un mil de palabras

http://picasaweb.google.com/celessa711/TheSouthAmericanDiaries

i forgot to tell everyone that i have a page of photos. well i do. here you go.

the last two days have been physically exhausting, but wonderful. saturday night, i retreated to my computer to do some blogging. after a bit, leana stumbled in and plopped down next to me, clutching a wine bottle. needless to say, she had consumed most of it and pretty soon we were giggling like crazy. we decided we needed to go out, instead of annoying the residents of the hostel with our stereotypical loud, drunk american antics.

we grabbed a very sleepy suzie, threw on some makeup and headed out the door. having experienced buenos aires nightlife before, i thought that bariloche would be the same. not so. the first bar we went to was an irish bar packed full of ... 40-year-old tourists. gross. the second was a slightly neon-lit establishment called the roxy bar. the only seats we could find was at a table with two oddly "u-dub" looking boys. we sat down and struck up a conversation and discovered that matteus and gerardo were engineering students at a nearby university. the boys were nice, but painfully awkward and shy. we talked, danced a little bit, i made a fool of myself, and we left.

sunday was easter. we celebrated by taking a rickety old bus to nearby colonia suiza, high in the mountains. we rented bikes and peddled a grueling 30 kilometers around the lake, stopping to take photos of the breathtaking views and steal a quick dip in the unbelievably cold, clear lake. after four hours of riding a bike down steep hill and UP mountain roads, i was so tired! we arrived back at the hostel, i walked over to my bunk and laid down on top of the blankets. i woke up 12 hours later in the same position.

today was the most amazing day by far. at 9:30, leana, susie and i went down to the lobby, where our ride was waiting. an old german man introduced himself as the owner of a horse ranch. we had called several days before to ask if we could ride horses at the ranch. he agreed, and drove over to pick us up. on the ride to the ranch (which was one quarter paved road and three quarters dirt road), he talked to us about bariloche, about the dirty war and about his horses. he had with him another old man from buenos aires, his friend by the name of juan.

at the ranch, we drove up to a small stable and cabin. a gaucho, straight out of a argentine history book, sat on the patio with two dusty looking dogs. the gaucho was wearing courderoy pants, a heavy homespun cotton shirt, a dirty bandana, and a mapuche-made leather belt with a giant knife stuck in the back. he pointed to the skin of a puma inside his cabin and told the story of how that very knife and his dog had killed the puma last winter. his skin was brown and the wrinkles were as dry and deep as the creek beds surrounding the ranch. he wore a thick mustache with as much pride as the dusty green beret on his head. he only spoke castellano, and usually to the horses. he was truly a gaucho.

the gaucho, susie, leana, myself and the small old man, juan, started out on the trail. i haven't ridden a horse in years and the feeling of being so close to something so loyal, yet so powerful, was amazing. my horse's name was pato (meaning "duck") and he was a funny creature. i talked to pato in spanish, as if that would make him understand me more. the gaucho laughed once, when i told pato that the other horse, pampa, was a little fatty who was slow because she kept stopping to eat.

the land is something i cannot explain in words. an hour ride from any paved road, we were in this hot, dry valley surrounded by mountains. the gaucho pointed out twin peaks, one in chile and the other in argentina. a crystal river ran through the valley. copper rocks spilled down dry hillsides, creating an oddly pale green landscape. yellow brush met unexpectedly with brilliant blue sky. the horses took us kilometer after kilometer into the wilderness.

half way through, we stopped at estancia la esperanza (hope ranch) for lunch. the owner of the ranch had prepared asado for us in his parilla. i have never been so hungry in my life. we spent the meal talking argentine politics and the finer points of grilling meat. after an hour, full of wine and meat, we climbed back on the horses for more adventures in the desert.

after a few more hours, we arrived back at the ranch, exhausted and dusty. the gaucho's dogs had followed us the whole way, and we laughed at how covered in dust and burrs the two animals were. susie, leana and i said "chau" to the gaucho and climbed back into the owner's van, back to the hostel.

now i am sore, tired, but happy. tomorrow i plan to take some time to myself. walk around bariloche, maybe buy a mate gourd and sit by the water, doing what the argentines do best.

words / concepts of the day:

gaucho: a south american cowboy, but way more hardcore
mapuche: the native people of chile/bolivia/argentina region.
asado: barbeque, a HUGE deal in argentina! people gather around asado
parilla: where you cook the asado. every home has one, every hostel has one, even hotels list them as a basic necesity.
castellano: the spanish dialect of argentina. differences: they pronounce their double-L's as "sha;" they use "vos" instead of "tu;" and basically, think their dialect is way cooler than anyone else.