Volcan Villarica
Many people (6) I met along the way of my backpacking went to a little town in Chile called Pucón, a place where it is possible to climb the active volcano–Volcán Villarica. I left Bariloche at 7:30 off to Pucón via Osorno. At the border crossing, I remember to claim my pasta and well, other foreigners didn’t claim all of their belongings and they got in trouble. Not me!! People tried bringing in little orchards with them. After an hour and a half of customs, we got back on the bus en route to Osorno. On the bus, the little boy next me tried talking to me talking about himself I am pretty sure and asking me questions, but I could not really understand him for the life of me.
We arrived in Osorno, me being starving. I went on a hunt to find food, considering I had four hours to kill until the bus to Pucón. I found a vegetable sandwich (albeit with heaps of mayo) and chowed down (after scraping off the mayo I could). The town was really terrible. There was nothing. No charm. It took me 45 minutes to find a decent looking sandwich shop. It reminded me of a bad part of San José or Montevideo and maybe Detroit but I have never been there. The town was so smoggy and really, when I say terrible, I mean BAD. I stopped at a grocery store to get some oranges, bananas, and cookies. While in the grocery store, I discovered that there is dulce de leche, just under a pseudonym of “manjar.” YES! I purchased some Manjar Oreos (instead of white cream, there was manjar-ish cream…they were not as good as excepted and had the potential to be much better). I went back to wait at the bus station, when these two Israeli guys recognized me from Bariloche. I talked to one of them who asked me what I thought of Osorno.
“A shithole.”
“A what?”
“A shit,” I paused, “hole.”
“Ah, I will have to remember that word!” he replied. Great. I am teaching foreigners truck driver vocabulary. “I must ask you, why doesn’t Obama like Israel? He will not let us build skyscrapers” HA! I haven’t a clue.
“I do not know. Dulce de leche oreo?”
“No thanks, we smuggled in fruit at the border.” WHAT!?
“How?”
“I am a smart man.”
“Oh?”
“I have pockets in my clothing. I put an orange here,” he pointed to a pocket on his pants, “and then a banana in here,” he said showing me the inside of his jacket. He is a smart man. Why don’t I think of these things? I have pockets inside of my jacket too!
We arrived to Pucón at 20:30, in time for me to get to my hostel (a place of so-so management and a dirty kitchen but a clean dog and fire place) and book a tour to the volcano. The next day I woke at 6:15 to have time to eat breakfast and get ready. It was still dark out, and the volcano (visible from the town) was glowing red at the top–an amazing sight. I saw the Israelis from the bus the day before, and then two new rather flashy Israelis. There was also a Frenchman (who brought sparkling water), a Dutch guy (who joked that we will get to the top only to see a road and a tour bus full of Japanese tourists), an Australian (who I met at my hostel in Bariloche, mistaked for being a New Zealander (like called an American Canadian), and now was staying at my hostel in Pucón), a Brazilian couple (who ended up turning back half way up, and according to the guides, this is because Brazilians have too many beaches and relaxation and do not know how to trek), and a Chilean-German couple (who lagged behind with their own guide). We were super blessed with weather, as there had been horror stories of groups having to turn back halfway up and not get a refund.
Little did I know that this hike up to the top to see lava was more of an intense trek–the fact that you are required to have a guide to go up should have been enough to warn me. It was miserable–but I am beyond proud of myself that I stuck it out and made it to the top. Climbing up was terrible, but at least we could see the top for the majority of the climb (unlike many summits). I did not have my own proper hiking shoes (I only have trainers, black flats, strappy sandals, and flip flops with me) I had to borrow these huge clunky boots where I basically had to march in. My feet were dying. Since the windproof gear (water/wind proof pants and jacket) we were given was green and black, I too decided also to wear green and black. Because the first 2.5 hours were in gravel, I would keep slipping backwards because the gravel wouldn’t allow me to keep a stable foot. It was hard work, to say the least. We got to the snow covered part of the volcano, and that was bad. It was snowy enough that technically we did not need crampons, but icy enough that at least I would have felt safer with them on. I ended up holding the guide’s hand as we zigzagged up to the top for the next 2.5 plus hours. It was terrifying when the volcano got steeper. I tried not to look down (I would have freaked) or cry (then I would not be able to see in front of me). I, being the only girl with 7 guys, felt very much like a stereotypical girl being whiny and getting scared of falling. Like I said, I was holding the guide’s hand for goodness sake. I barely ate anything I was so nauseous and scared. The guide, Alejandro (I informed him Lady Gaga’s song Alejandro but he had never heard it), kept telling that we were going to break in 10 minutes every 10 minutes, which was aggravating.
