Friday 29 January
San Carlos de Bariloche, Argentina – Puerto Varas, Chile
The guy above me was snoring. He was a Brazilian who kept on trying to talk to me (during the day) but his English was as good as Stradivarius’s paintings and my Portuguese is as good as da Vinci’s violins so we never go very far. But he was certainly a very happy person. And unusually for a thin person, he was a snorer. Though only when lying on his back.
The first night he was snoring a bit but I woke him up and he turned over and that was it. The second night there was no problem. The third night, the night when I was most tired, was the worst. He wouldn’t stop snoring. I’d wake him up but he wouldn’t turn over and – given our lack of communication skills – I couldn’t tell him the simple yet elusive solution. I must have woken him up at least 20 times. I remember checking the time towards the end. It was 5.30. Luckily around then he did turn over and I at least got some sweet, precious sleep.
For lunch I go to the best steakhouse in town and it’s awesome. I’m a bit hungry anyway and the portions are large and the service quick. It’s easily the best meal I’ve had so far. I wolf it down and I’m in heaven. Tired and sated I head back and doze on the sofa in reception waiting for my bus.
On the bus I mainly doze. Eventually we reach the border. There’s no English here, only Spanish. I think I’m the only European on the bus. There’s a couple of Israelis but mainly it’s Chileans and Argentineans. We all bundle off the bus and into a room. Someone gives me a form to fill and my passport is stamped. I notice that I’ve left Argentina. But what about Chile? I ask the driver in broken English and in the torrent of Spanish that follows I hear the words “Chile” and “4 kilometres” which is enough to satisfy me.
At the Chilean border we’re all delayed as the customs guys go through the Israelis’ luggage as they have lots of food with them that they have to deal with. Why they can’t put it in the bin and get on with it I don’t know. Anyway after an eternity we’re away again.
They put on an awful film which even though I’m listening to music while watching it you can see all the clichés a mile off. There’s a twist at the end that is so implausible it ensures what little integrity it has is cleaned off with bleach and a blow torch.
After that I sleep for most of the rest of the way.
We get to Puerto Montt at about 11.30. There then follows another broken-Spanish-and-mime conversation as I try to explain that I need a cash machine to get Chilean Pesos out, luckily we get there in the end. I learn new vocab: cahier automatico. The cabbie doesn’t know where the address is but I manage to work it out for him. Makes you wonder.
The hostel is nice and the receptionist has waited for me. She gives me the key and leaves, only for me to find out that the key doesn’t work from the inside so I can’t get out and get any food, or, more importantly, beer. So cashew nuts it is and then it’s finally off to bed for a proper night’s sleep.
Saturday, 30 January 2010
Take a Walk, Take a Rest
Thursday 28 January
San Carlos de Bariloche
So as the only thing to do round here is outdoorsy-type stuff I thought I better do some. I heard the best walk was to go to a refugio called Frey on top of a mountain near an out of season ski resort called Catedral. I surfed the web and left it a bit late to start but set off eventually.
Except that the bus that was due to come at twenty to twelve hadn’t turned up by midday. So I caught a taxi instead. As I was behind schedule I thought I’d walk fast, after all it was meant to take 4-5 hours to get up and a bit less to get down so I didn’t want to be up there too late.
So I go hardcore. I find myself singing various different songs to keep me going. For some reason I start off with Right Said Fred by the great Bernard Cribbins, which changed to Walk on the Wild Side by Lou Reed, later it was She Wolf by Shakira which is a song I hate, and there were others I forget. It’s strange what your mind will come up with sometimes.
It’s hot to start with, and I regret wearing trousers as I’m getting a bit sweaty as I push myself and the sun beats down. After a couple of hours I’ve over taken a bunch of people and no one’s overtaken me so I take it to mean that I’m ahead of the game. I sit down and eat one of my two sandwiches that I packed for food as I start to get hungry. I’m having to ration myself as I don’t have much and I don’t know how long it’s going to take overall. I also have to ration the water I have with me.
