I’ve spent a lot of the free time in my life traveling — through Europe, Australia, Egypt, India, the Caribbean, etc. — but South America always stuck out as one glaring to-do flag that just never was crossed off the list. And now, after 4.5 months through Peru, Argentina, Uruguay, Chile and Colombia, I can’t believe our time in this continent is over. (For now! I’ll be back to conquer giant Brazil some day soon.)
We’ve seen such awe-inspiring lanscapes and done some pretty gutsy things (i.e. zip-lining on six consecutive cables in Peru, cliff-diving in Argentina). We ate a lot, A LOT of food (mostly steak and dulce de leche). We made friends who made strong, sometimes life-changing impressions on us, even though we may never see them again. (By the way, it’s really hard to keep perspective that what you’re doing is cool and interesting when you constantly meet other travelers who are doing even cooler and more interesting things.)
But I also learned a lot about my personality, as well as Eaman’s and how we travel together. It’s not easy to be together 24/7, but aside from the minor flare-ups, I’m proud to say we make it work. Our relationship gets stronger every day, and perhaps that’s because we’ve gone through so much — from grueling hikes and nights out until 7 a.m. to language barriers and food poisioning.
Zarate, Argentina. Look at how short Eaman’s hair was!!
But we also have some regrets.
I’m pretty impressed with how well I can understand even the fastest of Spanish speakers now, but my conversational skills are stagnant. I wish I had taken tango or salsa lessons, though that was more of a money issue. I wish I had volunteered. And wish I Couchsurfed in at least one place. Laziness accounts for the last two, and it’s unfortunate that only when something is ending that you realize just how lazy you’ve been.
But if anything, our time in South America was a good introduction to long-term travel, and we’ll keep the things we learned in mind as we move on to Asia later this year.
Before Thailand, Vietnam and the rest, though, we’re going to Hawaii — first for my cousin’s wedding, then, hopefully, to stay for a few months with an apartment, a job and a bit of stability. I’d be lying if I said we weren’t both in need of a break from backpacking. It can be exhausting. After a while, seeing yet another cathedral, another mountain or some other land mark — it all just blends into one. We met a few backpackers who voiced similar opinions. One Aussie girl, who was on month eight of her almost-ending travels said that she should’ve stopped at month six because she was too burnt out.
We don’t want to end up like that, which is why living in an apartment in
Buenos Aires was so important and why living in Hawaii (again, hopefully!) will be the change of pace and lifestyle refresher we need.
But that isn’t the end of my dissertation on South America. In lieu of a superlative list — I find it way too hard to compare countries, as they’re all so different — I wanted to give you a rundown of South America by the numbers because everything — even 24-hour bus rides — sound fun in retrospect.
Number of hostels: 19
Largest number of roommates in one hostel room: 9
Number of “rustic” accommodations: 3 (one in the Peruvian jungle had a shower that was hooked up to the electric wires for heat, so we’d constantly get shocked when touching the faucets)
Number of long-distance bus rides: 7
Number of inter-South America flights: 7
Number of times in Bogota’s airport (for layovers or landings): 3 (Archana) and 4 (Eaman)
Number of plazas visited named Plaza de Armas: 4
Number of nationalities met: 24 (mostly Germans)
Number of hikes/treks: 9
Number of personal belongings lost between the two of us: 7
Number of local dances learned: 4
Number of puppy friends made: 9
Number of Oklahoma University football games Eaman watched via the Internet: 3 a.k.a. fewer than he would’ve liked
Number of new songs purchased on iTunes after hearing them in South America: 11
Number of times we ate at El Turko, a shawarma cafe, in Arequipa, Peru: 9
Number of days in hospital: 1
Number of cute, pinchable babies: Lost count after day 2 in Peru
Eaman and I knew we wanted to WWOOF at least once during this trip, and we thought that Patagonian Argentina or Chile would be ideal because the landscape is beautiful and working for accommodation and food would be smart considering the high-priced region. We were accepted to only one farm — some farms were full, others didn’t respond — so the choice was made for us. We’d be working for two weeks at a farm in Trevelin, Argentina, helping with a potato patch, picking fruit and assisting with jam production.
The view:
Looking back at these last two weeks, it wasn’t all fun and games. In fact, there were days when I wanted out…badly. But in the beginning, it was so fresh and exciting.
I mean, look at the farm?
Tons of fragrant lavender:
The kitchen with a wood-burning stove:
Mate dispenser in the kitchen:
Our bedroom, probably the most luxurious, spacious accommodation we’ve had since our New York City apartment:
Our first day couldn’t have been more idyllic. Our host Michael, a British widower who has lived in Argentina for the last 30-some years, scooped us up from the bus stop and cooked us lunch with the sugar snap peas we had just picked from his garden before telling us that there had been a change of plans. He wanted us to come to his daughter’s home 20 km away for his grandson’s 4th birthday party, where we could have some cake and pick some fruit there.
Fun!
In addition to his Trevelin farm — called a “chacra” based on its size — Michael also owns a home in Esquel, an apartment in Buenos Aires and a gorgeous fly fishing lodge by a river. Two of his five children live full-time at the lodge, and that’s where we headed for the party. But I think “gorgeous” is putting it lightly. Their sprawling property — filled with cherry trees, rose bushes and rows upon rows of lavendar bushes — is like a dream. I would’ve taken pictures, but I didn’t want to be that WWOOFer busting out her camera on day one.
In between politely gorging our faces with trays of desserts, we met Michael’s family and friends. They were all friendly enough, but we didn’t want to intrude. This was a family function after all. But when we did have some opportunity to chat with various people, there was a common thread to the conversations: Michael apparently wouldn’t be an easy person to work for. It came in different forms, such as, “So is Michael working you hard yet?”, “Is Michael being very [imitates cracking a whip]?” and, my favorite, spoken by a British guy about our age, who works at the lodge, “Yeah, if you were sick, Michael would put you on the next bus out of there because you’d be of no use to him.”
