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@backpackerdiaries
He's Here!!
Dan arrived and passed swiftly through customs and immigration. So quickly in fact that he was sitting waiting for me when I arrived at the airport. Turns out he had a nice giggle as he watched me do a final fluffing of my hair before I nervously searched for him. It was so good to wrap my arms around him and even better to watch his face as we drove down into the brick jungle of La Paz. Hand in hand we were ready for the adventures and oxygen deprivation ahead.
Respira, Estás en Samaipata
The main reason I’d decided to make the journey into Bolivia through Santa Cruz was to stop in Samaipata. Kim from Buenos Aires had highly recommended it, and a small hippy town in the mountains sounded like a perfect way to spend my last few days before Dan’s arrival.
Although the journey there was longer and bumpier than anticipated, Samaipata turned out to be even more lovely than I’d hoped (one of my top 5 favorite spots even). As I endured a crazy drive out of Santa Cruz wedged in the front seat of an overpacked taxi with a driver aggressively swerving through traffic, I started to shed some of the tension (and add some) I’d retained from the last few days.
I found a super chill spot to pitch my tent and started to relax. This "hippy-style hangout squirreled away in a wild garden" was exactly what I needed. I hadn't realized how much effect the stress of the whole immigration process had had on me until I finally escaped it. As I lounged outside with the rest of the hostel crew passing wine and stories and other hippy treats, I physically felt my body relax. I started to soak in the Bolivia I’d been dreaming about.
The next morning I woke up and spontaneously joined a group headed to Amboró National Park. Super fun crew, great guide, gorgeous scenery; I was in heaven. This weekend in Samaipata was all about soothing my soul and a day immersed in nature was the perfect treatment.
The group was great fun. The tour ended with quick trip to the market for food and wine and wine for a collaborative dinner in the open air kitchen. The boys made a big salad and my Finnish friend made her special cheesy pasta with lemon that we washed down with many bottles of Argentine wine.
Energized from a day of hiking and a solid meal, we headed into town looking for fun. We found a small hostel with a band (!) and booze and danced the night away. My soul was officially nourished. I was back to myself and ready to start sharing my adventures.
*Kitchen picture stolen. I was too mellow to bother taking pictures.
** El Jardín was one of my favorite hostels of the trip. I went on to see friends from there later on in Peru, Ecuador, and Colombia. Stay tuned.
The Glad Game
After spending the past 4 days dealing with immigrations, i.e., spending entire days waiting in lines, to wait in lines, to wait in other lines, I think it’s time to play the glad game. Thank you Ami for reminding of the beauty of this game. (I am also a huge Hayley Mills fan and can recite The Parent Trap to this day.)
I’m glad I am going through this process during the winter and not waiting outside and then in an overpacked, unairconditioned room for hours on end in humid 45 degree weather. I'm glad it’s only 25 and humid.
I’m glad I’ve had a great opportunity to practice my spanish with a variety of people including Bolivians, Brazilians, Chileans, and Venezuelans (also dealing with bull shit bureaucracy) while I’ve been in said lines.
I’m glad that I am in a venue with such stellar people watching.
I’m glad I’ve had a chance to do some quality reading. I finished Shantaram yesterday and am making solid progress in Papillon. I think I may need a chick book after this…
I'm glad my hostel has a lovely pool, good showers, and a delicious breakfast.
I’m glad I have such a sweet boyfriend who can help me see the humor in this situation, and can help give me the patience to handle it with grace. Or at least inspires me to want to try to handle it with grace.
Bolivian Border Crossing Part 2
The next overnight bus (back to back overnighters suck!) arrived early, so I planted myself along a wall and people watched until the sun came out. I slept a little more on the hostel sofa and then headed to the immigrations office in hopes of becoming a legal visitor.
I found the big blue corner building and waited in line outside. Once I made it in the door, I then waited in another line to get a number to wait yet again. When my number was called, it became quite apparent that this process wasn’t going to go as smoothly as I had hoped. I tried to strike the appropriate balance of innocence and confidence. After much discussion on their end, they sent me off to the bank to pay my fee. Of course. Money first. A short cab ride to the bank and a deposit of PERFECT bills and I made it back to wait in line to wait in line to give them proof. I was told to leave my passport (yikes!) and that it would be ready for pick up on Monday. I spent the rest of the day sleeping. The drama and the back to back overnight bus rides had left me emotionally and physically drained.
