Just "Being" in Barilcohe

Being in Patagonian Bariloche is like being in northern Minnesota. A smile appeared on my face as our bus approached this dazzling mountain town. Maybe that’s because I was on a bus for two days getting here. Someone had said the experience was spiritual, well maybe for some. For me, it was a time to read, something I’ve done little of on this trip, so maybe that was spiritual in a way. I read Three Cups of Tea by and about what American mountain climber Greg Mortenson has done to build 50+ schools in Pakistan. He is an inspiration, and something I need to give me some direction for a future career. Yes, at some point in time, I am going to go back to work. Notice how there’s no date attached to that yet.

Bariloche is the most populated town I've been in since my day in Buenos Aires in December--back in 2008, back when Bush was still president. It's a new year, with Barack Obama as US President, and with the new TV signals making analog defunct. In hindsight, it seems like things do change rapidly, but who would have said that during the long election campaign process? The quickest change down here is the weather--sunny one minute, cloudy and rainy the next, or maybe each at the same time. It's always windy this time of year=--amazingly so.

The guidebooks said to book lodging early as this is the high season. I’ve not had a problem, until my arrival in Bariloche, and that’s mainly because I want to stay at Hostel 1004, the one on the 10th floor of the Bariloche Center Building. Now that might sound like a disconnect with being in a mountain town, but as soon as I came here, I knew the views were worth moving twice before I settled in here for three days. That’s why I don’t feel too guilty about sitting here updating my blog and not being outside, at least for this morning. I’m looking at the Swiss styled buildings along the foreground hillside, mountains in the background and deep blue
Lago Naheul Huapi tinged with white.

The local lifestyle is nicely paced. Sundays are family time. I made contact with a friend of Larry Carpenter’s, actually the parents of his son’s girlfriend. Antonia speaks English, having lived in Australia for five years. His family understands it, but is even more hesitant to speak English than I am to speak my broken Spanish. I contacted Antonio around noon on Sunday and was immediately invited for an asado, the Argentine form of BBQ that afternoon. Lots of meat, including blood sausage, and salad. It goes well with an Argentine Malbec. I spent the afternoon with them and into the evening. I’ve invited them out for dinner tonight to say thank you. He’s picking me up at 9pm, since most people eat dinner around 10 or later here.

I’ve spent the last two days white water rafting and hiking. The rafting was questionable in my mind because of the weather—cool, windy and rainy, yet on the water, despite the sometimes mist, my inner self was reveling in the space. I did have to pay more attention to rafting than usual because the two other tourists had never been on a boat it seemed. The guide afterwards thanked me for knowing what I was doing, though he could have managed the whole thing himself. Of course, the way some paddles were going into the water, he might have feared we would flip. Luckily he chose to do a course with no more than Class IV rapids. We could have gone swimming at the end, but if we lost control or were enjoying ourselves too much, we’d cross the Chilean border and might have a difficult time getting back into Argentina. Given the cool water temp and overcast sky, he didn’t have to worry about us taking a purposeful dip.

Yesterday I meandered through Parque Municipal Lloa-Llao, rhymes with “how-how”, though with a “j”. A nice parque with good signage, between peaks and alongside clear blue lakes, but not the blue I’d been seeing from glacial waters south of here, more like Lake Superior, with the ever present white caps. Last night I took in some local culture: “From the Andes to the Beatles”.--Four musicians played all kinds of wind instruments, various types of drums, rain sticks and guitars of course. This afternoon I’m doing one of my other favorite activities—kayaking. Being so close to the water will be a joy, especially since Dutch isn’t alongside to chastise me about flipping the kayak over!

If all goes as planned, I’ll be in Iguazu Falls, the third largest falls in the world, tomorrow night. I say that because I’m flying on Aerolineas Argentinas, which has probably changed something with my flights about 30 times. The latest was the airport I’m landing at in Buenos Aires, so my connection to the domestic airport might be a tenuous. Then it’s back to BA and the flight that will get me home in a week.

Note about Antarctica: If you’ve made it this far in the reading, and haven’t seen anything about the Antarctic Peninsula, go to the posting on 23 Jan. I’m just getting caught up and posted it today.