Bariloche Part 2: Surrounds
After a full day of walking and admiring chocolate the day before, I decided on day three in Bariloche that I should keep up the trend. I spent the day in Villa La Angostura, a little town known for its annual garden festival and myrtlewood forest. I grabbed a map and decided to head to Cerro Belvedere for some more awesome views, but was stopped on the way by a sign advertising cabalgatas. Since I only had the day in town and wanted to make the most of it, a horse would be significantly faster than my own two feet, not to mention more fun. The ride up to the lookout on Cerro Belvedere left at 4 pm, so I had a few hours to spare and would even get back with an hour to hit up the chocolate shops before heading back to Bariloche. Signed up and ready to go, I switched directions towards the little bays and the Parque Nacional Los Arrayanes on the other edge of town. I didn't have enough time to do more than glance in at the park, but I wandered along the beach and up the piers before my horseback ride.
At 4 pm, slightly out of breath after misjudging the time needed to get back to town, I was mounted up and ready to go. To be honest, I love animals but have no idea how to control a horse, and I was assigned the oldest and most ornery of the lot, determined to make the most of my incompetence by eating at every opportunity. All the same, we made it to the top and were treated to some more natural beauty that inspired our little group to strike up conversations about travel and the awesomeness that is the south of Chile and Argentina. On the way back my horse got the best of me and dragged me through some bushes and trees in search of the tastiest leaves, narrowly avoiding beheading me with branches, but I made it back none the worse for wear.
A quick stroll through town left me weighed down with an alfajor from every chocolate shop and a select few slabs of chocolate that are like filled bars - layers of chocolate and mint or chocolate and coffee or chocolate and different fruits. Maybe there will be some left when I come home. Probably not, though.
On the bus back to Bariloche I somehow became some sort of celebrity. A big family took all the seats surrounding me, and soon asked where I was from, since I obviously look nothing like Latin American. My status as US citizen evidently means I am knowledgeable in all aspects of US foreign policy as well as knowing how the US views each and every Latin American country and leader. Thankfully I do actually know quite a bit about all that, and I spent the entire trip anazlyzing everything from US foreign policy to Obama to Chavez to the Argentine economy as compared with the Chilean (which I really don't know enough about to respond accurately to all their questions), to the new pope (which I definitely know nothing about given that I'm not Catholic and have been hearing the Argentine news, not the US, all month!). The little old ladies nearby joined in on the conversation, and we spent the entire ride covering every topic imagineable in friendly companionship. The family, from Buenos Aires, gave me disbelieving stares when to one question I responded that although I was loving southern Argentina, I prefer Chile to Argentina, on the whole. Blasphemy. Who could possibly prefer Chile, they wondered. Ah well, the Chileans get me and I get them.
Day four, a Saturday, I spent in El Bolsòn, a tiny town south of Bariloche. Although the town itself is pretty boring, it`s an awesome jumping off point for tons of multiday treks. My feet and ankles were sore and I really just wanted to wander around town and admire the Saturday artisan market. Every single stall was filled with high quality handmade products, and most of the sellers worked on more products after laying out their wares. I must have passed through the market six or seven times, noting my favorites and deciding if I really should buy anything (yes, of course) and if so, what. The awesome thing about the El Bolsòn market is that every seller has to be certified and prove they make their own products, so no cheap stuff from Peru or Bolivia creeps in at ridiculously high prices. The stalls held everything: cute clay and wood gnomes, alfajores, leather goods of all shapes and sizes, bone-handled knives, trees made from dried flowers, ceramic pots and pans and mugs, wooden utensils and tools, marmelades and jams and liquors, and quite a bit of organic produce and fresh food. In my final walkthrough before decision time, I enjoyed fresh raspberries. They're no match for the New Mexico variety, but delicious all the same. I made my purchases and caught the bus back to town to arrive in time for a couchsurfing pizza party I had been invited to.
The house was out in the middle of nowhere, but once I got there I found a whole mix of people from all over the world - Bariloche, Buenos Aires, Kentucky, California, Canada, Oregon/Peru, Germany, England, Colombia, and myself from Colorado. One of our hosts, Marcelo, made the most delicious pizzas on the grill, and they just kept coming all night. We had an absolute blast, and I spent the entire next day with the owner of the house and Marcelo talking about and making food. We ended up making about five different kinds of filled breads throughout the day, plus brownies and mini apple pies and the leftover pizza and a good bit of beer to wash it all down. I took great pictures of all the food, but unfortunately my ipod was stolen the next evening, so you will just have to use your imagination.
