Sola in Bariloche

It seemed only fitting as my second Spring Break comes to a close here in Denver that I write about my first which took place in September in Argentina. Technically, it wasn’t actually a Spring Break as we found out a few days before when we were told classes were still happening that week. Rather, it was just IFSA saying we should take a week break to travel, (I guess they assume kids like me don’t do that every weekend anyways). Needless to say, I jumped at the chance.

The problem was just where to? Ryan and several of my other close friends were planning a trip to Machu Piccu Peru, which would have satisfied my bucket list desire to see the ruins, but was also quickly racking up quite the price tag since flying, busing, and trains were all involved to get there.

Then of course there were the girls. Yona had her set plans to visit her US roommate in Chile where she was also studying abroad, but Lorri and Ale were very much on the fence like me. Finally, we made the decision to split up. They wanted the culture and heat of the Jujuy arid landscape with its wondrous hills of seven colors, and I wanted my mountains, specifically the world-renown views of Bariloche, in the northern lake district of Patagonia, Argentina. The catch however, is that I would be traveling alone: 800 miles south, staying in a hostel, and of course, completely dependent on my Spanish to do it all. Typical me, I bought my bus tickets and set my sights for Bariloche. Bring it on.

The bus ride was twenty hours through mostly desert as we wound our way south. Luckily I find great entertainment in looking out the window, though the yellow plains that met my gaze may not have been the normal traveler’s idea of beauty. I am still so taken aback by the enormity of Argentina, specifically the expansiveness of those landscapes which have no human scaring upon their faces. No telephone poles, no roads, no buildings of any kind, which to me brings a sort of beauty that many places in the US and other well-developed countries cannot replicate. I remember flying into Argentina, over Chile and across the country to Buenos Aires, and seeing the darkness below me only intermittently lighted up by city centers. They were so far and in-between there were times it seemed we were flying over an ocean rather than land. I found myself gazing out the window of the bus and recognizing I was on probably the only lonely highway through that ocean of arid plains, towns only coming into view every four hours or so. Sometimes more.

I knew we were getting close to our destination when the landscape suddenly started to change. Water appeared, a tell-tale sign I was entering the famed “lake district” of Argentina’s Patagonia. The waters were crystal clear blue, a contrast to the yellow plains I had just left and a reflection of the cloudless sky above. Then hills began to form around those lakes, some of which wore crowns of craggily rocks, water acting as sculptor on their pointy spires. Next thing I knew we were rounding a bend in the narrow highway and in full sight came one of the many large lakes for which the region is known, guarded by magnificent snowy peaks, with the little ski town of Bariloche nestled amongst them on the far shore. Nerves of traveling alone aside, I was left in wonder for a moment, the low afternoon sun glittering on the lake and the snowy mountains set in stark relief with the blue sky above them. I’d made the right choice coming here.

Easily enough, once the bus had pulled into the terminal, I stepped off the platform to find my hostel owners Silvia and Cesar, who I would come to call my second host family, waiting for me with smiling faces. They seemed to understand the fear that can come with traveling on your own, and Silvia especially did everything possible to make me feel comfortable at their beautiful hostel named El Quijote, as did Grandma who also resided there permanently. In return I helped Silvia throughout the week practice her English skills (she was learning via Google Translate) and even served as interpreter when her skills failed to help her understand an Israeli couple who could only speak English and needed a taxi. I blame Google, not Silvia’s lack of effort, but I nonetheless felt my first hint of fluency in Spanish when I could successfully communicate easily between the two languages with both parties walking away satisfied.

A piece of artwork outside the local cathedral.

After settling into my new home for the next five nights, and sending a quick e-mail to the parents and Ryan (the parents being far more cool and collected about the whole thing than Ryan who was forever worried about my safety), I set out to discover the town and watch the sunset over the lake and distant mountains. Needless to say, I was spellbound by Bariloche on sight, and it would turn into a love affair that would last the whole week.

