Unremarkable Mendoza, and Minimally Interesting Salta

The Bus from Bariloche:

I arrived in the bus station and once again ran into my talkative Korean friend Kim. Honestly, I really wasn't in the mood to humor him, and hoped that we weren't taking the same bus. Luckily, he headed west and I turned north to Mendoza. I met an amazing girl on the way there, an adventure tourism guide from Quebec who tipped me off about San Pedro de Atacama.

Mendoza, Not the Place for Me:

Although hanging out with her in Mendoza was fun, I was happy to leave after one night, and one disappointing wine and bike tour. I ended up hanging out with a Spaniard wine connoisseur that drove me nuts the whole wine tour. He was the wealthy elitist type and stuck to me like glue simply because he didn't want to go to the wineries alone. The wine country felt like the California central valley, which didn't interest me at all. The trip was moderately painful, but I won't dwell on it. I drank and enjoyed a couple vintage malbecs, and was happy with just that. I was very glad to get on the bus to Salta.

Salta, don't Be Fooled by the Name:

An incredible mountainous jungle surrounds Salta, a city that has become a popular hub for travelers heading into northern Chile and Bolivia. I had gone expecting desert scenery, and was pleasantly surprised by the beauty that surrounded the city.

Most of the activities here, like Mendoza cost an arm and a leg... so I just stuck to camping and trekking. It was a good place to collect myself and get a little rest and relaxation, although the city itself was rather busy. There was a nice park, and a beautiful trek up to the top of a mountain next to the city. There was a tram that takes lazy people to the top as well, but I couldn't imagine paying to miss out on a great walk up a winding 1,000 step stairway through in the middle of the jungle. When I approached the top, I was disappointed to see a touristy and unnatural lawn and resort. They had a fake waterfall with disgusting recycled water, and a fancy cafe for the wealthy tourists. I took a few pictures of the city from that trap, and went back down to the city VIA the staircase.

Unfortunately there was little else to do in Salta without forking over some serious cash, so I left it behind after 3 nights. It took about that long for my body to get used to the altitude anyway. From there I bussed to San Pedro de Atacama.

All the bus rides I've taken were beautiful and interesting, but this one in particular was truly incredible. After watching the jungles melt into desert, we drove across a small salt flat. It looks like water in the photograph, but you can tell from up close that it's just a giant field of glistening and dry salt. I have never seen anything else like it, and it's made me very excited about the trip I'm going to make into Uyuni, Bolivia.

The scenery was fantastic, and despite a slightly disappointing entry into San Pedro, I've found the Atacama incredibly diverse and fantastic.

Last Full Day in Bariloche

Cerro Catedral

The next day I met back up with the Brits and a seventh person, Jesse. We had intended to head out to the town of Catedral at 11AM via bus, but were delayed by a futbol game. After the Brits got their fill and saw their local team (Manchester City) lose, we caught the bus at 1PM. I was a little peeved by the delay, but I'll admit that things might not have been quite as amazing if we had started our trek at a more reasonable hour.

The trek started easily and it seemed that we would certainly make it to the summit very quickly. That all changed very abruptly, as I received yet another reminder of the burdens that come from traveling in a group. We took constant breaks before we needed them, and were always waiting for whoever was dragging behind. To be fair, as a group everyone was relatively strong, but we only had about 5 hours of daylight to do an estimated 6 hour hike.

When we got farther up the peak, the scenery became incredibly beautiful, almost dreamlike. The camera can't quite capture the diagonal rays splitting through the canopy of the old-growth forest, but the whole area emitted a distinctly pure vibe. We naturally spread out beyond each others' area of vision, and it felt like walking peacefully alone through paradise.

When we met up toward the end of the forest that we realized how far behind some of our group had fallen. We ended up waiting half an hour for Jesse, who had some physical troubles and had to stop a few times on the way. He decided to stay behind in the forest as we headed up toward the summit. Time was short and the path was really steep, but we covered the estimated 2 hour climb in just over an hour. The forest scenery dissipated completely to reveal great varieties of spires and jagged peaks, and everyone suddenly felt the physical toll of the hike. I was the only one that had packed food, and ended up sharing it with the rest of the group, some of whom appeared to be feeling extremely weak.