The cutting through the half-dead woods and via logs placed over small streams eventually turns round a headland and the woods become deeper and cover overhead. It seems trite to describe landscape in terms of Middle Earth, but that’s never stopped me before so I have no shame in describing this part as like the outskirts of Rivendell (where the elves live). The path gets more twisty and there’s a few makeshift bridges as slowly the incline starts to get steeper.
I’m still pushing hard and try not to think about the effort, just to keep up the pace and keep going. It becomes a case of Charlie versus the mountain. I pause occasionally as it gets steeper to catch my breath, though I’m keen not to stop too long in case I lose momentum and fatigue overtakes me.
I reach a refugio that is about an hour away from the summit and it’s taken me two hours and forty minutes – for something that’s meant to take 4-5 hours in total I must be making good time.
One hour to go. Of course, this last bit is the steepest. And of course, the altitude is higher and the air thinner and so I’m getting out of breath more frequently. At times I’m clambering up rocks. And the wind starts to pick up. As I get closer to the top, the winds of the Andes (at the end of the armies, badum-tish!) start to add to the strain.
Halfway through this point I meet a group of Latinos on their way down. They try to explain something to me but I can’t understand them. Luckily through a series of hand signals and the arrival of a dog following them, I understand that this dog belongs to the refugio at the top and had followed them by mistake, and they were asking me to take it back up. With a combination of whistling, stroking behind the head and making clicking noises with my mouth, I manage to convince it to follow me.
So with the wind, the incline, the thin air and now a golden Labrador following close behind I make the final ascent. Every time I look round to see if the dog is following me it somehow always ends up on the other side so I have to turn right round. I also keep clipping it with my heels which reduces momentum and increases the guilt. The wind continues to increase and now picks up a whole load of dust and sand making it hard to see. This feels like a true battle of endurance but I’m determined not to give up.
I see the top. I push through. The wind is icy and the temperature has dropped remarkably but I’m not going to stop now. I force myself forwards to the refuge and make my way to the door, barely glimpsing the remarkable landscape around me. I dive in, panting, out of breath, covered in sand stuck to dried sweat. Everyone looks round to me and a few even clap given the state I’m in. I check my watch. Three hours and twenty minutes. Yeah bitches, take that!
When people ask hikers why they climb up mountains the frequent answer is “Because it’s there.” But that strikes me as a lack of imagination or vocabulary. It’s because it’s a finite challenge, something we don’t get much of in life, and it’s not only a challenge against the mountain, it’s also a challenge against yourself.
Anyway after about ten minutes I regain my composure enough to ask for a fizzy drink and eat my remaining sandwich. I refill my water and play with a very skinny cat that resided there. I take some pictures of the landscape from inside the refuge. The top of the mountain is a ring of vertical jagged rocks above a small lake. It is an alien, harsh, vicious and yet beautiful landscape.
The walk down was a bit of a chore and a bore as it went on and on and the fatigue was already kicking in big time. I was dying for it to finish. All I wanted was a hot bath and ideally, someone to massage my feet. Neither were available.
As I arrived back at Catedral I saw the bus leave. They run every fifty minutes or so and I wasn’t going to wait for another. I was desperate for an ice cream for some reason so I found a place selling Helados and asked them if they could get a taxi for me. The person serving me called her husband and charged a reasonable fare, given my desperation to get home.
After I got back and relaxed and showered, I had a cup of tea and then supper, and I wasn’t feeling too exhausted. I hadn’t been out in Bariloche and so I went to a popular bar. I wasn’t staying out late and when I got there it was pretty empty. But I got talking to a frustrated German architect (all architects are frustrated) and had a couple of drinks with him then went to bed for a well deserved sleep. I wouldn’t get it.
San Carlos de Bariloche
So as the only thing to do round here is outdoorsy-type stuff I thought I better do some. I heard the best walk was to go to a refugio called Frey on top of a mountain near an out of season ski resort called Catedral. I surfed the web and left it a bit late to start but set off eventually.
