Moreno Lake in the morning.
We had been planning to visit Patagonia, in Chile and Argentina, for a couple of years. Jenni was always more motivated than me for an adventure in this region of the world. I had developed the South American attitude of mañana, maybe later. One of the problems encountered or envisioned was travel arrangements. They would, and have proved, to be awkward. Language is of course a barrier but does not faze us much—we have a better understanding of communication these days—'silence is golden'. Nevertheless, to be able to speak Spanish would be a wonderful attribute—it'll have to wait until our next lives, should we live that long.
It took 5 flights to reach San Carlos de Bariloche, not an attractive proposition, made worse because of a few long layovers. Some have observed we are pretty dumb to climb mountains. All mountains are the same, they maintain. Therefore, it seems even dumber to travel long and cumbersome distances when Mount Woodson is only a few miles outside of San Diego, our former permanent place of residence. We suppose it's a logical point although we've never thought of our travels from a logical perspective, only the logistics in that regard.
When we arrived in the early evening at our residence on the outskirts of the city of 120,000 people, an hour later than scheduled and in light rain, we admit we were surprised. Not that we arrived but what confronted us. The apartment is in the midst of undergoing renovations and the backyard/garden would be difficult to describe without showing great disrespect to the gardener. Our landlord is a very nice young man, the same age as our son Gavin, so we have chosen our words most carefully. Suffice to say, we have made adjustments to our lifestyle, perhaps only the second time in 8 years. You win some...
'Nothing's quite as pretty, as Moreno (Mary) in the morning'.
We remember one year in San Diego, on returning from the Sierra Nevada, we rented an apartment from a Peruvian woman. She pointed out that toilet paper was not to be discarded in the usual manner. The South American style differs from the western method. I don't even want Mom to read this part. Because of this prior experience, on our tour of the current bathroom, we noticed the warning sign about discarding toilet tissue. It should (must) be placed in the trash can in the bathroom and thereafter, emptied into the outside trash bin. Different cultural customs take time to absorb (unlike soft tissue paper) and this is another, to use the same word again, awkward situation. Fortunately, one should think of worse situations possible and then things look brighter. When we consider sleeping in tents and other accommodation, suddenly our accommodation seems 'luxurious'.
We thought South Africa, Spain, Israel and Italy were tough places to drive. After seven days, Argentina takes the cake or is it beef? Aggressive driving is easily apparent and one has to be 'aggressively' defensive in attitude. We have experienced occasions that make us shudder, wonder and question both their sanity and ours, too. The roads surfaces are interesting. The main roads and there are few, are macadamized while most others are gravel or dirt or imitations. We can't remember experiencing anything as primitive. In the town, many of the intersections are unguarded. Theoretically, vehicles on the left may have the right of way but that is, as mentioned, theoretical. We researched who has the right of way and it's proving to be quite scary. As Jenni uttered, 'We are having more than our usual allotment of growth experiences’—I would prefer not to grow too much, though.
Back to the bathroom, one of the essential areas of a residence. Jen pointed out that we were without a basin. However, I countered when I saw a bidet. Practically, it was a net loss. We find we have to brush teeth, wash hands and faces in the kitchen, including shaving. Admittedly, Jen has not begun to shave yet. There's a mirror in the bathroom but not at the kitchen sink so I shave a few strokes in the kitchen and check the result in the bathroom mirror before returning to continue in the kitchen. On two days this week, we reached the trailhead and I realized I had not brushed my hair. Of course, looking out the kitchen window does not reflect some of my incomplete needs. While there are some footballers in the US who are most disrespectful and get down on a knee for the national anthem, I refuse to get down on my knees at the bidet to wash the face. Anyway, it only has cold water flowing and spouts vertically, thus hitting my hair rather than face. It all seems a bit 'a-about-face, if you'll pardon the expression.
On heading to our first hike, we began on the main road and looked out for Highway 79, where we would expect to make a left turn. In retrospect, we had passed Highway 79 about ten minutes earlier. Little did we know that the highway was a sand-and-stone road meandering through the forests. Many of the directions are based upon a mile marker rather than a street name. The town also has a bit of a para-military flavor, if you like that sort of thing. There are road-blocks quite frequently. We have also come across soldiers training on the mountains and rock faces. We might still find a vocation.
The shower/bathtub works well although we would appreciate hotter water. The tub is very narrow and the side wall is high. Climbing into the tub causes discomfort as I recently strained my groin when I slipped on Molly’s Nipple in Utah. This probably requires further explanation. (Click) Molly's Nipple is a genuine hike, very steep and rewarding but she (Molly) is unforgiving. In fact, I broke another finger on the fall...seven more to go, including thumbs. They don’t make nip…forget it. Because of the narrow tub, we went on a strict diet to try reduce our widths. This is more of a long term project so I said to the editor we should shower instead of bathing—standing will negate our wide girths. Firstly, she did not appreciate the description of her size and secondly, she said after a tough hike, she is far too tired to stand. In my usual stroke of brilliance, I modestly retorted, why don't we shower before we hike. The editor is not always appreciative of my suggestions.
A big attraction of the apartment is the washing machine. We hand-wash when without a machine but it's a terrific luxury, if available. Unfortunately, as in many countries, dryers are not popular and not paired together. We hang the wet clothes here-and-there and everywhere. The landlord showed us a rope he had lying about with hooks on each side of the kitchen. It's quite a good system for drying except should one forget and walk into the line at night, potentially, it poses a risk of strangulation. Better to be trapped by the rope than be found in dirty clothes.
Triple reflections.
The dogs in this city run wild. (We have a few New York friends and out of respect for them and their accents, that could read dawgs, too.) Wherever we go, we find dogs roaming the streets. In our neighborhood, they strive to out-bark each other at night and chase cars for exercise. Our dog is a friendly, elderly female who is a mixture of sorts. We guessed her name to be ‘Negra’; of course, she has a black coat. Our landlord countered with, ‘Blacky', and we thought we were being quite smart. At least, they aren't as sensitive as westerners in the United States who would recoil at a name using the word ‘black’. As I write, Blacky is calling us or talking to the neighbors. We wish she wasn't so sociable.
When we arrived at the apartment, Marta who does not speak English, met us at the door, but after a few minutes delay. Initially, we were concerned we might end up sleeping in the car for the first night. She guided us on a tour of the apartment and at its conclusion, we had a good idea of the use of appliances, bed, bath, toilet tissue and even gleaned an internet password. People are able to communicate on an informal basis, sometimes very informal. That we have experience in using appliances and furniture is useful, too. It helps much when people are kind to each other—and Marta certainly is and was nice.
Cheers,
Jenni and Jeffrey
...and Mary in the afternoon.
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