Walking to Chile, or, God bless Germans

After much debate - mostly involving time and money, though I´ll spare you the boring details - we decided to head to Chile and then North instead of going deeper into Patagonia. Warmth and beaches had a greater call than cold and mountains.
We left El Bolson on... I can´t remember... what day is it now? Anyway... we left El Bolson by walking to the gas station at the edge of town and sticking our thumbs out. Needless to say, most drivers are somewhat reluctant to pick up three, male, and ragged-looking hitchhikers, so we decided to split up and meet in Bariloche. I eventually managed a ride in the back of a pickup truck, and Lebn and Sam got rides an hour later with some truckers. The drive was lovely in the back of that truck, I´ve always been fond of riding in a truck bed, but unfortunately, the driver´s stop was 10 kilometers outside of town. I hoofed half of it and caught a city bus the rest of the way and made it to our meeting spot about 20 minutes before Lebn and Sam who were dropped off within the city limits.
We inquired about a bus to Chile and discovered that, as it is the end of the summer holiday here, buses were booked for days with vacationing Chileans returning home. We hemmed and hawed for a day and a half about what to do next, and decided to ride the local buses as far as we could then hitch the rest of the way. We made it to a sign that said Chile was 30 kilometers away and decided that instead of just waiting in the middle of nowhere, we´d start walking, thumbs in the air. It was 7pm when we started. We walked 10 kilometers without a ride in sight. It was dark when we decided to camp. We set up close to the side of the road with a couple of guys from Chile who were also hitching. We cooked dinner and got more water from a river that was about 25 meters away and went to sleep on the soft earth. It was a pretty great place to camp.
We woke up early the next day, fully prepared to walk the 20 kilometers that separated us from the border, where we felt confident we could get a ride from all of the cars stopped to go through customs because, as anyone who´s ever hitched before knows, unless you´re a girl (and even if you are), it´s a lot easier to get a ride if you´re talking face to face with someone than if you´re just a thumb on the side of the road.
After about 2 or 3 kilometers though, we reached the first border checkpoint. It was the one for the Argentina side, the Chilean check was the farther one. After about 10 minutes, all three of us got a ride crammed in the back of a pickup truck rented by a nice German couple on their way to some hot springs. Once again, the view from the back of the truck was spectacular. There were tremendous cliffs, lush forests all around us and towering, snow-capped volcanoes in the distance. The German couple was so nice, that they took us past the hotel where they were staying, another 15 kilometers or so, to a gas station where it would be easier for us to catch a ride.
It had one pump and was still out in the middle of nowhere. We spoke to the gas station attendant and learned that there was a bus that was coming by soon that could take us to the center of the small town we were on the outskirts of, but we had no Chilean pesos with which to purchase our fare. But the attendant was nice enough to trade 4 American dollars that I still had in my wallet for the 2000 Chilean pesos we would need and the bus arrived not 5 minutes later. Once on the bus, we learned that, for 400 pesos more than we had, we could ride it all the way into the next major city. We offered to buy more pesos on the bus, but there weren´t any takers, then the driver said we could work it out when we got there.
One passenger on the bus though, apparently took pity on our plight, and gave us a bag with a liter of beer and three unidentified canned meats without saying a word. I bumped into him yesterday and found out he was German too and didn´t speak Spanish or English very well through a hodgepodge of the three languages. But anyway...
So we were in the town of Osorno, deciding what to do next, looking through our travel book and some notes and recommendations that friendly Chileans had given us on the way, and decided to inquire about tickets to a town called Valdivia. The ticket agent said there was a bus that was supposed to be leaving right then, but hadn´t arrived yet. We decided to continue on the travel wave we were riding, bought the tickets, and have been here for two days now. It´s lovely, on two rivers, and very close to the coast. So... after 2 pickup trucks, 2 big rigs, 5 buses and a lot of walking, we made it further than the booked buses in Bariloche would have taken us, at a third of the cost, and we beat them to our destination. Not bad for a bunch of gringos.
And today we´re going to the beach.

PICTURES!!!

There are pictures online and, as soon as I get the password to the account, I´ll add them to this page with tags explaining them. But, until then, you can go to this link to see them if you like:
http://flickr.com/photos/lebnjay

What´s the Spanish word for steep?