Except that the bus that was due to come at twenty to twelve hadn’t turned up by midday. So I caught a taxi instead. As I was behind schedule I thought I’d walk fast, after all it was meant to take 4-5 hours to get up and a bit less to get down so I didn’t want to be up there too late.
So I go hardcore. I find myself singing various different songs to keep me going. For some reason I start off with Right Said Fred by the great Bernard Cribbins, which changed to Walk on the Wild Side by Lou Reed, later it was She Wolf by Shakira which is a song I hate, and there were others I forget. It’s strange what your mind will come up with sometimes.
It’s hot to start with, and I regret wearing trousers as I’m getting a bit sweaty as I push myself and the sun beats down. After a couple of hours I’ve over taken a bunch of people and no one’s overtaken me so I take it to mean that I’m ahead of the game. I sit down and eat one of my two sandwiches that I packed for food as I start to get hungry. I’m having to ration myself as I don’t have much and I don’t know how long it’s going to take overall. I also have to ration the water I have with me.
The cutting through the half-dead woods and via logs placed over small streams eventually turns round a headland and the woods become deeper and cover overhead. It seems trite to describe landscape in terms of Middle Earth, but that’s never stopped me before so I have no shame in describing this part as like the outskirts of Rivendell (where the elves live). The path gets more twisty and there’s a few makeshift bridges as slowly the incline starts to get steeper.
I’m still pushing hard and try not to think about the effort, just to keep up the pace and keep going. It becomes a case of Charlie versus the mountain. I pause occasionally as it gets steeper to catch my breath, though I’m keen not to stop too long in case I lose momentum and fatigue overtakes me.
I reach a refugio that is about an hour away from the summit and it’s taken me two hours and forty minutes – for something that’s meant to take 4-5 hours in total I must be making good time.
One hour to go. Of course, this last bit is the steepest. And of course, the altitude is higher and the air thinner and so I’m getting out of breath more frequently. At times I’m clambering up rocks. And the wind starts to pick up. As I get closer to the top, the winds of the Andes (at the end of the armies, badum-tish!) start to add to the strain.
Halfway through this point I meet a group of Latinos on their way down. They try to explain something to me but I can’t understand them. Luckily through a series of hand signals and the arrival of a dog following them, I understand that this dog belongs to the refugio at the top and had followed them by mistake, and they were asking me to take it back up. With a combination of whistling, stroking behind the head and making clicking noises with my mouth, I manage to convince it to follow me.
So with the wind, the incline, the thin air and now a golden Labrador following close behind I make the final ascent. Every time I look round to see if the dog is following me it somehow always ends up on the other side so I have to turn right round. I also keep clipping it with my heels which reduces momentum and increases the guilt. The wind continues to increase and now picks up a whole load of dust and sand making it hard to see. This feels like a true battle of endurance but I’m determined not to give up.
I see the top. I push through. The wind is icy and the temperature has dropped remarkably but I’m not going to stop now. I force myself forwards to the refuge and make my way to the door, barely glimpsing the remarkable landscape around me. I dive in, panting, out of breath, covered in sand stuck to dried sweat. Everyone looks round to me and a few even clap given the state I’m in. I check my watch. Three hours and twenty minutes. Yeah bitches, take that!
When people ask hikers why they climb up mountains the frequent answer is “Because it’s there.” But that strikes me as a lack of imagination or vocabulary. It’s because it’s a finite challenge, something we don’t get much of in life, and it’s not only a challenge against the mountain, it’s also a challenge against yourself.
Anyway after about ten minutes I regain my composure enough to ask for a fizzy drink and eat my remaining sandwich. I refill my water and play with a very skinny cat that resided there. I take some pictures of the landscape from inside the refuge. The top of the mountain is a ring of vertical jagged rocks above a small lake. It is an alien, harsh, vicious and yet beautiful landscape.
