One sunny day...

Today I woke up to a large cloudless sky, the kind of sky that provokes thoughts of hiking. I indulged those thoughts.

Christian, a porteño hitchhiker from my campgrounds, and I took off toward La Hoya, the wintertime ski mountain 12 km from downtown. The day was perfect, blue sky reaching from the snowcovered Andes to the west to the deserty hills to the east.


12 km is a lot. Especially when it´s all uphill. Up up up. Past the Cañon de los Bandidos. Up up up. Filling up our water bottles with chilly snowmelt. I couldn´t believe it when we reached the 6km sign. Only half way?!

We got to the ski mountain´s base, but didn´t want to shell out the AR$25 for the chairlift. So more walking. Up up up. Getting more and more sunburnt as we continued. Until... we came across some guanacos!!!!!


We got up to the base of the third chairlift. Only one more pitch to the top, but by then we were so wiped out. We ulimately didn´t make it to the tippy top, but I had a fantastic time anyway! As seen in this photo.

A friendly man let us take the chairlift down for free!


We walked for a bit towards Esquel, until a friendly family picked us up. I´m really sunburnt and my legs will hurt tomorrow, but I´m so super happy. I really like quaint Esquel with its short buildings, friendly people, and scenic views! I could stay here for a while, but tomorrow I head towards Puerto Madryn... :-)

two autos, three chatas, one national park, four porteños, one bolsonero, four mendocinos, and one gualjainero

... and here I am happily in Equel!


I started out on Tuesday, Jan 12. From right in front of my house John the English-speaking porteño gave me a lift to Ruta 40. The wind picked up and almost blew me back to los coihues. A wonderful porteña couple took me all the way to El Bolsón. I wouldn´t be lying if I said we talked for the entire two hour journey. We also stopped for a picture.


I had such a good time with them and their sweetend mate, I almost didn´t want to get to the hippie hotspot. Shouldered my pack, walked a few hundred meters before Fernando and Carlos picked me up. Again, fantastic conversations and even some homegrown cherries to snack on. They turned off to Maitén and left me at the cruce. Which, it turns out is an unsuccessful place to throw a thumb. So after a bit of singing and thinking in the wind, I shouldered my pack and as I walked, tried to master the art of self-photography.


I´m still working on it.

A pickup of four guys pulls back around and offers me a ride. They´re headed to Parque Nacional de Los Alerces. After some thought, I decide to go with them. I like a little camping and hiking. We tie my pack to the truck and bounce along the ripio.

I pose as an Argentinean to avoid the gringo park price. We set up at the free camping Arrayanes. This is my home.


After building up the fire, we sit around with some fernet and narguilehs. Cocomint is not my favorite flavor I discovered that night. I felt I was babysitting four frat boys, so I went to sleep early. This is me in the morning.


I said by to my Mendocino friends. And we parted ways.


I did a really short hike. I saw coihues, arrayanes, radales, and heard a tremendous number of birds.


Then I met a porteña couple and did the Laguna Escondida/Mirador hike. Great hike. Beautiful views. Here´s one of them.

Then I got hungry and so I packed up and stuck my thumb out and flagged down Jorge, a fishing inspector who worked in the park. He was not really allowed to pick me up in the work car, but I´m sure glad he did. After a quick snooze, mini pizzas, and a few sips of Fanta, I had all my energy back. He dropped me off a few steps away from my new home (no pic yet) at the Hogar del Mochilero. I pitched my tent, took a hot shower, washed clothes, bought a road map, and stopped by a supermarket. Can´t decide if I want to leave for Puerto Madryn tomorrow... or the next day. I´ll see how I feel in the morning. CHAU!

2 noteworthy treks!

ONE:

One beautiful sunny day in Northern Patagonia, Randy, Matias, Sarah and I piled our packs into the magical galaxy and took off towards Pampa Linda. Paved roads fell into gravel as we pulled off Route 40. Upon arrival, Mount Tronador gave us a rare, cloudless smile and posed as we took our before-the-trek picture.

Through the river and over the woods we went. The water was cold and the sun was hot and I struggled to identify countless plant species.

Up up up. Then got lost through the swamplicated lowlands snuggled between two mountains.

5-6 hours later we arrive to a mosquitoed welcome at Laguna Ilon. Between slapping mosquitos we looked around.