Monday I arrived hoping to pick up my passport, but nobody seemed to have any idea what was happening. I first spoke with a man who informed me that my passport had been sent to La Paz and would be back in about a month. What???? That is not at all what I had been told. I found the competent woman who had helped me the prior day and she quickly calmed me down and informed me that my information was still all there, but that there were still some outstanding items to deal with. Fabulous. One of those outstanding items was a payment of an evasion of the border fee, which although annoying, kind of made me feel like a badass… More money that had to be paid at the offsite bank. Convenient. I went to make the payment and then made a stop at the vegetarian buffet I'd discovered (because the office obviously closes for a couple hours in the middle of the day) before heading back for the afternoon session at the immigrations office. I turned my latest information in and was told to return the next day for processing.
Despite the ominous on-line pending status, I returned the following day full of hope, but that hope was quickly squashed. They still needed more from me. The exit stamp from Argentina wasn’t sufficient support for my entry date to Bolivia. I also needed to bring in my bus ticket, which I had conveniently tossed. I took a “quick” trip to the bus station where they had to type up an affidavit that I had been on the bus I had indicated. I was ready once again for the lines, after first indulging in the vegetarian buffet of course. This was turning into quite the routine.
With my evasion of the border fee and proof of entrance into the country, I was finally ready to get my entry stamp. Luckily, my new buddy was the one who had that pleasure. I was ecstatic. I thought I was done at that point.
I wasn’t. Now my file was going to be sent upstairs for the bigwigs to sign off on the visa. Not too bad except the next day was mother's day and the Directora* would be out of the office. Yet another day to kill.
I hated Santa Cruz. Each day I'd woken up and checked out of the hostel, storing my bags in hopes that I would resolve my visa issues and be able to bus the f out of there. Each day I would dejectedly check back in and make my way to the all too familiar dorm room where I had the pleasure of testing 4 different beds.
I went back after the holiday only to find that zero progress had been made on my file. Apparently the post it notes identifying my missing information hadn't been removed, so they still thought my application wasn't ready. Good job. Fortunately for them, I was there to facilitate the process :) My file made into the pile for the director to sign and a short hour later, I had my passport back! I think my buddy was sad to see me go. I didn't feel the same.
*For a country with such a strong culture of machismo, it was impressive to see so many women occupying the upstairs offices.
Bolivian Border Crossing
In order for Americans to enter Bolivia, they need to get a 5 year entry visa, which is available at all ports of entry. According to the U.S. Department of State, you need the following to receive the entry visa: In addition to the $135.00 visa fee, you must present a visa application form with a 4cm x 4cm color photograph, a passport with a validity of not less than 6 months, evidence of a hotel reservation or a letter of invitation in Spanish, proof of economic solvency (credit card, cash, or a current bank statement), and an International Vaccination Certificate for yellow fever. Simple enough. I had all of that printed and accessible in a nice little folder (sometimes the accountant in me likes to make an appearance), so I thought this crossing would go as smoothly as all my other crossings.
It all started out just fine. I had a lovely dinner at a delicious vegan restaurant (yes, vegan and delicious can go in the same sentence), and then boarded a half-full bus. I had two seats to turn into my temporary bed, the ultimate in overnight luxury. I arrived early, watched the sun rise, and decided to have some breakfast with a couple of Bolivian travelers that had been on my bus. I’m always eager for an opportunity to chat with some locals, and I thought this was a great way to practice spanish and get some travel advice before I headed into a new country. Had I known the consequences of that detour, I would never have had that tea and cheese sandwich.
During that extra hour I spent chatting with the Bolivians, the border filled up. There were bus loads of people crossing, and lines of men and women pushing carts full of goods across the border. Loaded with all my gear, I made my way to the Argentine line for my exit stamp. This seemed to take longer than necessary, but went smoothly enough. I then made my way to the Bolivian window, where I was informed that I needed proof that I was going home. Since I had bought a one-way ticket to South America, this was a little tricky. After explaining my situation, the immigrations officer told me that a hostel reservation for Peru would suffice. Slightly annoyed, I walked back to Argentina to an internet cafe to make a reservation at the cheapest hostel possible. I was advised by a lovely woman at the internet cafe to be VERY careful with my belongings because there were lots of thieves around. Great. Clutching my valuables bag tightly to my body, I went back to the Bolivian officials with only a mild hassling from the Argentine immigration officials.
