Bariloche-El Bolson-Bariloche

Hitchhiking back up to Bariloche from the El Bolson Ruta 40 on-ramp. Check out that sign craftsmanship. I found a piece of cardboard in a ditch and and scribbled desired destination with a piece of charcoal from the previous night's bonfire. As always, I overestimated writing space but the scrunched up result gives it character, no?

I am lazy and tired and will provide a hasty, brief description, copy and pasted from another email, that does little justice to the greatness that was the trip from Bariloche to El Bolson and back to Bariloche to catch a bus to Puerto Montt, Chile. It will have to do. I got up at 6:30 am this morning so I could catch a ride with Steve into town so I could use the internet and update this blog and now I'm a tad cranky and will have to remind you that some of the greatest memories are better kept in one's memory. Also there's some guy waiting for his friend to finish on the computer next to me and he's standing right behind me, hovering over my shoulder and he smells like a yeast infection. I'm pretty sure he's reading what I'm writing and I want to stab him in the eye.

"... While on a hike in southern Argentina, I met a girl from Manhattan, a self-described sound artist visiting community radio stations on grant money awarded to her by IBM, who stopped mid-conversation, then giggled an apology and said she just had a “happy-to-be-alive” moment, and I totally understood. I feel like I've had an overdose of those moments in these nearly 8 months abroad. More than in my time spent at Western. Maybe more than all my years in the States. I'm glutinous with them, almost to the point of vomiting from feeling unworthy of this self-contentment binge (metaphorically). Am I abstractly rambling again? I think so. I'm reading Love in the Time of Cholera by Garcia Marquez and his writing is really that way so I think it's influencing my descriptions. While on the road and now living near Puerto Montt, virtually untouched by the quake, in a pretty isolated area I haven't been able to update my blog. I feel obligated just because there was so much greatness and madness in the trip, but I feel like I can't for the same reason. So much greatness, the task is too daunting. I met so many interesting characters, all wonderfully friendly and open to sharing their lives and views and open to hearing mine and affirming them. I stayed with CS hosts the whole way. There's Jorge the gay school teacher looking for love in places he knows he'll have his heart broken but like me he's victim to his lusty whims, Phillip the red-faced,outspoken, crass English successful I don't remember what who's taking 2 years to travel the world, Renato the Brazilian magnetics engineer still living with the girl who dumped him but keeps renting out of friendship and the hope that his lingering affections will burn out over time, an Australian-Irish couple who fell in love because she could drink more than he, Aliza the ukele-playing Manhattan sound artist recording stories for a hyphenated identity project, Tim the post-grad quarter life crisis fellow-leo who escaped Queens for Buenos Aires, Alejandro the rock n' roll patron and PR man who picked me and my friend up at the turnpike and floored it to the bus station so I could catch my bus to Puerto Montt which I did even though I was 15 minutes late, Daniel the Berkeley physicist, Fede the old taxi driver who lives with his mother and daughter in a one bedroom house that has seen over 300 couchsurfers from all over the world, the list goes on.
Highlights? Before hopping the bus to Bariloche, my wallet was stolen. Luckily my passport and a spare credit card were in my backpack. Canceled stolen card, only $10 in cash in the wallet, saved concerns for annoying DMV procedures for later. The earthquake in Chile hit while I was at a bar well into the night and well into countless beers while I danced with my CS host and his friends. I hitched I ride further southward from the friend of my Bariloche host and we took a detour to a hidden lake that was so peaceful and secluded it could have been our discovery had it not been for the few families camping nearby. In El Bolson I met various other travelers, played in waterfalls, drank homemade beer, hiked mountains that curved with the river as blue as the Caribbean islands but cold because of it's Andean glacier source. Hitchhiked with a friend back up to Bariloche with a cardboard sign I'd found in a ditched and scribbled on with a piece of charcoal from the hippied-out bonfire the night before- itself a festive occasion replete with joints, guitar sing-alongs, and conversations well into the night. Those are just a few happy-to-be-alive moments. A small small fraction of that one week and a half..."

Bariloche

Hiked up a big hill and voila the view. Looks a bit like home.

Bariloche sits beside a giant lake and it is pretty and you can sit on the rocks and think and not be bothered. Rad.

Driving to El Bolson

I was able to catch a ride from Bariloche to El Bolson (2 hours south) with my Bariloche CS host and his friend Leo. It was a perfect little trip with clear skies, bongos, crystal clear lake detour, and a joint.

Alright road trippin'!

Lago Steffen, a road trip detour

Renato, me, and Leo finally got to El Bolson

El Bolson and the best hike of my life

My El Bolson CS host Fede lives in this humble abode with his mother, daughter, and however many travelers happen to be passing through

Fede's attic where I crashed. Fede sleeps in a tent in the attic. His daughter, in the closet.

Fede and a couple French girls walking into town

My new friend Tim, enjoying the bumpy ride we hitched downhill

The 11km hike that kicked my ass and spat me into a diamond

Will you look at that water. Will you look at that fucking crystal blue water.

After that all day up and down hike we finally made it to this refuge in the middle of the forest where Tim and I split a pizza and some homemade beer. Exactly what one wants after 5 hours of ass and thigh toning.

Aw nature and new friends.