Tronador peaked at us from behind a smaller, less intimidating mountain.

Randy and I put on every layer we had, not because it was hot, but rather to save ourselves from the mosquitos. Soon a fire was crackling and I set my sneakers to dry. We took turns standing in the smoke to briefly free ourselves from the mosquitos.

Dinner was donated to us by a nice portena couple. Night was spent on the sandy beach around the fire. The two bottles of wine were gone before the stars filled the sky. Sarah and Randy missed the spectacular blinding moonrise.

Mirador del Doctor was on the agenda for the next day. Oatmeal has never tasted so good as we stoked the fire back into life. My frisbe skills need a little work, but the water didn't feel so bad. Hike hike hike. Up down up down. Suddenly the view opened up! What a spectacular view!

We were all in jaw-dropped awe at the blue blue blue waters, green forests, striking grey mountains, and picturesque sky. Three Andean Condors flew overhead when Randy struck his "dead trekker" pose. Lunch was simple and delicious.

I looked over the mountains, calculating west, and waved hello to Nate wishing him all the best.

Before we left I did my best to attempt a videoblog in Nate's honor.

Slapping mosquitos we hiked back to the camp, took down the tents, and headed out. The trail was easier, especially the swamp, now that we were more or less oriented. Down down down. Stopped to squish a llao llao or admire a flower. Down down down. Crossed the river again. Whew. We made it and had a fantastic time!

TWO:

A few days later, a Seattlite named Wes called me up. Destination, Cerro Lopez. The number 10 Colonia Suiza bus took us to the very populated trail head. Lots of school kids from BsAs taking up a lot of room. We skirted by them and found the trail. UP up up. Steep trail meant awesome view. We stopped for some photos.

Ran into a nice couple 4 times and stopped to chat (unbeknownst to me at the time I would run into the same gentleman at Matias's grandmother's house a few days later. the world is a hankerchief). A mere 1 hour 40 minutes later, we were dodging families and arrived to the refugio.

Lunch of the gringo variety. Attempted to summit the olla, but came back down prematurely for stomach reasons. Found a slackline. Slacklined on top of Cerro Lopez!

We took the road less traveled down and arrived in a little over an hour. Beer at the bottom and almost missed our bus back into town.

FUTURE TREKS:

El Chalten, El Calafate, 4 Refugios in Bariloche

FUTURE TRAVELS:

Tomorrow, weather permitting, I start my great SouthAmerican recorrida. I'm very excited for a great number of reasons. I will update the blog when possible, but I am without a computer, so the posts may get shorter (horray, you are all thinking!). I've had an amazing time here in Bariloche and I almost don't want to leave, but the travel bug has bitten and so I'm off! Chau!

cheese whiz

If you´ve had a conversation with me within the past 6 months, chances are that I have mentioned cheese. Inspired by Barbara Kingsolver´s “Animal, Vegetable, Miracle” and Argentina´s lack of good inexpensive cheese, I have been on a mission to make my own homemade cheese. The goal, which was once daunting and doubtful, came closer and closer to a reality when my father miraculously smuggled a cheese making kit (including cheese cultures of two varieties and rennet tablets) through Argentinean customs. Then the search for milk epically began.

Everyone I talked to had their brain picked for information on where I could obtain milk. You see, not just any milk will suffice. Most milk in the supermarket has undergone severe ultra-pasteurization or similar procedures to prolong shelf-life. Pasteurized milk or fresh unpasteurized was ok, ultra-pasteurized was not. People I hitchhiked with gave me some hints. Carlos, the verdulero, was and continues to be a big help. My friends exhausted their contacts. Leads turned into dead-ends and for months the search continued. I was ready to go all in and buy a cow.

With now a week left in Bariloche and the cheese cultures still left untouched in the freezer, Randy and I set off to the Anonima, a supermarket chain, to buy whatever they had tooffer. Ultra-pasteurized milk was the only kind they carried, but I couldn´t leave Bariloche without so much as trying to make cheese. Three liters of milk and one liter of chunky cream, we began the process.

Heat milk. Add cultures. Add calcium chloride. Add rennet. Let sit.

Sarah and Matias soon joined and we all sipped mate and ate torta frita with our fingers crossed.

45 minutes later! No curds. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. More rennet! 30 minutes later. Nothing. Still nothing.

