Bariloche, Argentina
March 29th
so i finally made it back to bariloche. having seen HI´s marco polo inn flyers everywhere, and being told by several people that they were going there, i checked myself in and changed in the bathroom by the bar, as my room (which i would end up sharing with three israeli boys) was not yet ready. there was a trio eating brunch in the bar, also waiting for their room: nick, james, and paul, who are not, as i initially thought, from sydney. they are in fact, from london. guess i´m not actually getting better at identifying accents. i asked if they wanted to do el circuito chico on bikes, and james and paul were game, so we rented bikes (again, purely decorative suspension - i´m wise to their games now) and off we went. it wasn´t an easy ride, with 65 kilometers of constant up and downhills. the boys, while claiming to be 28, acted more like 8, kicking each other´s wheels and making biarre nasal honking noises at the randomest moments. good fun.
we stopped at blest, a rustic microbresery at kilometer 11.5 for some warm-up pints, and again at the halfway viewpoint for water and alfajores. paul´s river plate shirt garnered many honks and fist waving as we cycled along the road, but he is right - it did serve as a great conversation starter.
six and a half hours after we started, we´re back at blest, chowing down on munchies and beer. returned to the hostel, went out for dinner to an all you can eat chinese buffet - in argentina, with the parilla along one wall and a token asian man wandering around not doing anything - with a dozen or so english speakers - UK, USA, AUS, CAN were all represented - then to a sleepy irish pub. returning to the hostel for the night, i re-affirmed my suspicion that on the whole, the brits like to whine (or whinge (sp?) as they like to call it) as i listened to nick´s monologue about all the things he could possibly think of to complain about. "no no nick, you´re not whining, continue, dont mind that my eyes are completely glazed over..."
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