"Llao Llao stands for two gringas lost in the woods."

February 16th

   Those were the words of Hernan, one of the guys who works in our hostel here in Bariloche, a very Swiss town near the Chilean border. Today, we went "trekking" as they like to call it here. We woke up and jumped on the bus for half and hour until it dropped us off in front of one of the ritziest hotels in Argentina, Hotel Llao Llao. Presidents stay there when they visit the country. Anyone can go visit, but you need to call in advance and request a visiting time perhaps to give them enough time to complete a background check.

Anyway we stepped off the bus, our heads spinning from the curves and attempted to follow the map to a trail the Hernan recommended. Turns out my internal compass is indeed broken. I thought it was just adjusting to the new hemisphere, but I think there must be some sort of magnetic field that is messing with me because this homing pigeon has had one heck of a time following directions. Maybe it is because everywhere I have lived I have always been able to position the sun in the sky and had mountains on one side of me. In Buenos Aires I thought my lack of direction was because it was a big city and with tall buildings replacing the mountains, I could barely see the sky. However, here in the small town of Bariloche I am still all over the place, perhaps it is the fact that it is 7:30 in the evening now and it looks like Portland's 3:00pm equivalent. 

Dad, check out that Gold Course at Llao Llao

Thanks once again to Lena, we found the trail and headed up the mountain. In the hostel we met some Americans who said that the trail was tough, but for those of us who have hiked Fritz Roy and Cerro Torre it was cake, or as they say here una pápa, a potato. I think nearly everything will shrink in comparison to those mountains in Chalten. In fact, if you plan to travel to this beautiful country, I would suggest that you start in the north and make your way south as the landscape grows more majestic. 

Flowers that bloom once every 60 years

   The panoramic view from the top of the hike reminded me of home. I felt as if I were standing at the mouth of three different Columbia River Gorges. After a photo or two we headed down the road until it started to rain. No matter where I travel I encounter an unexpected rainstorm. I have hidden under pillars of the Vatican as rain poured, seen a 10 minute flash flood in Turkey, and witnesses a storm that almost drowned Venice. I thought I would have another one for today but I've got nothing more than the fact that it started to rain when we were still 3 plus miles from the bus so we found a ride back to the center of town with a nice couple we met who were vacationing from Buenos Aires. We changed and got ready for what turned out to be a spectacular dinner with friends of friends from home. Adrián and his son Axel had taken us for a drive around Bariloche a few days earlier and were our connections for a free ski lift ride up Cerro Campanario. 

His wife Maria Fernanda and daughter joined us along with two of his friends who were riding their motorcycles all the way down to Ushuaia, the southernmost city in the world. Lena and I learned many useful words at that dinner, not all of which are necessarily PG but are definitely part of the culture. Saying bad words is not necessarily looked down upon here, it is the way that you create insults that can really tick someone off and it is all in the tone of how you say it. A greeting that is often used between two old friends can mean something quite horrific if you change the tone. We have been warned not to use it until we really understand the language. Speaking of language, this language is proving harder than I thought. To put the Spanish language into a general term is pure insanity which basically means that the title of my major: Spanish Language and Literature, is raving mad. Turns out most Argentinians can't even understand their Chilean neighbors to the West because they use completely different words for the same thing; this is true with nearly all 20+ Spanish speaking countries. You could compare this to how in the US we use different words than the Auzzies or Brits. Also, many say that Argentinian Spanish is very Italian and it's true, they sound as if they are singing. Some words draw on longer while others sounds like quick short steps of the Tango. Oh and they have an accent whenever they pronounce words with "ll" or "y." Instead of pronouncing these sounds with what sounds like the "y" in "yellow" they substiture a lovely "sh" sound, so "street" which is calle, sounds like cashe. What fun eh?

