061025 - Paying tribute to "the Che" and visiting the most-German village ever, ARG

After lazing in Cordoba for two days it was about time to leave the city behind and visit one of the local highlights: Alta Gracia. It was here where, at the age of four, a young boy arrived, troubled by health problems and hoping for relieve, who would become one of the most influential persons in the world: Ernesto Guevara de la Serna. Ever since I first read his biography I wanted to visit the placed where he grew up. It kinda played an influence on my journey as well. First I was obsessed by the idea of taking the same route "Che" took in 1952 with his friend Alberto Granado on a Norton motorbike. Well, I didn't want to do it on a Norton but something more modern. ;o) But still, it has always been a dream of mine. Now, that I am here in Argentina, I am just as pleased following his steps and passing through the same towns and places he did, but using the bus. The trip they made was before Ernesto Guevara became "the Che" and famous. But it opened his eyes to the beauty of his own country and South America in total, as well as made him aware of the huge social differences that were splitting the continent and most importantly the people apart.
Today Alta Gracia remains a quiet little town with a pleasant climate, which lost much of its importance as the social center for the Argentine oligarchy it was held.
Besides the Che museum, its main attraction is the Jesuit estancia; said to be one of the finest in the province.

From Alta Gracia it is about an hour drive to Villa Belgrano. Getting there was very pleasant. Surrounded by evergreens high in the Calamuchita Valley, I heard alot about this town before arriving there. Some of the survivors of the German battleship Graf Spee, which sunk near Montevideo during WWII, settled here and since 1964 the town celebrates its very own Oktoberfest during the first two weeks of October. Unfortunately I wasn't there. But when I saw the first houses I felt like being thrown into a theme park. Not even in Germany I have seen a place so much German-like as this one. It was incredible. But there's hardly anybody left who speaks German.
And then out of nowhere a rare attack of following a suggestion from the guide book hit me: wh not try some Schwarzwälderkirschkuchen (black forest cake) while here? Naeh, I felt more like Spaetzle. Mmhh... yammhie... I love Spaetzle. But unfortunately my high expectations where not fulfilled. They turned out not so tasty, nothing like Spaetzle, and, of course, way-overpriced. Heck... neck time just resist the tempation, idiot! ;o)