big city girl in a small beach town

I was put off at first by Playas Doradas, a small dusty town with dust-colored-sun-baked-half-finished-concrete-box houses. One main road with a handfull of shops. Cars with obvious parts missing chugging down the street. I´m not much of a beach person. Sweat, sand, sunburns, and the smell of suntan lotion and salt all mixing together. Beaches make me uncomfortable and mildy disgusted. But this is the story of how I fell in love with it.

Juanjo is a friend of mine from Bariloche. He and Nico approached the slackline in the Centro Civico, one fine spring day. From that day forth we´ve slacklined, rockclimbed, made homemade spegghetti, sung and played the guitar, and finished many bottles of fernet. Juanjo is working the summer temporada in a bakery in Playas Doradas. I decided to go for a visit.


Mornings I worked serving mates and making churros and facturas. Afternoons and evenings were spent either walking along or reading by the beach. Nights were back in the bakery preparing for the morning rush. I learned a lot. And worked quite hard.

Here´s Juanjo preparing churros to be fried.

Nati is filling the sugar-covered churros with dulce de leche!


My first attempt at media lunas was a disaster. I eventually got better.


The people at the bakery were hilarious.

I stayed in a two room apartment. Well no, it was a small concrete box with newspapers on the windows. There were 9 or so of us in total. I slept on the top bunk in a room with snoring boys.

I was one of the locals and I loved it. I had a non-commital hectic job and a beautiful backdrop. I worked hard and relaxed hard. I swam in the sea and squatted to take a closer look at washed up sea creatures. I watched rugby and drank beer. I ate a lot of pastries.






Here´s a videoblog I made on the beach.



Yesterday was awesome. Around 5pm, Juanjo and I drove off to the muelle. We encountered a big black monstrosity of a building and a host of abandoned houses.


We were looking though for octopi, for dinner of course. I found a human-made orange thing in the middle of nature, so I climbed it.


Then we rock-hopped to find dinner. I splishsplashed in shallow puddles enjoying the scurrying of little critters. I amused myself with snails hiding in their shells. Juanjo found a small fish and a starfish! But no octopi.




But what he did find was quite a find! He found mejillones. A whole lot of them. Giddy, we jumped around snatching up the biggest ones we could find. We filled two buckets.




The tide was coming in so we headed out.



Mejillones steamed with parsely, garlic and lemon! Delicious!! It made me unexplicable happy to be eating something I had collected from nature. It was fresh and delicious and free. I was so happy.

I guessed Silvio´s astrological sign. That also made me quite happy.

That night we had fernet and improv music night. Then daquiris in town. Then when everyone else fell asleep, Juanjo and I escaped the light polution and star watched. The line of the milkyway was visible and we searched for satelites. I FOUND MY FIRST SATELITE! Usually I have to have them pointed out to me, but I found one this time. And it was gigantic. The stars were falling all around and painting lines in the sky.

The next morning was a slow one. No one had gotten any sleep. I packed my bag, and against objections, said my goodbyes. I would have loved to stay for a few more weeks, but it´s just at the point when I get comfortable that it´s time to move on. Plus my experience there gave me a lot to think about.


I thought I´d have a hard time hitching a ride out of town, but Alberto from Sierra gave me a lift. We had a fantastic conversation that made me feel on top of the world! I said goodbye to my locutorio woman who gave me that room. I looked for Chachi, but he still hadn´t returned from his trip. I stood outside town and stuck out my thumb.

Carlos, or "mono," the truckdriver picked me up this time. What a character! 32 years driving the same Buenos Aires-El Calafate route. He gave me some helpful hints about the roads in the south. He was also muy buena onda!


I got dropped off in the middle of nowhere. There´s a lot of desert in this part of the world. I got picked up and dropped off in the middle of Puerto Madryn. I usually like cities, but it was like a shock to the system. I didn´t like it. It was big and touristy. And I knew nobody. I immediately missed the small town feel of Playas Doradas and my new buddies.

I paid a visit to the tourist office and decided that I didn´t want to be a tourist. I dragged my bags down the street toward the organized camping companies. I still don´t know why I can´t just put up my tent in a grassy yard. Miriam, the porteña turned madryleña, went out of her way to drop me off at the campsite. Meanwhile, I´ll be here maybe for two nights before heading south.

coast.

What I like best about this trip and what sets it apart from all others Ive had thus far, much to my parents dismay, is that I dont have a setinstone plan. I dont have specific dates to be in specific places with specific people. Instead of worrying myself with a set route or timetable, I instead let the trip take me along and I enjoy every moment of it.

Yesterday I left Esquel around 11am headed to Puerto Madryn. I got a ride from a porteño to route 40 where he went north and stuck my thumb south. Chachi, from Sierra Grande, drove me to Tecka. We moved from small talk to bigger talk. He told me a very sad very personal story that had prompted his journey from the coast inland. It made me think. A lot.

Next a couple from Comodoro let me hop into the back of their pickup. I set out with the wind in my hair and watched the Andes disappear behind the increasingly rolling desert dunes. The sun was fierce and gasoline was scarce. I never knew Argentina had so much desert. Half way across, I shared the back seat with the rabbit as we threw the bags in back. The conversation was draining but entertaining. They left me right outside Trelew, heading towards Madryn.

The sun was super strong. Super strong. A 29 year old trucker from Neuquen picked me up. The sun and intense conversations drained my energy. I decided, with his help, to head north. Juanjo is in Playas Doradas, so I decided that I would go there to visit. The land is FLAT in this part of the country. No mountains to be seen. Hard to believe its the same country!!

Arrived to Sierra Grande around 9pm. No cell service. Waited til 11pm for Juanjo, but my drooping eyelids got the best of me. The locutorio woman let me stay in a back room for free.

This morning I woke up and after the morning mate, got a ride from a friendly family to the beach. Super friendly. I found Juanjo making facturas in the panaderia. About time because I was starting to lose a bit of weight. I learned how to make churros. I sat on the beach. I walked on the beach. Made more churros.

Maybe Ill stay a few more days!! Photos to come!

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.