Month: August 2007

25 Aug – we get up early.  I dislike getting up early.  But, I figure it is worth it to go to Rapa Nui.  Bus to airport, and a quick breakfast at a cafe called “ARS” (juvenile snort chuckle).  During breakfast, we experiment on the best way to eat the rather large and messy burgers they serve here.  Each person with a different method.  I think my civilised use of cutlery was the loser.  But, my lack of appetite due to over-exposure to alcohol last night may have hindered my efforts.  Take note, All Blacks.

But – onto plane.  All sitting seperately.  Pen again gets a faulty entertainment unit, and an australian couple next to her who ask three different air stewardesses to fix it.  Ben gets an english couple, and decides not to talk to them when glancing across to see the music playlist set up by the girl.  I sit next to a woman who is just plain annoying.  And chats to me.  I hate that.

Arrive on Rapa Nui.  Airport is exactly as you’d expect/want from a small island airport.  Walk across runway, past palmtrees, into tiny airport.  Big bloody stone head outside.  Cool.   Walk through touts, and take name of one hostel cheaper than the rest.  Ignore offers of free transfers, and walk to town.  Find the cheap hostel, and check in there.  Basic, but cheap.  And price rises a bit when we ask if we can use the kitchen.  Oh well.  Then, a walk to and along shore.  Big bloody stone head.  Very expensive restaurants.  Big stone head that looks a little tard-like.  Well, very tard-like.  Boggly eyes too.  Lunch at a small relatively cheap place.  Back to hostel, and then Ben & I head to the supermarket for supplies.  Going to cook at home.  Stop at a bar on the way back.  Cocktails.  Pen eventually comes to find us.  She takes the groceries home, then joins us.  After quite some time, a local man starts calling Pen “Princess”.  Rather smitten.  We decide to leave, and weave our way home.  Cook ourselves some dinner, and drink some wine.  Pen’s new boyfriend turns up, walking into the hostel with a flower for Pen.  Creepy.  We somehow convince him to leave.  Then, Ben (of all people) wants more pub.  So, we leave Pen – and head to the pub.  Just notice Pen’s boyfriend staggering around the back of the hostel.  Follow him, and have the “friendly-menacing” chat.  Walk him back to the bar, and sit down with him for some drinks.  One girl warns us off a certain bar.  After a little while, we leave.  And head straight to the other bar.  Well, straight there after getting a little lost.  Walk in – and turn a few heads.  Have a few beers, chat to a few locals, until Ben’s head droops onto the table.  I think maybe he’s pretending to be sleeping to get rid of the local chap trying to give/sell us the marijuana.  But – after local leaves, I struggle to get him awake.  For a moment, I declare him clinically dead, and am a little worried.  I’d forgotten his love of falling asleep at bars.  Anyway, I manage to wake him – and we head home.

Just in time for 3 or 4 hours sleep before getting up on 26 Aug, to go get our rental car.  Well – 4WD Suzuki thing.  Leave a little later than we expected.  Find a big bloody stone head.  Not knowing protocol, we climb up onto the platform, and are sitting on the platform drinking chocolate milk when locals start yelling at us.  We head off quickly, and read our map which explicitly states this is bad.  Drive to somewhere with a touristy sign.  Look at some stone circles used to grow crops in.  Boring.  See a track.  Follow it, up a hill.  Long way up a hill.  At top – there is a road.  We could have driven up.  Not happy.  But – nice view of a crater.  Pretty.  Then, the old village of Orongo.  Houses, etc.  View of where the fellows used to swim out to an island – and the first one to get a certain egg and return with it was named as the Bird Man for that year.  This was at the end of the civilisation – when the locals started to get even more crazy with their original “Let’s build big feking stone heads” religion.

Anyway, walked all the way back down to our geep (avoiding copyright issues).  Then, back to town to use a safe toilet, and have some lunch.  And plenty of water & b-b-bounce.  Still feeling seedy, headed up the west coast.  Big bloody stone heads.  A fair few of them.  By themselves, and lined up on platforms together.  All big.  All bloody.  All stone.  All heads.  Nutters.  Finish the loop of the west coast with the quarry where they made the ‘hats’ for the big bloody stone heads.  Different colour rock.  For hats.  Absolute nutters.  Back to town, and feeling good again.  Go watch the sun set over a group of 4 big bloody stone heads.  Then, find a restaurant, and have dinner.  Rape rape – a type of small lobster.