Finally, after about 5 hours and 15 minutes, we reached the top. A rush of heat came over the group and you could hear the “whoosh” of lava. The air was also filled with sulfur, making it nearly impossible to breath. I had to take of my glove and put it over my nose and mouth, and even then it was bad. The wind was so fierce–beating us–and literally, moving me. I was too scared to go to the edge of the volcano for fear of, well, falling over (although it would make a cool obituary…”Carolyn Balk, after scaling the 2847 meter high Volcán Villarica, was sucked into the volcano’s crater by violent wind and un human conditions. An untimely death”…). I didn’t even get the picture of lava that I wanted, although, by the end, I could care less. Though I had sunglasses on, the wind was so strong that small particles of gravel were flying into my eyes and pretty much everywhere. After twenty minutes, we left the top because the wind and sulfur was too strong. We put on our “ass protectors” as Alejandro called them and started sliding down the mountain in the snow part. The steep parts were scary I thought, although these two crazy Israeli guys had no issue and even went further with the sliding than they were supposed to. Finally, after about 2 hours, we reached the bottom, and looking up, I was amazed. I DID IT! Also, at the bottom, taking of the gear, the Aussie even noticed that I was totally color coordinated–excellent! That evening, I fell right asleep (no ipod necessary) on my 10.5-hour bus ride to Santiago–the two crazy Israelis (with their beards, flamboyantly blinged out yamakas, and Hollister shirts) in the seats behind me.
Bariloche and its Lakes
My first full day in Barilcohe I finally got in some good kayaking since being in South America! It was so nice to be out on the water and only hear the wind–no cars, nothing. The lake was so clear as well–you could even see the bottom a god 15 minutes from the shore! My kayak guide was telling me how there are three kinds of trout in Bariloche, and of course I forget the names now but I remember one was rainbow trout. Needless to say, I did not go fishing and try the trout. We had a tea break on a deserted shore line and he was telling about his only trip to the United States…to where else….but West Virginia! I had to ask why he would want to go there and not New York City or San Francisco and he informed me that West Virginia had some of the best white water rafting in the USA (who would have guessed?) We also had homemade alfahors with a crunchier than normal biscuit–something I was happy about.
That evening, I was supposed to meet up with two British girls I met in El Calafate but could not for the life of me find the restaurant. The Lonely Planet had the wrong address and I pretty much searched for a good 20 minutes before giving up and getting Mexican food with five people from the hostel. Even though I arrived at 21:05, I was able to coax the waiter into extended the “2 por 1” deal on the margaritas. Yup, two margaritas for 12 pesos ($3.08). The dinner was with 2 Americans (one being me), a South African, a New Zealand couple, and an English guy—always funny that so many countries have English as a first language and yet we had a hell of a time understanding each other. We promptly decided to get ice cream for dessert (my second of the day, the first being a pineapple/orange/ginger and boisenberry concoction) instead of flan at the restaurant. I got Chocolate Bariloche, Dulce de Leche con Flan, and Samboyon. I should have gone with the Chocolate Split, a flavor that has never failed me especially at 3 am in Punta del Este, Uruguay. Afterwards me and the guys went…bowling (the New Zealand girl of the couple went home). “Oh no,” I thought, “I will make a fool of myself.” The place was a bit dodgy to the say the least and I was only girl in the establishment. We walk to the lane to see that it was manual bowling, aka, a guy sits behind the pins and collects them after your two tries, sets them back up, and puts the balls into the tube to come back to the players. Fine if players haven’t been knocking back beers, but surely there has to have been some drunkard who’s tried hitting the guy! The first round I didn’t knock down anything. Typical. But then a miracle happend…I got THREE strikes. more than any of the guys! The other guys in the establishment were also in shock when I got two strikes in a row and the guys were not doing as well. I nearly won (93) but the Brit got a strike last minute and ended up with the winning score of 100.