The walk down was a bit of a chore and a bore as it went on and on and the fatigue was already kicking in big time. I was dying for it to finish. All I wanted was a hot bath and ideally, someone to massage my feet. Neither were available.
As I arrived back at Catedral I saw the bus leave. They run every fifty minutes or so and I wasn’t going to wait for another. I was desperate for an ice cream for some reason so I found a place selling Helados and asked them if they could get a taxi for me. The person serving me called her husband and charged a reasonable fare, given my desperation to get home.
After I got back and relaxed and showered, I had a cup of tea and then supper, and I wasn’t feeling too exhausted. I hadn’t been out in Bariloche and so I went to a popular bar. I wasn’t staying out late and when I got there it was pretty empty. But I got talking to a frustrated German architect (all architects are frustrated) and had a couple of drinks with him then went to bed for a well deserved sleep. I wouldn’t get it.
I Walked down to the Beach
Wednesday 27 January
San Carlos de Bariloche
Given the exertions of the day before I took it easy today. I did lots of admin, emails, booking stuff. I decide to go to Chile, and book as much as I can up to the Salvador Carnival in Brazil. I make my own sandwiches for lunch as that seems to be the done thing round here. Most of my fellow travellers are working to a tighter budget than I am, and it never hurts to save a few pesos.
I walk through town and go down to the lakeside where there’s a tiny beach made from large pebbles, larger than Brighton. I just sit there and take it all in – the sun, the wind (it’s very windy), the waves on the beach, the mountains in the distance, and relax. Some locals are even trying to sunbathe despite the wind. It’s just about warm enough though it looks like hard work, everything keeps getting blown away.
I cook dinner in the hostel in the evening and watch Pirates of the Caribbean that someone puts on the DVD player. Class film and as a big fan of Jonathan Pryce it’s always good to see something with him in.
San Carlos de Bariloche
Given the exertions of the day before I took it easy today. I did lots of admin, emails, booking stuff. I decide to go to Chile, and book as much as I can up to the Salvador Carnival in Brazil. I make my own sandwiches for lunch as that seems to be the done thing round here. Most of my fellow travellers are working to a tighter budget than I am, and it never hurts to save a few pesos.
I walk through town and go down to the lakeside where there’s a tiny beach made from large pebbles, larger than Brighton. I just sit there and take it all in – the sun, the wind (it’s very windy), the waves on the beach, the mountains in the distance, and relax. Some locals are even trying to sunbathe despite the wind. It’s just about warm enough though it looks like hard work, everything keeps getting blown away.
I cook dinner in the hostel in the evening and watch Pirates of the Caribbean that someone puts on the DVD player. Class film and as a big fan of Jonathan Pryce it’s always good to see something with him in.
Homage to Patagonia
Tuesday 26 January
San Carlos de Bariloche
So in my semi sleep/waking state I watch awesome sunrise appear on the left over the hills of Patagonia. It’s beautiful, and the landscape is beautiful too, finally becoming interesting after the plains of La Plata. Although as I’m on the right of the bus I only catch glimpses of the best landscape on the left.
As I get to my hostel a random girl called Alice invites me to come on a bike ride that afternoon. I am knackered after not having had much sleep – maybe about three hours – but I say yes. I have a shower and go for lunch. Over lunch I continually toy with the idea of whether I should actually go on this ride – what if I collapse with exhaustion half way through? And I’ve not ridden a bike in ages. The last two-wheeler I rode was a moped in India that I managed to drive into a wall within ten metres.
I eat pasta and drink Coke to give me energy and in the end I go for it anyway. We try out the bikes and I quickly get used to it again. Falling off a bike is much like riding a log. We set off and it’s fine. The route is 20 km long and hilly, but we just walk up the steep bits. We get to see some nice views but then suddenly we get an awesome view over a whole stretch of lakes, islands and mountains. It’s stunningly beautiful. The glacier-hewn rock is breathtaking. I never used to have much appreciation for landscape having grown up with it constantly around like wallpaper. But now I’ve been living in a city for so long I really appreciate it.