Interesting. But Eaman and I brushed it off. The next day while picking berries on Michael’s chacra, Eaman said that he admired someone who works that hard for something he’s passionate about. I thought so, too.
Our duties included picking fruit, erecting an electric fence, chopping and collecting wood for the stove, helping with meal prep, ridging soil and killing detrimental beetles on the potato patch. We killed the critters by picking them up with our fingers, placing them on a leaf and squishing the leaf — with the beetle inside. (It’s an organic farm, so no pesticides allowed.) We’d have bug guts all over our fingers, but believe it or not, I didn’t hate it. In fact, we both got a lot of satisfaction out of murdering more and more each day. We often turned it into a competition… as Eaman is often prone to do.
The kitchen garden, where we picked fruits and veggies nearly every day:
Black currants:
But pretty soon, we understood exactly what everyone was talking about re:Michael. Every task we did around the farm was followed by a negative comment about what we had done wrong. The sprinkler was supposed to move back instead of forward after an hour, even though he never told us that. The meat should’ve been cooked without oil. The potatoes should’ve been ridged with soil from further away. The wood Eaman picked for chopping wasn’t good, even though we told Michael which wood we were getting beforehand.
(Let me just put it out there that a lot of what bothered me to a great extent on the farm didn’t bother Eaman as much. This recount is of how I felt.)
All this cristicism could’ve been constructive had Michael properly given us directions. But he never did. He never showed us around the kitchen garden, so no wonder I picked brussel sprout leaves for a salad instead of Swiss chard. I had no idea! But he sure made me feel dumb for it. We were usually guessing through our work, hoping that we’d be right. But he’s the kind of guy that even if you do something right, he’ll find something wrong with it. Don’t get me wrong, he did thank us from time to time on certain jobs well done (i.e. the electric fence, one of the projects we were particularly proud of).
Chopping wood. The wrong kind apparently:
I often wore long-sleeves to protect my skin from the sun and fend off allergies. Of course I broke out into a rash on my hands, arms and legs anyway. But note to self: Get long sleevs that are NOT black unless I want to overheat:
Why didn’t we ask questions, you say? Well, Michael had a way of making us feel stupid for questions that may have been simple for him but weren’t so obvious to us. There were more than a few times that I wanted to mouth-off and tell him he had 30 years of experience on us, so chill the eff out. We never claimed to be farming experts and made that very clear in our initial email. If he wanted experienced WWOOFers, he shouldn’t have taken us.
To make matters worse, he had a knack for serving up smart-ass comments to most any of our innocent questions. We were driving by a small shack of a house and Eaman asked if it was abandoned. Michael said, “No, of course not. Don’t you see the woman out there hanging clothes?” Then, a few minutes later, upon seeing a flying helicopter, he said to Eaman, “Look. There’s an abandoned helicopter.”
On someone else, the language could’ve been construed as sarcastic but ultimately good-natured. Michael, however — in all his unsmiling, terse, perpetually frowning glory — was just plain mean. Nothing ever seemed good enough.
And it sucks to say, but it broke my spirit. I came into this experience wanting to learn a lot and make the most of it. I wanted to understand the process of jam-making, soak up whatever I could about gardening for my own future mini garden and bake breads in my off-time. But in that negative place, all I ever wanted to do was finish my tasks and read in our room. What a horrible feeling it is to do everything with such hestitation and fear, constantly rehearsing the lines of rationale in your head about why you did something so as to hopefully be less culpable. (Not to mention the fact that Michael is very possessive and militant about his jam-making, so apprenticing was completely out of the question.) Some days, I was physically and mentally exhausted and wanted so badly for the days to pass sooner.
But it’s unfair to say it was all bad. First of all, Michael was gone most nights and some days, as well. (We’re 99% sure he has a girlfriend in town.) But beyond that, the setting was unbeatable and the fruits and vegetables we ate straight from the garden were the best we had ever tasted.
Eggs from his chickens with the most yellow yolks I’ve ever seen:
We also enjoyed and thoroughly made use of siesta time. From around 2 to 5 p.m. every day, Eaman and I would take nice long naps and get immersed in our books. (I’m currently reading and loving Gregory David Roberts’ Shantaram.) I’m already having trouble getting through the days without my three-hour wind-down.
Plus Michael’s dog, Milonga, really took to us. If you know me, then you know dogs are my obsession verging on mild hysteria. Milonga liked adventure and always followed us outside as we worked. As corny as it sounds, she was like a little bright light that kept me going when Michael deflated me.
And it was a real mood-booster to have Eaman there. I don’t even know how crappy I would’ve felt had I been alone. But even if work got us down, we created all sorts of inside jokes, enjoyed the outdoors and even found this jungle gym-esque piece to play with:
We also treated ourselves to a nice dinner and tea time. (Trevelin was once a Welsh colony, so tea houses are a huge part of the teeny tiny town):
We also went to check out the grave of the famous horse, Malarca, who risked his life to save his owner’s during battle. (Let me clarify that Eaman was the one who was dying to see this, Trevelin’s claim to minor fame.) But it was a 20 peso (about $5) entrance fee — not a lot, but a lot to see some horse’s grave — so we decided to stay outside the perimeters and just look at the picture of the grave.
Eaman got pretty choked up about it:
At one point, we even spent the night at the family fishing lodge, where we got the chance to kayak on the beautiful river, and Eaman had a chance to dabble in fly fishing. (It’s necessary to have a license to fish in Argentina and since Eaman didn’t have one, we went out there at our own risk. It hadn’t even been five minues before a patrol boat came around the bend for a routine check. We quickly hid the pole and pretended to skip rocks. They didn’t notice, but that’s when we called it quits.)