Yep – two big longwinded names.  Usually shortened to Bariloche & San Martin.  But, in order to make myself and another uneventful update seem more important – I’ve used the more important sounding full names.

But – to get there, first we had to wake up on time on the 16 Aug.  Success.  Breakfast, then off to the bus station.  Buy our tickets, and manage to get on a bus to Argentina.  Nice comfortable bus for the crossing of Andes.  Migration formalities – Argy chap notices the NZ passport, and we chat about sport for a little bit.  Is stoked when I show that I’m wearing an All Blacks top between my two layers of Icebreaker merino warm goodness.

Get to Bariloche, and have to make a choice between one of two touts, or walking to town.  Choose the tout with cabins out of town, and a free ride.  Get there – and discover our own little self-contained cabin.  Sweet – supermarket for some wine and platter-type snacks.  Without the girlfriend, I’d have probably bought some beer and found a bus stop to drink it in.  Girlfriends are such a hindrance.  Then – to a restaurant.  A parilla (barbeque, pretty much), where we seemed to have ordered just a simple selection of meat for two – but they keep bringing it until we beg for mercy.  Dog outside introduces itself, and then follows us all the way to the door of our cabin.  Doesn’t seem to expect an invitation inside, but would certainly like one.  Doesn’t get one.  More wine.

17 Aug – a decent sleep-in.  And then up to a private residence, with our own choice of breakfast, and snow outside.  Without the girlfriend – would have been woken early in crowded dorm room in town, with more  bread and jam for breakfast.  Hindrance.  5km walk to town along lakefront.  Big lake, with the Andes on the far side.  Alright to look at, I guess.  Get to town, and manage to get us some Argy currency.  Lunch – and a quick game of friendly chess.  Then – the chocolate museum.  Quick run through, history of and the such – before rushing back to pay the nice tout for our cabin.  Arrive at the later end of the time window I’d agreed with him – so I send Pen (with next to no Spanish) to deal with him, while I hide in the supermarket buying booze.  Anybody would’ve done the same thing.  Then – same restaurant as last night – this time for some lamb & trout.  Rather tasty.  Back to cabin – and try to drink as much of the booze I’d bought as possible.  I’d stocked up for the Argy vs Wales rugby in the morning, but Pen discovered we had to leave at 10am – same time as the game starts.

18 Aug – up and out the door.  Cleaner arrived at exactly 10am, thwarting my ideas of taking advantage of the legendary south american tardiness.  So instead we manage to find a bus into the town centre.  Bariloche town centre is like Queenstown would be if the council found several million dollars and did up everything to look “Alpsy”.  Tacky alpsy buildings everywhere, being used by tacky alpsy ski-nerds.  But – manage to find a restaurant/bar with the Argys and Welsh on – and we steal a booth, pile up the bags, and I settle in with a beer.  Pen goes to do girly stuff.  Internet or something.

Then, enough time for lunch at a typically expensive restaurant.  But – they had wild venison and boar on the menu – so I insisted.  Scoffed that down, then a quick taxi to bus terminal in time to catch the bus to San Martin.  San Martin is a much quieter, much more relaxed, much smaller, and much less wanky version of Bariloche.  Still a few skiers about, it seems, but they seem to be actually skiing during the day, rather than walking around town.  No St Bernard dogs & puppies to pose for photos with either.  Again, we opt for a tout at the bus station.  18 pesos, he reckons.  That is a ridiculous bargain, and we jump at it.  He says there’s two rooms – and a New Zealand couple in the other.  I figure he’s got it wrong, and just repeating our country as it was the last country name he’d heard.  We get there – and there is indeed a NZ girl, with an irish boyfriend.  Tout had cycled ahead of us to brew up some tea – but got waylaid by kiwi&oirish for directions.  So, we sit at table and listen to directions and stuff, then all 4 tourists have a nice cuppa tea together while tout goes back to his day job.  After much chit-chat, it’s nearly time for dinner.  Pen & I go to the supermarket to make sure we’ve got wine for later, and check out restaurants on the way – while other couple clean themselves up.  Then – we go out to dinner together.  More chit-chat.  Back to hostel (actually more of a bed&breakfast – Pen&I on mezzanine floor over lounge, other couple in a bedroom – and then there’s a kitchen and bathroom).  Sit down, and more wines and chit-chat.  Then we realise that the tout normally sleeps in either the bedroom or the mezzanine floor.  But – with this windfall of tourists today – has set up a stretcher in the kitchen.  Rather uncomfortable.  Not the stretcher – stretcher looked sweet, despite barely fitting into the kitchen.  But the situation certainly was rather uncomfortable for a little while – until the tout/owner started snoring, and we got some more wine into us.  Stayed up until 1 or 2am chatting.