*Sigh*

Day 1: I figured my first day in Bariloche should be spent seeing and exploring what National Geographic dubbed “one of the top ten best views in the world.”  This view is accessed by climbing Cerro Campanario, a short bus ride away from the city center. It’s possible to take a chairlift up to the top but I opted to avoid the 20 peso fee and instead hike to the top, which, in classic Argentine style, meant a straight up climb for thirty minutes or so, because who ever believed in switchbacks?

Once at the top though, the sweat was undoubtedly worth it. Just as National Geographic promised, I found myself gaping, wide-eyed at this incredible sight:

!!!

 
White capped mountains under a gloriously clear blue sky reflected in equally glorious deep blue lakes amongst a lush wooded landscape kept me captivated as I rotated 360 degrees in wonderment. The day was perfect, sunny but not too hot, and it was all I could do to take my fingers from my camera and simply accept that the scene could never be recreated. Instead I decided to get up close and personal with the landscape by biking Circuito Chico which loops around the largest peninsulas and connects a few of the islands amongst the lakes.

This ended up being quite the strenuous endeavor, but I was able to see many of the sights and vistas that otherwise would have eluded me. I ate lunch on the waters of one of the lakes, still marveling at the peaceful place I found myself and how incredibly beautiful everything was. Peaceful that is, until these guys showed up.

Dear God!

Bariloche, I’ve got to hand it to you. You’ve got some badass camp robbers. I nearly offered up my sandwich as tribute just so my fingers would be spared. Scale is obviously a problem in this picture, but these guys are larger than roosters. Good grief!

Regardless I was still able to get this very blue shot at my lunch spot before moving on in my bike tour. I’m proud of my photo timing talents, though I nearly toppled into the lake at one point trying to get to my pose in time, though that would have made a great picture.

Punto Panoramico with Hotel Llao Llao front and center.

A highlight of my bike trip around the circuit was Punto Panoramico, a vista which showed another incredible view of the lakes and surrounding mountains but also prominently featured Hotel Llao Llao, a five-star resort on the circuit which is famed internationally for its luxury and (obviously) spectacular setting. Something to note of course is that Punto Panoramico is a panoramic point (Spanish lesson 101 there folks), which means it has some elevation to it… and I ate lunch on the beach… so needless to say Lisa got a full work out that day. The level of difficulty on the circuit, which I was not totally expecting put me a bit behind schedule, such that I suddenly was concerned about returning my rental bike on time. This was all the more tragic because at the top of Punto Panoramico was a small little cafe which was advertising hot chocolate and waffles. I nearly had to tear myself from the place to get back on the road and down to the bike shop in the 15 minutes I had left. Barely made it!

After returning my bike, I found myself thinking back to that little café and longing to sample their advertised special. Inquiring with the bike rental employee though, I was disappointed to learn the next bus wouldn’t be stopping by for another 45 minutes or so given that it was a holiday (some obscure day celebrating something Argentine’s surely invented to have a day off, as per usual). Determined to have my waffles though, I set to the one method I could think of that would get me there within the hour (rather than the uphill climb on foot). Hitchhiking was of course my practical solution.

Now before I get angry phone calls from concerned family and friends (Ryan was quick to give me a lecture himself), there are a few things you have to realize about hitchhiking in southern Argentina – that is, that it’s very common and very safe for tourists to utilize. Add to that that I am able to speak Spanish, knew exactly where I was headed not too far up the road, and was on a basically closed circuit that led straight back into town worst case, I thought the idea was a brilliant solution to my dilemma. Having mulled all this over, I assuredly stuck my thumb out on the side of the road and waited, which led to the first of many lessons this trip would bring:

• To have success hitchhiking, all you have to do is smile

It took me a car or two to figure this out, but once my pearly whites appeared (both rows of course) a kind gentleman quickly pulled over and asked me where to. He ended up being a local policeman, so I felt more than safe and we chatted casually as his car puttered up the hill and he dropped me off at my desired location, smiling and giving me besos as I left his car. Hitchhiking? No problema.

And besides, it all ended up being so worth it. I seated myself on the balcony of the café looking out over the vista that is Bariloche, for a moment absolutely overcome by the beauty of it all. I ordered my hot chocolate and waffles with berries, then sat soaking in the sun until the waiter promptly brought out this:

So happy!!!