But none of us was willing to give up so easily. We piled into Randy´s car and with a few shaky directions from Carlos, we set off and out of Bariloche. A few side roads led to some dead ends. Past the roundabout. Turned right at the train tracks. Bumpy road.

Estancia Pasoflores!!!!!!!

What a place. What an amazing place. Chickens, hens and roosters. Donkeys. Bees for honey. Cows. Pigs. White, black and gray rabbits. Dogs (and 2-week-old puppies!). Cats. Long rows of peas, strawberries, beets, lettuce, raspberries, radishes, swiss chard, and more I couldn´t identify. A greenhouse full of tomatoes. I found some parsley that had gone to seed and, when I munched on it, it produced a full rich flavor.

After we poured out 6 liters of fresh cow´s milk, we were allowed to roam the property untethered. It was what I wanted. I loved it.

Back on the road towards home, I was giddy! It was actually going to happen! Not only was I going to make cheese, but I had been on an awesome adventure to get the ingredients!

We pasteurized the milk, keeping it at 145 degrees F with help from my handy cheese thermometer for 30 minutes. Cooled it to 85 degrees and added the monophillic cultures keeping it at 85 degrees for another 30 min. The rennet tablet was dissolved in water that we had boiled the chlorine out of and added to the milk.

Then the waiting. 45 minutes later we had curds and whey!!!! It didn´t produce a clean cut, and we had many willing fingers! After cutting the curds we heated it up to 115 degrees slowly to separate the curds and whey again. 1.25 hours later we drained the curds, salted them and into the fridge!!!

The results were more like ricotta than the intended large curd cottage cheese, but I´d consider it a success. If we make more today, we may have enough for lasagna! Or we may try the slightly more difficult feta recipe. So exciting!

One person´s weed is another person´s lechuga minera!

The Hudson Institute´s school year ended a little over a week ago and I said an almost-tearful goodbye to my students. Funny how attached you get after nine months of twice-a-week hour-and-a-half lessons. As much as I hope to have taught them, they have taught me an inexplicable amount. About patience, planning, learning, teaching, classroom management, fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants games, motivation, and Spanish :)

But now, with so much free time on my hands, I turn my attention to summer activities. Summer in December. I´m still getting used to the idea.

But how can I not with these bluest of blue skies and all-encompassing sun? So I´ve turned my eyes toward my three c´s: cultivating, cooking, and consumption.

My minigarden is picking up momentum. My hot chili plant, Ludro, has turned out 5 huge mouth-scalding specimens. My tomato plant is showing a lot of progress as new leaves appear on the three stems everyday. My basil is sturdy and showing remarkable growth. My spinach is kind of a mess of leaves going every direction, so I´m letting natural selection take its course and knock off a few of the plants, so that the few that will remain with be the best adapted for this forever changeable Patagonian weather.

It is impossible for me to explain the joy I get from gardening. The peace that a plant gives off as it slips into bloom leaves me speechless and I can spend several hours tending carefully to each of my few plants. It´s the same sensation I get walking through the mountains here. Life breathing on every side of me in the form of colorful retamas, bulbous llao llaos, ever-present coihues, lush lupinos, those funny little gummy fungi that grow on fallen tree trunks next to the gurgling see-straight-to-the-bottom river and countless other species of countless other plants and animals. It´s a peace that I have learned to listen to and thoroughly enjoy here in Bariloche.

While peace came to me from the great outdoors, my joy comes from the kitchen. There are few things that give me the happiness that cooking does.

I show up to Sarah´s house after my daily bike ride to Villa de los Coihues with a plastic bag of veggies I found in my fridge. After a quick inventory of her kitchen, I announce the options based on my findings. Soup? Rice with lentils and a salad? Noodles with sautéed veggies? And after coming to a consensus, I get straight to work chopping or boiling. Many people would be peeved at such a complete invasion of cooking space, but Sarah claims not to mind and many of our culinary endeavors are joint projects. It´s not everyday you find someone who is also willing to spend so much time into the preparation of food. And not just any food, but slow food. I have no problem spending many hours waiting for the food to come out perfect. Small price to pay for palate satisfaction in my opinion. Whether it´s waiting for bread to rise, soup to boil, meticulously washing off each spinach or lechuga minera leaf, or cookies in the oven to reach the golden brown, the mouth-watering results always make it well worth it. Perhaps I have an obsession with food as best explained by a recent conversation with a friend:

“I love to watch you eat, Alisa”
“Why´s that?”
“Because you look so happy. You are really enjoying it.”