After I had stood in line for about 15 minutes, the office conveniently closed for a shift change. After another half hour or so waiting for someone to come man that booth, I finally chatted with a new guy who was less than eager to let me in. According to this guy, the information that I had was not nearly adequate. In addition to everything I had with me, I also needed a letter requesting permission to enter the country. What?? Slightly more than slightly annoyed, I walked back to the Argentine side to my internet cafe where I typed up this ridiculous letter. I searched on-line, but couldn’t find a template, which just solidified the ridiculousness to me. Regardless, I came back to the office with my letter in hand, only to be informed that I had addressed it incorrectly. Not only that, he decided that I now needed bus tickets for my entire time in Bolivia. WTF??? I explained to him that nobody does this especially in a country whose buses are constantly on strike. To which he responded, "They're not on strike now." That's when I decided to try to cry. It didn’t work. He told me to go the 3k to the bus station to buy my tickets and then come back.
As I dejectedly made my way into town, I luckily (?), was called over by a Bolivian man I'd befriended who offered to help me out. He whispered that I could go to the bus station and for just a few bolivianos, I could get them to print out false tickets. Aaahhh, so that’s how things work around here. My new friend walked me to a currency exchange and then on to a taxi. All the while, I was complaining about how silly this whole process was. I mean, Bolivia is one of the poorest countries in South American, all I wanted to do was come visit and spend some money here. Why was that such a problem?? At that point, my friend asked me if I wanted to talk to the boss. Sure. I met the boss, the first guy who had been working at the border and explained the situation. He told me that I should have arrived at the border earlier and that he would have let me in with what I had. Great. He then motioned for me to follow him outside at which point he informed he was going to give me a “gift.” He told me to just go on to Santa Cruz as I had intended and go to the immigrations office there. Since I would already be in the country, the process would be much smoother.
I decided to trust him. I got the impression that no matter what I provided the immigrations officer currently at the border, he just wasn’t going to have it, so I thought I’d accept the “gift.” I went on to the bus station, bought my ticket to Santa Cruz, left my bags in custody, and set off to explore.
Being in Bolivia felt completely different than Argentina and Chile. It reminded me of the summer in high school I spent volunteering in Nicaragua. It was then that I truly fell in love with Latin American culture and all those feelings came racing back as I wandered around this sketchy border town. I found myself eating the first of many rice, salad, and fried egg meals at a local market and was regaining my excitement for Bolivia.
To be continued…
Cha cha changes
I need to write. I need to bring closure to my trip. I need to have this time documented.
Why haven’t I? I’ve been transitioning back home, and it’s been hard. Much harder than I anticipated - and I was expecting it to be bad! I didn’t really have any culture shock on my trip. I had worked so hard to get there and was so happy to be there. Plus I still had a connection back home: the boyfriend. Now, the ex-boyfriend. I stopped writing just before I got to the time when he would join. I don’t know why. We survived a year apart, with two magical months thrown in there together, but we couldn’t survive life back home. We’d be in a good place and I’d want to write, and then we wouldn’t be and I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
Now we’re officially over and I want to finish this project, but I don’t want to skip those 9 weeks. I don’t want to ignore the beginnings of posts that I jotted in journals and emails or that I composed in my head. I want to capture this year as I was feeling it, not jaded by changes that would come months later. So that’s what I’m going to do. He was part of my adventure and as this blog was started for me to have a lifelong memory, I need to honor and remember this time I shared with him, and then I need to move on to the new adventures that undoubtedly lie ahead.
Road Trippin' Northern Argentina
Iguazu Falls is not conveniently located, at all. Martin and I took an 18 hour bus ride up from Buenos Aires and then after just a couple days seeing both the Brazilian and Argentine sides of the falls, it was time to hop on yet another bus out of there. This time I had the pleasure of a 20+ hour solo journey to Salta, my final stop in Argentina.
In Salta I celebrated some of the best of Argentina - I partook in another asado (mainly veg options this time with a little meat), and drank plenty of good wine. Oh Argentine wine... The hostel is well worth a stop if you're in town on a Wednesday or a Saturday. I was conveniently there for both nights of the yumminess.