Something to note about the above fare is that 1). Bariloche was originally founded by the Suisse, and given this background is actually famous for its Swedish chocolate. Therefore the hot chocolate shown in this picture is not the Swiss Miss powdery stuff with the petroleum based marshmallows. No this was the real deal, melted chocolate with just a hint of spice, not unlike in the movie Chocolat and how I always dreamed it would taste. 2). Argentines do not believe in breakfast, waffles in the afternoon being a testament to this. Nonetheless, it was still the best breakfast I had ever had in Argentina regardless of its afternoon tardiness and may compete with Waffle Brothers for the best of all time (sorry Illinois). The fresh raspberries and cream nearly made me cry as I sipped my hot cocoa and looked out over the scenery. It was one of the happiest moments of my life.

A first day well spent, I (naturally) hitchhiked back down to the bus station then rode back the short trip to the city center and my hostel as the sun set, sending orange and pink hues into the sky. I was near to heaven.

Day two I decided to splurge on an organized excursion to see parts of Nahui Huapi national park that otherwise would have been inaccessible to me, while also seeing the landscape in one of the best ways possible: by boat.

I purchased my ticket for a full day tour across the lake and into a more remote location of the park that featured a beautiful waterfall and a hike to a glacier lake. Unfortunately the day was considerably colder as the wind had whipped up overnight and persisted throughout the day, though the sun still shown overhead. I would also soon discover that not unlike cruising, boating excursions are very appealing to older tourists. One elderly couple entertained me quite immensely while we were preparing to cast off from the dock. They, like me, were insistent on riding on the top deck, regardless of the blustering, chilly wind.

Adorable!

To combat this, the two were all bundled up to the point where the gentleman was only showing his eyes which were peeking out from under hoods, hats, scarves, and headbands. He was insistent though to put on his sunglasses, which were stubbornly resisting his attempts to fix them securely on his ears, ears that had disappeared under layers of fleece and wool. His giggling wife offered to help him and the two broke into fits of laughter when he disappeared behind the darkened shades to become basically a puffy body of winter wear with no human features to speak of. I hope they didn’t notice the quick picture I took of them, but I found their mannerisms to be not only funny, but adorable. After countless years, they still laughed at one another, and I found my mind wandering to Ryan who (I was later to find out) had just survived a terrifying bus trip through the Peruvian Andes. (You can ask him about that when you meet him).

After crossing the main lake to Puerto Blest, and of course after the entertaining game of “feed the seagulls” who swoop down to take crackers out of outstretched hands from enthralled passengers (including myself), we all disembarked to view the waterfall and see the glacier lake. The waterfall was beautiful, and the lake which fed into it even more so, but my favorite part of the excursion was the glacier lake, in part because I had the hike to see it all to myself. You see as I mentioned, the vast majority of passengers on the boat were older, and thus many decided that rather than see the lake, they’d rather take media tarde at the little tea house which operates at Puerto Blest. I therefore had the trail, which was more of a road, all to myself which wound alongside a glacier green river that flowed from the lake to Puerto Blest. The foliage was thick and green and, with almost a rainforest like feel, moss covered the trees and forest floor. Having left the group, I found myself confronted with silence, aside from the river passing over rocks and downed logs and the occasional chirp from an unseen bird. It was during this tranquil time that I really reflected on being in this place alone and how, though I am an extrovert, I get as much of my energy from the sun and nature as from other people. In short, I found myself to be one happy hiker.

Lago Frias

The glacier lake, appropriately named Lago Frias, appeared after some thirty minutes or so of hiking through the woods and it was a mesmerizing shade of green due to the rock particles reflecting light within it. Above, Mount Tronador, the largest mountain in the area and the guardian of the Chilean- Argentine border, displayed her enormous glaciers and craggily rock faces. I was a ways distant from the mountain itself, and so the size of the ice flows were difficult to comprehend, though “grande” was an obvious description. I was able to sit and enjoy the scene for a brief while, during which time a cute little bird similar to a finch joined me in contemplation, ruffling his feathers and tweeting a tune before flying away again. Content, and with a sigh of awe at the unfailing beauty of this place, I left Lago Frias to head back to the boat, and back towards Bariloche.

