Semana santa!

The Andes are gorgeous. Like unbelievably, jaw-droppingly, speechlessly, piss-in-my-pants gorgeous. That being said, there are also a lot of very different stretches of the Andes. The mountain ranges I'm accustomed to will vary slightly depending on latitude, but tend to retain the same defining characteristics. Not so here. In the far south, there's an inhospitable, snow-covered land of extremes. Head north to Bariloche, and you're greeted by evergreen forests, craggy mountaintops, and lakes that give royal blue a run for its money. Around Mendoza, the lack of rainfall makes for other-worldly paisajes. entire stretches of ridges exist without vegetation. Around Salta, in the north, the dry climate continues, but rather than bitter chills, the weather tends toward the dry heat. Still further north, the Andes change into the uber-green setting for Machu Picchu.
Semana santa reminds me of our Thanksgiving break. School and businesses take off from Wednesday until Easter Sunday as the main break of the fall. The difference however, would be that this is when people travel. And I can understand why. Because Argentina is such a long country, the countryside boasts attractions from tropical rain-forests to the jumping point for Antarctica. Not to mention the bus system is reliable, comfortable, and fairly cheap.
After stressing and deciding last minute to go to Bariloche for the long weekend, the four girls of the group bought tickets through a travel agency. The tickets themselves, expensive for the delay, two group tours of the area, 3 nights in a hotel - breakfast and dinner included, and the agency fees ended up costing 930 pesos. Today's exchange rate would make that about U$D 240.
So we took a local bus to Buenos Aires, and stood in the mess of claustrophobia and humanity that was the Omnibus terminal, and finally found the right executive-class double decker. 20 hours of free food and wine, remarkably comfortable seats, and poorly subtitled movies later, we arrived in Bariloche. The trip itself was unbelievable. Hours after hours after hours of the Pampas - dry, flat, tumbleweed-strewn landscapes - led to the agricultural areas which led to the start of mountains. Sunrise was incredible.
As far as 20 and 21-year-olds traveling, we were definitely in the minority staying in a hotel as versus a hostel, but the towels and the free food were worth it. It also meant that we had a chance to relax. We didn't salir while we were there, and as a result left well-rested and re-energized. (Salir technically means 'to leave,' but it's a convenient one-word way to say going out, whether just to drink at a bar, or to dance until 7 am at a club.)
The group excursions were nice, affording beautiful views with little effort, but not really my cup of tea. In the morning, we rode a ski lift up to a lookout to take pictures and in the afternoon headed to Cerro Catedral, the premier ski resort in Bariloche. There wasn't any snow as it was still early fall, but there was the typical ski-paraphernalia and restaurant village.
I took the next day off from the others to hike up Cerro Lopez. And am so glad I did. The views are worth so much more when they're raw and afford a sense of achievement. A few notes on Argentine trails:
- Switchbacks are for sissies. I'm not used to feeling out of shape, but after 45 minutes of 45+ degree slopes, I knew my calves were going to get their revenge.
- Well-marked trails are a luxury.
- Running shoes do not provide enough traction.
- Being afraid of heights makes for some anxious minutes.
The mountain itself reaches 2075 meters, but the top part of that is too high for the evergreen forest that covers the rest, so, there's a rock-scrambling trail marked into the side. After reaching the outpost - a kind of ranger station, hostel, check-in point - I climbed up a couple of hundred meters and realized the height and wind weren't going to let me finish without a panic attack. So I sat myself into a little crag and took out my sketchbook. After about a half-hour, I started to head back down. Slowly. On my ass for a good part of it. Even the wooded part of the trail includes some gravelly slopes that freaked me out a little when I could see where it was I would be falling. In total, the climb and descent (and a little nap in the sun in a clearing) took me 6 or 7 hours. After getting fussed at by a local for hiking alone as a girl, I walked the 10 kilometers back to the bus station. (This mini-lecture was exactly what my brand of feminism hates: someone assuming that because of my sex, I'm incapable of something.)
Back with the girls, we shopped through a few of the artisan fairs, bought a few knit hats, and took some very touristy pictures with St. Bernards named 'Che.' The final night we enjoyed some good wine and food out before headed back to basic life in La Plata.

The question Brad said he used to ask Starbucks customers, "If you were a mountain range, what mountain range would you be?" comes to mind. I've found myself, in mountain form.

(I don't have a good photo of Cerro Lopez or the Refugio, so they came from http://www.welcomeargentina.com/bariloche/imagenes/lopez-59_i.html and http://images.travelpod.com/users/ole.dolven/sor_amerika_-_2.1168982700.p1150292.jpg, respectively.)