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.

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