To get to Bariloche we had to stop off for one night in Osorno on the Chilean side of the border. Unfortunately, on the bus on the way there we got one of our day bags half-inched from underneath our chair.
Luckily there was nothing in it apart from a lot of books, Helen's headscarf and my notebook in which I had meticulously written down every penny we had spent in the eight months previous. It was more of an annoyance than anything else. The fucker probably just threw it away.
There was nothing in Osorno. At all. So here is a picture of Russ Abbott at his wedding instead.
The next day we crossed the border into Argentina without any great difficulties. Although at one point the police got the sniffer dogs out. I haven't carried any drugs anywhere on this trip (as I'm not a stupid cunt), but for that moment that the dogs go near your bag you still panic, why is that?
We arrived into Bariloche and got into our hostel, which was really friendly. We immediately met two Canadian girls that had more than a healthy appetite for the male of the Argentinean species, having been taking sly paparazzi-style photos of them all day. We also met Tom, a lad that we would be bumping into a lot over the next couple of months.
Tom is from Belfast but has lived in Liverpool for some years now, so his accent is pretty mashed up. I have never met anyone that can talk as much as Tom can, and about absolutely nothing. That's not to say that he's dull, he's not, he's just like a scouse Pesci on sniff.
The day after we met Tom we went on a trek with him up a nearby mountain. This was tough going, but the view was fantastic.
That night we went out with a mixed bag of nationalities. We went to a reggae club and had a good drink and a bit of a boogie, and it was very strange being in clubs that you can smoke inside again. You forget how much you stink the next day. After five months of this it's going to be weird coming home and not being able to smoke anywhere again. Giant craziness.
We spent a bit of time up on the top of the hostel, as it had a view like this. The sky turned the most ridiculous colours.
The day before we left Bariloche we attempted to buy our tickets at the bus station.
Essentially, we ended up having to get about three taxis to the station and back into town because of passport problems, lack of money, then just for the fun of it. This was also the first time that I had a slight buzz of pride that I had said something in Spanish and someone understood me. I was learnings.
Eventually we sorted our lives out, and quick as Akabusi getting out of his dungarees, we were off to Puerto Madryn.
Luckily there was nothing in it apart from a lot of books, Helen's headscarf and my notebook in which I had meticulously written down every penny we had spent in the eight months previous. It was more of an annoyance than anything else. The fucker probably just threw it away.
There was nothing in Osorno. At all. So here is a picture of Russ Abbott at his wedding instead.
The next day we crossed the border into Argentina without any great difficulties. Although at one point the police got the sniffer dogs out. I haven't carried any drugs anywhere on this trip (as I'm not a stupid cunt), but for that moment that the dogs go near your bag you still panic, why is that?
We arrived into Bariloche and got into our hostel, which was really friendly. We immediately met two Canadian girls that had more than a healthy appetite for the male of the Argentinean species, having been taking sly paparazzi-style photos of them all day. We also met Tom, a lad that we would be bumping into a lot over the next couple of months.
Tom is from Belfast but has lived in Liverpool for some years now, so his accent is pretty mashed up. I have never met anyone that can talk as much as Tom can, and about absolutely nothing. That's not to say that he's dull, he's not, he's just like a scouse Pesci on sniff.
The day after we met Tom we went on a trek with him up a nearby mountain. This was tough going, but the view was fantastic.
That night we went out with a mixed bag of nationalities. We went to a reggae club and had a good drink and a bit of a boogie, and it was very strange being in clubs that you can smoke inside again. You forget how much you stink the next day. After five months of this it's going to be weird coming home and not being able to smoke anywhere again. Giant craziness.
We spent a bit of time up on the top of the hostel, as it had a view like this. The sky turned the most ridiculous colours.
The day before we left Bariloche we attempted to buy our tickets at the bus station.
Essentially, we ended up having to get about three taxis to the station and back into town because of passport problems, lack of money, then just for the fun of it. This was also the first time that I had a slight buzz of pride that I had said something in Spanish and someone understood me. I was learnings.
Eventually we sorted our lives out, and quick as Akabusi getting out of his dungarees, we were off to Puerto Madryn.
No comments:
Post a Comment