San Martìn de los Andes

Been hiking and driving all day today. Since my last entry, I’ve gone to dinner with a bunch of trekkers (they don’t call it backpacking down here) from Canada, England, and the U.S., watched “Team America, World Police” for the third time, seen a VW Golf bust through unexplicable terrain, seen an amazing series of mountain lakes and one really gorgeous waterfall, and hiked about four miles.

Dinner last night was at this great buffet place. Chinese foods, amazing deserts, sushi, mashed potatoes, any cut of steak you want, fruit, meats and cheeses, you-name-it, this place had everything. I went with the trekkers that had just arrived at the hostel. Dan and Ryan from Canada are down here on the same time frame as I am. They’re going to climb Pucòn (a volcano) in Chile on Wednesday, and I think I might do it with them. After all, this may be my one and only chance to climb a volcano. You never know! Alex, from Iowa, is definitely going, too, which is disappointing for me because he’s the exact opposite of Dan and Ryan. He’s probably the most pompous, womanizing person I’ve met. John, Chris, and Dave (from England) are going too, as long as they don’t have to miss watching their soccer match. 🙂

Today at the early hour of 7:30 a.m., Effie and Martin and I rolled out of bed to take the VW Golf we rented on “La Ruta de los siete lagos” (drive of the seven lakes). Peter was supposed to come with us (the scottish guy), but he stayed out drinking until 7 a.m., and so bowed out. Well, when we were at the car rental agencies looking for the best deal, I could tell this was going to be no less than an adventure. For the first 60 miles or so, the road is paved. For the last 60 or so, it’s “una ruta natural” (a “natural road”). The guy behind the counter at one of the agencies was showing us the map, and when I asked him what the road was like, I could tell by his carefully chosen words that we were really in for an adventure. The first 20 miles or so were fine. Just lots of potholes, etc. But then we entered the construction zone. They hadn’t made a new road for cars to drive on. You just drove right through the ripped up stuff. So here we are in our teeny little VW Golf rallying through 6-8 inches of mud for 20 miles straight. We were damn sure we were going to get stuck. It was absolutely insane. The good news is, we made it to San Martìn de los Andes safely. And we got to see some of the most gorgeous scenery. The drive really is worth it. All the lakes are just absolutely amazing. And we got to see this fantastic waterfall, probably 80-90 feet tall just off the road.

Martin and Effie headed back to Bariloche this afternoon, and I’ve been here ever since. They’re fun to travel with. It’s really interesting to hear the different words they have for things. For example,
windscreen = windsheild
half of eight = 8:30
four by four = four wheel drive
boot = trunk (of the car)

I bought a ticket for Pucòn (in Chile) right away when I got here. And I have a feeling that if I don’t run into the boys somewhere in town tonight, I’m sure to see them tomorrow morning on the 6 a.m. bus. San Martìn de los Andes is “nestled” (says the guide book) between two mountains on the shore of large lake. One of the mountains is supposed to have a great viewpoint a few miles up, so I decided to take advantage of the daylight that was left and hike my buns up there. About half way up, the natives that have lived on the lake since the dawn of time charge you a peso to pass through their village on the way to the top. A girl, probably only 9 or 10 was at the booth with her baby sister. They were really cute, and the little one kept asking me what my name was. Adorable. The view was incredible.

I spent probably an hour at the top writing in my journal about what it’s like to travel alone as a woman. I am repeatedly and consistently relieved to discover that I am still safe and danger isn’t lurking in every corner. I think women, from a very young age, are warned and warned and warned about how scary the world is and how careful they need to be (i.e. not go remote places alone, not to be out alone at night). And “careful” really means dependent, because if you can’t go out alone, then by default you have to go with someone else. So I’m finding out every single day, over and over, that, despite what I’ve been told, it’s not dangerous to be independent. What a relief! Which is not to say that I don’t believe in being aware of your surroundings and concerned for your safety. It’s just really nice not to be scared to have rewarding, independent experiences.

That’s all for now! Think I’ll cook myself dinner at the hostel tonight, so I’d better get to the mercado.