A few days ago I returned from Patagonia with my sister, Lindsay. We had a couple of more days in the city together before I saw her off to go back to Minnesota. This picture was taken in Patagonia, on the top of Cerro Tronador, a mountain near Bariloche that lies on the border between Argentina and Chile; it is part of the Andes Mountains. We had spent the day before hiking up the mountain - not a difficult hike, but enough of a challenge to be interesting, and not a very long hike at 4.5 hours. Once at the top, we entered into a Zen state, admiring the beauty and feeling incredibly relaxed from breathing in all that fresh air at high altitude. The mountain was about 3300 meters - not sure what that is in feet, almost 10,000? We had brought our sleeping bags and planned to stay at the refugio, which we did. We both couldn't believe this refugio, however. To climb a mountain and enter into this "hut" that had a bar and restaurant serving lamb ribs with potato puree along with piscos (a Chilean cocktail made with lemon liquor and egg whites that we had to try while playing gin) was quite something. There were four long wooden tables with benches where everyone piled in come night. The sleeping quarters were a bit more spartan - a huge attic with over 60 matresses laid out where hikers could sleep according to the "tetris" map to let guests know their appointed spot.
For dinner, Lindsay and I shared a table with a group of locals from Buenos Aires who had ridden up to the base on horseback. They brought numerous bottles of red wine to share and we learned of all their various occupations and activities.
The sleeping part at the refugio wasn't the most comfortable, but I am an extremely light sleeper and wasn't expecting my 8 hours. Lindsay and I had a matress and a half to share since it was so crowded and that meant that when I rolled over I was in a strange man's face and at one point in the night during a dream where I was reaching out to a dog, I startled myself upon finding the warm hand of a stranger who was sleeping on half of my mattress.
The next day we went on a glacier/crevasse excursion with a guide that was such a bad a** mountain man my sister and I both fell in love a little bit. Lindsay did some ice wall climbing, I stood by and took pictures. Neither of us had been in such close proximity to a crevasse before and it was rather incredible to be able to see light come through the layers of glacier and walk along ice bridges near ridges that would've meant death had we made a false move. Our guide would stop and allow us to look into the crevasse one at a time (we were a group of six), while holding on to our harnesses.
The best part of this excursion was that I got to be in snow! My internal seasonal clock (circadian rhythm?) or whatever it is called has been so thrown off by being in summer when it should be winter - it's like I'm in the twilight zone, time has stopped, the holidays felt surreal, I forget what month it is all the time. I don't mind it so much, it's just such a change from my counting down the days habit that I seemed to have going on last winter that I can feel rather disoriented.
Anyway, after we hiked back down Tronador, legs shaking like crazy from all the downhill tromping, we nearly missed our 5pm bus, or thought we were going to miss it, so had to run the last 20 minutes con mochilas. We got to the bus, and as we'd thought our Dutch friend Simone (an older woman traveling alone that we met at the refugio who turned out to be a tad bit controlling) had insisted the bus wait for us. Alas, that bus was full, but the one next to it leaving a surprisingly half hour later of the same company had room for us. We got on with plenty of time. But then when it was time to go, the engine wouldn't turnover. So we sat there for a while as the busdriver tried to get the bus going and tried not to inhale all of the black burnt exhaust blowing into the windows. (Ahh, back to civilization.) After the engine finally got going and we were on our way, the bus broke down, less than a mile from where we left. So we all got off the bus, the bus driver said we could wait at the trailhead station until another bus came, which would be in 2 hours. As we were walking back a car passed, so we of course stuck our thumbs out and ended up hitching a ride with a sweet French couple. Their car reeked of BO but it was kind of comforting knowing they wouldn't mind having some dirty sweaty backpackers in their backseat. They were going to see some cascades and wondered if we wouldn't mind coming along before heading back to Bariloche. No, we didn't mind - how could we? We were only starving and extremely dirty, but who can complain when someone offers you a favor in such desperate times. Anyway, going along the twisty mountain road, being driven around by a race-car driver in the making, we also concluded we wouldn't be renting a car - our original plan in order to get in some lakeside camping further north with pristine natural surroundings that wouldn't be as accessible to the average tourist.