The lodge also gave us the chance to partake in a South American tradition — well, one that’s recommended in the safer countries: hitchhiking. Since Michael didn’t stay at the lodge, his daughters said they could either drop us off or we could hitchhike. But she had two sick kids on her hands, and to be honest, they didn’t do a great job of making us feel welcome. We felt intrusive, though still apprecative that she had let us stay, so we hitchhiked.
In the heat we walked for maybe 40 minutes in the dry, blazing desert-y heat with, maybe, 10 cars driving right past us. Then we saw a little red car — near the end of its life — slowing down. Of course the car about to die with the chain-smoking, beret-wearing greasy man agreed to take us back to downtown Trevelin. True, the car was about the sputter its last breaths of diesel-fueled life and the doors didn’t have handles on the inside to leave and I could feel the rocks from the road dent the bottom of the car, but he was nice enough, and we made it back to the chacra one piece.
But I digress. Back to the farm…
So did Michael’s mood change for the better at all? I’m so glad you asked.
Last Tuesday, after more than a week of Michael’s criticisms and complaints, Eaman had had enough. Now, I’m scared of confrontation, sometimes to my detriment, but when Eaman has been wronged, he isn’t afraid to stand up for himself. It’s one of the things I admire most about him.
I was in the kitchen with the two new WWOOFers — an Argentinian girl and her French boyfriend — who had arrived the day before while Eaman was outside with Michael. Michael had just scolded us for not cleaning the bathroom and had moved on to scolding Eaman for not figuring out how to work a sprinkler. The two of them went outside to figure it out. When Eaman reappeared, without Michael, he said to me under his breath, “I just went off on him.”
“About what?” I asked.
“Everything,” he said.
But when Michael came in, he didn’t seem ruffled by the apparent smackdown. In fact, he asked us if we had been getting enough food. I figured Eaman’s talk had had some effect on Michael, and I was dying to know the details.
I had to wait until our post-lunch siesta for Eaman to spill the details. I made him repeat everything just so I could relish in the vengeance all over again. He had told Michael that never, even during six years in finance, had he ever dealt with such a negative, complaining person. How he only criticizes instead of appreciates how hard we’re working. How people — even his own family members — had warned us about how tough and unwavering he’d be as a boss.
Michael listened to all of it and apologized, explaining that no one had ever told him those things. Eaman told him that most people aren’t as outspoken as he is.
Later that day, Michael wanted to correct us on yet another task we had been doing wrong. It had to do with the potato patch, and we figured it was best to wait for the other two WWOOFers so they could learn from Michael. (With a language barrier, if we taught the newbies, it’d probably be wrong and we’d get in touble for it.) But Eaman was still frustrated from earlier in the day.
He asked: “Shouldn’t we wait for the other two? I don’t want to have to teach them! When are you going to teach them?”
“It’s none of your business! Do you have to argue everything?” Michael was now the mad one. Eaman and him went back and forth like that — Michael telling Eaman he was acting like a child, Eaman saying the same to
Michael — yet somehow the fight just fizzled at one point, and Michael showed us how to properly ridge the potatoes as if no outburst had ever come up.
I guess that’s one thing I give Michael. He doesn’t hold grudges. And after that double-header Tuesday, things changed quite a bit.
Michael lightened up. He made better conversation. He even showed us how to do a folklore dance, a craft he’s practiced for years. It wasn’t a complete 180 — at one point we were scolded for overstuffing the laundry machine — but it was a vast improvement.
Michael even took us to an agricultural expo in Trevelin. We worked on the chacra in the morning and headed off in the afternoon for the showgrounds, where merino sheeps and rams worth $30,000 (!) were being judged as if it were Best in Show. It was weird and wacky, and I kind of loved it.
Oklahoma-bred Eaman, right at home on some haystacks:
Cherry pie!
And Michael even drove us to a further-away bus station the morning we left, which avoided us having to catch a way early bus from Trevelin itself. So like I said, he wasn’t made of stone per se.
But will I WWOOF again? The short answer is probably not. The longer answer is that unless I knew 110% that the host was nice, helpful and willing to teach us, I don’t think I’d voluntarily go through it again. Don’t get me wrong; this experience will remain one of the highlights of this trip. I learned so much about farming, I have a newfound appreciation for where my food comes from, Eaman and I bonded even more as we went through an intense experience, and, um hi, we saved about $500 in food and accommodation. But the experience also confirmed that my skin isn’t that thick. Like I said here, we’re not all built for everything. Eaman withstood everything with a lot more calm and unflinching focus than I did. But for me, going through days and only wanting them to end asap was exactly the opposite spirit of this trip.
So we’ve decided against WWOOFing in Hawaii, as originally planned. For me, it’s a mix of this sour experience, the fact that we’d have to sleep in a tent for a month and the fact that the host farm we’ve been in touch with has stopped responding to our emails. (With an understanding of just how strenuous farm work is, sleeping in a tent sounds miserable.) For Eaman, it’s really just a matter of the latter two. Either way, we’re excited to go Hawaii and be thrust into the adventure of having to find a job (at cafes, restaurants, stores, etc.) so we can try to live there for a few months.
I don’t want to discourage anyone from WWOOFing. Just know that how your host functions can really affect your experience. But whether it’s a good experience or bad, I guarantee you the experience will be worthwhile.
We’re now on our way to Trevelin, Argentina to begin our WWOOFing gig. There’s no internet at the farm, so you won’t be hearing from us much during the next two weeks. (Sad, I know.) But to hold you over on this New York to Nomad diet are some shots from our day-long hike we did on Friday through Los Alerces National Park near Esquel, Argentina.
It’s named after the famous tree — the alerce — that can live up to 3,000 years. You can see some of the oldest trees the park has to offer — 2,600-year-old beasts — but the only way is via a boat ride that costs an arm and a leg ($42…pricey for a backpacker!). So we did the next best thing and hiked for a good 6 hours. (We saw 300-year-old trees that were, sadly, less impressive.)
Was it worth it?