We just returned from a 4-day, 3-night backpacking trip in the mountains near El Bolson. It had been awhile since I´d done a serious hike - longer since I did it with any weight on my back - and I´m still feeling in my legs. Sam and Lebn are too though, so I don´t feel like too much of a wuss.
The trail started simply enough, following a river along a valley, crossing it on a rickety, old bridge. But, after we got to the other side and had some lunch, things took a dramatic turn. Apparently the concept of the switchback has not yet reached the trailblazers in this area of Argentina. There were some spots along the way that felt more like rock climbing than hiking. All in all, it was about 6 hours until we reached our destination and a breathtaking view of a funnel-shaped snow field, on the side of a mountain pointing down toward the green, marshy meadow where we took our lunch and a well-deserved rest.
We set up camp at a refugio just a few meters further down the trail. They have bunks available, if you just want to hike up with a sleeping bag, as well as some hot food and homemade beer, all just outside our budget. We set up our tents and cooked the food we brought. It was a cold night, due largely to the wind coming from the direction of the small glacier just on the other side of the peak.
The next morning we set off for our next destination, the valley next door. Somehow, some members of our party got the impression that this was to be an easier, more level excursion, and for about 200 meters or so, it was. Then we went straight up one side of the mountain, and straight down the other side. I´m not sure which side was harder, but the scenic vistas and instances where my life flashed before my eyes were far greater on the descent. The end of the trek was the best though. We finally made it down to the next river and followed it - scrambling over some rocks and needing a ladder in one place - to a small, extremely high bridge, that spanned a narrow canyon carved out by the river. I hope to have pictures up of all of this soon.
We finally arrived at the next refugio, and I can´t be certain that my brain was still functioning properly at this point, but I´ve never seen a more beautiful place. The green meadow of a lush valley. A sturdy wooden farm house, smoke coming from the chimney. Lush garden. Cows, horse, pigs and kittens. There was complimentary mate or tea when we walked through the door and any time we wanted for the next two days.We decided to stay there for two nights, we liked it so much, using it as base camp the next day.
We hiked out on day four and while it had a lot of incline, it was nothing like our first two. We all jumped off of a small cliff into the icy river on the way and sunned ourselves on some rocks before high-tailing it to catch our bus back into town. When we got back to Ruben´s we dropped our gear and treated ourselves to a steak dinner. Well, I had steak.

El Bolson - We found the hippies.

Wednesday – February 7

We arrived in El Bolson shortly after dark and proceeded to search for a place to stay that some people in Bariloche had recommended to us. After an hour of wandering the streets of this small town, and asking several people we encountered if they´d ever heard of the place (most hadn´t), we finally found our destination. There are two small houses on an unmarked street that rent space in their backyards (along with access to the kitchen and bathroom) to travelers with tents and sometimes those without. We´d heard that the vibe (o en Espanol, la onda) was very different in both places. We arrived late and the ¨buena onda¨ was full. The ¨mala onda¨ wasn’t that bad though, just a little strange. I don´t know how to explain it other than it was a large family without a lot of love shared. The other campers in the yard were cool though, and that night we went with them and some from next door to a giant circus tent to see a variety show. It was then that we fully realized we´d fallen head first into a hippie town. It was like going to a show in Bellingham. There were dreadlocks and beards, legwarmers and skirts over pants. Buena onda. And the show was really fun too. We got there at intermission so they let us in for free. There was comedy and music, and most importantly, juggling. A great introduction to El Bolson. Its also fun to note that the Spanish word for hippie, is hippie.

Thursday & Friday

We awoke on Thursday to a spectacular view. El Bolson is located in a lush valley, nestled at the foot of an impressive mountain range to the West. The smaller range to the East is less impressive, but the snow-capped peaks that lie beyond them more than make up for it. We did what we always do in a new place, and headed to the center of town. In the summertime, every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday (and unofficially Sunday) there is a large artesanal market that takes place in the major plaza, which is a huge draw for tourists itching to spend their money. This means it´s also a huge draw for artesans and street-performers who like to collect that money. This influx of people makes the hostel prices comparable to ones we found in Buenos Aires which, at the 20 pesos (6-7 dollars) a night. These, of course, are the ones the tourist office and the guidebooks tell you about, which are no longer the places we call home.
We spent our first two full days in town exploring the market, hanging out, and making new friends. Lots of artists, lots of jugglers.

Saturday – February 10

Another day spent in the market and a reunion with our Venezuelan friends who had stayed behind in Bariloche to work a little more. They hitch-hiked into town along with some of the people we met under the ramp in Bariloche. We dropped off their stuff at our place and then hit the town. Our first stop was the circus tent we went to our first night in town to see a band, Carmelo Santo. We got there late (as usual) and they let us in for free. We danced until the band stopped playing and kept dancing to the recorded music they played after until they turned that off, then it was off to a reggae show. We were very late and were hoping for free entry again, but ended up sitting, juggling and talking outside the venue until the show was over. Some folks went to a raver party after that, but the weary Americans returned home.