I had lugged that food all the way up the hill, and losing the extra weight vitalized me as much as eating did. Being the prepared type, I ended up sharing much more of my food and water than I kept for myself. Despite the hunger, I'm always happy to help anyone, so naturally I pretended have had my fill and urged them to eat and drink freely.

We then tackled the last 2 kilometers with a "get it over with" mentality and pushed through the exhaustion. A beautiful spring sat at the top, nestled among a tight ring of jagged peaks. We took a little break and checked out "Refugio Frey," a base camp for truly daring climbers who came to attempt to scale the vertical cliff faces surrounding the spring. They looked truly insane dangling on the edge of oblivion and it certainly took the greater part of a day for them to complete their short but nigh impossible climbs. We were happy to live vicariously through the pictures of the peaks. We also brought Jesse up to the top through an impromptu superimposition.

We rushed down doing a great deal of fun and exciting "fall-running" (using momentum from downhill stretches to propel yourself farther, faster, and with less energy). We met back up with Jesse who ended up napping in the forest where we left him and continued down the hill reunited.

The second time I "saved" one of the Manchester group was when Michael built up too much momentum and lost control while running down a slope. I pretty much just stood below with my arms out, feet braced and fingers crossed. He was easy to stop. I think it was because he was tall and his center of gravity was really high and separated from his feet. He was just happy to not have crashed into the mountain wall.

We reached the bottom just before sunset, but had to wait almost 2 hours for the bus to come take us back. It was cold, and I looked ridiculous running around town trying to find someone that knew the bus schedule.

I pretty much went straight to bed after all that. I left Bariloche the next day.

More of Bariloche

Cerro Campanario

Today the rest of the group wanted to take it easy and sleep in, but by some miracle, I wasn't tired or sore at all. I decided to do a short hike up to Cerro Campanario, one of the top 10 views in the world according to National Geographic. I agree that the panorama of lakes and mountains was very impressive... but I'm more of an intimate scenery type. I was more affected by the unique views we enjoyed on the bike ride. I can't complain too much, since I skipped the gondola and hiked up to the summit for a total cost of $0.

A nice German woman took the picture above for me, and I took a few more photos before heading back down. On the way I noticed a path that headed around parallel to the mountain.... obviously it had to be explored. It turned out to be an infrequently trodden horse trail that I assumed followed the mountain range along the lake. It winded through bamboo forests and occasionally cleared up for a view of the lakes. About 45 minutes later, I discovered that it didn't follow the mountain range. I had just circled the mountain, and I found myself back where I started, perfectly oriented and generally disappointed.

The rest of the day was just relaxing and kicking back in the hostel.

From Buenos to Bariloche

The Actual Leaving:

After wrapping up a few loose ends in Buenos Aires with incredible haste, I jumped on the bus to Bariloche.

There seemed to be only Argentines entering, so I was excited to get an opportunity to practice my Spanish... but I ran into a strange surprise when I got to my seat. Instead of meeting an Argentine, I found myself next to an overly-talkative Korean man named Kim. Kim had made it a point not to learn a single word of Spanish in his months of travelling. I talked to him for a long time about essentially nothing before I got really bored and pretend to fall asleep. He's an author/artist in Korea, and obsesses way too much over the obvious. I'll leave the Kim business at that... at least he kept me awake to take that shot of the sunset on the horizon.

Exploring People and Places in Bariloche:

I ended up in my hostel room with a group of 5 Brits from Manchester traveling together. They turned out to be an awesome group and I got along well with all of them. That night I acted as their Spanish translator and we went on a hilarious 'empanada crawl' in Bariloche. Some pizza place that cooked them freshly took the prize.