And I do. I love eating. And when a perfect meal comes from hours of enjoyable hard work, it´s bliss to taste all of its flavors working together to create a symphony of taste.

Speaking of slow food, on seemingly every other day I am invited to another asado.

For someone who has never been to Argentina, it is hard to grasp the concept of an asado. Think meat. Lots of meat. Think 6 hours of meat.

The asado is one of the defining activities of Argentinean culture and I hope my description does it some justice. One family or person invites a group of friends and family over to their house usually around 8 or 9pm. No one shows up until close to 10pm. Depending on the asado, guests bring a cut of meat and a bottle of red wine or the host may choose to provide all the meat and then ask for everyone to hacer una vaquita (make a monetary offering). Soon after the guests start arriving, the fire is started either in a parrilla (grill) or a fire pit. Guests will begin on the drinks until the coals are reduced to bright red shimmery embers, which usually takes a few more hours. The meat is salted and added to the grill, the embers are carefully arranged under the grill in a circular fashion ensuring that the meat is cooked painfully slowly. A few more hours and bottles go by, conversation is unleashed. The asador (one the in charge of the parrilla) rotates the embers and tests the meat. Chorizos (sausages) and morcillas (blood sausages) are almost always the first to emerge onto the cutting board. These cutting boards are passed around with bread and everything is eaten with fingers. Then the other cuts start coming off the grill: matambre, vacio, nalga, colita de cuadril… and are passed around. At some point someone announces an applause for the asador and applause erupts from everyone present. This 6 hour feast dwindles down like the fire in the wee hours of the morning and people start to disperse.

Asado is about community. It´s about relaxing, socializing, and sharing. It´s about waiting, savoring, and laughing. It has tradition and a warmth that radiates. It makes smiles linger. Most of my clothing has that smoky meat smell which fills my head with memories and brings me back to the star-filled sky and the crackling of the branches succumbing to the hungry flames.

I´m sad to be leaving Bariloche. One year can really change a person. I am forever in dept to the people and culture that I have encountered here. I truly live in one of the most beautiful inhabitable places on Earth. I am very tempted to stay another year, but life is about exploring and learning and growing. And there are many more adventures.

changes

this week nate left for cochamo. it was a tough week.

marcus, cerin, ash, ros, nate and i made record time last friday reaching puerto varas in a mere 5 hours. smooth talking at the border and good driving skills (not mine, of couse) made all the difference. el caminante is a new hostel in town and it has my vote for one of the best-onda hostels around. nate and i dined at 'donde el gordito,' a cozy seafood restaurant for our last night together.

the next morning we moved nate into his hilltop hotel and said goodbye.

so nate and i have certain obsessive hobbies. his is climbing and mine is traveling. we realized that we have been making some compromises, neither one of us truly fulfilling our own goals. so we have made a tough decision. nate will travel to the cochamo valley for 3 months of climbing, hiking, and opening new routes in the beautiful and relatively unexplored terrain. i will finish up my school year in bariloche and then starting january begin traveling again. my goal is to adventure through deep-south patagonia and then north through the amazon rainforest of brazil ending up in colombia. passing through uruguay, paraguay, guyana, suriname, and venezuela on the way. i want to learn portuguese and immerse myself in culture!

but we will take all this adventure with a spoonful of salt. we will be apart for a long unspecified amount of time. and that's tough.

so we said our dreaded tearful goodbye. i got into the car and reluctantly returned to bariloche. i would be understating it to say i was an absolute mess.

back in bariloche, my friends were so unbelieveably helpful and supportive. i still miss nate tremendously, but i'm sure that what we're doing is the right thing for us both. i wish him the best of luck in his endeavors and i hope he continues to spread his positivity, limitless energy, love, encouragement, generosity, and humor to inspire others to follow their dream. you're one in infinity, nate. i love you.


meanwhile, the weather in bariloche could not have been better. bluest of blue blue skies were bordered by snow capped mountains. the sun was fierce, but the wind off the lake made all the difference. i spent time on the beach. even braved the lake's icy temperatures. held my classes outside in the grass. enjoyed ice cream to the fullest! summer is upon bariloche again!

