San Luis – and simply getting there
By Frederic Friedel
San Luis, I discovered, long after I had decided to go there, was very, very
far from where I lived. More than 12,000 kms as the crow flies – if any
of that species were able to calculate the exact great circle route, let alone
fly there. But once the decision was taken I had to go, thankful in the knowledge
that it was at least on the same planet.
My journey started last week on a Wednesday, at 9 a.m., driving to Hamburg
Airport, where I met up with Nadja Woisin, the editor of our Spanish
news page. We were well on time to catch a KLM flight to Amsterdam, due
to leave at 11:40. A gruff KLM check-in clerk, however, insisted on weighing
all of Nadja's belongings. This included a carry-on bag with her most important
technical equipment. The clerk impolitely insisted that she was eight kilograms
overweight and had to pay $150 for excess baggage. "I am sorry, that is
our charge," he said. The gruff clerk also wanted us to check in our technical
equipment, which we refused, pulling out Nadja's notebook and camera case to
take on board the plane. I was raring for a fight, but Nadja, gentle girl, decided
to pay up and avoid any complications at this early stage of our journey.
Leaving from Hamburg, but unfortunately not with Lufthansa
We got on the plane and waited 45 minutes on the tarmac, while the pilot explained
blithely that the current delay was due to a previous delay of the aircraft
when leaving Amsterdam. We arrived almost an hour late, rushed across over a
kilometer of the gigantic Schiphol Airport,
to the very opposite end, where we were greeted by an anxiously waiting staff.
"Hurry, hurry, you are the last to board," they cried. "Our bags
have made it?" I inquired. "Oh, no, of course not. They will come
on a later flight," was the cheerful reply. I was this close to
not boarding the aircraft. But once again reason (our Spanish news editor) prevailed
and we were off on the eleven-hour hop to Sao Paulo.
On the plane there were a bunch of Brazilians who did what Brazilians do: set
up a little music and dance corner and start a Samba session – to the
delight of the other passengers. We have it all on video and will provide it
at a later date (when our bandwidth concerns are not so serious), and definitely
on our ChessBase Magazine report. The Samba session, unfortunately, was brought
to an abrupt end by a KLM stewardess who insisted the Brazilians stop their
racket since some of her colleagues were trying to sleep.
Approaching Sao Paulo, Brazil, our first stop in South America
In Sao Paolo, late in the evening, nobody could tell us what would happen to
our bags. But they did take a note of the exact address of our hotel in Potrero
de los Funes, probably just to get us to board the flight to Buenos Aires without
further hassle. There we arrived at 1:30 a.m. and repeated the procedure at
the KLM desk. The address of the hotel incidentally is Ruta 18, Km. 16 Poterero
de los Funes, which translates somewhat disconcertingly to Highway 18, kilometer
stone 16.
The night in Buenos Aires was spent in a first-class hotel, with a very friendly
staff which spoke excellent English. The bellboy, also fluent in our language,
told us that there were 24-hour fitness and sauna facilities. The rooms were
very comfortable and I enjoyed the four hours of sleep that were on the schedule.
At eight an Argentine chauffeur named O'Higgins, dressed in a suit, took us
to the domestic airport, giving us a guided tour of the city, of course in fluent
English.
The muddy waters of the "River" Plate, taken from the plane. In
the distance you can see the shores of Uruguay – and possibly the curvature
of the earth?! Probably not – just barrel distortion from using a wide-angle
lens.
The airport was directly by the sea, or so we thought, until O'Higgins told
us that this was the River
Plate. Apparently it has been named after the famous football club, or the
other way around, and is at that point 60 km wide. Quite a shock for people
from the city of Hamburg, through which flows the mighty Elbe river, which you
can wave across to invite a friend for a glass of beer.
Berik Balgabaev on the plane to San Luis
Manisha Mohite on the last leg of her 61-hour journey
On the flight from Buenos Aires to San Luis we met the first chess people,
GM Miguel Quinteros, one of the world championship organisers, Berik Balgabaev,
a close advisor to FIDE president Kirsan, and Manisha Mohite, who writes for
the Indian newspaper Deccan Herald and covers many chess events.
Our Buenos Aires to San Luis City Hopper – just kidding, we flew in
a regular Boeing. The above was an oldtimer parked on the San Luis airfield.
The embarkation stairway moves towards our plane
San Luis national airport, at 2 p.m. under a beautiful blue sky
We are met by Claudia, who has become our attache figure ever since
We were picked up by a limousine provided by the organisers and arrived in
our hotel in Potrero de los Funes, 19 kilometers from San Luis, at 2 p.m. on
Thursday. That made for a total door-to-door transit time of 34 hours. Before
we had time to indulge in self-pity we learned that Manisha had spent 61 hours
for her trip from her house in Pune to the hotel in San Luis, and that Ian and
Kathy Rogers took 63 hours from their home in Sydney: "One car, five planes,
two buses, two taxis, one train, one tram," Kathy told me with a grim smile.