As delicious as the asado was, the highlight had to be renting a car. Of course it was a stick and I couldn't actually drive it myself, but man was it fun to have the freedom and flexibility of a car again. A group of us from the hostel - a British couple, an Irish lad, and an American wine maker* set off on a journey to Cafayate, wine country.
After making it out of the very narrow and crowded city streets - thank you Ross, we hit the open road and did what all Argentine drivers do: we hit the horn. It was rather liberating to be on that side of the horn honking. It's the little things in life. We made a few stops along the way - because that's what you get to do when you have your own transportation, and enjoyed the beautiful scenery.
We made it to Cafayate in the late afternoon and commenced with the wine drinking. We started with a tour at one of the bigger wineries, sampled some more at a couple of tasting rooms, enjoyed a few bottles back at the hostel, and then headed out for dinner and more wine.
It was a few bottles in at the hostel that Sam introduced us to this gem of a song, which we sang as a group multiple times. The hostel owners loved us. In my drunken state, I thought it was a brilliant idea to text these lyrics to the boyfriend. Questionable judgement to say the least.
We had a lovely time at dinner. The restaurant was packed with older Argentine travelers who fell in love with us. They made us pose for pictures and proved to be excellent dance partners. Our pictures are all a little (a lot) hazy, which is somewhat appropriate...
At the end of the meal we discovered a delicious craft beer. Good beer in Argentina is rare, so using that questionable judgement we'd established earlier, we ordered a few more bottles before they kicked us out.
The next day we had a bit of a later start than we had hoped for (I wonder why?), but after some delicious empanadas, we still decided to attempt the long scenic ride back to Salta. This is where the adventure really began. We winded our way along a bumpy dirt road and then managed to get lost in a river bed. The five of us all sincerely thought we were on the right road. We weren't.
We made it back to Salta in time to see Sam and Alex off on their flights and then I was going to set off with Ross and Rachel (seriously, great couple name) to go north, but I decided to make my way straight to Bolivia. I had a chance to get a free yellow fever vaccination (thank you Argentine healthcare system) and was stoked to get to a new country, the country where I would meet up with the boyfriend. After 6 months exploring Argentina and Chile, I was ready to move on. I had my final meal at a vegan restaurant of all places. Satiated by delicious veg food and half a years worth of experiences, I set off on an overnight bus to the Bolivian border and the next chapter in my adventure.
*Doing wine country with a wino is fun! Alex had just finished up working at a winery in Mendoza and gave me this list of her favorites, some of which are actually available in the States. I can't wait to try to find them, and to meet up with her in the Bay Area when we both make it back home.
Iguazu Falls
I really don't care for it when people refer to crossing things off a list when they travel. It seems so impersonal. It also seems like a rigid way to travel that doesn't allow for spontaneity, which honestly leads to some of the best experiences - like spending a few nights in cave or finding a killer trek. At the same time, I don't care for it when people judge others for having a list. We all have lists. How else do we narrow down what we want to see and do? It's too overwhelming without at least a skeleton of one That said, Iguazu Falls was on my short, must hit list heading into this trip. Being one of the New7Wonders of Nature and a UNESCO World Heritage Site, plus the fact that it actually made my list, gave me some relatively high expectations. Seeing the falls in person far exceeded all those expectations.
The Brazilian side*
A toucan in the trees. No big deal.
And the Argentine side
Starting at Devil's Throat (Dessert first, right?)
Profile pic?
Double rainbow, albeit faint
If it's not already on your list, add Iguazu Falls to it.
*I had to cross the border quasi-illegally. That's right, I'm a rebel. Those pesky Brazilians ask for a visa and since I wasn't planning on doing more than Foz de Iguazu, I really didn't want to shell out the cash for that. Fortunately, the public bus was able to cross without making a stop at the Brazilian immigration office. I was stamped out in Argentina, and then stamped back in when we returned that evening. South American logistics can sometimes work in your favor.
About that time I almost got robbed...
I was really lucky. I was being stupid. I was on the subway with my backpack on my back (stupid) with my computer, kindle, phone, camera, you know, all the costly stuff in there. I was changing lines and felt someone stop short in front of me and another person bump into me from behind. It wasn't that crowded, so I knew I shouldn't have felt that boxed in. I'd read about this technique... I turned around and caught a guy with my backpack unzipped and my laptop in hand. I grabbed the laptop and yelled at him (in Spanish!) to get away and let go of my stuff. Fortunately, this brought enough attention to us and scared him off.