Therefore, slept in considerably on 19 Aug.  I felt a little guilty getting up not long before noon (probably from owners bed) – just in time for him to return for his lunch break and notice his carefully laid breakfast table untouched.  But, then the other couple got up about an hour later.  We then went for a walk – with some directions the owner had given me.  And me nodding along, understanding one word once in a while.  But, I must have exhibited enough confidence for three suckers to trust me – and we managed to find our way to the top of a hill.  Nice view of the town, and then a nice view of the lake.  Nice.  Back to town, and the sickening double-date system splits into two sickening couple systems.  Others go researching rental bikes, while we research buses onwards.  Then, wandering around restaurants – checking out menus and prices until we’re hungry enough to actually eat.  By then, however, it’s after 4pm – and restaurants are closed.  Find a typical plastic-ish fast food joint, and get some cheap food – not completely crap.  After paying for that, realise we’ve got enough for paying the accommodation, and another 12 pesos.  Try one ATM – out of cash.  Another – don’t bother as it only has the “Link” symbol.  Back to ‘hostel’, where the owner is getting the fireplace ready for some old-fashioned heating.  Sweet.  Give him nearly all remaining money, and figure it’s a good excuse to eat at relatively expensive restaurant – as they’ll accept Visa.  But – other couple returns with success story of ATM.  And open fire is pretty cool.  Go to supermarket, confirm they accept Visa – and get some easy food, and wine.  Then – actually attempt the ATM with only Link symbol.  Easy cash – sweet.  Back to hostel to eat some ravioli, drink quite a lot of wine, and sit around fire listening to some kiwi tunes.

Also – don’t worry Colby folk.  Bem will be quite safe with me.  I realise that he now drinks like a little girl, and has only recently had the Gay surgically removed (successfully?… only time will tell) – so I will take extra special care.  All of you who met me know how seriously I take health issues – and I promise I’ll force Bem into even more R&R than I myself partook in while in your charming hamlet.

Sorry Bob & Nathan – but hopefully this and future news will be back to the action-packed thrill-ride updates you’ve obviously grown to expect.

Starting with 12 Aug, when we managed to get up on time to check-out.  Check-out time being 1pm, that shouldn’t be difficult – but I managed to fail on my equivalent day back in March.  Checked out, and put our stuff into storage.  Central Santiago for lunch, and a museum.  Best museum in Chile?  Don’t think so.  More wandering, then some red wine at the hostel.  Tour guide chap tried to talk me into a one week organised bus trip.  And that it is difficult to cross into Argentina down south.  Not many roads, and much snow.  I ignored his advice.  Then – dinner time.  Discovered a Viking-themed restaurant.  Sweet.  And, we were given viking hats to wear.  Pen’s with fake pigtails.  And, the mariachi at another table started playing Crowded House, I’m pretty sure.  Finished dinner, then back to hostel – picked up our stuff, and found our way to the bus station.  Bought some tickets, had a couple of beers, and got onto our Salon Cama class bus.  The most luxurious class – and was actually pretty sweet.  Not particularly good food though – and no free wine or whiskey.  Getting back to Argentina is going to be so sweet.

13 Aug – arrived in Valdivia.  Listened to a tout trying to sell us a room in one of her two hostels.  Ushered us outside, as she’s not allowed to show photos inside the terminal.  Took her pamphlet (with useful city map), and started walking.  Eventually found centre of town, and headed to the tout’s hostel.  The one ages away, not a hundred meters away from bus terminal.  Got there, and got us a room.  Kitchenette consisting of a microwave.  Sweet.  Then, back to town.  Had lunch, and a walk.  Electronic store where the method of purchase for a rather small item seemed overly complicated.  Choose goods.  Go to cashier.  Pay for goods.  Get receipt.  Go to another counter, swap a copy of receipt for goods.  Still – battling unemployment I guess.  Then, found a secondhand clothing store.  Sweet.  No white linen shirts, but found myself a cotton one instead.  Will do until I find the real thing.  With Pen here, the local ladies shouldn’t be getting close enough to touch me very often anyway.