 Nicolas, our guapo gaucho guide

Agua pura

Enjoying a Submarino, Capuchino, and Lemon dessert at Mamushca

    Oh, and I forgot about Valentines Day. I must admit that it was nice being away from all the chocolate, teddy bears, hearts, and consumerism of the US on the lovely day of love. When one has a Valentine, it's great, but when one is single, eh I'll pass, thanks. Lena and I spent Valentine's Day on horseback and later went kayaking on the lake. Our very guapo gaucho led the way as our horses climbed up to a brilliant view to the water divide where the water to our right flowed to the Pacific while the water to our left was on its way to the Atlantic. About a mile out from the choral we picked up the pace which I was excited about until my foot fell out of my stirrup because they were too short and I came as close as I ever have to falling off the horse. After a delicious lunch, we kayaked for a bit, then headed back to the hostel for some late night dancing. Greg, you are right, the Argentineans really like to twirl around when they dance.

     Tomorrow we will jump on the bus at noon and arrive 24 hours later in Mar del Plata, a big beach town on the East Coast near Buenos Aires. I think we will escape to a smaller town called Villa Gesell for a few days of sun (hopefully) before starting school once again. And BOOM reality hits.   

Initiation

*Warning: this is a long post, you may consider taking it to the John with you

February 7th, 2011 El Calafate/ Perito Moreno Glacier

When the clock struck midnight on January 1st I introduced the year 2011 to my newest resolution: to live a more spontaneous life. Since being in college, every minute of my day somehow gets planned for me with classes, essays, meetings, essays, homework, film screenings, etc. and all of last semester I tried without success to break the unvaried life of an adventurous college student. That being said, the planned part of today's adventure fell apart like slabs of Patagonia's Perito Moreno Glacier.

El Calafate- Photo by Lena Page

The night before my visit to Perito Moreno, the banter of our two Irish roommates kept me entertained as I packed my backpack once again. I had no idea that Northern Ireland remains part of the UK while the rest of Ireland does not. They definitely made that clear despite their thick accents. I woke up the next morning to catch the bus at 7:30 but remembered that I had yet to transfer any money to my bank card so I locked up my bags and hustled tot eh computer to transfer funds only to find that I had forgotten to activate my ATM card which needed to be done from my home telephone. I emailed Mom and Dad in hopes that they could help me activate it because later that night we would be taking the 6:30 bus to El Chalten, a tiny little town with no banks, no ATM, and no currency exchanges. I had plenty of American on me but at that point it wouldn't do me much good. My heart started sped up a bit as I heard the rumbled of a bus coming up the hill. I hit "send" and waited for a few seconds as the computer attempted to swallow and digest all that I had written then got up and jumped on the bus.

Being from Alaska, my friend Lena was not as interested in paying to see a glacier so I found myself sitting next to another single traveler, Danielle from London. We started talking straight away until suddenly I remembered that my beautiful lunch was still sitting in the hostel refrigerator. Bummer, at least I still had an apple and a Cliff bar. Danielle was also without a lunch but that was because she was under the impression that lunch would be served as part of the trip. False. Soon enough we neared the entrance to the National Park of the Glaciers where we must each pay 100 pesos to get in. I was ready to pay for the whole thing the night before but the front desk said to hold onto that bit for the next day, they had no idea that they were talking to "Where's Waldo's" close relative whose most said phrase lately has been: "where's my (wallet, toothbrush, camera, fill in the blank)?" The rangers at the station boarded the bus and walked to each pair of seats to collect the fee. I opened my wallet and instead of the crisp bill that I had the night before, I found a bunch of tattered smaller bills, maybe a few tens, two twenties, and some twos. Hmm, let's see that comes out to about 64 pesos. I started to get that anxious feeling that grew with every step that the ranger took towards me. Danielle paid while I was still ruffling through all of my pockets. She graciously lent me all that she had left which I took embarrassed which then got me to 95 pesos. Still 5 measly pesos short. I handed the wad of cash to the official hoping that somehow that clump would learn how to reproduce. He looked uncomfortable when he reached 95. And then I remembered that I had tucked a $5 US bill in my wallet. Instantly I dug down to the bottom of my backpack, the second I felt the leather of my wallet my fingers clenched it and had the 5 out before the red of the wallet even surfaced. Never has President Lincoln looked so good. The ranger exchanged it right then and there and the whole bus relaxed now that the random American would not delay their journey further. Well, the journey wasn't even close to over.