There was one river that was the most beautiful river we’ve ever seen in our lives. The park is so off the backpacker trail that we found only locals there. And one of the lakes facing a glacier was at just the right temperature to give us a cool down but not freeze our butts off.
But the horseflies. Those damn horseflies. Never have we experienced such a multiude of them on a hike. They’d circle our heads over and over until they found a nice landing spot to dig their pointy stingers into us. We quickly took note from other hikers and found stray leafy branches to use as makeshift swatters at all times. (We used them like nunchuks.) Often, we were so busy swatting them away that we couldn’t enjoy much of the hike. I’m really not exaggerating. I was pretty miserable for most of the hike. Theose dang flies made me wish I never came.
And I hate to admit it, but I’m starting to become a tad desensitized to the Patagonian landscape. At nearly 1.5 months in the region, we’ve hiked so much that all the mountains, lakes and rivers are starting to look the same. I’m terrible. I know! But I think it’s time for a change of scenery. That’s why I’m SO excited to head to Afro/Caribbean/Spanish-influenced Colombia after farming!
Speaking of, Eaman has decided to join me in Colombia! There were a few reasons. First of all, the excitement on people’s faces when I told them I was going to Colombia was infectious. Of all the places we told them were on our itinerary, the one that got people really talking was Colombia. After a while, Eaman started to realize that maybe he should’ve reconsidered the country that, at first, he didn’t have much of a desire to explore.
Plus, while I’d be in Colombia, he was thinking of going to Pucon, Chile in Patagonia and Mendoza, which of course would’ve been a blast, but as I said, the excitement of the Andean landscape is beginning to wear thin on both of us, and, learning from our too-long stay in Buenos Aires, he figured it was better to leave on a high note. The idea of going somewhere new with a totally different culture was enticing. As far as Mendoza, he did wine country in Tuscany, and as he says, Tuscany is hard to beat.
And, OK, I’ll admit, we both got a bit sad when I booked my solo bus ticket from Esquel to Santiago, where I’ll spend a few days then fly to Colombia. We’ve been having so much fun together that it was weird to all of a sudden part ways. We’ve both been really good about not being that clingy, annoying super-coupley couple so far — a few backpackers didn’t even realize we were dating! — that we figured maybe time apart to have some independence wasn’t as necessary as we initially thought it’d be.
We spent all of yesterday changing Eaman’s flights, booking new ones and tying up all the loose ends. (Admin days are such an energy-drainer.) But now we’re all set! A little recap to set things straight:
January 23: Leave farm gig in Trevelin, Argentina on bus to Santiago, Chile
January 24: Arrive in Santiago
January 26: Eaman leaves for Bogota, Colombia
January 27: I leave for Bogota (it was impossible to make it work so that we both left the same day)
January 27-February 6: Explore Colombia!
February 7: Fly to Panama for a week of fun in the sun
OK, now that our travel details are cemented, you can enjoy the views from Los Alerces…without horseflies:
The alerce tree, not one of the older ones:
Tree-hugger:
Amazing Monet-like colors in the river:
Lake we swam in:
Super-cool twisty forest along a trail:
Wish us luck on our farm gig! And let’s hope the place isn’t infested with horseflies.
We had been wanting so badly to do a road trip somewhere in Argentina, but we quickly realized that choosing the best route (not an easy task in this massive country!) was the least of our problems. As it turns out, there are no automatic rental cars on this continent, and if we wanted to drive, we had to know how to drive a stick-shift.
It was decided early on that Eaman would drive. (I’m not the savviest of drivers and I don’t enjoy it all that much.) He had driven manual once in his life ages ago and all he could remember was that he stalled — a lot. But then, he thought, what about YouTube? Couldn’t the viral video hub teach us how to do something that the non-North American world learns to do when they’re teenagers?
We did find a video –there are tons actually — and in El Calafate, Eaman practiced, while Dutch and English backpackers offered him a few tips in between fits of laughter. By the end of his personal training session, he had a decent enough handle to know that he could probably sort of do it.
But once we arrived in Esquel, there turned out to be a bigger problem* with the car rental. Where the heck was the Avis? Our reservation had a downtown Esquel address, just a few blocks from our hostel, but when we got to the address, there was nada of the sort in sight.
Was it there?
We had one night in Esquel before picking up the alleged car the next morning, so we spent an hour or so walking up and down the streets of this small town in search of the red and white sign. Even Avis customer service had no idea. But three separate locals did tell us something about a Toyota dealership, the airport and a Petrobras gas station. Sure. That made sense.
Since we had plenty of time at our disposal, we shelved the whole we-may-not-have-a-car scenario until the next morning. The next day, after more walking around, we put two and two together: There was an Avis agency adjacent to a Toyota dealership that was across from a Petrobras gas station. (Trying to decode a foreign language when no one speaks a lick of English is seriously like a game of Mad Libs.)
What? This doesn’t look like an Avis?
Huzzah! We found the Avis.
Our ride, a VW Gol:
The other, more important huzzah, was that Eaman conquered driving a manual car! Not to brag or anything, but he was pretty awesome. Yeah, he stalled a few times, but for the most part, he drove like a pro.
On the road:
Not only was it refreshing to take a break from the South American bus systrm, but having a car really paid off in places like El Bolson, where driving to hikes on rocky roads was a must. And it allowed us to stop and pick up some delicious cherries and raspberries from a fruit stand off the highway, too.
The dog at the fruit stand:
Sleeping on my foot:
And what about Esquel? There there isn’t much going on here beyond being the nearest hub to the Los Alerces National Park, which I’ll post about tomorrow, and there aren’t many restaurants or nice walks. But I will say it’s charming in its own way. Being off the backpacker route, it feels more authentic, more Argentinian. For us, it was nice to take a break without the compulsion to do something, and instead stroll through the grocery store and take some time to relax (and blog).