A couple of beers at a pub, then back to bus station.  Via awful big mall.  Found buses heading towards the Andes for tomorrow.  And info on the local brewery.  Kunstmann.  Got a taxi there – but no tours of the brewery, the museum is closed, and no free tasting.  Dumb.  Buy food and cerveza instead.  Bus back to town, buy some mixers at the supermarket (where premade “drunk kits” are available for NZ$5.  700ml bottle of rum with 1.5l mixer in a plastic bag).  Back to hostel, and drink pisco while watching bad television (in ‘negative’).  Find tiny takeaway joint for dinner.  More pisco.

Up on the 14 Aug, and discover that breakfast is included.   Scoff that, then walk to bus station.  Catch next bus to Panguipulli.  Couple of hours later – we’re there.   Like magic.  Have some lunch across the road, then book a ticket to Puerto Fuy.  Where hopefully there is a ferry across a picturesque lake to Argentina.  Or, at least, accommodation.  Supposed to be a very very small settlement.  Cervezas across the road while waiting for bus.  Onto bus.  Very quickly regret the cervezas – as Pen’s inadequate bladder seems to be contagious.  Sleep to forget the pulsating bulging bag of processed beer in my gut.  But, that can’t last.  Get to within 10 minutes of destination, using every trick in the book to prevent pissy-pants, but realise 10 minutes is far too long.  By this stage, however, we’re the only two left on the bus except for one local, and I’ve been reduced to pacing up and down the aisle.  Last chap to get off offers the use of his house toilet (is getting off right outside).  Sold.  Onto Puerto Fuy in considerably more comfort.  Get there – and busman shows us a hostel.  Sweet – village is very very small, but with a few houses doubling as hostels.  Busy season is supposed to be rather busy.

Get ourselves a room, and given linen.  Make own beds – and go for walk.  Ticket office for ferry seems to be closed, and the attached cafe is closed until November.  Ferry is here though.  Lots of snow about.  Find restaurant for dinner.  They tell us no food.  Dozen or so workmen staying there get served food, while we drink cerveza.  Second restaurant – also no food.  Then I gather that there is food if we wait for an hour.  Sold.  Food and cerveza, and more workmen.  This time – 6 of them, who bring a TV out of their own rooms in order that they can watch a soap opera.  Back to hostel, and talk to an elderly-ish chap staying there.  He and owner inform us the ferry doesn’t run until busy season.  Next ferry is in November.  Sweet.  More chit-chat, and reciprocal teaching of language.  Off to our room, where our beds have been remade.  Our skills not up to scratch.  Or they didn’t like me lumping Pen with heaps of crappy wool blankets while grabbing the sweet plush duvet for myself.

Up on the 15 Aug – and breakfast.  Discover that there is only one bus back to Panguipulli – at 3:30pm.  Seems odd, as there were multiple buses going the other way.  And ferry/travel office had a list of more in window.  But, go for walk – and keep an eye on main road into town for proof that our info is wrong.  Not hard to keep an eye on main road from anywhere in ‘town’.  Wander through snow.  Cheesy photos on lakeside.  Cheesy photos of snowfight.  Classy photo of a pig.  After not long, we have literally walked ‘around’ town.  Check out pricey hotel.  Owner or manager there speaks english, reckons there’s a bus at 1pm.  So, back to hostel to wait, with view of road.  1pm comes and goes.  Given fruit and juice by chap there – and the english-language channels are searched for us.  Pen expresses interest in The Addams Family movie.  So I’m subjected to that.  Girlfriends are a hindrance.  After a while, I go looking for whiskey.  No luck.  Instead we head to a ‘restaurant’ with view of where I’ve discovered a bus waiting.  Have a cerveza – figuring just the one won’t result in yesterdays ‘difficulties’.  4pm, the bus leaves, and I soon discover I’m mistaken about just one cerveza.  But, after 20 minutes or so, we have to change buses – and I take the oppurtunity for a quick colouring-in of snow.  Not sufficient though, as I’m forced to take a similar oppurtunity about an hour later while stopping for passengers.  Eventually arrive in Panguipulli with dry pants.  Only way out of here seems to be to go all the way back to Valdivia.  So – book ticket for that, and fail to find anywhere selling hot food.  Yesterday’s restaurant seems to be closed for a private watching of football.  They close the curtains, and the iron gates across door – soon after I ignore the “Closed” sign by trying the locked door.