The next day I somehow had the idea that a 27 kilometer mountain bike would not be so bad, forgetting that I am a terrible biker and only started biking again (since I was 8 years old) this past summer on Martha’s Vineyard when one of my best friends and her boyfriend had to re-teach me. I next biked in Nong Khai to the 7/11 and back for 15 baht (45 cents) ice cream and through the wats of Sukhothai (both in Thailand). I would have walked for the ice cream but then the scary-maybe-having-rabies-or-flees-and-big-teeth dogs could more easily chase me. I turned back after three km on this ride. No way, no how. The American guy I went with from Mexican food the night before kept going, only to come back into the hostel with his legs shaking and telling me earnestly I would have hated it. Feeling like a bit of a failure nonetheless when I went back to the bike rental place, I called my Mom (afterall, it was Mother’s Day) while I went up a ski lift (my first) to a gorgeous lake viewpoint. It was amazing, bright blue lakes, a bright blue sky, and green, red, yellow, and orange trees on snowcapped mountains. I was kind of waiting for it to be a cartoon and Bambi to pop out.
I then went to my hostel staff guy’s favorite hot chocolate place in Bariloche (a town famous for its chocloates) and got chocolate caliente and this dessert of dulce de leche and puff pastry. Very tastly, but a bad idea. Kind of like how I forgot and kind hate biking, I forgot that I am a bit allergiac to milk. Needless to say, I ended up having to order a ton of bread at the chocolatería to offset a terrible stomach ache (that I ended up getting). It was nice to write in my journal and read Everything is Illuminated—which I finished, although I cannot say that I loved it. The book was a bit…um…well, maybe it was because I read it on buses and it is more suited for intense reading sessions, like DEAR Day (Drop Everything and Read Day) from elementary school. I cooked dinner in the hostel (my basil pasta again) and talked to the hostel staff guy, Polish girl, 3 other Americans, 1 Aussie about travels and just things in general before going to bed only to wake up at 5:30 am next morning for my bus to Osorno, Chile.
The Bus Ride
Thursday, I boarded a bus at 13:30….for 28 hours….to Bariloche, where I arrived, at 17:30. Fun times! I tried finding sleeping meds in El Calafate but the pharmacy I went to would not sell me any without a prescription. I should have stocked up in Iguazu where it was one pill for $1,40 ARG, but surprisingly enough I did fall asleep for a while on the bus! The only good movie (there were five) that played was Gran Torino, which was in French for a while until I informed the bus conductor of this and he changed it. This evening I went to a nice vegetarian restaurant (huge portions) to eat real food, seeing as I had eaten crackers (three packs), bread, two bananas, two oranges, and a chocolate bar in the past two days. My hostel is very nice and there is a chill common area with people chatting, playing games, writing, and drinking liter bottles of Quilmes or Brahma.
My top fifteen playlist for my long bus journey included these songs and a few more:
1. “Causa y efecto” Paulina Rubio; 2. “Left & Right In the Dark” Julian Casablancas; 3. “On Melancholy Hill” Gorillaz; 4. “Lost!” Coldplay; 5. “Every Word (Wendel Kos Radio Edit)” Ercola; 6. “Hey You” Pony Pony Run Run; 7. “Ya No Se Que Hacer Conmigo” El Cuarteto de Nos; 8. “Måndagsbarn” Veronica Maggio; 9. “In for the Kill (Skream’s Let’s Get Ravey Remix)” La Roux (and pretty much her slef-titled whole album); 10. “It Ain’t Over ‘Til It’s Over” Lenny Kravitz; 11. “Denying” Spice Girls; 12. “Hello Seattle (Remix)” Owl City; 13. “Ghosts N Stuff” Deadmau5; 14. “This is for You” Bliss N Eso; 15. “Lemon Tree” Fool’s Garden
The past week of Patagonia
Sorry to not have written for so long–I have seen so much in the past week!
