After a wounderful time in Buenos Aires and 41°C, we flew to the claimed southern city of the world: Ushuaia (forgetting about Puerto Williams in Chile). Christine was sitting two rows behind me in the plane and when the captain announced a temperature of 10°C in Ushuaia we directly staired at each other for a first time. Just before landing when we came through the clouds and saw the sharp stony peaks covered with snow, that was the second time.
After landing Christine rushed to the bathroom to rethink her outfit and put some pants on. We were then ready for real adventure.
After being taken for stupid tourist by the taxi driver and spending a fortune to reach the city center (at about 3km from the airport) we were lucky and found a place to stay for the night without risking death by thermal shocking; the city was apparently fully booked.