I frantically grabbed the rest of my belongings that had fallen to the ground and made my way up the stairs to report the incident to the police. One officer unsuccessfully tried to chase after the guys while I was left talking with the sympathetic woman cop. It was at that point I started to cry. Why is it that kindness always brings on the tears?
I proceeded to go through a range of emotions throughout the day - anger, frustration, fear, relief. It's amazing how a short moment can evoke all of those feelings.
I know I was really lucky. I was being stupid, but at least I realized quickly enough what was happening to me. They didn't get anything and I was reminded to be more cautious and aware of my surroundings. Or, as I recently learned in Medellín (spoiler alert!), not to give anyone a papaya. I'll explain later...
Buenos Aires - Round 2
My first time in Buenos Aires, I did the typical tourist activities - I went to La Boca, I saw Evita's grave at the cemetery, I went to the San Telmo Sunday market. Sure it was fun... but I just didn't get the appeal. People LOVE Buenos Aires, and I just thought it was... another big city. It actually bothered me that I didn't love it more, so I knew that I had to go back and see what all the fuss was about. My second time there, I was convinced; Buenos Aires really is amazing.
I had a few days back there with Caitlin where we stayed in the posh part of town, Palermo. It was perfect for us. We shopped (I showed some incredible restraint in not buying a pair of great booties - city appropriate, but not so much backpacker appropriate.) and went to the good clubs. After she left, I went back to my beloved Ostinatto in San Telmo. I had a few days there before I went off to a 10 day meditation workshop that Stefan #2 had recommended to me. Despite almost being mugged on the subway, I started to understand the city in those few days. Sure, the touristy stuff is fun, but enjoying BA for me was really about spending time in cute cafes, relaxing in the many parks, walking around and people watching, eating delicious food, and most importantly, sharing it with good friends.
In those few days, I found the small, but thriving craft beer culture, saw a killer concert, discovered some new bands at the Sunday markets, and filled my belly.
The meditation workshop was... interesting. I have many thoughts on it, too many to bore you with, but overall it was a positive experience. I met a few girls that I ended up spending time with back in BA. It's amazing how well you bond with people after sharing such an intense experience, even if we weren't allowed to actually communicate with each other - as in no words or gestures - until the last day.
I went back to BA after the workshop intending to spend a couple of days before heading north to Iguazu. I ended up spending almost two weeks, with an overnight trip to Uruguay thrown in there. Alix from Cochamó was there for a few days and I spent time with my Vipassana buddies.
Then I met a whole new crew of friends, and started to get really comfortable in the city. After almost 5 months of travel, it felt good to start to be established again. I did normal things like a girls shopping trip to Zara topped off with Starbucks chai lattes. No shame.
I took pilates classes, and I got my hair cut. This style, although very odd to me was quite normal looking in BA. I don't think I'll be adopting the straight around the face, curly everywhere else look back home, but it was fun for the day.
We cooked meals together, went out dancing (Beatles cover band - yes please), had an animated reading of the Dr. Bronner's label, supported some friends and their own street act, and got tattoos together. Just kidding, I only went with Marcella for moral support. It was fun. I even considered getting a job for a bit, but then realized I had some more traveling to do before the boyfriend arrived.
I can now honestly say, I love Buenos Aires.
Bien cargada
This is what I look like when I am carrying all my belongings. To be fair, I usually have another "overflow" bag in one hand as well - it was probably on the ground as I attempted to read the map. Many thanks to Caitlin for capturing this ridiculousness.
Caitlin's Visit
I made some special friends at my first "real job" in San Diego. Susan, who I traveled with to Peru 2 years ago on a trip that inspired my current adventure, helped hire me as her replacement. She's also a backpacking buddy that shared the 10 essentials with me. My first few days on the job Susan kept telling me about the other "young fun girl" at the company, Caitlin, who was off on an extended European vacation. Having just returned from my semester in Spain, I was intrigued, and as I expected, we quickly became good friends. After 5+ years of friendship, we finally made our dream of traveling together a reality.