Bus to Valdivia – arriving in late evening.  Check out times for buses from here direct to Argentina.  Low risk boring approach.  Early in the morning – but we figure if we’re able to get up in time, will do so.  Then, find relatively pricey hotel very close to bus terminal, and jump at the chance – just so we can get some hot food as soon as possible.  Chinese restaurant next door – hot food.  Sweet.  Then, buy some more mixers, and back to hotel room.  Drink the bottle of pisco which is a miniature Moai.  Was meaning to keep it as a gift for somebody, or drink it on Rapanui.  But, last time in Valdivia, discovered the same bottle on sale in the supermarket for about half what I paid for it at the distillery.

Next update – more excitement.  We get up on time, and get a bus to Argentina.  Fleeing the carnage of the earthquake in Peru about a thousand kilometres away.

The long awaited day of 10 Aug arrives.  Get up, and stall – as I have no ambition or intention of doing anything other than going to airport and picking up the girlfriend.  Check out of my room, and store my stuff.  Nice private double room should be available and ready by the time I(we) return from airport.  Walk slowly towards where I think I can catch bus to airport.  Stop for some food.  A nice normal sandwich, I think – which turns out to be a monster with avocado & mayo oozing out of it.  Then, get on a bus for the airport.  As we get closer, it starts sinking in that Pen will be here within an hour or two.  Get to the airport – and check out the situation.  International arrivals is downstairs, with nobody selling booze nearby.  The bar that I’d arranged as a backup meeting point is nowhere to be seen.  Domestic terminal is a significant distance away, and I’m not sure how to get there.  Figure I’d better be careful to meet Pen as she emerges from the black-box of customs/etc.  So, in order to do that, I find a bar which is in the furtherest point from her arrival point possible.  Have a few beers there.  Then – back downstairs.  Wait, and wait, and then she appears on the television.  I figure out which door she’s heading towards – and get there just in time to call her name, over top of the dozens of taxi drivers which are yelling at her.  Relief seemed to be the main emotion on her face.  Rush her outside, through more overly keen taxi drivers – and finally find some space/peace for a little bit of a hug.

Some polite chit-chat (”How was your flight?”, etc) – and onto the bus back to town.  Admire the setting of Santiago on the way – snow-covered mountains surrounding it.  More polite chit-chat, but quickly falling into old familiarity.  The good kind.  Off bus, and a short walk to the hostel.  I give a tour-guide talk on the way, and then reach hostel.  Double room is indeed rather nice – but we’re soon off to find some food.  Take Pen to the seafood market for another taste of hundreds of zealous touts.  Lunch, then back to hostel.  Rest, drinks, dinner, and nighttime.  Pen seems to be rather tired, after a little 11 hour plane ride.

11 Aug – much sleeping in.  Pen still tired.  Sook.  Lunch, and checked out a couple of bus terminals regarding buses headed south tomorrow.  Also a market.  My white linen shirt suddenly gained about three large rips/holes within the last week – and Pen seems to think it’s not worthy of keeping.  Girlfriends are such a bore.  If not a downright hindrance.  Of course, travelling without a white linen shirt is out of the question.  Couldn’t find anything though – and therefore the White Linen Shirt is still on top of my shopping list.  Then, the metro back towards hostel – and bought some lemons for some nice healthy gin&lemon hot drinks.  I deviate from my tried and proven method, however – with disastrous results.  Gin&Juice is the drink of the evening instead.  Then – some dinner, and another fairly early night. 

Am drunk in Santiago.  Arrived here stupidly early this morning 09 Aug.  Stalled.  Managed to arrive at hostel, after much slow travelling.  Booked dorm bed for tonight, double room for tomorrow.  Cold in Santiago.  Vans and cars with snow on roof.  Assume they’re rich people from the hills.  Walk, find cafe.  Order tea, get coffee.  Drink, walk more.  Order ham&cheese with tea, get  ham&cheese and bread buns and tea.  Sweet.  Go shopping, then buy some cream liquer and back to hostel.  TV and some “cremisse” – because it’s bloody cold outside.  But a 600ml bottle of milky boozy doesn’t last long.  So, back to store, and a couple of bottles of red wine.  Have been chatting to american.  Am starting to regret it.  Get back, drink my wine.  And start to feel drunk.  Listening to the conversation of young people who are at end of 35 day organised tour may have helped.  I understand organised tours, but don’t understand 20-something people who think they-ve just “rocked” South America after seeing 5 countries in 35 days in a truck.  But, to be fair, on another very similar tour – they ‘lost’ somebody.  Really.  Guy went for a wander from campground, never came back.  Lost.

Anyway, sat on couch, listened to some interesting stuff like people getting lost.  Listened to some awful boring crap, like rumours of people getting lost.  And myself getting drawn into conversations about serious stuff.  Boring.