Sunday & Monday

We got a slow start and decided to head to a very large lake nearby to camp for a night or two. We´d heard that the camping was free after the 6 pesos entrance fee in the park, but when we arrived we found out they wanted another 8 pesos each to set up camp. No gracias. The man we spoke to assured us that there was no free camping anywhere so we decided to explore the area and or options. After exiting the pay campgrounds and fording a small river, we discovered a small opening in a thick grove of sapling willows that opened up into 300-square-feet of old river sand almost completely surrounded by the young trees. We would be safe from the wind and the unwanted eyes of passers-by. It was kind of like a magical little spot that opened up for us. And if you propped a guitar against a log just right, what little wind that did pass through the small opening, would play a sweet, soft song, with the wind in the willows as accompaniment.
The next day we took down camp, stashed our bags in the trees and hiked and swam in the cold yet refreshing waters of the brown river and the blue lake. We cooked, played cards, and stayed another night.

Tuesday & Wednesday & Thursday

We returned to town and spent some time in the plaza, reconnecting with friends and found out about another place we could stay, and shortly before dark, set out to find it. It is located in a shanty town the lines the other side of the river that runs through town. All of the homes there were clearly built by the inhabitants and almost all seemed to be works in progress. Our initial welcome with open-arms by the owners, R and N, was proof that we would be comfortable here. R wears a beret and is a big Che Guevara fan. He makes charangos, a small, Argentinian folk instrument with ten strings. Their family is large and their house is small, but its filled with love and smiles. There are so many people around – adults and small children alike – that its difficult to tell who is related to who, especially with my limited Spanish. But its all communal and it really doesn´t seem to matter, if you´re there, you´re family. The yard is bigger than the first we stayed in and this one has a river out back.
There was a birthday party for one of the kids on Tuesday, so there was music and balloon animals and we juggled a bit before going out to see a circus. It was small, but there was a great aerialist and a really fantastic bounce juggling act inside of a giant triangle that was wired for sound. When we got back home there was a fire and music and laughs out by the river, under the stars. Everyone is so warm and friendly here.
It rained most of the next day (Wed.) and all of the night so almost everyone was enjoying the fire inside the house. Needless to say, it was a full house. Many people were working on their crafts to sell, some just talked, and others played music and sang. It makes me wish I knew all the songs they sing so I can sing along too. Give me time.
But today the rain is letting up and the Sun is out and I think I´m going to go out and enjoy it.
I love you all and hope you´re doing well. You should all be here with us. Especially Jules.

Bienvenido a Patagonia

We got up early Saturday and caught a hot and sweaty three-hour bus ride to a town called Viedma on the Rio Negro. After a good walk from the bus station, a dip in thte river was a welcomed relief. There were lots of families out, plenty of shade to lounge beneath, and we got so comfortable that we decided to stay the night right there. We were there for high-tide in the afternoon and took to higher ground to avoid a rude awakening sometime in the early hours. Shortly after 3 a.m. we realized we didn´t go high enough. We´ve decided the full moon was at fault. We retreated away from the river and waited for the waters to retreat to their source then slept comfortably in a still dry spot.
The next day was spent by the river too, waiting for our things to dry (Lebn´s iPod and Miguel´s camera were the only casualties though some books and other papers now have exciting new shapes) and for the 6 p.m. train that was to take San Carlos de Bariloche. The five of us shared a first-class cabin, which was not only hot, but dusty too, thanks to the desert terrain we passed through and a broken train-car door. It was an overnight trip though, and the night cooled off and we adjusted to the dust. There was a dining car to take refuge in too. I had a cup of coffee there in the morning while the others slept and saw the landscape finally start to change. The vast flatness of the desert gave way to hills, then high plains and trees, then finally, mountains in the distance. It reminded me of the drive from Phoenix to Flagstaff until those mountains came into view, and then there was the Lago Nahuel Huapi, a long and deep watered lake, rolling with waves from the wind blowing strong along its length.
Its breathtaking, but that wind has made it feel close to freezing once the sun sets. We are officially in Patagonia. It´s summer here and I´m dressing like I did in Bellingham before I left. Some of the locals assure us its been unusually cold though. It’s a touristy town, a common jumping-off point for various adventures, and we´ve met lots of jugglers and artesanas. We did what we normally do when we hit a new town and headed for the center of it to find a park or plaza there. Sure enough, before too long, we had heard about a cheap place where jugglers are known to stay. For 10 pesos a night you can throw up your tent in this lady´s yard and have use of the kitchen and bathroom. She was full though and everywhere else was at least 20 pesos which we´ve come to view as too expensive though it’s the equivalent to about 7 dollars.
We ended up hanging out at that house for most of the night anyway after meeting some jugglers who were fortunate enough to have tents in the yard. We made dinner, played music, danced, and when we got tired headed off to set up camp in a vacant lot that Lebn and Sam had discovered earlier. It was right in the middle of the city and on a hill covered with trees and over grown grass and brush, but it was like a little garden paradise. There were apple, pear, and cherry trees, as well as a few raspberry bushes, though there wasn’t much fruit on any of them. In the spot we set up camp, you couldn´t really see any hint of the surrounding civilization, and no one from it could see us.
We were planning to sleep there again last night, but we ended up hanging out under a ramp near the lake with some people, to avoid the rain and wind, and got so comfortable we stayed. The lake was a nice sight to wake up to. We should be leaving town today for a town South of here called El Bolson. It´s sunny and warmer today, but I´m still in a sweatshirt. It’s a good day to travel.

