14 January 2011

I left Lago Puelo in a rush this morning, eager to be alone on the road once more. I didn’t even pick up the two backpackers outside of El Bolson. I felt bad a little but they would survive.

I got to Bariloche around eleven. I stopped at a mechanic/gomeria to see about the crack in my window but he said he couldn’t do it and recommended someone else whom I couldn’t find. I parked and walked downtown in search of chocolate and wild boar. I also took my laptop in case I found wi-fi as well.

I bought a few tasty chocolates at a confectionary called Mamuschka. There was a matryoshka russian doll motif. The decor and employee dress was very European. Not Russian at all. I bought several samples of rich delicious chocolate and they went down fast. They were wonderfully delicious.

I walked around a bit down the tourist strip. Tourism is the main source of income for Bariloche. Wealthy Brazilians and Argentines vacation here in the summer to ski on the beautiful lake and in the winter to ski on the beautiful mountains. There is a wall with two arches which encloses a small area with the bronze statue of a horse and rider. I found a cafe with wi-fi.

Finding a restaurant with wild boar, jabalí, proved difficult. I wandered the streets for about half an hour before I entered the first place I saw that had it on the menu. The waiter said they were out but as soon as I got up to leave he shouted at the cook to ask if there might be any wild boar remaining and thankfully there were two orders still in the fridge. It turned out to be not so great. Pretty ordinary actually. It reminded me of dinners my mother used to cook when she boiled the meat and it would curl up and little pools of meat water juice would form in the cup.

I read a few passages of “In Patagonia” while waiting for my food. I finished the book sitting on a low wall overlooking Lago Nahuel Huapi. While being an entertaining read, it sure wasn’t “On the Road.” So I read “In Patagonia.” Great.

The gas station only allowed me to fill up 20 liters which was a 100 pesos limit. A little worrisome. The odometer messed up when I tried to reset it which was a pain. My gas gauge does not function so the odometer is very necessary for alerting me to when I should fill up the tank.

I bypassed two backpackers and instead picked up a single guy with a small bag. His name was Julio. I dropped him off at the intersection of highways 40 and 237. Almost immediately I picked up another guy hitchhiking. I drove him about thirty miles.

Volcano Lanín? 

Approaching Zapala there were all kinds of bicyclists and joggers. A bit strange to see. I got gas and gave a lift to a man and his son thirty miles up the road to Las Lajas. In Las Lajas the road turned to dirt in a neighborhood but almost immediately reverted back to pavement when I crossed the river.

Vote for the Moustache Party

I stopped to take a picture of a dead cow. The animal was completely hollow. There was a large circular cut on its anus and its underbelly was also sliced open. All the guts were gone but the bones and hide remained. I kicked it and it was very stiff.

This is when I noticed my rear driver side tire was completely ruined. There was a cut and a large air bubble on the sidewall. It’s only a matter of time before it goes. Probably from the  hundreds of miles of gravel roads in the past two days. The mood immediately turned somber. Julio said it was all pavement between Bariloche and Mendoza. There is only providence on which to rely. I also noticed my right headlight was out. More problems.

At Chos Malal the police stopped me to check my papers while about ten other cars and trucks sped on by. I saw a sign for Route 40 and got out to take a picture. That’s when I saw a little bit of light emanating from the dead headlight. I popped open the hood to have a look and saw the light had simply slipped out of place, again probably due to the gravelly, bumpy roads. Putting it back in place took no time and I was soon back on the road.

The roads were good for about 150 more miles then there was 30 miles of dirt. But it was better than the previous gravel and dirt roads because it was smooth with no large mini boulders and some of the pavement was still on the ground. It was bumpy but all in all it was quite smooth. No problems with the bad tire yet but it is a ticking time bomb and I hope it holds until Mendoza.

In Bariloche I saw three girls who were friends with Jordan and who had been at Onda Azul. We ate dinner with them. I did not stop to say hello. They were at a table drinking coffee and smoking. I wonder who else I will run into. I wonder if I will see Jordan again.

13 January 2011

Jordan said to wait for him and we would clean the car together but check out time was in an hour so I started without him. I emptied the car and brushed the dust off each object. Then I used the hostel’s vacuum to clean the interior. After that I used some wipes I had to clean all the hard surfaces. The amount of dust was unbelievable. I think it got in from a hole in the spare tire compartment. Tal having her window cracked certainly helped also. There was even dust in the glovebox. I was nearly done when Jordan appeared and when Tal finally decided to help out. I told them to empty out and clean the tool box.