Puerto Blest

 

As Puerto Blest receded behind us, I noticed an interesting phenomenon occurring around the lake. What was so clear and picturesque that morning had turned to a brownish haze, and the horizon of white-capped mountains which were so clear yesterday had disappeared. Upon quizzing my new found hostel family about it, they informed me that just a few years ago, a large volcanic eruption not far from Bariloche in the Chilean Andes had covered the area in ash. That ash is still being blown around, and thus on windy days in particular, the hazy affect I had witnessed occurs. Hearing this was rather a creepy experience; I had forgotten how many active volcanos still do erupt in the area. The Andes never cease to amaze me.

The South face of Mount Tronodor

Day Three I was convinced by the nice lady at the tourism agency who helped me book my boat excursion to purchase a second excursion, this one taking me to see Mount Tronodor up close and personal within the national park. I was excited for the opportunity since there is no public transportation to this part of the park itself and the opportunity provided me a great deal of practice speaking Spanish and translating for others. And Mount Tronodor as I mentioned, is quite the spectacle to witness. You see, Tronodor means “thunderer” in Spanish and sure enough, as the group of us hikers was walking along to get up close and personal with the mountain, we heard the grinding, crashing sound of thunder echo ominously through the trees. “Tronodor, thunder” our guide says grinning and as we entered a clearing, we were confronted by a huge cliff, upon which perched an enormous glacier. Broken chunks of ice (still large enough to give the Long’s Peak boulder field a run for its money) lay strewn below, evidence of the calving above which created, you guessed it, Tronodor.

This cliff and glacier behind me are HUGE!

Calve baby calve!

As an aside, my sister created her own definition of Tronodor which you can probably guess at, but I’ll leave that story for my blog regarding Patagonia. (I know how excited you all are for that).

Yup, that dirty mess is a glacier!

The mountain and hanging glacier were certainly impressive, and we were all sure to stay a distance back from the landing zone of any potential ice blocks the size of houses. We ate lunch slowly, hoping to witness such an event, but alas, no luck for us that day. Instead, we hiked back to the van which then took us via a very bouncy broken dirt road to the Black Glacier viewpoint, another quite impressive sight. A large hanging glacier above calves and crashes to the rock below, effectively breaking large amounts of rock and mixing it with ice, which creates the larger flow below into ice mixed with black chunks of rock – effectively, the Black Glacier. The glacier once extended all the way to the viewing point, but has receded drastically since and instead a large green lake sits in front with blackened icebergs the size of the double-decker bus I’d come to Bariloche in floating around. It was quite the sight. 

Floating buses

Driving back the sun was slowly setting over the mountains and a golden glow was reflected on the surfaces of the lakes. On the van’s radio, the slow, smooth voice of Louis Armstrong summed up my day perfectly, “And I think to myself, what a wonderful world.”

Isn't it though?

Day four I set out to see the ski slopes of Bariloche, but found myself in a bit of a predicament. I was actually at the resort for closing weekend, but ticket prices were still a whopping $60 for the day. Hiking meanwhile, was free, but of course the snow that still covered the top of the mountain greatly restricted how much I could do so. Bummed, I decided to head back to the city center to think of something else creative to do for the day.

I chose to be the tourist that I really was for starters by buying a few postcards and then heading to Mamushka, the original, very famous, Swiss chocolatier. Inside, I was met with the exotic and rich aroma of fresh chocolate, made all the more mouthwatering when I noticed the free samples being given out. I decided on the spot that chocolates were to be the souvenir of the trip, so I selected a few different varieties for the Chicas to try, as well as Ryan and even a little box for my parents who were arriving in a couple weeks. Oh, and of course some for myself. This process was a bit difficult, as there is a jargon in the chocolate world which is difficult to decipher in Spanish, but hey! Samples communicate well. :)

After making all my purchases, (I should note my chocolate hearts for Ryan were quite trumped by the Peruvian, hand woven, llama wool blanket he brought me as a souvenir), I found myself still at a loss for what I wanted to do, when an idea suddenly hit me.

