La Vida es Bella: 4/11/10

My trip to Bariloche y El Bolsón can be summed up in a few words: 22 hour busing, beautiful sightseeing, hostel sleeping, early dawn running, photo capturing, wood carving, more bus riding, no tent camping, fire making, baked potato grilling, matzah eating(only half of the time), clothes layering, wood chopping, berry picking, hitchhiking, school skipping, fly fishing, day hiking, straight up stinking, fever lingering, fever breaking...a hell of a good time.

So, let me elaborate on my story/experience I have had the last 8 days. Without a single plan made but bus fares purchased and the idea of camping in the back of our minds, Kyle and I headed south, where the Andes mountains take over the landscape and natural lakes fill in the gaps. We headed for a city called Bariloche, a town that lays on one area of the Andes and on Lake Nahuel Huapi. During the wintertime, Bariloche is a nice ski town and has awesome ski resorts, but we were there for other reasons...to fly fish! My friend Kyle, A.K.A The King of the River, is a master fly fisherman so when we drew up the blueprints to our trip, we thought Kyle's skill would be our food source too. Bariloche and El Bolsón are famous for their salmon and trout..perfect right? Well yes, but no. We did not catch any fish surprisingly even though it was the high season, but we embarked on other adventures... and we got some food a long the way.

After taking a 22 hour bus ride from Retiro station in Buenos Aires to Bariloche, we found a nice hostel to stay in for our first night so we could relax and get our plans together. First, Kyle needed to get a fishing permit. Second, we needed camping gear. And third, we needed to know where the hell we were going. During our hunt for the permit and gear, we were able to scope out the city and get a few opinions on where we should camp out. Camp grounds were all around the area, but we needed to find a place that had good fishing too. Our answer=El Bolsón. The next morning we purchased our 30 peso tickets, rented two sleeping bags, and hopped on a 2 and a half hour bus ride to El Bolsón, where we could finally settle down.

El Bolsón was a magical place, full of color and totally away from a primitive society. It is known for being a huge hippie settlement in the 60's and 70's, and you could definitely feel the laxness of the town. Sure there were restaurants, stores, internet cafés, etc. but stuff was just different there...it was beautiful. When we arrived, there was a market going on in the middle of the town's square with many people selling art, jewelry, parilla (bbq), and ceramics. We made our way through the excitement but only on our way to the tourist building to ask about camp grounds, we were on a mission. Information on a few camp grounds were given to us, and still unsure on which route to take,we decided to think stuff over at the grocery store. We figured at least we would not go hungry. We picked up a few goodies and then, just like our trip had been planned, with no second guessing, we found a local bus heading around town that would take us in search of where we were meant to stay. We ended up hitting the last stop about 45 minutes outside of the town at the Lago Puelo. Lago Puelo was a huge lake with small restaurants and cabins for the locals to stay in to get away from the city. But, it just was not for us, there were so many people around, the campground was a little overpriced, plus we did not come all this way to settle on a mediocre campground. We dragged all our belongings back onto the bus, and after a few stops, we just had enough of bussing around and got off. A sign pointed a direction to Rio Azul, so we followed, we thought rio=fishing and camping, and what was the worst that could happen. The hike up dirt roads lasted a few kilometers and we met a local girl our age on the way who turned into our tour guide, leading us to the Rio Azul. When we got to the Rio, it was definitely azul and running along the base of mountains for kilometers, but we could not stay directly on the river because it was a very rocky terrain. However lucky for us, a camp ground was in site and in the perfect location. The grounds were called "La Pasarela" and they were owned by a rough, beef eating, rugged, and long bearded Argentine, Andres Zachara, whose family immigrated over from Poland. From those characteristics I am sure you could sense the mentality he brought to the table. Nonetheless, he still was a nice man, allowing us to roam his grounds and make a fire wherever we pleased. He loved to talk to Kyle and I because he knew english, very well actually, and never had anyone to speak english with. He told us of the times he lived in Canada in search of gold during the gold rush, and how he survived alone out in the secluded tundra parts of Canada, he was a mans man. He had built his whole property up by himself and that included: his house, the shower rooms, 4 cabins, numerous park benches, and parillas on every-corner. At first we were a little intimidated with how straight forward he was, but I think we got brownie points from him when we told him we were camping outside, away from his "modern" camp ground. Then as our conversation continued, I knew we gained some respect from him when we told him we would be camping out with sleeping bags and no tent in the freezing nights (30*F). By the end of our stay, we were men to him.

Kyle and I found a cozy spot further into his grounds and set up camp. We positioned our sleeping bags and got the fire going. It took some hard work, but we borrowed an axe and just started chopping as much wood as possible to make it through the night. The next few mornings usually consisted of some scrambled eggs and matzah with dulce de leche. If you have not heard of dulce de leche, it is a milk based caramel, it is so delicious, and I have a problem, I am addicted! Anyway, we would eat breakfast and then make our way up to Rio Azul where we could hike, take in the beautiful scenes, and of course do some fishing. One of the days during our hikes, we ended up walking a few miles on the banks of the Rio. After a few hours of walking and a quick nap near the calm running water, we decided to take a different route home, just to try and change it up a little. Along the way we encountered many wild berry plants. Some of the berries were perfectly ripe and so sweet, hanging from the prickly vines that were protecting the berries from intruders like us. The thorns did not stop us, we were hungry, and must have ate a pound each leaving us with purple fingers, stained shirts, and discolored teeth. We also gathered some in a bag to take back with us for the next morning, they were some of the best berries I had ever had.

All was going good and everything was so relaxing but one of the following mornings, I woke up not feeling like myself. I realized I had a fever and all this backpacking around did not sound so appealing. But, what could I do? I could not just get in my sleeping bag and lay around all day, I had to make my way to a hostel somewhere where I could sleep inside and take a nice warm shower. The plan was to head back into Bolsón but from there, my next decision eventually lead us to take a bus back to Bariloche where I could sleep, get better, and get on a bus a day and a half earlier back to Buenos Aires.

I stayed in Bariloche for two more days, hanging out, getting better, and meeting some really cool people at my hostel. I got to get in some leisure reading too, exactly what a sick man needed. My fever may have stopped my backpacking a few days early, but I feel like I had more than a sufficient trip out of everything. I mean, who would of thought a year ago I would be hiking and camping in these towns 6,000 miles from my hometown in Dallas Texas, and in the far south of Argentina, where prior to being there, I had only seen images from Discovery Channel's Plant Earth documentary.

On the way back home, it occurred to me that I may never be back to Bariloche and El Bolsón in my life again. The idea that this society and heaven on earth still exists is hard to imagine now, as it is so far from my home and my life back in the states. Although it is only a distant memory, it is one that I will always cherish, a story I will always have, and an experience I will never forget. I am happy to be back in Buenos Aires and in the swing of things with my friends and school. Although my schedule is not very motivational for studying inside the classroom, since I only have classes Mon- Wed, I am constantly learning the way of life and the language.

My time living in South America is flying by, and pretty soon I will be saying I had "lived" in South America for some months, but as I am here now and still able to appreciate the opportunity, South America is a place of: wonders, beautiful people, latin attitudes, and love...