We spent the first full day biking around the "micro circle." It was an amazing time for lots of reasons, but mostly because everyone wanted to do completely crazy and ridiculous things the whole time. We started just by riding up hills that weren't meant for bikes, like the road to the fancy hotel Llao Llao, where the picture on the left was taken.

That, however was the least exciting part of the excursion. Farther down the trail me Jaime, and Lawrence ended up cutting into the woods and climbing through the canopy to get a unique view of Lago Escondito. I managed to snap this picture of Jaime moving through the treetops.

Afterward we got stuck in the bamboo forest below, but eventually worked our way back to the normal path and had lunch by the lake. This was the first of several off-the-trodden-path experiments... and it really showed me how much more I could enjoy my experiences simply by knowing that they were unique. Peer pressure drove us off the path, and I'm not gonna lie, some of my greatest discoveries have happened as the result of peer pressure and mob mentality. The extremes that those things are responsible for are pretty interesting, but I won't explore my philosophical reflections on the power of collective thinking here.

I will, however, talk more about exploring in general. It's no coincidence that every single one of my pictures came from the things we found off the main trail (which was still very beautiful itself). The second time we diverged from the road was actually twice removed from the main trail. We accidentally went about 15km off the map and ended up on a difficult and poorly marked road. It was from that road that we went off into the woods and found a beautiful waterfall. We filled up our water bottles with some of the most deliciously pure, cold water I've ever tasted, and relaxed there for a while. I convinced the group to take a trek up into the hills since they looked fairly climbable. I wanted to see where the waterfall came from. I expected a pond or something of that sort, but we found far more spectacular things. After a bit of fairly difficult climbing we found a shrine and a statue of the virgin Mary on top of the cascade. This place must have been special to someone, but we could only guess why. It was a surreal sight . . . hard to take any clear and simple impressions from.

Farther up towered a taller, thinner, more spectacular waterfall. That's the one in the picture. Sam took a fall on the way down, and I put my arm out to help him. I think he would have been fine, but I was credited for the first of two times with 'saving' one of them. I'm pretty much one of the greatest heroes that ever lived... anyhow... the waterfall we found felt so peaceful, so inspiring, so uniquely beautiful that it's hard to reflect on the experience without feeling a longing to be out in the wilderness in the quiet.

After coming down from there and riding even farther in the wrong direction we saw an isolated and completely deserted beach. we felt obligated to find a way down to it. After the third random guess as to how to get down there, we managed to find a trail. We weren't disappointed at all. We discovered a private beach with a setting sun and beautifully dynamic horizon - completely unspoiled by civilization or any signs of human activity. It was an amazing day, and after returning to the main road we managed to return the bikes 3 minutes before they had to be back, 10 hours after we started the trip. Good people, good sites, good exercise, great day.

Leaving Buenos Aires

I have mixed feelings about leaving Buenos Aires, and I feel like I have a lot of unfinished business here. I'll certainly be returning here before traveling to a few other places, but I'm not sure how long that stay will last. I can't believe how many people I've met here, how much I've done, how much I could have done, and how strangely homelike such a foreign and heavily populated city could be.

I have a few more loose ends to tie up tomorrow, but after that, I'm gone. I'll be on a bus to smaller places. Places with more natural beauty, with adventure, with solitude. I have been craving these things, but I'm positive I'll be missing this city quite a bit. I've left a lot of unfinished business, and I'd like to have a chance to deal with it in the future.

For now, beautiful lakes, towering mountains, and the incredible glaciers of Patagonia are calling. I'm excited to go and, as always, very nervous about exactly what the future holds. Either way, it'll be an experience that I doubt I'll soon forget. The freedom, the uncertainty, all of it feeds my adventurous spirit. Other than that, all I have to say is Mom, Dad, DON'T WORRY! It'll be fine, it'll be fun, it'll be constructive, and it'll be healthy. I'm very happy to be here but I still love you all and I'll be incredibly excited to see you when this journey reaches its end.