We ate breakfast at Onda Azul, the Israeli farm hostel. Tal walked off with her laundry and to see if there were rooms at a place next door to the farm. Jordan and I played several rounds of Yaniv, an Israeli card game I learned in Antarctica. I won best of fifteen.

Tal and Jordan decided to camp at the hostel because no rooms were available and they really wanted to be at this farm and camping was the only option available. I took one of the beds Tal had reserved next door. While playing cards Jordan boiled a pot of Israeli coffee. It tasted like a musty library.

Horses near the hostel

There are three Israelis in the cabin I’m in. Two of them are sharing a bed. I took a late afternoon nap while they watched “The Return of the King”.

My body started to feel achy and tired deep in my bones like I was beginning to get real sick. I hope this is not the case. If I am sick I will stay tomorrow. If not I will probably drive to Bariloche.

This place is called La Isla. Their wi-fi is horrible. So is the wi-fi at Onda Azul. The guys here do not have any rolling papers to make a joint so they carefully emptied a cigarette, stuffed it full of weed, and ripped off the cotton filter.

12 January 2011

Thirty miles outside of Perito Moreno the pavement turned to gravel once more. We drove 250 miles on terrible gravel. Some of it thick mini boulders scraping my car. I had to balance on the thick strips and I was swerving everywhere. I thought I was going to crash a few times. We saw an asian guy on a bicycle. He must have strong legs.

We stopped to piss and the wind blew it back on my shirt in tiny sprinkles. Even my sunglasses got a few drops.

Finally crossing onto pavement was a moment of great triumph and relief. The first part of the gravel road I had Prodigy’s “Fat of the Land” blasting in my right ear. Jordan had it blasting in his left ear.

The car died outside of Tekoa. Ran out of gas. Thankfully I had spare gas handy. We took a small break in Tekoa. Had some ice cream.

We made it to Lake Puelo by 7:30. Rey Sol was full but Jordan had a reservation. We went to another camp, Onda Azul. It was full too. We finally found a room for the three of us at an out of the way hostel down a dirt road.

A Restaurant at Lake Puelo

Jordan wants to eat dinner at Onda Azul. He and Tal made reservations. It is an Israeli home away from home. Everyone here is a Jew. All the signs are in Hebrew. The close-knit community of young backpacking Israelis is astounding and mysterious to me. All these Israelis, fresh out of the army, backpacking around South America, going to the same places, and running into each other again and again and again. I think to be an Israeli is to give up anonymity. Jordan is always with girls. They love him. They adore him. He knows a lot of people.

11 January 2011

Jordan did not sell his ticket to the hostel. He sold it to the bus station clerk who sold it to him in the first place. An American lady needing a ticket almost purchased it but she didn’t have any money because the ATM was empty and she would’ve been on an honor system (Jordan said to leave the money at a certain place and a friend would retrieve it for him). It would’ve been complicated with her anyway. While we waited for the bus clerk to get money Jordan scrambled eggs for us in his hostel kitchen. The kitchen was swarmed with flies just as it had been last night.

We crammed Tal and Jordan’s packs into the car, got Jordan's money, and we were off to El Bolson. Eight miles later the pavement gave way to gravel. It was more like small boulders in places and each scrape and knock was heart stopping.  The idea of a brake line or the fuel line or anything breaking due to an errant mini-boulder was not pleasant. however the road did smooth out to something more manageable in a few places. We stopped to inspect what appeared to be volcanic rocks but were something else. The dark color and pock marks gave the impression of volcanic origin. We also stopped to photograph the headless rotted corpse shell of a guanaco and the mysterious gravesite of a young Japanese man.

Jordan jumped in the back to sleep and Tal and I listened to music. One ear bud in each ear. Her tiny loud external speaker had died. We high-fived each other when the road returned to pavement but our joy only lasted about 100 miles and then it was back to nail biting gravel.

At Bajo Caracoles we got gas, ice cream, cookies, and coke. The coke was flat so we got a second bottle but it too was flat. I was looking on the map for Cueva de las Manos and it wasn’t far. I thought maybe we had passed it already. The gas station clerk said it closed at 7. It was 6. We considered getting a room at the gas station which was also a hotel but we went to the small hostel in town (it was hardly a town but wikipedia says the population is 100 which is laughable) and they said Ceuvas de las Manos closes at 8 so we booked it on over to the cave. There is a big sign that says the last tour is at 7. In twenty-six minutes I sped us down curving gravel roads doing my best not to slide everywhere or cause an accident. I got us there with five minutes to spare.

We paid the 50 peso fee, got out helmets, and then the tour began. There is only one cave. All the paintings are on walls outside of the cave on the face of large cliffs. Mostly hands but also animals. It was interesting and mysterious. Why would they paint so many hands and how did they get the animals so exact each time?