Cycling downhill is fun and I can go pretty fast. I feel like I’m on the Nordschliefe at times! Also I do pretty well uphill, overtaking my co-cyclists Alice (from Kent) and Kova (from Hong Kong). That time in the gym must have paid off!
After I get back I shower and do some admin and then meet up with Alice and Kova in their hostel for a steak dinner. I cook the potatoes and do an amazing job if I do say so myself. Unfortunately the meat we buy isn’t the best. Their hostel – 1004 – awesome and I make a note to stay there on my way back from Chile. After the meal I go out for a drink with some other random guy I meet in the hostel. We go to a bar that is filled with locals and chat about all things concerning travelling and life. Then after two drinks I go home never to see him again – such is the life of a traveller. It’s 1.30 when I get back – much later than I thought I would be able to stay out.
San Carlos de Bariloche
So in my semi sleep/waking state I watch awesome sunrise appear on the left over the hills of Patagonia. It’s beautiful, and the landscape is beautiful too, finally becoming interesting after the plains of La Plata. Although as I’m on the right of the bus I only catch glimpses of the best landscape on the left.
As I get to my hostel a random girl called Alice invites me to come on a bike ride that afternoon. I am knackered after not having had much sleep – maybe about three hours – but I say yes. I have a shower and go for lunch. Over lunch I continually toy with the idea of whether I should actually go on this ride – what if I collapse with exhaustion half way through? And I’ve not ridden a bike in ages. The last two-wheeler I rode was a moped in India that I managed to drive into a wall within ten metres.
I eat pasta and drink Coke to give me energy and in the end I go for it anyway. We try out the bikes and I quickly get used to it again. Falling off a bike is much like riding a log. We set off and it’s fine. The route is 20 km long and hilly, but we just walk up the steep bits. We get to see some nice views but then suddenly we get an awesome view over a whole stretch of lakes, islands and mountains. It’s stunningly beautiful. The glacier-hewn rock is breathtaking. I never used to have much appreciation for landscape having grown up with it constantly around like wallpaper. But now I’ve been living in a city for so long I really appreciate it.
Cycling downhill is fun and I can go pretty fast. I feel like I’m on the Nordschliefe at times! Also I do pretty well uphill, overtaking my co-cyclists Alice (from Kent) and Kova (from Hong Kong). That time in the gym must have paid off!
After I get back I shower and do some admin and then meet up with Alice and Kova in their hostel for a steak dinner. I cook the potatoes and do an amazing job if I do say so myself. Unfortunately the meat we buy isn’t the best. Their hostel – 1004 – awesome and I make a note to stay there on my way back from Chile. After the meal I go out for a drink with some other random guy I meet in the hostel. We go to a bar that is filled with locals and chat about all things concerning travelling and life. Then after two drinks I go home never to see him again – such is the life of a traveller. It’s 1.30 when I get back – much later than I thought I would be able to stay out.
Wednesday, 27 January 2010
How Wonderful Life Is
Monday 25 January
Buenos Aires
I pack and check out, while trying to remain cool in the one room with air con in the hostel, not entirely successfully. I check out BA tube (or Subte as they call it) – the line I take is very old, like a box car from Railroad Tycoon for those that remember that computer game. And it has no air con. I go and look at the congress building – it has a funny squashed dome. I walk around for a bit to kill time and enjoy looking at the beautiful people.
I go to the bus station and get on the bus. I realise I’ve missed lunch but I have snacks to tide me over. The bus sets off on its epic 20 hour journey and they play a bunch of movies, one with the great Paul Rudd and Eva Longoria as a bitchy ghost (I kid you not), Marley and Me which is pretty good and makes me cry like a girl (even the bit where Owen Wilson’s mate looks at the picture of his family and says “you did good,”) and a Clive Owen one where he’s a renegade ex-Yard Interpol suit fighting an Evil Bank. Strangely the DVDs they show don’t have the film titles so I don’t know what they’re called.
