Hunkered down in Bariloche

With Ty very well satisfied with his sandwich (and refusing to shut up about the damn thing), we boarded the 14 hour bus to Bariloche at 12:45 AM. The first 7 hours or so went somewhat smoothly, in bits and snatches as I frequently woke from my gloriously inadequate bus sleep. After that, things went downhill. The 14 hour bus ride morphed into a 17 hour ride, both for reasons unknown, and also in part because the giant machine blew one of its equally giant tires, exactly as we progressed along a very narrow road on an extremely high cliff face. After finding a somewhat decent place to get off the road, the bus driver, his attendant, and some other dude from the bus set about the problem of figuring out how to change a tire in the most awkwardly inefficient method possible. Finally nailing the lid on that particular coffin some 20 minutes later, we all happily re-boarded and continued the journey. (The only other item of note on the ride was the unfortunate young woman sitting across the aisle from Tyler, who spent the last 5 hours of the trip vomiting into a plastic bag he provided for her after witnessing that her earlier approach of throwing up onto a napkin wasn't really working out for her).

We arrived in Bariloche (a beautiful little resort town of about 100k inhabitants, located in an area very reminiscent of Switzerland, with architecture to match) to a rain which had been plaguing the city for days prior, but simply ecstatic to no longer be en bus, as the French would never say. We found our way into town, and located a hostel by choosing the one with three pretty girls standing in front. It turned out to be a good decision, and one which we've renewed every day for the past 6, as we are still staying there. The last 6/7 of a week have been spent getting our documents in order for our assault on the job market in the area, soon to commence.

One would be surprised how long it takes simply to translate a resume into Spanish, particularly when the persons attempting this feat can summon absolutely no willpower to resist the alluring call of Wilkenny, the local "irish" pub (which is by far the least Irish Irish pub I've ever encountered). It seems that everyone in our hostel absolutely must go there every night, and our motto is to never refuse an invitation. The bar is quite large, really only gets going at about midnight, and so far as I know does not close, as we have pushed the night well into the morning hours many times but as of yet have not failed to be among the first to leave (our record so far is a departure of about 5:30). These late nights lead to late mornings, often confused for afternoons by those not indoctrinated in the local spirit. Among our cohorts of late are two Israeli guys, who are absolute clowns in the most enjoyable possible way. They've been travelling for some time, and from what I gather, they have based their entire method of travel around women (they spent 3 weeks in a resort town near Buenos Aires because they couldn't bring themselves to part from the gorgeous women in scanty beachwear there).

Our documentation is nearing completion, and we should begin the search for work tomorrow. Our sights are set on becoming ski instructors, but we shall see whether even we can scam our way into that one. We'll keep you posted.
- posted by Micah @ 10:00 PM