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Published: September 28th 2011
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Our journey into Argentina began much as any other (journey, that is, neither of us having been there before) – a long walk to a quiet bus stop in the cold grey light of a Chilean dawn. Even I was cold, but not as cold, perhaps, as the shivering puppy curled up in a plant pot at the terminal. I suspect the drive up through the Lakes District to the border was beautiful. Not sure though – we were both asleep for a lot of it. Once we started to hit the mountains though, we were wide awake. The landscape changed as the rolling hills of Los Lagos started to give way to more mountainous terrain. We were once again crossing the Andes, and it was spectacular. Glistening blue lakes flanked by wooded slopes, leaves turning the colours of autumn. I think, or maybe some sort of catastrophic tree plague. I think probably the former. The border crossing was slightly odd. We cleared the Chilean side without incident, and Klaire and I duly sat there, passports at the ready, for the Argentinians. Either it was the world's longest no man's land or the border posts weren't actually at the border. The
45 minute drive through the Andes was an excellent way to pass the time, though.
The Argentine entry was the toughest we'd been to so far. Well, insofar as they actually checked our bags. It went smoothly with a lot of throwing away of foodstuffs. One old lady was particularly unhappy as the customs blokes poured out, one by one, about twenty jars of homemade preserves and such. Some of it looked very tasty, but it all went into the bin.
The bus pulled into
Bariloche's bus terminal, and we, being pretty experienced by this stage, got off and made our way to the luggage compartment. Unlike every other country, though, the bloke handing out the luggage requested a payment for...well, I wasn't sure exactly. I'm more than happy to give someone a bit of something in return for some sort of service, but I had actually grabbed our bags myself, FFS. He fronted me, though, and insisted. So I offered him some Chilean money. He almost spat as he insisted on Argentinian dinero. Hard luck, sunshine - we didn't have any.
In addition, after a long bus ride, we were both a touch tired and cranky.
At that point we simply ignored his carry on and pushed past. He was a bit put out – the word 'puta' was used – but there are times that it's handy to act as if you don't understand a word.
We grabbed a taxi to the Hostel Punto Sur, and wandered up to our room. Not bad, really, even if the price had suddenly gone up compared to Chile – Argentina was going to stretch the megabudget a bit. The room was on the top floor, and the roofs in Bariloche are pretty sharply sloped for the snow, so it was a weird shape. Klaire proclaimed it cute, or something, while I just hit my head a lot. Then we relaxed.
Apparently, Bariloche was typical for an Alpine ski resort town, so the town isn't supposed to be that interesting, just nice. Having never been to an Alpine ski resort town, of course, meant that it was both interesting and nice. Ski shops, chocolate shops, touristy architecture – it all seemed to fit. I'm not sure that roaming packs of stray dogs chasing cars was all that typical, but then we'd never been to the Alps.
The nights were cold, and so were the following mornings. Sharply cold – the kind of cold that makes Brisbanites look at the record books and makes Darwinites realise they are either in Melbourne or the freezer. It was still minus 5 at 9 o'clock as we made our way to the bus station to buy a bus ticket to El Calafate – our next destination
As we waited for the local bus to the bus station to buy a bus ticket a bloke with a St Bernard offered photos – for a price we could take photos with his huge dogs. And they were awesome – a huge male and a puppy bigger than most Labradors. We politely declined, then sneakily took photos anyway.
The local bus was great, as they generally are. Filled mainly with locals going about their business, it was even playing 'Who Can It Be Now' over the radio. The day was looking good. There was a young Irish bloke on the bus – obviously he was doing the same thing as us. We all got off at the main terminal and filed into the office, fronting up at the desk of the
only company that went to El Calafate. Then,. Confusion.
The Irish bloke tried first, but he spoke almost no Spanish whatsoever. Then, we tried. After a fair bit of discussion we understood that we would not be able to buy a ticket until later in the day. Sold out? No.
Not available?
No.
But still you must come back after lunch time.
We did that. And, five hours later, bought the ticket off the same girl at the same window.
It is Argentina – there are rules and they must be followed.
In the interim we had a pretty good day. We had heard about the
teleferico (cable car) so we went to find it. We knew the general direction, and Bariloche is built basically along a lake, so you couldn't really miss it. Still, to make sure, we used the GPS in my phone to get us there. As those things are wont to do it took us what it considered was the most direct route. This involved a whole lot of wandering about the Bariloche suburbs, up little streets. And, if I may say, it looked like a nice place to live. Quiet neighbourhoods,
no razor wire to speak of, and a sort of rambling feel to the layout.
In the end, it took us longer than expected to walk the 8ks to the teleferico. Once we got there it turned out to be just a little expensive. Still, having walked all the way there, we were hardly about to turn right around and go home, so we had a go.
Very nice, it was. The gondola, after taking a slightly stomach plunging lurch off the bottom bit, made its way up the mountain at a good clip. It was a long way, almost a 20 minute ride all told, and the view was excellent. To begin, we could see the streets of Bariloche laid out neatly right below us, then, we started to climb. Looking out to the East you could see over Lago Argentina to the mountains on the other side, the wooded streets of Bariloche in the foreground. Looking the other way the forest was thick as it covered the mountainsides, again changing colours as winter approached.
We arrived at the top and avoided the overpriced cafe - we had taken the advice of the Lonely Planet, and,
surprisingly, it came through this time. We took our own lunch up there, and found a convenient rock to sit down and eat our salami and cheese sandwiches. The view was pretty special. Once you got past the row of strange wooden carvings - faces, eagles, and other random things – you could see a long way. Across the lake, to the high Andes. Spectacular then, I imagine it would be even more so in winter.
It was a beautiful day over Lago Argentina.
Back at the hostel we had made too much dinner for ourselves. This is pretty standard behaviour. It presented us with a small dilemma. We had to leave early in the morning, and the kitchen was shut when we wanted to leave, meaning we wouldn't be able to get to the fridge for our leftovers. Being ever so smart we stuck them outside on the window ledge. By morning they were almost frozen – quite a novelty for a couple of kids from warmer climes. Frozen lunch packed, we stepped out onto the cold morning for the next leg.
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