Some guys helmet fell off and rolled down the hill into the canyon below. We all watched it disappear. The canyon is an anomaly in the surrounding desert wasteland. The river running through gives life and all is green. The tall sharp cliffs and expansive sky give the distinct impression of the American west.

The gravel road to Perito Moreno turned to pavement after about 20 miles. What a relief. I don’t believe there’s any more gravel until some point after Bariloche. On the road I stopped to take a picture of a bus amongst some construction equipment but saw a car approaching so I pretended to be inspecting my car. That’s when I saw a cable hanging from my rear passenger tire. I don’t know what it’s for but it can’t be good. The car is still running great.

In Perito Moreno we were told by a bartender at a hotel that every room in town was full. We found a double room for 308 pesos and a hostel for 60 pesos each. I opened the rear of my car and everything was coated in a thick dust. I couldn’t believe it. At some point I will need to completely empty my car and give it a thorough cleaning.

While riding down the gnarly gravel road Tal said, “This is just like the roads in Bolivia.” I replied, “That’s why I’m not going there.” Bolivia may be a nice country but it’s not worth it if visiting will destroy my car.

We went out to eat a late dinner (12 am) but I wasn’t hungry so I asked only for tiramisu. They didn’t have any so I declined food. Tal and Jordan got a little upset with furrowed brows. “You don’t want to eat?” So I ordered a bowl of vegetable soup.

I have eaten only a few times with Jordan and from these limited experiences I gather that in Israel a large communal meal is a staple amongst family and friends. I do not care much about eating much less fixing a proper meal but for the Israelis I think they must perform this ritual. It’s a source of familial bonding and strengthening friendships. This virtue was never impressed upon me in my family.

10 January 2011

Last night I couldn’t sleep because someone in the dorm was snoring like a bear. Earplugs and my iPod didn’t help drown out the noise. I went to go sleep in the common area but there was a German family spread about all over the couches asleep so I returned to my dorm to try and sleep amongst the snores. It didn’t work so I returned to the common area and the family was gone. The clerk woke me up a few minutes later and I ended up switching rooms. Good riddance. Someones shoes were also stinking up the place.

Despite arriving at the tire shop early and being first in line I was seen third. The other three barged into the garage while I had gone to the inside counter. I wasn’t so happy with that but in the end it didn’t matter. I have plenty of time and shouldn’t always be in a rush. There was a thirty minute wait in line to use the ATM.

I picked up a French couple on the way to the Perito Moreno Glacier. I ended up parking next to the RV of the French family touring South America. The three of us walked around the lookout paths around the glacier before they split to see if they could get a boat to get closer.

Perito Moreno Glacier is very impressive. Small chunks peel off like onion layers and drop with a thunderous crash into the lake. The echo makes each icefall sound epic. We saw one large chunk topple with a deafening shot and loud splash. The glacier recedes into the horizon and deep within the mountain valleys.

I saw a beat up hippie van with California plates and I felt 100% better about my car. On the way out of the park I gave two young guys a lift back to El Calafate. They were Israeli.

Hippie van with California plates

The RV of the French family I first met on the Antarctic cruise

The three guys I picked up leaving El Calafate were also Israeli. I had wanted to drive as far as I could towards Bariloche up Route 40 but instead we all went to El Chalten. I dropped them off on a curb and turned around and saw Jordan.

On the road to El Chalten

The tip of Mt. Fitz Roy can be seen from El Chalten

I suggested we could ride together to Bariloche. He already bought a bus ticket to El Bolson. In El Bolson. there is a farm where all the Israelis go to kickback and rest from all their running around and traveling. There were no rooms at Jordan’s hostel so I tried two more but they also were booked. Jordan had told me to come see him when I had found a room but I couldn’t find anything so I was going to leave. But I saw him walking towards the bus station and I knew I had to turn around. He was trying to get a refund on his ticket. He also wanted a girl, Tal, to come along. That was fine with me.

He was not able to get a refund because he had paid with a credit card. So the clerk said she would offer the ticket to whoever needed a ticket to El Bolson and give Jordan the money.

I told him I could not find a room so he took me to a shambly nondescript building that turned out to be a hostel and it had a bed available. It seemed like the kind of place where you just have to be in the know to be privy to its existence. A friend of ours, Maayan, who was also on the Antarctic cruise and also an Israeli, had stayed there last night and reported that everyone left this morning.