Carnaval in Gualeguaychu

The Beginning:

So this weekend my Indian friend, Brazilian roommate and I went to Carnaval in Gualeguaychu. It made for a great day. We took a surprisingly comfortable 3 hour bus ride, and arrived just before noon. It seemed to be a nice and quaint little town--very different from Buenos Aires. We bought reasonably priced drinks and enjoyed the relatively mild weather. Passing the temperate day in a relaxed town along a lazily flowing river while drinking deliciously cheap local beer with good company inspires only one feeling: content. It wasn't quite Hemmingway drinking mojitos on the beach in Cuba, the sand was clearly planted there by humans and the river was murky with sediment, but it sufficed. I’m pretty interested in what kind of wildlife there was in that river, since all of it was effectively invisible. Nit-picky details aside, it was picturesque.

Taking in the Scene:

We had a lot of time to lounge, and only headed out toward the festivities around 8:30pm as the sun started setting. That was good timing, as we were able to get in before it became overcrowded and had time to meet and socialize with the people around us. Everyone there was awesome, I’ve had good experiences with just about everyone in Buenos Aires, but here there was absolute consistency. We were invited to join people at several after-hours clubs, and everyone we talked to were very interested to find out where our unique Spanish accents were from (California, Texas/India, and Brazil).

The Festival:

When the actual festival started, I was surprised in a lot of ways. All the music was played live from the floats as they passed, and there was no shortage of sexuality and symbolism between the ridiculous costumes and surprisingly thoughtful floats. It seemed it was just going to be a series of inaccurate and borderline offensive cultural stereotypes; the first set of floats was simply a series of cliché depictions of Chinese, Indian, and Middle Eastern cultures. That irked me a bit, but from there the procession got on track.

The rest of the floats followed a very logical and interesting progression that I think is probably overlooked by most visitors (I couldn’t convince the people around me that there was anything of substance in the procession). The floats depicted the indigenous cultures and wildlife in South America. These were immediately followed by a Portuguese ship filled with conquistadors. The connection seemed obvious to me at this point, but 15 floats later people still thought I was imagining it.

The next floats depicted the missionary period, with giant symbols of European religion and culture, and after that it got really interesting . There was a giant float that represented the poisonous effects (literal and figurative) of the European colonists. The cultural symbols on that float were each perverted in an interesting way, and all centered on a diabolical piece of machinery pumping the poison into everything.

I thought that the festival had ended when a dark float that represented the deaths from plague, war, and murder came by, but it turned out there was a lot more to be said. A purely white float, full of angelic and redemptive images followed, yet this wasn’t the whole story either.

Next a series of floats showing beggars, corrupt politicians, giant and malicious visages of jokers, and a float full of people in suits riding a pig being lured by an American $100 bill. I thought the connections were pretty undeniable at this point, and I was happy to see this kind of awareness in a celebration that is largely considered to be a wild sex-romp. To be clear, in front of and on top of just about all of these were scantily clad dancers wearing the feathers of what I could only estimate to be about 2,000 large birds. So like most celebrations, it wasn’t without its conflicts of interest, but in all honesty I think Christmas is much worse (I find endless irony in obligatory kindness).

The depressingly true imagery of the poisons of European and North American culture was followed by the reaction. Giant floats loaded with politically charged messages followed. Some protested directly through protest signs, some had to be understood implicitly. These floats demonstrated the movements and hope that drive positive change. I was glad to see that, otherwise I'd say that the high spirited celebration would have ended on a really depressing note.

The Overview:

As a culmination of a lot of different things, my interpretation of Carnaval is a celebration of the current culture for everything that it is. The good, the bad, the free, the victimized, the taboo… everything is recognized and the whole time people are happily dancing and interacting with each other. Rather than cherry-picking events to highlight as stepping stones to the current situation, they put everything in perspective. Bad things happened, but we are what we are, and since we’re happy with what we are, there’s cause to celebrate.

Oh, and the after party was ridiculous. I’ve never seen a relatively bland area come to life like that.