A trial in patience

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I don´t know what to say about my first trip into Argentina but don´t believe everything you read in the Lonely Planet. They decribed a way to get into San Martin de los Andes, Argentina, that was "fabulously scenic", so of course Scott and I decided to go that way instead of the easy and straight forward bus ride from Valdivia. It went something like this - we got a bus at 10:30am to Panguipulli and arrived at 1pm, at which time we directly boarded a bus to Puerto Fuy. Puerto Fuy is where we would then catch the ferry to Puerto Pirehueico on Lake Pirehueico. This would then put us in position to catch another bus across the border and into San Martin. Already the one bus for eight hours sounds better, no? Well, yeah, it would have been. The first bus was fine, no problems. The second bus was super slow, super hot, overcrowded, and on a dirt road. Once we arrived at the lake, we were told that they was a ferry at 6pm, so we decided to eat our first meal of the day and wait a couple of hours for the ferry. The ferry did indeed come and deliver us across a pretty crossing, as promised. However, the other port "from where land transporation across the border departs" did not materialize as planned. It turns out the bus comes only every other day, and it had already come that same day on an earlier ferry, so that it wouldn´t arrive again for 2 days. We tried to hitch a ride to the border but with no luck. So we stayed the night in an overpriced place with no electricity - only a generator for 2 hours.

The next morning we tried to hitch our way again when the morning ferry came, but with no luck. We met a very nice Chilean couple, Francisco and Yesenia, who told us that they heard there was a road about a kilometer away that would have trucks we could hitch with. So we walked there, but no road. Then they heard that the customs office at the border was only three or four kilometers from where we were. So we all walked there, though separately. It took hours, and more like 8-10 kilometers, in the sun, with all of our stuff. My things, as you might imagine, are not light. I have a huge backpack on my back and a smaller day pack i wear in front when carrying both. It was awful. And it kept getting heavier after every break we took. We finally did arrive and got stamped out of Chile only to find that the Argentinian customs office was another 3-4 kilometers. So we decided to wait over an hour for the next set of ferry cars to hitch with. At 2:30pm, when the ferry was due to land, a bus pulled up going in the other direction (the same bus we had missed the day before) and heaps of people piled out and got in line at the customs office. We realized the ferry folks would be forever getting through that line if they even picked us up, so against our better judgement, we decided to walk to Argentina. It took about two or more hours to get there. In the sun, with our heavy packs. We got stamped into the country and found out there would be a bus in three hours to San Martin, so we were lucky that way but had time to kill. Since we hadn´t eaten, Scott walked about a kilometer to get us some food and I watched our things and hung out with Francisco and Yesenia. Scott came back with a suspect burgeresque sandwich which the wasps were eating even as I was. At around 7:15pm a bus came from nowhere we could see, behind us, and left. Francisco asked and customs said this was in fact our bus, and that they would call ahead to the place Scott got our lunch to ask them to hold the bus. Now we are all in a mad dash with all our things again to get to this bus. Talk about an exercise in futility. No bus when we arrived. However, the owners of the establishment promised us a bus at 8pm, and that this wasn´t the bus. After they exchanged some money for me at a terrible rate (so we could get on said bus), they were right - the bus magically appeared at 8pm and we were saved. We finally reached San Martin at 9:20pm and it turns out that it is even more lovely and touristy-cute than Pucon was. We spent two hours looking for accomodation, walking all about with all our things. I thought I was going to die. My shoulders are bruised from my pack and my feet were already a mess, though I now have a weird blister on my pinky toe. And for those of you following along at home, my big toenail has decided, for the moment, to stay on. It no longer hurts, though it feels fake. It is either healing or dying - I can't tell which.
I will leave you here....and more about our miraculous finding a place to sleep in another entry.

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