Rushing back to the hostel, I put on my best outfit (jeans, a sweater, and unfortunately tennis shoes), then called over to Hotel Llao Llao to make a reservation for one for afternoon tea. At a whopping 35 dollars, this experience was the most luxurious I would partake in while in Bariloche, and perhaps while abroad since the only other experiences coming close to competing would be the Salentien bodega and the seafood dinner Ryan took me to in Chile. This tea included an all-you-can-eat buffet of cute finger sandwiches and succulent deserts. I helped myself to three different plates and enjoyed an iced tea of passion fruit and citrus, all while looking out the window at the beauty of the lakes and mountains, which you’ve probably heard too much of at this point. The interior of the hotel itself reminded me of the Four Seasons where my cousins Sarah and Will work, with a feel of utter luxury and hospitality. After hiking for three days straight, I felt pretty pampered.

The view

The food and tea

Refugio Cerro Lopez nestled high above the lakes below

 





















Day five was my last day in Bariloche, and guess what I did? You guessed it! Hiked. This time it was to visit a refugio on Cerro Lopez, one of the white capped peaks in the area. I hadn’t heard of the refugio system until I arrived in Bariloche, but they are basically mountain huts that hikers can hike up to in the summer and stay at for free. The huts are deceptively large, with kitchen space and lots of bunks to accommodate backpackers. Hiking Cerro Lopez, I was able to investigate the route to one such Refugio, and vowed I would come back to stay there as well as the one on Mount Tronodor, which sits level with the glacier I stared up at during my excursion to the mountain.

The hike up Cerro Lopez offered more amazing views of the lakes as well as sightings of condors spiraling above the mountain peaks. Eventually, after climbing a considerable ways, I was met with snow, and after I reached knee depth of snow, I decided to turn around. Hiking by yourself has its dangers and I wasn’t about to have a repeat of my last snow hiking experience when I fell in to snow up to my neck. Luckily at that time I had my roommate Laura to help me out, but this time I decided to be more cautious. 

For something completely different, it was super pretty!

After hiking down by a different route, I hitchhiked my way to Colonial Suisa, which was the original colony in the area. Here I rested and enjoyed one last cup of real hot cocoa before deciding to make my way back to the city center. However on the way back I decided to make one last stop at Punto Panoramico where I greeted a woman I had noticed there before selling mates (the traditional tea cup/pot of Argentina) at the side of the road. 

Now I wonder which evil villain has my mate twin?

A quick note about mates: they are basically a staple of Argentine culture. Argentine’s drink Yerba, which is a loose-leaf tea, from the mate by using a bombilla, which is like a straw. The mate, which is traditionally made from a gourd, though glass models are increasingly becoming more common, is passed around a group of friends, students, family, etc. as a collective drink. And yes, you share the same bombilla. Therefore, this critical part of Argentine culture is also a critical part of becoming Argentine: you must own a mate. This is not done easily however, because just like the wands in Harry Potter, you do not choose the mate, the mate chooses you.

Yum!!

Not surprisingly then, in this beautiful place at this beautiful point, my mate found me. A traditional guard with traditional silverwork decorating it in a simple style, I fell in love and purchased my mate and bombilla. Then, with a content, but heavy heart I headed back to the city, where my wonderful hostel family had prepared a fish fresh caught from the lakes as a sendoff dinner for me and we shared a bottle of wine I bought. How I miss them.

The next day, I watched the sun set, the full moon rise over the desolate Argentine plains, and finally the sun rise in a full cycle as the twenty hour bus journey back to Mendoza came to an end. My conclusion from the whole experience was this: There are moments in your life you will always remember. They may have cost money, time, sweat, or tears, but ultimately, because they’re unforgettable, they are priceless. I will never forget my week solo in Bariloche.

Up next, the first in the November Trilogy – Road Trip! Lisa Braves Six Hours of Argentine Highway Driving. Sneak photo of where this road trip led to below…