Here, some of my favorite images from Esquel:
Eaman standing by a part of La Trochita, an old-school locomotive made famous in Paul Theroux’s 1978 book “The Old Patagonian Express”:
Cool-shaped homes:
Roses everywhere:
Funny store signs:
Families at the playground:
*P.S. There was the slight problem of Eaman not having his drivers license and having to use mine instead. Good thing Argentinians are a lax bunch because we got away with it. I think the rental car guy thought the picture on my I.D. was Eaman anyway.
With just two days to spend in Bariloche, we knew we didn’t have time for much — not that we minded considering how active we were in El Bolson. But we knew we wanted to bike the 60-some km Circuito Chico, a popular route that can be driven, biked, or if you’re ready for a long day, walked. It takes you through lakes, mountains, hotel resorts and if you’re lucky like us, on an adventure with a crazy Argentinian man.
We went on the ride with a friend from our hostel — Annika from Germany — and early in the route we noticed a couple of guys had stopped to pick cherries on the road. Since that sounded like a genius idea, we joined them. Pretty soon we were chatting with them — Alberto, a half-German, half-Argentinian jewelry distibutor and his 19-year-old son, Juan, who was on holiday from university in Buenos Aires.
When we all got our fruit fill, Alberto invited us to ride with him and Juan to his favorite secret spot. Now, if I were alone, this would be a blazing red flag, and I’d high-tail it out of there. Solo backpacker female goes to secret spot with local man and son? No thanks.
I was comfortable with Eaman there, so we all agreed to follow Alberto’s lead. And that’s when the got equal parts crazy and hilarious.
The secret spot was a hidden lake ripe for swimming. How did we know that? Well, when we arrived to the lake, Alberto immediately dropped trou completely — with a just-to-be-polite “Is it OK if I…?” and into the lake he went with his son looking on, embarassed.
We hesitated to go in at first, but it looked so inviting and seemed like a good way to escape the incessant biting horseflies. So we jumped in, too — in our swimsuits, not commando-style! — and it was the most refreshing swim of my life.
Alberto, showing us the hidden lake:
The lake we swam in:
Post-swim:
From that point, Alberto took it upon himself to serve as our personal tour guide, taking us to great pit stops and regaling us with facts and personal life stories. (The best moment was when we asked Juan if he had any siblings and he said no, only to have his dad correct him, explaining that he had a sister in Bali, where Alberto spends half the year. That Alberto…international playboy.)
But I gotta say, there was definitely something off about Alberto. Beyond stories of working for Colombians under the table in Amsterdam in his 20s, he told us he sells jewelry — casual stuff like shell necklaces — on beaches. OK, how do you spend half the year in Bali solely off selling fake stone necklaces? (Pretty sure the pendants are laced with powdery substances.) Second, he told us he avoids paying import tariffs by smuggling his necklaces across borders. Don’t worry, we made sure he didn’t drop anything into our drinks while we weren’t looking.
Stopping for beers along the way:
But joking aside, Alberto was what made a ride that everyone does so unique. He kept us entertained, showed us things the usual tourist would never see and motivated us on some of those excruciating uphills. Who knows, we may even see him in Bali later this year.
Also worth mentioning about this ride is the ash situation in Bariloche which plagued the tail-end of our ride. Remnant ashes of the June 2011 Chilean volcano eruption continue to move east toward Bariloche. It’s forced the local airport to close and has hurt tourism — mostly at the 4- and 5-star resorts — quite a bit. Mostly, though, it just creates a thick, foggy haze over the city, even now.
How bad it is each day depends on the winds, and at the end of our ride, this is how hazy it got (it’s mainly hazy in the high altitudes; visibility at our eye level was totally fine):
We didn’t totally mind because seeing it was also kind of a unique experience, but I could see how dealing with it everyday could become a nightmare.
Back at the bike rental shop some six hours after we began — Alberto said the typically three-hour Circuito Chico is better as a longer excursion with many stops — we exchanged contact info with Alberto and got a free chocolate treat from the rental shop:
Beyond this ride, the only other major activities included napping in our hostel’s garden and sitting out by Lago Gutierrez. We clearly didn’t do as much in Bariloche as we did in other places, and I’ll be honest, it was intentional.
Bariloche is supposed to be a big, sought-after destination for wealthy Argentinians and backpackers alike, but to us, it seemed rather unappealing. All we had heard about it was yes, it’s gorgeous, but it’s also incredibly touristy not to mention the fact that the ashes can put a serious damper on a day of sightseeing.
We were so unbelievably content in El Bolson that going to a more commercial city seemed like the exact opposite thing to do. (The scores of luxury resorts upon entering Bariloche confirmed the hearsay.) I’ll be the first to admit that we probably didn’t give Bariloche a chance. We didn’t even go downtown to try the famous chocolate shops! But I think that’s what’s so great about this big, big world we live in: There are so many places to go that you can always find the one that’s just right for you. And if you’re smart you’ll spend more quality time in the place that speaks to you most (ahem, ahem — El Bolson — ahem, ahem).
We’ve left El Bolson and are now in Bariloche, Argentina — a beautiful, albeit far more touristy, ski resort town in the Rio Negro Province. For the first time, we had a really hard time leaving somewhere when we drove off from the amazing La Casona Odile. It was such a good fit for us, and we felt so at home. At the same time, the world is so big, there’s so much to see, and we had a big bike ride in mind for Bariloche, so off we went.
But before I completely move on, I of course need to close up shop on my other reason for El Bolson — the nature.
A little background first: El Bolson was a hotspot for Buenos Aires hippies in the 1970s and has since come to be known for its artisan crafts, sustainable practices (though all of Patagonia seems to be good at that) and pristine natural wonders just a hop, skip and a jump away.
Every other hike we’ve gone on — Colca Canyon in Peru, glacier trekking in El Calafate and the W in Torres del Paine — involved bus rides of two to five hours to the actual start of the hike. But in El Bolson, nothing took more than 30 minutes to reach.