El Cajon Del Azul

There is a refugio nestled in the rolling hills just a 3 hour hike from El Bolson, Argentina. This moderately-sized lodge and tourist hub is run by Atilio, a Buenos Aires-born trilingual no-nonsense kind of guy. It was upon this modest refugio that 5 weary hikers descended one Saturday evening.

It started with a 1pm departure from Bariloche in the olla, a painted motorhome owned by a couple of friends. Kris, Maxi, Caro, Jeru and Ali (that’s me) took off and slowly made our way south on Route 40. I slept the entire way.

Stowing the motor home at el polaco’s, we shouldered our packs and set off. With my tent, sleeping bag, sleeping pad, a few clothes, and food I had by far the largest backpack. But stubbornly declined help carrying my stuff. If I wanted to bring that stuff, it was my responsibility to cart it over the river and through the woods. Or no?

Down up down up over a river or two, stop click photo, down down up up. Past the burnt house, Kris, Maxi and Jeru stopped for a banana while Caro and I carried on. The water was a spectacular color of turquoise as we looked down into the knee-shaking crevasses. I don’t think the photos do it justice.

As we reached the outer gate, a handful of hares darted across a pasture. The horse brayed us a welcome and we approached the house. Almost immediately I noticed the garden and green house! Garden and green house! Horray!

Atilio came outside to greet us and offered us the customary welcome mate. We received it warmly. I took a look around at the spacious common area. Wood mostly. With sheep skin seat covers. When I asked about a compost, he showed me two buckets, one for compost and one for chicken food, and explained the difference. Chickens sheep horses compost garden green house?! Sigh. I had found paradise.

Our friends had shown up and I went outside to pitch my tent. A small stream ran parallel to the camping area. A large shed showed evidence of woodwork and animal skins. I took a chance and asked if I could take a twirl around the garden. He gave me a personal tour. Rhubarb (from which he broke off a piece for me to gnaw on), several types of lettuce, tomato, squash, and countless other veggies. I knew this was a man whose brain I just had to pick.

I waited for the right moment though. After all there was a large sign in the main room with the words “ANTES DE PREGUNTAR, PIENSE!” (BEFORE YOU ASK, THINK!) so I knew I had to chose my words carefully.

I got my chance over dinner, we invited him to sit with us and dived into a conversation. What a life he’s had! And with the last 29 years working at the refugio! He speaks with quiet authority on many topics. I found him rather inspirational.

That night instead of sleeping in my tent, we slept around the campfire under a blanket of jaw-dropping stars. I think I stared into the fire for a few hours, not uttering a single word, just soaking in the energy of the hissing wood and the peace of life around me.

We got lost on a day-hike the next day. I could have explored caves forever, but even the summer days come to a close and we had many kilometers to cover. After some of the most delicious bread ever, we said our farewells to Atilio and settled the bill. Off we went, quicklier than the previous day. I felt strong and healthy.

Towards the end of the hike, I started distancing myself from the group. I knew that the worst of the hike was yet to come, so I forged ahead dominating the subida and arriving back at el polaco’s with time to rest before the others got there.

I bought the first beer. We sat on the grass eating soggy snacks and airing out our feet. Two more beers later, we were back on the road.

Besides having the get out and push the motor home up a hill and picking up a hitchhiker, the journey was uneventful and I fell asleep until we were rushing past los cohiues. As I said goodbyes to my friends and walked home, I smiled at everything I had seen, learned, and experienced. Life is magical.

My potential garden is growing.

I’ve decided that I would like to start growing some of my own food, which is not a particularly practical idea considering that I’m thinking of packing my things and leaving Bariloche in about one and a half months. But why put off something that I want to start doing now? True, I don’t have a particularly spacious and well-lit apartment. True, I won’t be able to see the fruits (and vegetables) of my labors and good intentions in the time frame that I have left. True, I have never really done this before and would be starting from seeds, soil and high hopes. But life is about living, and I want to have some fun.

It started with an idea: introduce plants into my classrooms. On a whole, city kids aren’t familiar with the agricultural arts. I know from experience. In my mission to live a greener life, I feel an obligation to introduce the younger generation to options they might not ordinarily get exposed to.

