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Published: March 19th 2011
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Albert looked forlorn as we left him in the car park at Auckland Airport. From now on it was goodbye freedom of transport and privacy, hello buses and dorm rooms. Gulp.
By the miracle of modern technology we arrived in Santiago, Chile, before we set off from New Zealand. However, after an 11 hour flight without sleep I didn´t feel all that much younger.
Santiago was a shock to our systems after the plodding, laid back nature of the Land of the Long White Cloud but despite the traffic, pollution and crowded pavements, the atmosphere was very relaxed and we soon settled into the Chilean way of life, and fell in love with the place and people. Neither of us speak Spanish. We can say the numbers from one to six thanks to that U2 song (although this does mean we have to say five twice) but everyone was so helpful - ushering us to the right buses, stopping to direct us to the hostel - that getting around was easy.
We spent two days seeing the city and sitting in street cafes with a beer. The museum of Precolumbian art was superb. Kasia giggled at the naked
statues.
From Santiago we headed south in leather ensconsed luxury (what a welcome change from the trauma of South East Asian travel!) to Pucon and the Chilean lake district. It was raining when we arrived. It was still raining when we left, but it was a lovely place. We had hoped to climb the volcano near Pucon but were put off by the weather although we did eventually get to see it poking its head through the cloud as we stomped towards the bus station and our next ride to Puerto Veras.
We had expected a busy lakeside town but the season was over and, with the Patagonian Winter closing in, the streets were deserted. We caught the local bus to the Germanic town of Fruitillar further up the lake and it was a little odd to be in Chile and yet be surrounded by signs for ´Kaffee und kuchen´and lederhosen Come to think of it, it´s always strange to be surrounded by leder hosen.
We got back to the hostel that evening and as the sun dropped so did the temperature. It was so cold that night that we needed two duvets and the aga in
the kitchen was welcome indeed! The next day we were up early to catch our bus across the mountains to Barilloche in Argentina. The journey was stunning, passing deep valleys, rocky mountain ridges and blue lakes and past the border the Patagonian countryside got even better!
Bariloche, right on the lake shore, was busier than either Pucon or Puerto Veras. It also had a scruffy, unkempt sort of appearance that we hadn´t experienced anywhere in Chile. Nevertheless it was a charming town. The walking in the National Park was great. We took the local bus West along the lake for 40 minutes and walked a big loop of around 11 miles between to various bays of a large headland through woods filled with straw brown bamboo which gave them a rather surreal apperance. On the way home we decided to walk up to a cafe at the top of a peak near the road. The views accross the lake to the snowcapped Andes and the Chilean border were incredible.
To reward ourselves we went out that night for one of the famous Argentinian steaks and with high hopes that it would live up to its reputation. Indeed, it
turned out to be the best meal we´d ever eaten, and we washed it down with generous amounts of Malbec wine. Bariloche is famous for its chocolate too so we indulged on the way back to the hostel.
The next bus journey was a long one. twenty hours through the night to take us to Mendoza. We walked around the city on the first day remarking on how european it looked with its wide streets, tree lined boulevards and parks. Yesterday we went wine tasting. Again. In Argentina they do things a bit differnly. Gone was the luxury bus and tour guide, to be replaced by a clanking steel tandem, pedal power, and a map. We rode from vineyard to vineyard in an ever more erractic and haphazard manner. Kasia found it difficult to remain on the back seat as she spent most of the time taking photos and not holding onto the bars so that every bump in the road caused her to stick her legs out sideways and scream. We then had to stop so she could get her feet back on the pedals (not that it made all that much difference whether she pedalled or not
if you ask me).
We finally dropped our bike off at dusk after a superb afternoon´s quaffing, intending to stagger to the bus stop and snore our way all the way back to Mendoza. However, the bike shop owner had other ideas so it was not until two and a half hours (and a gallon or so of free wine) later that we finally made it onto the bus. A fitting way to spend St. Patrick´s Day we thought.
Love and best wishes,
Kasia and Tom.
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James
non-member comment
jamesbrock80@googlemail.com
Helen thinks that you look like the dudes behind you. I agree!!