I arrived in Santiago in the morning and had the day to kill before Caitlin would join me late that night. Did I take advantage of that time to explore the city? Nope. I lazed around the apartment we'd rented for the weekend and prepared for the imminent madness. I took a bath immediately followed by a shower, I cooked, I watched a couple of movies, I walked around naked, I did laundry, I skyped with Stef, and I enjoyed this beautiful sunset from the roof of the apartment building.
Our adventure together started with Lollapalooza.
Of course we had to do a little pregaming before the show at the apartment with russian mimosas - a college staple of vodka, champagne and juice. They do the trick.
Meet Wladimir - our Chilean friend who took us out after the concert for some typical food and dancing at a gay bar. So fun! (I seemed to have an allergy to that city, hence the crazy red eyes, and the hat, and the glasses for most of the trip.)
After that, we headed north to Valparaiso for a couple of days. Valpo was the first big city where I felt like I could potentially live. It was a manageable size, along the coast, laid back, and the street art just blew me away.
We ended up at a party (love traveling with other outgoing friends!) and then made our way to yet another gay bar for more dancing and... a drag queen show!!
We had dinner and drinks the next night with Wladimir and then took an overnight bus from Valpo to Mendoza for a day of wine tasting.
After which we needed this nap in the park and then of course more wine from the amazing grocery store selection. Do yourself a favor and go watch this Diana arroz advertisement.
We then flew from Mendoza to Buenos Aires for some shopping, eating, and partying - good girly activities. Caitlin is a talented makeup artist and rather stylish, so it was so much fun for me to dress up in some of her non-backpacker clothes and have her do my make-up, especially once I could wear my contacts again. I even let her put lipstick on me. I felt like a girl! And nothing says girl more than some sparkling malbec rosé.
We had booked a hotel (ballin, I know) the night before for a super deal and then were accidentally given an upgrade. We literally started jumping up and down squealing with joy when we got into the room.
Nothing better than a couple of IPA's(!) to top off a day of shopping.
Those chocolate points are filled with dulce de leche. Mmmmmm
Caitlin and I had a whirlwind week together. It was amazing having a friend from home travel with me and see me in this environment. It also confirmed that I do not enjoy jumping from place to place every few days. It's stressful and tiring. BUT I am so grateful to have shared that week with Caitlin. I can't wait for our next trip together!
Parque Nacional Conguillío
I was torn about my final "Patagonian" adventure before meeting up with Caitlin in Santiago. I had originally planned on seeing Volcán Villarica, but instead I chose to spend the time in Parque Nacional Conguillío based on Ivo's recommendation. He had spent childhood vacations there and couldn't speak more highly of it. He lit up when he talked about it, the same way he lit up when he talked about Cochamó, so I knew I should trust his opinion.
I bussed to the nearest town and had then planned to walk into the park. I didn't realize that was actually about a 30k hike. Oops. Luckily I got a ride for a few k, hiked about 10k and then got a ride the rest of the way with a nice Argentine family. Otherwise, I would have been spending a solid day of my 3 day trip just hiking to the park.
I was there at the end of the season, so I was one of only about 10 people at the campsite. One couple was traveling around in this rad ride... In case you were wondering - I was - they did get a lot of honks.
I chose a nice secluded spot, not near a helicopter landing pad this time, and settled in for a few relaxing days.
I only had one full day at the park, so I decided to do a hike to a lookout point. The trailhead was a few kilometers away, so I set off early to be sure I had enough time. Just as I was leaving the campsite, one of the rangers rode up on a 4x4 and offered to give me a ride. Score. Although he had been working in the park for over a year, he still hadn't done the hike, so after a little convincing, I had a hiking partner.
The views were spectacular. I can imagine that this place would be gorgeous any time of year - the bright green of summer, the rich colors of fall, or the snow-blanketed version of winter.
After playing hooky for part of the day, the ranger had to get back to work, but he promised to take me to another lake later that night. I made some dinner, did some reading, and then we hopped back on the 4x4 for some stargazing.
I had to leave the next day - luckily with a ride from a really nice Chilean couple, but it was a perfect couple of days camping before the chaos of the city.
Nahuel Haupi Traverse
After our leisurely Bariloche weekend, Ivo and I parted ways - him for a bus back to Santiago and job hunting and me for some more hiking. This would be my second solo trek and my final Patagonian hike. Although Ivo claims Bariloche isn't Patagonia (and it technically isn't), I will always consider this part of the Patagonian portion of my South American adventure.
