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Published: December 13th 2006
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Barney for Bubs
I finally found him! We were at the end of our wits. The past three days had all blended into one huge blur of reclining and uprighting my bus seat . We had to escape the ´Saloon Cama´ and find sanity in a stationary bed.
A great man once said that "walking south was always the easiest. It seems like you are going downhill". (J.R.R. Tolkein, Lord of the Rings).
I can´t agree that his logic was polished, but as Tracey and I began to count more trees amongst the sand dunes, and as the sand eventually gave way to grass outside the bus window, a sense of relief settled upon us. After 30-40 hours of coastal deserts from Cusco to Santiago the soft fresh vibrant green eased our concerns of another arid city. Departing Santiago the next morning and winding our way toward the snow dusted spires of the Andes, to pass between them and into Argentina marked a new leg of our journey. A steak eating leg!
Welcome to Mendoza...
Mendoza is the garden city of Argentina, surrounded by desert, but made green by the cool fresh Andean rivers. The streets are lined by massive trees with their routes bathing in the city-wide
San Martin de Los Andes
With a little bit of cheese irrigation channels, that were foresightedly dug as the city grew. The Mendozanites, Mendozians, or Mendozers meanwhile are bathing in wine (that has its origens in their very own backyard), whilst they await the arrival of a massive ´Bife de chorizo´, or ´Bife de lomo´. Those unfortunate enough to not yet have aged sufficiently to have their glasses filled have the more then adequate alternative of Argentinas finest ice-cream.
(It is a wonder that the people of Mendoza don´t rival Texas for the title of "Worlds fattest", but perhaps the so-called medicinal values of the wine are keeping them in perfect physical condition).
Tracey and I believe that there is a grape harvest, wine festival, or carnival in Mendoza in March. This is because whilst we were in Mendoza (in late November), there was a staggering number of bursting-at-the-womb-pregnant women ambling around the town. On a 40 minute walk through the cities streets I counted 19 pregnant women. The candidate for number twenty was not definately pregnant (maybe just too much ice-cream). Perhaps there was some ´overdue´ convention, or maybe the men of Mendoza are just particularly potent (watch out ladies, you may not even realise it´s happened!)
We spent three
nights perusing the shops, eating the food, wandering through the plazas, and licking the ice-cream in Mendoza, but the pages of the calender continued to turn, as if they were caught by the winds of time, and suddenly it was time to leave.
The Lake Region.
Through the Andean-shaded heartland of Argentina we travelled, through the dinosaur digging region of Neuquen, and onto our final destination, The picturesque San Martin de Los Andes. We seemed to step off the bus into the oak frame of an oil-painting. The town was comprised of log cabins, quiet streets, forested hills, a lake-side with a beach and jetty, and snow-capped mountains.
With my menacing figure, and bulldog like stare, we decided that I would guard the bags at the safe and secure bus staion, whilst I reluctantly asked Tracey to go and find us proper lodgings, and did she? Oh yes.
We spent three nights in what was arguably the nicest log cabin apartment a backpacker (me) has ever stayed in. We had a fully equiupped kitchen, dining area, lounge with fireplace and cable TV, two bathrooms, a master bedroom with cable TV, and triple bedroom. All for 50 NZ Dollars. Even the
Bariloche Church
The quality of the photos for this diary entry are evidentally poor, but wait for the next one! lady that rented us the place seemed to find the price hard to believe.
The long days with their late sunsets offered us the oppurtunity to walk in the forested hills above the lake, sample the local choclates, and ice-cream, and enjoy our homecooked pasta infront of a film, sitcom, or NBA basketball game. Once again time was unable to stretch out long enough to accomodate our hopes, and we woke to the rude unnatural cry of our alarm clock, that warned us of our soon-to-depart bus.
Little to our knowledge each Km of road that winds between the mountains, forests and lakes along the road connecting San Martin with Barriloche is invisably marked by an increment in price. So as we gazed out onto the mirrored surfaces of the lakes, and nodded our heads to surcome to the sleepy rythym of the road, the shadow of our budget was growing with the Andes around us.
Bariloche offered a huge range of chocolates, some marvellous lake and mountain views, and a monster steak. Some of you may be fortunate enough to sample the very chocolate that I may or may not have stocked up on in Bariloche, but I am
afraid the views are impossible to bring with me.
Bariloche was a little pricier then we had anticipated, and it has really started to become evident that we are travelling South with the chill carried by the westerly-winds biting to the bone. From here on out we shall bite what bullets are kindly fired at us from across the cash-register, wrap ourselves in layers equal to the activity of the wind-sock, and look forward to the cheaper North as we enjoy the beautiful South.
I shall now put on my wolly hat, and gloves, and stagger out into the icey cold patagonian wind. Hopefully to be heard from again, but if not, rest assured that the Mendozian ice-cream made my life worth while (but mums ice-cream is still better!)
Adios.
Love you all, and hope that everybody is happy and well.
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tomas
non-member comment
Bariloche
He estado mucho en Bariloche y San Martin de los Andes. Es verdad que es muy caro alla pero es bello y he disfutado mucho mis tiempos alla. Tuve la noche mas romantico en mi vida en San Martin de Los Andes. La ruta alla por los Siete Lagos es muy lindo tambien. He recomendado a Ian y Caitlin a dejar los chicos es BsAs y a ir a Bariloche para un par de dias romanticos. Espero que ustedes tiene un tiempo muy agradable en BsAs cuando la famila entera esta presente. Creo que si. Un abrazo, Toms