Ah, the beauty of Patagonia. Sweeping mountain vistas spotted with cobalt lakes and ringed by gnarled pine trees. Up above, a lone bird circles, transposed against clear blue skies. At least that’s what the guidebook said. Actually, I don’t know anything about any of this as it has been snowing, sometimes to a degree to which it becomes impossible to see, for the past 18 hours. Well, alright, so yesterday was much more wintry, but in a Patagonian summer sort of way…
View from our room onto Lake Nahuel Huapi.
Before the snow began to drift towards Earth, the town of Bariloche became privy to over twenty four hours of a constant, unending (at least until it turned to hail, and then snow) downpour. The only perceptible change in the weather, as the sky continued to vomit water down to Earth, was to be experienced in the wind which changed direction every couple of minutes apparently to insure that no single area of one’s body should be drier than another.
Luckily, having lived in Holland for the last year, we’re both pretty comfortable with the idea of having to involve something akin to an unexpected bath each time one needs to go out to take care of any sort of day to day business. Nonetheless, that doesn’t mean it’s a necessarily fun experience.
Yesterday we woke up deciding that the first order of business was to find someplace selling the climbing guidebook (which is ever so useful when it is constantly snowing and raining along with ninety mile an hour winds). This involved multiple stops at various locales which eventually found us at a mountaineering shop and success. Following this, we decided to find a rock wall which is supposed to exist somewhere in town though as of today, it’s location, or even existence for that matter, remains mysterious.
Being my cumpleanos, we also went out for steak and wine (Kate had pasta with some sort of butter cream sauce which I imagine is certainly healthier than the slab of cow I consumed). This gave us time to dry off before heading out to be immediately soaked again. I know I’ve touted the glories of cheap steak and wine though I find that the thrill hasn’t began to subside, and in fact, I think my faith and allegiance to this Argentinean institution is only strengthened with each juicy morsel that passes my lips.
In a true display of bizarre extremes, today I’m following a vegetarian diet as a sort of counteractive force against yesterday’s excesses.
Aside from supposedly incredible views out towards the lake (I jest, we actually have had a few moments of “clear” weather in which it was possible to take in the beautiful surroundings), our current abode has a complimentary private Jacuzzi that can be reserved in the morning for use later that evening. In addition to steak, and wine, this will likely assume a position of permanence in our daily routine. We’d best find the rock wall lest we acquire mental and physical flaccidity. Well, perhaps Kate will not. At the moment she is twenty minutes into forty of running in place inside of our room. Having run around 45 miles a week before coming, she simply can’t bear to do nothing. As for myself, I’m managing to cope with this loss.
Did I mention extremism?