After pretty much rolling into bed too full to even move, I spent the entire next day trying to walk off the food by climbing Cerro Catedral. A ten peso bus ride brought me to the empty ski resort town of Villa Cerro Catedral, all but asleep in the sunny absence of snow. A long, beautiful, solitary hike following the line of ski lifts led me to the highest point where an incredible panoramic view of lakes, mountains and ski runs greeted me. Perhaps the most majestic sight, however, was my mountaintop companion - a condor. We shared the vast space and remote silence together at the top of the world. I never realized quite how big a condor is until I was standing at the base of its perch with no small amount of fearful respect for the intelligent eyes, sharp beak and huge talons of the Chilean national symbol. I could feel it staring me down, and when I quietly abandoned the mountaintop, it spread its enormous wings (condors have up to a ten-foot wingspan) and soared to a far peak, disappearing from view.
Back in town, I stole a final glimpse of the largest chocolate egg in the world before heading off to buy a final dozen pastries for the next day's breakfast and a coca-cola for that night's birthday party asado (barbecue). We enjoyed good companionship, excellent meat, and wine or fernet with coca cola, according to preference, and generally made the most of a warm windless (a miracle) night.
On the bus back to Bariloche I somehow became some sort of celebrity. A big family took all the seats surrounding me, and soon asked where I was from, since I obviously look nothing like Latin American. My status as US citizen evidently means I am knowledgeable in all aspects of US foreign policy as well as knowing how the US views each and every Latin American country and leader. Thankfully I do actually know quite a bit about all that, and I spent the entire trip anazlyzing everything from US foreign policy to Obama to Chavez to the Argentine economy as compared with the Chilean (which I really don't know enough about to respond accurately to all their questions), to the new pope (which I definitely know nothing about given that I'm not Catholic and have been hearing the Argentine news, not the US, all month!). The little old ladies nearby joined in on the conversation, and we spent the entire ride covering every topic imagineable in friendly companionship. The family, from Buenos Aires, gave me disbelieving stares when to one question I responded that although I was loving southern Argentina, I prefer Chile to Argentina, on the whole. Blasphemy. Who could possibly prefer Chile, they wondered. Ah well, the Chileans get me and I get them.
Day four, a Saturday, I spent in El Bolsòn, a tiny town south of Bariloche. Although the town itself is pretty boring, it`s an awesome jumping off point for tons of multiday treks. My feet and ankles were sore and I really just wanted to wander around town and admire the Saturday artisan market. Every single stall was filled with high quality handmade products, and most of the sellers worked on more products after laying out their wares. I must have passed through the market six or seven times, noting my favorites and deciding if I really should buy anything (yes, of course) and if so, what. The awesome thing about the El Bolsòn market is that every seller has to be certified and prove they make their own products, so no cheap stuff from Peru or Bolivia creeps in at ridiculously high prices. The stalls held everything: cute clay and wood gnomes, alfajores, leather goods of all shapes and sizes, bone-handled knives, trees made from dried flowers, ceramic pots and pans and mugs, wooden utensils and tools, marmelades and jams and liquors, and quite a bit of organic produce and fresh food. In my final walkthrough before decision time, I enjoyed fresh raspberries. They're no match for the New Mexico variety, but delicious all the same. I made my purchases and caught the bus back to town to arrive in time for a couchsurfing pizza party I had been invited to.
The house was out in the middle of nowhere, but once I got there I found a whole mix of people from all over the world - Bariloche, Buenos Aires, Kentucky, California, Canada, Oregon/Peru, Germany, England, Colombia, and myself from Colorado. One of our hosts, Marcelo, made the most delicious pizzas on the grill, and they just kept coming all night. We had an absolute blast, and I spent the entire next day with the owner of the house and Marcelo talking about and making food. We ended up making about five different kinds of filled breads throughout the day, plus brownies and mini apple pies and the leftover pizza and a good bit of beer to wash it all down. I took great pictures of all the food, but unfortunately my ipod was stolen the next evening, so you will just have to use your imagination.
After pretty much rolling into bed too full to even move, I spent the entire next day trying to walk off the food by climbing Cerro Catedral. A ten peso bus ride brought me to the empty ski resort town of Villa Cerro Catedral, all but asleep in the sunny absence of snow. A long, beautiful, solitary hike following the line of ski lifts led me to the highest point where an incredible panoramic view of lakes, mountains and ski runs greeted me. Perhaps the most majestic sight, however, was my mountaintop companion - a condor. We shared the vast space and remote silence together at the top of the world. I never realized quite how big a condor is until I was standing at the base of its perch with no small amount of fearful respect for the intelligent eyes, sharp beak and huge talons of the Chilean national symbol. I could feel it staring me down, and when I quietly abandoned the mountaintop, it spread its enormous wings (condors have up to a ten-foot wingspan) and soared to a far peak, disappearing from view. |
The view from the top. If you follow that road at the right, you'll reach Villa Cerro Catedral in the righthand picture. If you follow the hill to the left, you see the ski runs in the lefthand picture.   |
I rose early to catch the first bus to Puerto Varas, happy with my final week but most definitely ready to be back on Chilean soil for my next adventure.
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