So... we´re still in Bahia Blanca

It´s been kind of amazing how easily one day rolls into the next. After sleeping in the train station our first night here, we spent the entire next day hanging out in the park, occasionally talking about potentially making decisions, though when darkness fell, nothing was set. No one seemed concerned. There seems to be an overall and overwhelming consensus that everything will work out just fine. We found a pencion that had some beds available, but we also heard about a free crash pad for jugglers, but our only directions to find it were something like: "It´s over there somewhere." Lucy and Sam were walking around downtown, kind of looking for the place, but mostly wandering, when they decided to try asking someone. They stopped, turned around and the first person they asked said, "Yes. I know it. It´s my house."
Crazy! The first person they ask in a town that reportedly has about 500,000 people.
What are the odds?
And so we went to the crash pad.
I thought we´d only stay a night. I think this is the kind of assumption I need to stop making. Last night makes 4, and we´re still gathering information about getting out of here. Who knows how long it will take us to decide?
We´ve been spending our days basically the same way. Juggling is the activity we all share and therefore do most often, but then we all have our individual hobbies that fill up the rest of the time. And so the days just slip on by.
The space we´re staying in is pretty cool. It kind of reminds me of the Juggle Farm, or what the farm would have been like if it was in a giant warehouse. There´s a bunch of them where we are that were mostly abandoned when the economy tanked a few years back, though apparently, all of the utilities have remained on. Our host pays nothing for the space, and neither do we. This has definitely contributed to the fact that we´re still here.
The space is kind of dirty, which we all seem quite comfortable with, and is decorated with old circus flyers, cut-out stars and colorful swirls painted on the walls. We´ve been sleeping on mattresses scattered in one corner of the giant room that is sometimes used as a performance space. It´s a big space and must be great for shows, though I don´t think we´ll get to see one. The entrance to the building is a big sliding door adorned with stars and swirls on a muddy alley we entered through a broken-down wall also decorated with stars and old circus advertisements. There´s another sliding door on the opposite side of the building that opens onto a little backyard, patio area and some train tracks that can barely be made out through a thick patch of fennel that has overgrown as far down the tracks as I can see.
Our host is a gracious fellow named M. It´s difficult to guess his age though I´d put him past 40. He´s about 5´5", really skinny, drinks about 100 Mates a day, has scraggly hair to his shoulders, and the only thing he might love more than circus, is butt-rock. He´s a total headbanger and he´s not alone. People stop by all the time and they´re all into it too. From what we´ve heard, Argentina is big into rock and so we´ve been rocking since we got here. It was fun at first. It´s less fun now, though not unbearably so. Yet. But M is great and he seems to love having us here. His accent is kind of difficult for me to understand and even Sam has trouble with it sometimes, but we usually end up talking about music which works out. Sometimes though, and I´ve noticed this with lots of the Spanish speakers here, he´ll say a word in English, but with such a thick accent that I think it might be a Spanish word at first only to realize that he´s asking me if I know Boston, or L.A. Guns or some other crazy-hair band. Listening has become such an active part of my existence hear. It requires so much more focus.
But we should be out of here by Saturday. The cheapest way out is the train that leaves every Saturday that we just missed the Saturday before. This town isn´t the most culturally exciting, though we´ve all been pretty successful working. We´ve only done the one big group show, but we´ve all worked the stoplights at this point and its been pretty successful. More on that later. I´m hungry. Peace.