We got back to our hostel in Bariloche by 10pm, made our leftover pasta that was in the fridge - even our wine from New Year's was right where we left it on the counter, untouched. We spoke with our new acquaintances that we'd met the two nights we'd stayed there over New Year's, one of note was a man named Fernando who lived in Buenos Aires but was hanging out in Bariloche, he really liked English pronounciation and we found it rather humorous when he practiced his skills. We also met a young German guy who spoke to us while obsessively sipping his mate as though he needed it merely to be able to breathe, asking if I had gotten hooked on mate yet because he had (sip, breath, sip, breath, sip). He had an internship in Brazil and was crazy about South America.
The next day we headed to San Martin de Los Andes - unfortunately our whole day was taken up by bus travel, waiting for buses, stopping in towns, but we still enjoyed ourselves and it was probably good to have a bit of a rest day. Once we got there we both knew this was going to be one of our favorite all-time towns - it was a mixture of so many mountain towns in one - a bit of Sedona, Aspen, Sun Valley, Jackson, Chamonix, France - my only complaint would have to be that it wasn't rustic enough, it was almost too nice. It was a town hugged by mountains and served as the mouth of a chain of seven lakes that leads into Chile. I would love to come back to this town in winter. We explored around a bit and spent a day hiking one of the mountains near to town, Cerro Colorado - a nice hike but then our idea to walk back to town (we had taken a taxi to the trailhead) turned into a three-hour walk that would've been a six-hour walk through a Mapuche village if we hadn't gotten picked up by a kind Argentine couple. The walk through this community land was enchanting - rolling hills in a forest, little farms with simple homes - we kept thinking we were going to see a gnome or elf pop up from behind a tree - a thought that bordered on terrifying once we realized how far we were from anything - main roads, the town, etc. But we made it back with the Argentine couple and got ready for our dreaded trip back to the city the next morning.
We needed at least another four days - we had been down in Patagonia for six. I say this to anyone that is planning a trip there - take ten days or two weeks at least! There was still so much we wanted to do and see and couldn't. We loved it, had a fabulous time, and can't wait to go back. Ideally, rent a car and camp, but I think I need an Argentine along for this to work. Driving on those mountain roads uncomfortably with a stick-shift (rental cars were only manual) could have been suicidal. I get freaked out enough just driving on the highway at home.
Back in Buenos Aires we stumbled back to my apartment in a daze, almost like zombies being exposed to light for the first time. The city is actually extremely empty since everyone goes on vacation during this time, but just the traffic, big buildings, noise and air pollution - all these things that of course humans can adapt to, but that are not necessarily harmonious for the health, can be a bit shocking at first, coming from all blue, brown, and green. But here I am, getting used to the grind, and yes, I still love it here and plan to stay a while - I am waiting to find out the details about a teaching job that I'd like to share but am waiting until things are finalized.
Oh, and to back-track a bit, since some might be curious how one celebrates New Year's in Patagonia, Lindsay and I made dinner at the hostel, "El Gaucho," in Bariloche and spoke to a group of French people that had spent the last 4 days hiking around in the mountains and therefore were feasting on a gourmet meal like I'd never before seen prepared in a hostel. We met some brothers from England that were quite friendly and some locals that had come down from BsAs. After dinner we went to an Irish pub for ice cream and a glass of champagne to ring in the new year then headed to the town square where everyone had gathered, people of all ages, shooting off fireworks and drinking out of bottles of champagne, with an elegant stone clocktower hovering above letting us all know it was 2009. We realized this is where we should've been for the hour leading up to midnight, but we learned for next time!
And to backtrack even more, my Christmas was wonderful - the arrival of Lindsay being the icing on the cake! Nochebueno, Christmas Eve, at Maria's lasted until 2:3oam as I was told it would, even the little ones were still up! We had lots of salads and cold meats along with champagne and some excellent dulce de leche mousse! Yum! We were a group of 30 or more and sat at round tables pushed together in the backyard (they had been separated around the yard but then arranged in one long table as all started to sit down and wanted to be together).
On Christmas morning I felt very fortunate to have been able to sleep over in a home and wake up in a house. We sat outside and had some pan dulce for breakfast (I guess this is of Italian origin and now an Argentine tradition), coffee and then a bit later leftovers for lunch. And then a bike ride around San Isidro (a very nice town 20kms outside of BsAs where Maria lives). It was probably 90 degrees F. Quite different than my Christmas last year in Minneapolis where as great as it was having all of my family around, all I wanted to do was sleep due to exhaustion from grad school and teaching - I guess I have to thank that exhaustion for getting me here.
Anyway, I hope all is well with everyone! I better wrap this up, it smells like my computer is burning - unless that's just someone grilling meat nearby...
Happy New Year!
Much peace, love, and happiness.
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