The food they serve has unusual flavours – you’re never quite sure what it’s trying to be – but edible enough. For some reason I can’t sleep very well which is strange as on paper it’s pretty comfortable. So my mind keeps thinking about my life and how it’s changed so much over the last few years for the better. Phil was right, the 30s are the best decade. It’s at times like this that I like to listen to depressing music, for some reason the contrast makes me feel good and of course, it’s the music I love the most. So The Smith and Radiohead it is then.
The other thing to mention about this part of the bus journey is that when the polar ice melts, Argentina is gonna be in big trouble. Both on the first part of this bus journey and the whole of the trip to Mar del Plata the landscape is completely flat. You thought the Netherlands were flat. Well, they are, but so is this, and on a much larger scale. It’s not until we hit Patagonia at sunrise on the following morning that we start to see any hill action. And what hill action that is.
Buenos Aires
I pack and check out, while trying to remain cool in the one room with air con in the hostel, not entirely successfully. I check out BA tube (or Subte as they call it) – the line I take is very old, like a box car from Railroad Tycoon for those that remember that computer game. And it has no air con. I go and look at the congress building – it has a funny squashed dome. I walk around for a bit to kill time and enjoy looking at the beautiful people.
I go to the bus station and get on the bus. I realise I’ve missed lunch but I have snacks to tide me over. The bus sets off on its epic 20 hour journey and they play a bunch of movies, one with the great Paul Rudd and Eva Longoria as a bitchy ghost (I kid you not), Marley and Me which is pretty good and makes me cry like a girl (even the bit where Owen Wilson’s mate looks at the picture of his family and says “you did good,”) and a Clive Owen one where he’s a renegade ex-Yard Interpol suit fighting an Evil Bank. Strangely the DVDs they show don’t have the film titles so I don’t know what they’re called.
The food they serve has unusual flavours – you’re never quite sure what it’s trying to be – but edible enough. For some reason I can’t sleep very well which is strange as on paper it’s pretty comfortable. So my mind keeps thinking about my life and how it’s changed so much over the last few years for the better. Phil was right, the 30s are the best decade. It’s at times like this that I like to listen to depressing music, for some reason the contrast makes me feel good and of course, it’s the music I love the most. So The Smith and Radiohead it is then.
The other thing to mention about this part of the bus journey is that when the polar ice melts, Argentina is gonna be in big trouble. Both on the first part of this bus journey and the whole of the trip to Mar del Plata the landscape is completely flat. You thought the Netherlands were flat. Well, they are, but so is this, and on a much larger scale. It’s not until we hit Patagonia at sunrise on the following morning that we start to see any hill action. And what hill action that is.
Three’s a Crowd
Sunday 24 January
Buenos Aires
So I’m very aware that I haven’t got any transport to Bariloche yet so from the hotel I get a taxi to the bus station to book my ticket, but it turns out that I need my passport to pay for it by card. So I have to catch a couple of taxis to do just that. Luckily they don’t cost too much – 15 pesos or £2.50, though one confuses me with incomprehensible Spanish and I end up paying double, the dirty rat!
After all that I walk for ages for lunch, ending up at Gallery Pacifica which thankfully has air con. I relax in the afternoon and the go to a great, cheap steak restaurant in the evening but I order wrong thing! It’s OK but I hear later from others the 30 peso chorizo steak is as good as 100 peso steaks in other places.
Afterwards I go back to sister hostel again and have a good chat with an Irish girl and despite the temptation to make it three out of three I can only stay for one drink before bed as I have to check out at 10 tomorrow.
Buenos Aires
So I’m very aware that I haven’t got any transport to Bariloche yet so from the hotel I get a taxi to the bus station to book my ticket, but it turns out that I need my passport to pay for it by card. So I have to catch a couple of taxis to do just that. Luckily they don’t cost too much – 15 pesos or £2.50, though one confuses me with incomprehensible Spanish and I end up paying double, the dirty rat!