Driving to Potrero, the venue of the World Championship
Turn left to the hotel, where it is all taking place
There it is, the hotel and the event building on the banks of the lake. Very
keen eyes will spot Alexander Morozevich taking his pre-game constitutional.
The place we will call home for the next twelve days
The Hotel Potrero de los Funes is located on a lake surrounded by low mountains
– an exquisitely beautiful landscape. Exotic birds fly around the big
wooden decks that are built over the water, and most rooms, lobbies and restaurants
have a panoramic view of the surroundings. Judit Polgar, we learn, has circumambulated
(sorry, Nigel's influence) the lake, but she said it was rough going and took
her more than three hours. Nobody is willing to try climbing one of the mountains
with me, at least not until the end of the event. Peter Leko has said that he
will do so on the tiebreak day, "since there is not going to be a tiebreak
anyway."
You cannot take your eyes off the spectacular landscape
A view of the Hotel Potrero, as dusk falls
A crescent moon greets us in Potrero, in unusual orientation. Venus
is also there, a brilliant jewel in the evening sky. Gravity is normal here
– no one hanging from trees, as they do in Australia, just a slight southward
drag, which may be a figment of my imagination.
Naturally our bags had not arrived, and there was nowhere to go easily to get
some bare essentials. The only shops in walking distance are the ones in the
hotel, where you can get drinks, crisps and some emergency souvenirs. We had
to make do with the equipment we had hand carried and the clothes we wore during
our the trip. Vishy Anand, learning about my plight, said "Ah, that is
why you are dressed so swankily!" Peter Leko was more sympathetic and told
me about his trip to Monaco earlier this year. His bags, too, did not arrive,
and he had had to attend the formal reception in the Yacht Club in a tracksuit
and sneakers. "I know how you feel, Fred," he said. The offending
carrier lost his luggage was Air France. "What really upset me was that
they delivered my bags four days after my arrival, without even the smallest
words of apology," Peter said.
The bus terminal where we try to retrieve our bags with the help of La Nacion
journalist Carlos Iladro (left) talking to our taxi driver.
Ours were of course not there the next day, Friday, although the very efficient
and friendly hotel staff were able to ascertain that they had arrived in Buenos
Aires. However, the airline hadn't been able to deliver on the Thursday, when
they arrived, or on the Friday, for unspecific reasons. Now it was a long weekend,
so the next possibility would be delivery on the Tuesday, almost a week after
our arrival in San Luis. It is impressive how cheerfully, once again, such statements
are made. Instead of an equally cheerful "Okay, then Tuesday it is"
I presented the airline with two options: (a) I would fly back immediately to
Germany, where I had spare clothes and spare equipment, and continue reporting
from there; or (b) take a taxi to Buenos Aires and pick up the bags myself.
In any case we would be charging KLM $1000 per day for the inconvenience. "I
am sorry, that is our charge," I said. This and a few phone calls by the
hotel staff and the organisers led to a promise of delivery the next morning
at 10 a.m.
The next morning we took a cab (am I boring you?) and arrived as per instructions
with our passports at the main bus terminal in San Luis. Naturally it was not
the end of the saga. "Unfortunately the bus had a breakdown and your baggage
has not arrived," they told us. "Try again at three." By this
time I, for one, had lost my will to live. People were offering me donations
of clothes, but more serious was the equipment that was missing – things
like cables, power supplies or chargers, without which life slowly grinds to
a halt. At three the organisers provided us with an air conditioned limo and
a driver in a suit; and with the help of the La Nacion journalist Carlos
Ilardo we were able, at last, to pick up the lost bags. There was collective
jubilation that evening when we appeared for dinner in fresh new clothes.
Nadja cannot believe they have actually arrived and hugs her bag
The tags tell a story of a wandering suitcase
The accommodation provided by the organisers of the San Luis event is excellent,
with a frugal breakfast followed by scrumptious lunch and dinner menus. There
is free wireless LAN available in the press center and in the rooms, which makes
work very pleasant indeed. On free days, and on some of the match days as well,
there are outings arranged for journalists and dignitaries. The place is full
of bubbly young translators and helpers who leap into action if there is anything
missing. The atmosphere amongst the players is very good, with all of them meeting
in the restaurant during lunch and dinner. Even Peter Leko, who has lost more
games here than in the entire last quarter of his career, it would seem, is
always cheerful and up for jests and jokes. And with this spectacular view,
the sunshine, the mild climate and the good food, we are actually enjoying one
of these usually very stressful trips to top events around the world.
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