Don’t Cry for Me Argentina – Bariloche

I´m slowly adjusting back into the traveling life…..though not without the usual trials and tribulations. I guess I wrote yesterday? from Puerto Montt. I enjoyed staying there, but I have my mind bent towards getting south and hiking around before my course.

So this morning I parted with Chris and Kelly, the folks I stayed with in P. Montt and took a six hour bus ride to Bariloche, Argentina. The ride was relatively uneventful…other than having my ear talked off by a chatty Scotsman, staring slack-jawed at the lakes and peaks on either side of the road, and attempting to talk to the local fellow in the next seat over in Spanish.

Mwonos 005
Mwonos 006

I think I like Argentina, though after this story you may wonder why. I arrived late in the day, around 10pm. Still barely light out, but it was dark soon. I talked the baggage storage fellows into taking my Chilean pesos (I had no argentinian money) and took a taxi (US dollars there) to a hostel. ¨Completo¨ they say….full. Same story at the next two places on the street. I stopped two girls with packs on the street and asked if they were looking for hostel….they had a place but suggested a few spots to look. Wandering about I found a place with a free bunk, dropped my pack, showered, and headed out to find a bank. That was difficult….they first one was out of service…but I took directions from two young policemen and soon had 100 Argentinean pesos in the wallet. That´s about $30 US, which goes a long way here….hostel costs 12 pesos per night, dinners cost less than 10. Next stop was a little cafe, where I downed a chicken sandwich. Now I´m here writing in English.

See,the frustrating part of this city is that there are a million young people here. I swear every twentysomething Argentinean is cruising around this place as I write.

The women in Argentina are absolutely beautiful (I´ve heard and seen) and absolutely everybody is quite chic. Too chic for me, I believe….and the language is proving difficult. They speak differently here from in Chile…..por ejemplo, in Spanish the word ´chicken´ is pollo, pronounced poyo. In Argentina, they say pojo. I´m remembering more Spanish every single minute, but I can´t seem to remember it all at once when I try to converse. Oh well…things will surely improve.
So anyhow, it´s getting quite late. Plans stand as from before….it´s going to be interesting piecing together the next few days of minibuses and dirt roads, but it should work out. I will keep you all posted.

Hasta,
Phil

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