting in peace. Yeah, I know. Go figure!
Back in the late 19th century, Chile and Argentina both expressed their intention to exert sovereignty over the island. The spat escalated, but rather than going to war, both countries, being Catholic, decided to go to the pope. The pope urged them not to use violence, demarcated a line from the northern coast down to the southern coast of the island and decreed that Chili shall take one half and Argentina the other. Chile and Argentina agreed to the compromise, therefore today the island is politically split in two.
4. Lastly, I would like to offer an explanation for the island's fanciful moniker. The name Tierra del Fuego translates to Land of Fire, thus conjuring images (for me, at least) of craggy, petulant, primordial volcanic domes constantly spewing lava and ash down to the surrounding land. Unfortunately (well, fortunately, really) this is not the case. There are no fires here. There is snow, and sea, and moss, and trees. This land is grey, not red. But, what seems like a severe misnomer is actually a romantically simple illustration from a moment of history that has caught my imagination.
And with that, we cue Magellan. Five hundred years ago, when he discovered what was to become the Strait of Magellan, he eventually wound his way through this vast southern archipelago to the island which I now inhabit. Sailing by, he and his crew saw fire upon fire along the coastline lighting the night sky. They were bonfires on the homesteads of the indigenous people of the area.
...And history writes itself.
There you have it. A few fantastic facts from una chica en le fin del mundo who has a lot of time on her hands. I hope you enjoyed.
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