My youngest class, ages 9 through 11, was the guinea pig class. We voted on the veggies we would be planting. Tomatoes, carrots, spinach, onion and green peas. I persuaded the director of the institute that it was a wise investment of AR$21 (equivalent to US$6) to provide seeds and soil to ten eager elementary English students.

Mixed results came from this project. Students were enthusiastic when their plants started to sprout, some more than others. They learned new vocabulary. And felt a sense of pride and responsibility of caring for another organism. But I found it difficult to incorporate the plants into the curriculum. With another class to keep up with and a textbook to follow, the plants were pushed into the background.

Meanwhile, I used leftover seeds and some new ones (basil and parsley) to accompany my vibrant hot chili pepper plant, Ludro, to create my own minigarden. Without a proper place to put the plants, they live perched precariously outside my front door. Nighttime temperatures dip below the ideal and this spring has been a mixed bag of unpredictable long days of rain followed by abundant sun. So far nothing is showing much response to my endless love and affection, except Ludro who is an expectant mother of 5 plump chili peppers. Yum.

My plan is to leave Bariloche on the second of January 2010. Amazing how I’ve now been comfortable in Bariloche for over a year. And you know what that means, a sappy looking-back-at-the-last-year blog post is sure to follow. Stay tuned!

news updates

The school year is officially coming to a close. But I still work until December 17th.

Newest plan is to leave Bariloche on January 2nd.

My basil, hot pepper, and tomato plants are growing!!

I had a nice blogpost written and saved onto a flash drive, but this computer won´t recognise it. So you´ll have to make due with this. I have photos also. I promise.

Getting personal

I would like to note that: Reading this blog is purely optional and you may choose to close the window of your preferred internet browser and stop reading at any point.

We Americans, I have noticed, have a fairly hard time talking about certain topics dealing with bodily functions. We are easily squeamish and tend to avoid those topics all together. In this blog post I would like to push your comfort level a wee bit and talk about…

MENSTRUATION!

Yes. It’s the joy of Aunt Flo’s visit each month that can get us out of phys ed class, give us sometimes crippling side cramps, and provide unflattering stains when unexpected. But it is a natural and normal process that all women must go through.

So why not have some fun with it?

I used to be embarrassed walking up to the supermarket or drugstore checkout line with a box of my preferred tampons or sanitary pads. My face would go red and I would feel the embarrassment of the cashier (and everyone else) knowing that I was at ‘that time of the month.’ Or, when going through my bag, a tampon would slip out and go bouncing along the floor for the whole world to see. Every guy that I’ve met turns his face into disgust when the topic is mentioned, as though we were talking about some rotting carcass. Yes, we are taught that a period is something to be dreaded.

And the infamous PMS symptoms… Cramps, bloating, and everyone’s favorite MOOD SWINGS. I cursed being born a girl, mumbling something about how guys had it so much easier…

But this month was different. I looked forward to the first sign of menstruation with gusto! I did the period dance, to ask the nature gods for a speedy arrival. I made many of my male friends uncomfortable with my constant chatter. Why?

Because I found the Keeper. By word of mouth, I was informed of the existence of a tampon alternative and, in my interest of living a greener life, I researched it. A small cup that sits snuggly in place of a tampon that collects the menstrual fluid and can be emptied a few times a day. It was at that moment I thought about the extreme quantity of waste produced by conventional products. Plastic wrapping, paper applicators, cotton products… month after month produce an unbelievable mountain of non-biodegradable garbage.

Meanwhile the Keeper is made with all natural rubber and can be rinsed, dried, sterilized, and reused for up to ten years! Imagine, also, the amount of money saved…

So I ordered one. With a 3-month money back guarantee, what did I have to lose? And then I waited rather impatiently for the arrival of Aunt Flo. Come on, come on!

Once the period started, the Keeper did take a little getting used to; I have to admit. Insertion, the feeling of something there, removal, rinse and repeat. But by the end of the cycle, I was a pro!

Now my period is not something to be feared, but something to look forward to. And it’s a plus to know that I’m doing my part to help the environment!

I hope I didn’t gross you out too badly! :)

Links:

www.keeper.com (also the Moon Cup, for those with allergies to rubber)

www.divacup.com (Diva Cup another alternative)