We had three full days to spend outdoors, so we analyzed it — the way Eaman and I always do — and broke it up like this:
Thursday: Easy to medium hike to Cerro Piltriquitrón and artisan market
Friday: Medium to hard hike to Cajon de Azul
Saturday: Reward ourselves with a day at Lago Puelo, a rocky beach in the next town over.
(And ice cream on all days, duh.)
Here’s how it panned out:
Cerro Piltriquitrón. The hike was fairly easy and the views looking out onto the valley were stunning, but THE HORSEFLIES WERE INCESSANT. We’ve experienced these pests — a larger, noisier and sting-equipped cousin of the housefly — here and there around South America but their headquarters must be El Bolson. They pestered us all the way up the mountain, all the way throuh the Bosque de Tallado (sculptures that hippies carved out of wood in the late 90s) and all the way down the mountain. We sure as hell weren’t about to do the two-hour hike to the summit with them circling us.
They wouldn’t even let us eat our lunch outdoors in peace, so we were forced to eat inside the car. We drove our car to the edge of the mountain to at least have a view for our meal. (p.s. The sculpture garden isn’t really worth your 16 peso entrance fee.)
After a visit to the artisan market (meh), we healed our horsefly wounds with homemade ice cream from Jauja, a popular helado shop with locations in El Bolson, Buenos Aires and Bariloche. Their flavors and colors are unreal. Without a doubt, our favorite ice cream of all time. I mean, we had it every day we were there.
Cajon de Azul. By far, the coolest thing we’ve done not just in El Bolson, but in my whole three months traveling as well. (Machu Picchu was amazing, but not very off-the-beaten path.) This 2+ hour hike was a mix of exasperating uphills and steep downhills, but it also had really pleasant breaks of flatness. I’m all for challenges, but sometimes it’s nice to take in your surroundings without worrying about your racing pulse or rolled ankles.
We crossed two bridges that had a max of one person at a time. Whee!:
We ran into a lovely Canadian couple, Graham and Sarah, from our hostel along the way and joined them for packed lunch and beer — kept cold in the river! — by one of the first refugios. It was a beautiful plot of land, bordered by the freezing Rio Azul.
But the highlight was reaching the cajon de azul, or blue canyon. And it clearly lives up to its name:
And with water that clear, deep and inviting, how could we not cliff dive into the water? Graham jumped in first, and Eaman, though a smidge apprehensive, followed suit. Sarah and I were pretty set on not doing at all; she has a fear of heights and I have a fear of being underwater and not being able to come back up. But then it hit me: Did I really want to walk away from this opportunity?
So after a lot — and I mean a lot — of coaxing, waiting, debating, standing up and sitting down on the edge, I did it. I blacked out between when I stepped off and when I hit the water, but man, what a feeling. Cool, crisp water in a gorgeous canyon unlike anything I had ever seen. That was one for the books. We were so content that we didn’t even bother to do the extra 45-minute hike to a further summit. We sat there the rest of the afternoon.
P.S. There was recent tragic story about an Australian girl who went lost on this very hike. Her friends had dropped her off for on Monday, but when she hadn’t returned, signs began to pop up all over town asking if anyone had seen her. Apparently, she was attacked and abused by a local along the way and was found Friday — the very day we went on the hike — bruised, dehydrated and of course scared. Thank god she’s been found, but wow, scary stuff.
Lago Puelo. A quiet rocky beach with views of the Andes mountains. What could be better?
Pretty much nothing.
We had time to swim (it was cold but not frigid), time to watch the hilarious Argentine families play and time to kayak.
A particularly blue part of the lake:
There is sooo much more to do in El Bolson, like multiple-day camping treks, horseback riding and fishing, that could’ve kept us occupied for much longer, but for our three days of fun, I couldn’t have imagined a better variety.
Though we’ve loved everywhere we’ve visited thus far, El Bolson is the first place we’d actually return to. And I hope it’s soon. I’m experiencing some serious withdrawal!
Last night we rung in the new year at our hostel, La Casona de Odile, which threw an incredible dinner and dance party. The festivities began at 8:30 p.m. with canapes, appetizers and berry punch in their backyard and continued indoors with a lavish three-course dinner.
We’ve been at hostels for group dinners, like the one we went to in El Calafate for Christmas Eve, but this dinner felt different. You could tell how much love was put into creating the meal, which all the staffers helped to make. This hostel is such a community, and they made us all feel like we were sitting to dinner in our own homes. Everyone had such a huge smiles serving us, and I’ll admit, after cooking our own food the last few weeks, it was really nice to just enjoy the food (and not wash dishes).
They offered a full, delicious menu — both veg and non-veg:
- Spinach and cheese empanada and quiche // Beef empanada and quiche
- Wild mushroom and spinach lasagna // Lamb stew
- Flan cake with dulce de leche, cream and raspberries
It was maybe one of the best meals of my life.
Last year, I remember thinking that 2011 would be a year full of change and adventure with this trip in September, but I couldn’t tell anyone much about it because it was fairly under wraps. It’s hard to believe a whole year had passed since then and now we were celebrating 2012 under the stars in Patagonia.
I feel so lucky to be on this journey, and with my best friend along for the ride. Cheers to 2012 and many more adventures to come.
Click ahead for more pictures from last night.
Special guests:
Orange-colored clouds:
Cooking the lamb:
Moved over to the next-door house, where a couple of the staffers live, at midnight for a champagne toast and dancing to records (real records!):
The adorable couple — Julian, co-owner of the hostel and his girlfriend, Eden, a San Diego native who was a backpacker a few years ago and now lives in El Bolson:
Julian and Eden’s son got in on the action:
Cheers!
As I last mentioned, we’re currently road-tripping through the state of Chubut in Argentina for a week of small towns and beautiful hiking. We started in Esquel, a former Welsh colony, where we spent one night. There isn’t much to write home about re:Esquel, but we’ll be going back there for a few days — one of which will be spent at the very untouristy Los Alerces National Park — before we begin WWOOFing in Trevelin (30km south of Esquel) January 8, so I’ll offer a more detailed report about it then.