After all that I walk for ages for lunch, ending up at Gallery Pacifica which thankfully has air con. I relax in the afternoon and the go to a great, cheap steak restaurant in the evening but I order wrong thing! It’s OK but I hear later from others the 30 peso chorizo steak is as good as 100 peso steaks in other places.
Afterwards I go back to sister hostel again and have a good chat with an Irish girl and despite the temptation to make it three out of three I can only stay for one drink before bed as I have to check out at 10 tomorrow.
It Takes Two to Tango
Saturday 23 Januray
Buenos Aires
So I got lost on the way home from wherever it was I spent the night. I had lunch in random place with air con – the hunt for air con is an important one. The hostel doesn’t have it and it’s a bit of a nightmare really. Not all restaurants have air con either so it’s important to find one that does.
One of the things about BA is that almost every street had a part where there is some water dropping down from some part of the building up above. The thing is, it hasn’t been raining, so where is it coming from? You’re never quite sure and it’s a little disturbing when a drop catches you.
I planned my trip to Bariloche in the afternoon and ate in San Telmo, Bill Bonner’s part of town, and very nice it is too, lots of people out having a pleasant evening in a good looking, relaxed, sociable part of town. Went back to the hostel afterwards and watched the end of a so-bad-it’s-still-bad-but-has-bits-that-make-you-laugh-anyway American Pie sequel. Then I went back to party hostel again and met a bunch of Aussies on coke, all twitching and sweating, but at least they weren’t obnoxious at all and invited me out with them to some club. We went to Milhouse Hostel round the corner where we caught a bus to the club (no Mum, I didn’t take any).
On the bus I met a girl called Alex, who reminded me of my friend Claire in that she’s American and looks and acts much like her! We got to the club and it wasn’t so great, so I chatted with Alex outside for the whole time. One of the guys on coke wonders around looking lost so we look after him. Eventually we find the Australians again and hang out with them some more. Eventually the sun rises and we all take taxis home. Alex doesn’t have any cash on her so she offers to take me to the 5 star hotel where she’s staying (due to a delayed flight) and pay me. We get there and well, like I said, my mum reads this, so I’ll leave it there.
Buenos Aires
So I got lost on the way home from wherever it was I spent the night. I had lunch in random place with air con – the hunt for air con is an important one. The hostel doesn’t have it and it’s a bit of a nightmare really. Not all restaurants have air con either so it’s important to find one that does.
One of the things about BA is that almost every street had a part where there is some water dropping down from some part of the building up above. The thing is, it hasn’t been raining, so where is it coming from? You’re never quite sure and it’s a little disturbing when a drop catches you.
I planned my trip to Bariloche in the afternoon and ate in San Telmo, Bill Bonner’s part of town, and very nice it is too, lots of people out having a pleasant evening in a good looking, relaxed, sociable part of town. Went back to the hostel afterwards and watched the end of a so-bad-it’s-still-bad-but-has-bits-that-make-you-laugh-anyway American Pie sequel. Then I went back to party hostel again and met a bunch of Aussies on coke, all twitching and sweating, but at least they weren’t obnoxious at all and invited me out with them to some club. We went to Milhouse Hostel round the corner where we caught a bus to the club (no Mum, I didn’t take any).
On the bus I met a girl called Alex, who reminded me of my friend Claire in that she’s American and looks and acts much like her! We got to the club and it wasn’t so great, so I chatted with Alex outside for the whole time. One of the guys on coke wonders around looking lost so we look after him. Eventually we find the Australians again and hang out with them some more. Eventually the sun rises and we all take taxis home. Alex doesn’t have any cash on her so she offers to take me to the 5 star hotel where she’s staying (due to a delayed flight) and pay me. We get there and well, like I said, my mum reads this, so I’ll leave it there.
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