I went from Ushuaia to Puerto Natales, Chile which was a 14-hour bus journey (starting at 5:00, finishing at 21:30 with a stop in Punta Arenas where I purchased a lovely palm heart, avocado, and tuna sandwich in a restaurant where the waitresses laughed at me for specifically saying I wanted the full portion instead of a half portion…clearly they had never had a girl as famished as I was) during which I was detained at Chilean customs for a solid 20 minutes because I tried to smuggle in an orange. What can I say, I was hungry and on the bus rides you only get a lousy ham and cheese sandwich (I am vegetarian). The bus ride was neat in the morning–wandering through Tierra de Fuego’s wilderness with the almost full moon as light. It was like I was in some movie I had never seen before…or Harry Potter (something of the like).
I arrived so late in Puerto Natales I ended up staying in the dodgiest lodging alive–no heating, no other people, nada. It was above a sports bar and the “common area” doubled as the football player’s changing area. Interesante. The next day I spent catching up on sleep and walking around the ten blocks that made up the town. Since it was May 1 (Día del Trabajador) everything was closed except for two restaurants–where I passed my time writing in my diary and also reading Everything is Illuminated (a book recommended to me by a girl in Hanoi and one of my good schoolmates). I had really the best salad and pizza I had eaten in a while. The weather was…interesting–it snowed, rained, hailed, and was sunny in the course of an hour.
The next day I did the full day tour of the Torres del Paine National Park, one of the most beautiful national parks to which I have been. We saw a cave formed by a glacier (one of the first caves I saw after Vang Vieng, Laos without a Buddha in it) that was huge. Guanacos (llama like animals) and Chilean Ostriches were everywhere. I saw real flamingos for the first time (a.k.a. they weren’t plastic and stuck into someone’s lawn next to pinwheels) in lakes by the immense mountains. There were huge tower like rock formations, hence, why the translated name is “Towers of Pain.” There were so many lakes of different colors, depending on whether or not mountain and glacier sediments ran into the water. It was breathtakingly gorgeous. Other important events of that day included receiving two marriage proposals (which I politely declined) from one of the tour guides and a Brazilian trekker. I also tried an apple empanada (nom nom noms) and had amazing hot chocolate at the park gift shop. I had forgotten how amazing hot chocolate could be–especially considering that in Boston I had only really had Swiss Miss with dried out marshmallows.
I headed to El Calafate, Argentina Monday–careful NOT to bring in any fruit. Of course, they did not even check anyone’s bags or search the bus in this border crossing. I arrived starving to El Calafate, checked into my hostel (America del Sur), and went in the search of food. I had a so-so pasta, but an ah-mazing desert of rum soaked cake, dulce de leche (which they did not have in Chile–next time I go I will be sure to bring some with me and hide it better than the orange), and the Calafate cream with red fruit. The main attraction in El Calafate in the Perito Moreno glacier, which I went to see and even ice-trekked on it. The ice trekking was wicked awesome even if it was a bit scary at first–especially going down hill because it just it not natural for you to go down a steep hill with only ice. I did it though without falling on my self! I nice reward was alfahors (not that good because per usual, these alfahors were not made with a proper biscuit/cookie outside the dulce de leche) and whiskey over glacier ice. Looking at the glacier from afar, it is not that impressive, and when you see chunks of ice falling off, you think that it is not that big until it falls into the water and the noise to a loud “WOOSH” and water splashes so high. I went to El Chalten for the day and did a little hike with a British guy from the hostel in the freezing cold (I am not kidding, it was snowing and very windy). It was nice, but not as pretty as Torres del Paine. The town was dead since the high season is over, and only two overpriced restaurants were open for lunch. That night for dinner I scaled back and had a can of lentils and some basil flavored pasta. So gourmet! More importantly in El Calafate, I realized that it was not the dulce de leche that changed depending on region, but it must have been the brand. I have realized that my favorite brand is SanCor for sure.
