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.
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.
posted by Zackataca at 10:30 AM
1 Comments:
BOGOTA, Colombia (Reuters) -- Two clowns were shot and killed by an unidentified gunman during their performance at a traveling circus in the eastern Colombian town of Cucuta, police said Wednesday.
The gunman burst into the Circo del Sol de Cali on Monday night and shot the clowns in front of an audience of 20 to 50 people, local police chief Jose Humberto Henao told Reuters.
One of the clowns was killed instantly, and the second died the next day in hospital.
"The killings had nothing to do with the show the victims were performing at the time of the incident," Henao said in a telephone interview. "We are investigating the motive."
With an entrance fee of under 50 cents, Circo del Sol de Cali attracts mostly poor Colombians. It pitched its tents in Cucuta, near the border with Venezuela, earlier this month.
"The clowns came out to give their show, and then this guy came out shooting them," one audience member told local television. "It was terrible."
It may not be prudent to take the circus act into Colombia.
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