I hopped a bus to the trailhead and set off for my first night camping at Refugio Frey. The trail was gorgeous. I had views of the city, of the lakes, and peeks of the bright reds and yellows of the fall foliage (something I love and rarely get to see in San Diego).
Having arrived at Refugio Frey earlier than expected, I set up camp and chilled out in the surprisingly ergonomically designed wood lounge chairs watching the crazies, including a group of women (go girls!), climb up the spires surrounding camp.
The next day I hiked to Refugio Jacob. It wasn't easy. We climbed around the lake and then steeply up and over a pass to steeply descend into the next valley and then steeply up and over a pass to steeply descend into yet another valley. The views from the passes were well worth the effort though.
I dislike going down and this was one of the toughest I'd had. I quickly realized it would be easier to "ski" down the sandy descents than to methodically step, which is generally my preference, being a control freak and all. Needless to say, I was very happy to finally come across this view of the lake that would be my home for the night.
I found a "perfect" spot for my tent nestled into a little nook in the trees. Well, it was next to a large open space for helicopter landings, but what were the chances that a helicopter would actually land here? So I thought. I thought wrong... Helicopters are LOUD and create A LOT of wind, especially when they are only 10m (max) from you. It wasn't the most pleasant of wake-ups. In fact, I was terrified. I knew that the propellers weren't going to kill me, but that logic didn't really comfort me as my tent was completely collapsing on top of me from the wind and I was being pelleted by the dirt and debris that was invading my "safe" space. I pressed myself firmly against the ground just waiting for the end of the misery. When the helicopter had finally dropped off the supplies it had been carrying in (really??) and had taken back off, I timidly made my way from my tent only to find a group of camouflaged and armed military men hiding in the trees engaged in some sort of practice exercise. What the... This morning was just too weird and not quite the start to the serene day that I had imagined.
I had a few options for the day 1) continue on the traverse and make my way up a super sketchy and steep wall, 2) head back through the valley to Bariloche, or 3) hang out and enjoy the day at this beautiful spot before heading back the following day. I chose the third.
At this point, I had done plenty of hiking and had pushed myself further than I'd imagined. Remember this one and this one? For this trek, my last of Patagonia, I just wanted to enjoy myself and the beautiful surroundings, so that's how I came to be celebrating my 4 month travel-versary soaking in the sun in my backpacker's bikini (bra and undies) alongside Laguna Los Tempanos. I spent over the day writing, reading, napping, practicing yoga, snacking, and just mellowing in nature. It was truly blissful.
The following morning, I had a much more peaceful wake-up and began the relaxing walk through the valley back to Bariloche perfectly content.
Bariloche
Ivo had given me the name of a hostel to meet him at in Bariloche, but they were full... as were the next two hostels that I tried before finding one with availability. Ivo luckily went through the same search and we ended up roommates for our next couple days together. Ivo had arrived a few hours before me and had taken the time to scope out the best chocolate spots (Bariloche is the chocolate capital of Argentina.) He was happy to do the circuit again with me though, so we set off to get samples and gifts for home. The stores also sold good craft beer, including an IPA. What more could you want?
The three main chocolate stores are del Turista, Rapanui, and Mamuschka. I had done a blind tasting in El Bolson with some samples that Gail had brought home to end the debate over the best chocolate with the cabaña workers. Our consensus was that Rapanui was the best, so that's where I bought chocolate for the fam. Of course our tasting wasn't quite as elaborate as the tasting that Stefan did, but let's be honest, it's all good.
It was a fun time to be in Bariloche because they were preparing for Easter, which meant that they were constructing a massive chocolate egg that was to be broken and passed out on Easter Sunday.
Other than tasting chocolate, we didn't do much... We drank some good beers. We had some Mexican food with the Argentine version of chips and salsa - bread and salsa - to celebrate a Jayhawks march madness win that I was fortunate enough to stream and witness myself. Go hawks!
We did a nice light day hike, and that's about it... It was lovely. Ivo had hurt his knee on his hike across the border, so he was sadly going to end his trip early while I would go on to hike part of the Nahuel Huapi traverse. I was so happy to have met Ivo. He helped make my birthday celebration special, even though he didn't realize it until Facebook revealed the dirty secret. I am happy to have had so many great times sharing nature and thoughts about life with him. He's a true friend and I'm thankful for him.