Beagle Canal and Tierra de Fuego National Park
The boat ride through the canal was awesome. I paid $150 pesos for a three hour tour to see cormorants, sea lions, Ushuaia’s lighthouse, and an island where natives (with a height of 1,5 meters) lived (completely naked eating the sea lion fat for warmth) for the past 6,000 years until the British invaded in 1882 or 1892. Though the weather was a bit volatile–from rain to sun to rain to clouds to wind to sun–the scenery and not to mention our guide and captain, José and Leo, made up for it. The scenes were gorgeous especially with the autumn colors, creating a red and yellow backdrop along the canal. Rainbows also seemed to pop up everywhere, there were four during the whole tour! The cormorants (both King and Imperial Cormorants) were neat and the lighthouse was, well, a lighthouse. The sea lions were tight–they followed us in the boat! The kept jumping up out of the water trying to keep up with the boat. They also smelled terribly, but the young sea lions (2-4 months old) were too cute. We then went to an island where natives lived for 6,000 years only on the sea lion meat, and then that was not available, mussels and birds. The wildlife was beautiful and it was interesting to see how the plants adapted to their environment–for example, all of the bushes were very low due to the wind and grew their branches in the direction of the wind (southwest). It was very cold and windy, nonetheless, and afterwords I was inspired to buy gloves and a hat. I cannot remember a time when I bought gloves or a hat–I usually steal my sister’s winter apparel back home. It was funny to think that less than 4 months ago in Halong Bay, Vietnam I thought it was cold…was a wrong about that one! I also went to the tourism office with a French girl from my dorm to get our passports stamped saying “La Ciudad más Austral del Mundo.”
The National Park was also very nice, but the Beagle Canal was more impressive in terms of wildlife (except the red foxes!). The park was filled with peat moss–so water logged it was incredible. There were many different types of beech trees in the forests as well. Per usual Tierra de Fuego weather, the morning was increadbley foggy and rainy, the midday brightend up, and then it rained again. We toured the beaver dam as well and saw how much havock they reaked on the environment. In Canada especially, beavers eat trees that are 15 to 30 years old, while in Tierra de Fuego, the European-introduced beavers ate up the 300 year old trees, and without preditors, destroyed the ecosystem. I went with two Argentineans so the tour was in Spanish–thank God, because my Spanish has really gone down hill although I do not know the words for half of the plant species I was told today.
Most importantly, I have decided that Ushuaia has better dulce de leche than Buenos Aires (although it does not beat Uruguay’s). I am not sure why or what brand my hostel uses at breakfast but it is much creamier. It could also be that here I first put butter on my bread, and then dulce de leche (aka a double whammy for my arteries)
Journey to the end of the World
After my flight being delayed 2 hours from Buenos Aires, I have arrived in Ushuaia. It is so nice to not have so much smog in the air and have gorgeous scenes. Similar to flying out of Bangkok or Ho Chi Min, Buenos Aires’ sky has a distinct line in the sky: from a blackish-grey to a bright blue. Don’t get my wrong, the coblestone streets of Palermo and the romantic Recoleta fair for example are awesome, but so are trees and mountains. I do especially miss gourmet ice cream shops (with flavors such as dulce de leche casero con brownie) every other corner nonetheless.
The near full moon here lights up the mountains, although I cannot help but think that somewhere (specifically Koh Phangon, Thailand), a major party is taking place. Of course, the full moon also makes me think of the terrible movie (Dear John) my house watched a week ago.
I tour the Beagle Canal tomorrow and will make it to the Tierra de Fuego National Park the day after. Excited to see some wildlife (besides the folk of Club 69, of course)!
No time like the present... 