The day after I´d arrived in Ushuaia I walked and walked for miles. No doubt about it, the city has a fantastic setting - above it, rising up at the end of every street are huge snow covered mountains and where it runs out, the clear waters of the Beagle Channel. The buildings are a raggedy collection of triangular wooden huts and Communist concrete blocks, like a Romanian ski resort. Huge cargo boats loom over the port, sharing the harbour with day-tripper catamarans and large cruise ships.
I ended my day in Bar La Barra. Next to me four Russian sailors clipped the ends of their cigars with a pair of orange handled kitchen scissors. After chatting over my drinks with the owner, I left them to it, their table piled high in beer bottles and pizza.
I ended my day in Bar La Barra. Next to me four Russian sailors clipped the ends of their cigars with a pair of orange handled kitchen scissors. After chatting over my drinks with the owner, I left them to it, their table piled high in beer bottles and pizza.
I have found other bars too - one called Galway and another Dublin - including a chic live music venue which was empty and a cafe/wine bar with interesting historical artefacts strung around the room and a local árty´clientele. I could get to like this place. At least I can get a drink - and the red wine is delicious.
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