With only 12 pesos left between us from the exchange of the US money, Danielle and I got off the bus to walk on the platforms across from the glacier. Our guide, Maria, told us the specific time that we needed to be back, we agreed and continued down the stairs. From the middle platform we will still well above the glacier and heard the ominous cracks of the ice that left us eagerly anticipating the plunge of a large chunk of ice into the frigid water below. It was like standing in the middle of the forest and hearing twigs crack as something creeps towards you but not knowing from which direction it is coming, nor how close it has gotten.

Me in front of the Perito Moreno Glacier

We admired the glacier for a while commenting on the fact that the tour company gave us a long time to admire this layered chunk of frozen history. It was nearing 11:15 and we figured that since the bus leaves at 11:30 it wouldn't hurt to be early. We neared the top to find a flustered Maria running towards us asking where the heck we have been and to follow her quickly because the bus had already left to take everyone to the boat, which crosses the river and takes us to where we can walk on the ice. When we reached the concrete, a woman who I had never seen before says to me in Spanish, "Emily, they are going to kill you," as we scurried by.  That's never a good sign, especially when the next bus would come an hour and a half from then and I had to be back in El Calafate to catch the bus to El Chalten, I had no choice but to figure out a way to get down to the dock. Maria ran from bus to bus asking if anyone was going down to the dock. My heart sank every time the driver laughed and shook his head. Then, this random car drove up and dropped off some a family. We ran over and watched as a stressed Maria talked to him. He nodded that yes he would drive us for a kiss and we threw ourselves into his car. The boat apparently had not yet left the dock.

He didn't end up getting his kiss but we did manage to hand him the 12 pesos, our gracias' and chau's waning as we sprinted down the dock to the boat. The second the gate closed behind us, the rubber left the wood of the dock and everyone on the boat cheered. I wanted to hide in a corner; once again the group had waited for this yanqui.

When we got off we had half an hour for lunch and everyone made sure to turn around and look at me to make sure that I understood what time to be back. Danielle and I were about to split my Cliff bar when the two young Argentines, Jazmín and her brother Francisco, waved us inside to have some of their ham and cheese (always a reliable lunch choice here in Argentina) sandwiches. After lunch we grabbed a pair of gloves, strapped on a set of crampons, and followed in a line behind our guide onto the glacier. "Wow it's really bright out here," I thought, "oh wait, maybe that's because I forgot my sunglasses back where we had lunch."

Jazmin and Francisco's group

oh hey look, some ice

Another guide by the name of Gabriel stood and watched to make sure everyone made it past, lending a hand on a big step when needed before putting us all to shame by running past us to the front to wait once again. His sunglasses reflected the details of the glacier so I couldn't see his eyes, but I knew he was watching, alert for anything that might happen. Eventually, however, someone in our group could have fallen into a hole and Gabriel wouldn't have seen because he was busy flirting with the blue-eyed American who forgot her sunglasses every time she walked by. 

After two and half hours on the ice, it was time to return to the boat but not without enjoying some whiskey on the (glacial) rocks of course.The whiskey kept us warm on our sluggish walk back to the lunch spot. We grabbed our bags from the hut and walked down to the water where the boat and our guides awaited us. I gripped the straps on my bag as I neared the steps of the boat. I took one last look at the glacier behind me, and with a kiss on the cheek from Gabriel and I was off, back to the wild flamingos in El Calafate.

Myself, Jazmin, and Danielle enjoying some refreshments post trecking

Epilogue:

Danielle and I made it back to Calafate and walked to the ATM. I stuck in my card having absolutely no idea if it would work and miraculously it did. Thank you Mom and Dad for working your magic. I paid Danielle back and we went our separate ways. I definitely will never forget our adventure that day. I made it back to my hostel at 5:30 and our bus left at 6:30, we made it just fine and had a lovely drive to El Chalten. I hope to see Jazmín in Buenos Aires when I am there, she too will be going to school in the big city. All in all, I would like to think that I have nearly completed my initiation into spontaneity. 

The Guys at America del Sur Hostel in El Calafate