Now the plan was to spend two days in the hippie, organic-loving town of El Bolson before making our way a little further north to celebrate New Year’s Eve in Bariloche, the glitziest city Patagonia has to offer, relatively speaking, thanks to the droves of Argentinians who flock there around this time of the year for vacation.
We arrived in El Bolson on Wednesday without a hostel in mind. One, La Casona de Odile, was listed both on a hostel booking site but also in my book under the pricey ‘A’ listing category, so I figured it was worth a look, especially after we asked a local for directions. He said this particular hostel was more in the country and less in the downtown, a term I use lightly for El Bolson.
The country? That sounded amazing–and a perfect balance for the more “city” experience we’d have soon in Bariloche. And, as we later found out, amazing is putting it lightly.
The property is a sprawling lavender farm-nature retreat-botanical garden heaven. And we were in luck, because this multi-hyphenate wonderland was in fact a hostel just as of last year; it used to be a bed and breakfast, making my Footprints 2011 guidebook a smidge outdated. They could be charging much, much more for this place, so we’re lucky to have caught it so early. But even if it were more expensive, I’d probably pay extra pesos to be here. Sorry I’m gushing, but I’m in love. Take a look:
View from our dorm window:
Hammocks in the backyard:
And this is also in their backyard:
Obviously we went for a swim and skipped some stones:
Love that I’m in a bathing suit at the end of December:
We instantly fell in love with the hostel and once the owners told us all there is to do El Bolson — note: a lot! — and how they’d be throwing a New Year’s Eve dinner party, we immediately extended our stay two more nights to stay through January 1. We can have a city NYE anytime; this country NYE would be much more unique. Even better, since this is hippie land, they’re actually offering a vegetarian option for the dinner party. Has hell frozen over? Because I think South America just gave me an option besides beef or ham.
We’ve had such full days here already — hiking, swimming in canyons, eating the best ice cream of our lives — and this town is still filled with more goodies that we sadly won’t have time for. But as for the fun we’ve had so far, I’ll save the stories for Part 2 of why I love El Bolson.
For now, check out more reasons — beyond the great staff, perfectly chilled-out playlists and well-equipped kitchen (I’ve missed you cumin, thyme and curry powder!) — why we love La Casona de Odile.
The living room:
The book exchange, the biggest I’ve seen in a hostel so far, though most of the books are in Spanish:
The breakfast, which features the most delicious homemade wheat bread and jams:
This one-week-old kitten, who has frozen my ice cold hatred for cats into a melting smushball of love. Don’t tell my future dog(s), but I had her sleeping in my lap after dinner two nights ago:
And how she and her sister (brother?) keep each other warm at
night…on a surge protector no less!
Again, with the backyard:
This row of goats who passed by their backyard river:
And a random horse!
Can never get enough lavender:
After our trek through Torres del Paine, we headed back to El Calafate, Argentina, where we’ve spent the last four days in complete relaxtion mode. Reading, eating, buying chocolates, watching I Want a Dog for Christmas, Charlie Brown on YouTube — it’s like our own holidays away from home.
Last night, our hostel, I Keu Ken, hosted a lamb BBQ with drinks, music, a raging bonfire and tons of Argentinian merriment. Apparently, Christmas Eve is a big night for partying here, so it was a long night capped with a ride in the rear bed of a pick-up truck to a bar in the “city.” Good times, sketchy townies.
Everyone’s dinner:
My dinner (because I don’t like lamb and wanted to save some money):
Applauding the chef:
After bouts of homesickness the past few days, last night was the perfect way to recalibrate. Just gazing at the stars on the clear night, looking around at all the people who’ve come from across the globe and seeing fireworks burst in almost every direction reminded me how exciting this year of travel is and will be. These are the moments that will last a lifetime, as a jolly (drunk) old Brit told me by the fire.
Poppin’ champagne at midnight:
Tomorrow we leave El Calafate and hop on a 24-hour bus (meh) to Esquel, Argentina where we’ll road trip for a week, celebrate New Year’s in Bariloche and then begin our two-week WWOOF farming gig January 8.
Until then… cheers and Merry Christmas!
P.S. When we were in El Calafate two weeks ago, we did a four-hour trek on the giant Perito Moreno glacier. I look back with a little regret because it turned out to be more expensive than its actual worth, but it’s hard to dwell on those details when looking back at the pictures… except for the fact that I slipped and one of my legs dove straight down into an icy cold hole on the glacier, which ended up cutting my hand, and not long after, I tripped up on my cramp-ons (spiky shoes strapped to your boots to facilitate hiking on ice) and ripped my pants.
Batman Band-Aids were all we could find back in Buenos Aires:
Glass of whiskey with ice from the glacier. We were a bit mad about the overcharging for the whole trek, so when they also offered some free mini alforojes, we took four…each.
December 20 marked our three month travel-versary so I thought now would be a good time to look back on how these past few months — which have taken us from Peru to Patagonia — have shaped up.
In a nutshell, life is freaking awesome. I feel so lucky that I can get up every morning to see beautiful things, meet interesting people and stretch my boundaries. I’ve had so many conversations with fellow backpackers, where we’re practically pinching ourselves for getting this opportunity to see the world.
Iguazu Falls:
On top of that, the other truly incredible part of this trip is that we can CHILL. We have time to read, time to zone out, time to go for a walk. Our biggest responsibility is making sure we get to our bus or flight on time.
When I think back to all we’ve done and compare it to what some backpackers have done in the same time span, I feel like we’ve only scratched the surface of South America. But once I made a mental list, I realized that we’ve been able to see and do things in three months that some people can do only in a lifetime.