"Family" in El Bolson
After getting back from Cochamó, I knew I wanted to move on quickly from Puerto Montt, so I woke up early and headed down to the bus station to catch the first bus to Argentina. I wanted to head to Bariloche and then take a bus to El Bolson to meet up with Ivo. (He had been smart and was traveling with a light load, so he was going to make the journey to El Bolson on foot.) My plan didn't go quite as expected, which again, turned out for the better, eventually. Of course I didn't see it that way when I was in the bus station being refused a ticket because I didn't have the print out proof of my visa (reciprocity fee) to get into Argentina. I didn't have this because I had already paid my visa when I arrived at the airport in Buenos Aires and had sticker proof in my passport. They had recently changed the law on this, so yes, you do need to pay your reciprocity fee before traveling into Argentina, by any mode now. But I already had. And I had proof in my passport. The idiot man working at the counter did not understand this and refused to sell me a ticket. I was less than pleased. Fortunately there were others in Puerto Montt that could actually use their brains and were willing to sell me a ticket (even if it was for the early afternoon). I still get heated thinking about that jerk, clearly. I need to let it go...
I eventually made it on to the bus, crossed the border without incident, and managed to catch the last bus out of Bariloche to El Bolson. It was on that bus ride that I met Gail. She had also had a "fun" encounter with an equally competent bus employee, so we commiserated over our experiences. Gail is not shy about expressing her opinions and it was honestly refreshing, and amusing, to have someone to vent with. After we moved past our anger, I learned that she is an Oregon expat living in El Bolson with her husband, Eddie. She offered to help set me up at her friend's hostel, but since it was so late, she invited me to just stay the night at her house. We made it to her house and she yelled (Gail doesn't really use indoor voices) to Eddie that she'd brought the girl from the bus home. It was only then that I introduced myself. We all had a nightcap and then I snuggled in to bed with one of their very affectionate kitties. It was such a warm end to a rough starting day.
The following day a deal was made: for a couple hours of work each day, I could continue to stay at the house. I agreed immediately. That first day I did some house work, but then we realized that I could be more helpful organizing the expenses for the cabaña that they were in the process of building. It was honestly fun to break out excel again and set up some spreadsheets. With our arrangement settled, I relaxed into the El Bolson lifestyle, which is rather relaxed... to say the least.
Although I had a great birthday weekend, I was still missing home a little bit and Gail and Eddie were the perfect solution. I swear that they would fit right into my parents group of friends. They were an odd mixture of all of them... and it was so fun, and comforting, to be surrounded by that kind of love. We drank wine and good polish vodka (thanks for sharing Eddie!) We ate homemade food with fresh greens from the garden, including... wait for it... KALE! We shopped the hardware stores for supplies for the cabaña. We went to a gong bath, aka adult nap time. We went for walks and shared philosophies about life. It was the exact nurturing that I was needing.
I already was feeling at home, and then we had Sunday breakfast. Sunday mornings at the Dixon house are quite the affair. My dad usually makes pancakes or waffles and then we have a leisurely morning reading outside on the patio. It's one of my favorite times to stop by for a visit (usually after yoga), so it was quite the treat when Sunday morning rolled around and Eddie made us a pancake breakfast. I was giddy.
Not only did I have a wonderful time with Gail and Eddie, but I also met up with Ivo for some craft beer tastings. Sadly none of them were very good...
I also had the pleasure of meeting up with Stefan! I had just made it back down from a lovely waterfall hike (with a hand drawn map from Eddie with fair warning about this "somewhat sketchy" bridge) when I pulled out my phone and saw that Stefan had arrived earlier that day to the campsite across the road from where I was staying. I popped in and had the pleasure of seeing him for the first time in months. It was a lot of fun to share notes on the journeys that we'd each taken since we'd last parted at the Cave.
With Lollapalooza and Caitlin's arrival in Santiago at the beginning of April, I sadly couldn't stay too long. With a heavy, but full heart, I headed to the road to attempt to hitch to Bariloche. I ended up getting ride in this:
At least I left home in style.
Purely Hypothetical
Let's say there was a girl getting ready to cross the border who had a little bit of a green birthday gift leftover. This girl decided to make the most of this remaining gift while she sat along the waterfront waiting for her long bus ride to Argentina. Just after this, she turned to see a large troop of armed military men marching towards her. Something a little like this:
Awkward.