Then we went back to Jordan’s hostel to play cards and cook dinner. Everyone there was Israeli. The Israelis are everywhere here and they all congregate in the same places together. Every Israeli goes backpacking in South America after they finish their two years of military service. I believe there is a large body of knowledge shared amongst Israeli backpackers on the web and that is why they are always in the same spots. It might make traveling cheap but I think it also cheapens the journey to do what everyone else is doing, going to the same places. Even though I am not unique I value my own experiences. I don’t want to follow the trail of a thousand other backpackers.

This guy took out his nylon guitar and I jokingly told him I had a real guitar in my car if he wanted to play it. When he learned it was a Martin acoustic he got wide-eyed and eager. He played the blues and relaxing classical-like music. He was good. Then we jammed together trading licks and solos and rhythms. He’s a fan of Andy Mckee so I recommended a few other acoustic innovators.

Tal came back form the bus station. She was able to refund her ticket but at a cost of 130 pesos. She wasn’t sure what to do because Jordan hadn’t sold his ticket yet.

Dinner was ravioli and gnocchi and garlic cheese bread. Jordan and Tal went out again afterwards to the bus station. Tal refunded her ticket even though Jordan still had not sold his. During the dinner conversation one of the girls revealed that she had worked in Tyler, TX at a mall kiosk selling Dead Sea beauty products. “Christmas is a time to make a lot of money”, she said. I think I understand how mall kiosks operate now. Bringing in fresh recruits from Israel to staff the kiosks and hawk beauty products. What a racket.

We all had ice cream and played cards. Tal ran out to find someone to buy Jordan’s ticket. She found a buyer but it's complicated and not guaranteed. He’s going to change the ticket to an open ticket and a hostel says they might buy it. Bottom line is tomorrow Jordan and Tal are traveling with me.

09 January 2011

Slept a lot today because of the late night last night. Surfed the net. Had a terrible cappuccino in town. Coffee just plain sucks in South America. Maybe Buenos Aires will be better. Bought a sticker for my car that is a Route 40 symbol with Patagonia as the territory label. I asked a lady shopkeeper if she had a smaller sticker and she said very harshly “What!? Do you speak English, French, German?” Made me feel like a jerk for trying to speak Spanish. I didn’t buy anything from her.

I noticed just now that someone stole my drivers side side-view mirror. The screws holding it in place are poking out and theres no breakage. It looks as if someone simply ripped it out.  What a bummer.

08 January 2011

My car was not ready at 12 pm. He said he was waiting for a belt to come from Rio Gallegos. He said the alternator was fine and that the problem was the belt. It was cracked and broken. I walked off skipping in joy. What divine providence. He said come back at 7 pm.

Then it occurred to me I should start looking for tires. My rear left tire looked flat and the spare was already on and I didn’t want to use a tow truck again. So I went to the gomeria which recommended Que Qui’s. They said they had a tire so I lugged my old tire four blocks from Que Qui’s. The tire they had was worn. And the new one they had was not the exact same size and it was $100!!!!.  So I trekked back uphill to my car with my cumbersome, heavy tire.

I walked to several shops and none had my size 185/65 R14. The PYF was closed. I surfed the net for a few hours until 5 and then went in search of coffee. Behold the PYF mechanic shop was open! Just closed for lunch. They had two new tires for $263!!! Way too expensive but the only place in town so I have to return on Monday for new tires.

While waiting for 7 to roll around I bought a copy of “In Patagonia”, had coffee, and changed my Chilean pesos into Argentine pesos. All the ATMs are out of money but I had enough money to pay the mechanic after I changed my pesos. The car wasn’t done at 7. The belt had not arrived. He called the hostel an hour later and I ran in haste and with even greater joy.

I saw the French family from Antarctica eating ice cream around 5:30. They were headed to Perrito Moreno Glacier. I also saw Jordan and Tanya again around 12:30. I snuck up behind Jordan and rubbed his newly shaved head. He said they were headed to El Chalten that evening. We were going to have lunch but he never emailed me. Now everything is in place. I just need new tires and then I can leave.

I went to a punk rock show at club Lago Argentina. The flyer said 22:30. Nothing was happening at 22:30 so I came back 45 minutes later and waited.  Just kids playing pool. The drum kit wasn’t even set up. The drummer said come back in an hour. An hour later they were fiddling with the instruments. The show didn’t start until 1:30am. It was full blast and pretty good punk pop like what I remember from 1997. They all switched up on instruments a few times. An older man came up to my table to talk but I couldn’t understand him. I think he just wanted some of my beer and was drunk already. He slept throughout the show while everyone was moshing.

There were probably only 40 people there. Maybe less. All 15-23. It was at a sports club, function hall. Each person got a numbered ticket when they paid admission (5 pesos) and they did a drawing but I didn’t win anything.