Some of our favorite memories include:
- witnessing early morning mist at Machu Picchu
- hiking the Sacred Valley of Ollyantatambo
- bar hopping and eating at El Turko nine times in Arequipa, Peru
- hiking the grueling two-day Colca Canyon trek without a guide
- hosting a Halloween party in Buenos Aires
- welcoming our first visitor, our friend Shyema from NYC
- ordering croissants and coffee at a tango club at 4:30 a.m.
- riding horses at an estancia for Eaman’s birthday
- watching Messi play at an Argentina national futbol match
- an unexpectedly fun day trip to Colonia, Uruguay
- seeing the massive Garganta del Diablo at Iguazu Falls
- the best dinner party we’ve ever been to at a hostel asado (BBQ) in El Calafate
- climbing the massive Perito Moreno glacier (pics and post on this to come!)
- proving to myself that I have more strength that I imagined during a five-day trek through Torres del Paine
But on par with seeing such amazing sights has been growing as individuals. When you take a break from life, so to speak, you get to have this out-of-body experience, where you can re-examine the way you’ve been living your life and figure out how, if at all, you want to change it. I’ve met so many people who are doing such different, interesting things with their lives, and it’s made realize that there isn’t just one path to success. In a time like this, when the world is our oyster, it’s inevitable to stop asking “Why?” and, instead, ask, “Why not?” (Sounds very running-for-President, eh?)
By Lago Argentina in Patagonia:
I feel a lot more comfortable with the idea of taking risks, both right now and for the future. I’ve started thinking about life after travel — in a good, non rat-race way — with way more doors of possibilties ajar than I ever imagined while living in NYC. I still have no idea what I’ll do when I re-enter the real world, but as the days go on, I care less and less because I know in my gut that an idea or opportunity will strike at the right time, and whatever it is, that’s the thing that’s going to make me happy.
Along the Inca Trail:
But it’s still month three and I can’t say I’ve done a complete 180 in some of the ways I wanted to change. I had wanted to shed most of my Type A personality, and though I think I’m much less neurotic and anxious than I was in NYC, sometimes Type A rears its ugly head…even in laid-backville South America. (To be fair, I think too much time in BsAs had something to do with that.) It’s something I’m still working on, but the free-spirited travelers we’ve been meeting have been shining examples.
And of course everyone would like to know if Eaman and I are about to kill each other yet. You’ll be happy to know that travel suits us very, very well. We knew it before from our multiple vacations together, but this intense, long-term trip is further proof. In fact, I think we’re sort of becoming the same person. Beyond the fact that we crave the same experiences (and foods) at the same time, oftentimes, one of us will say something only to have the other say he/she was just thinking about the same totally random thing. That’s what happens when you’ve been together for nearly six years and spend 24/7 together, I guess.
Asado at our El Calafate hostel:
We’ve definitely had arguments, gotten frustrated and had times when we needed a breather from each other, but overall we keep telling each other how happy we are to be doing this together. Sure, there’s something unique about traveling solo and really getting out of your comfort zone, but there’s also something incredibly special about sharing these life-changing moments with each other.
That being said, we’re still individuals, and that’s why parting ways for two weeks at the end of January while I go to Colombia and Eaman further explores Patagonia is so important. If not for the getting-out-of-your-comfort-zone aspect, then at least to have something new to talk about! You’d laugh if you eavesdropped on the many mundane conversations we’ve had after exhaustng more weighty topics. (“Name three Seinfeld episodes in which…?”)
But of course traveling long-term isn’t all glamorous. There are hours spent waiting at inefficient airports. Days spent sitting indoors to book flights and hostels. Long nights with painful stomach aches. But the most painful side of traveling has got to be my diminishing bank account. About a week ago, I took a look at my funds and realized the money I have left for this year of fun seems more like the amount for just a couple more months of fun.
Eaman, Excel and I sat down with my expense list, and all we could work out was that, beyond spending a little more money on my per-day food budget (shocker), I was pretty much on target. I think it was just BsAs and currently Patagonia that have sucked up my funds. I’m now really banking on the upcoming two weeks of WWOOFing in Argentina, WWOOFing in Hawaii (still ironing out the deets), finding jobs in Hawaii (wishful thinking?) and the dirt-cheapness of Asia. I’m basically just jumping and hoping that I land on my feet. (It’s the whole taking risks thing I mentioned.)
And of course I miss certain things about life back home. Besides friends and family, I miss…
- my mom’s cooking
- lathering up in body lotion post-shower (I’m a freak about good skincare practices, and on that note, I miss body scrub, which is so hard to find here)
- reading fashion and gossip magazines in English
- America’s efficiency
- Subway, Potbelly’s and Taco Bell*
- my fashionable wardrobe
- my MacBook Pro because this iPad drives me bonkers sometimes
- trashy TV (though I did watch a fair, if not embarassing amount of Keeping Up With the Kardashians in our BsAs apartment)
In general, though, it’s too soon to say I really miss some of those things that much. (And I don’t think I’ve logged enough backpacker miles to complain about toilet conditions and showering with flip-flops just yet.) Right now, I’m just really, really happy.
And as much as I love sharing all the juicy details on this here blog — love ya, readers! — I cannot wait until mid February when we head to Honolulu for my cousin’s wedding so I can relate the experiences to my family in person. That’s the beauty of storytelling and journaling; they give you the opportunity to look back and realize, Whoa, this is AWESOME!
That’s all for now. See you in month 6 for a similar reflection rundown!
*We miss our favorite foods A LOT. Eaman and I play this semi-masochistic, semi-motivational game when we’re on long, hard hikes, where we take turns naming big meals we would eat if we were in New York at that very moment. Example: “I would start out with a (Shake) Shack burger, and follow it with cheese fries and a Diet Coke. Then, I would demolish a plate of pancakes and Clinton St. Baking Company. Next, I would stop by L’asso for a few slices of their delectable potato chip pizza. Finally, I would top everything off with a S’mores sundae at Big Daddy’s Diner. And probably a red velvet cupcake from ChikaLicious.” Good thing you can’t be imaginary obese!