Bariloche, here I come!

Saturday, March 3^rd, 2012

A hot, sunny morning greeted me the day I was leaving to go to San Carlos de Bariloche, which is a town in the northern area of Patagonia. The town itself has only about 100,000 residents and I was looking forward to some natural and social tranquility.

Packed and ready to go, I dragged my suitcase which, despite being brand new, already has a gimp wheel (mooooooooom!) and as I was skidding across the intersection I realized I forgot one of the most important things—the bus tickets. I had put them in a folder specifically to protect against this happening…then managed to forget the folder. While I would describe myself as a traveler, I find “space cadet” to be more fitting, because sometimes I just really wonder what on earth I’m thinking. I walked back to my house and gave Juan a very coy “yeah I forgot the tickets” face then repeated the goodbye ritual and set off again.

Clutching my belongings through Retiro and it’s HORRIBLE, TERRIBLE, AWFUL, NO GOOD, ROTTEN surrounding area, I made it to my boarding area. Just like any other trip you’ve been through with me, I was sweating profusely. Sitting in a plastic chair in shorts was not helping. I sat idly watching a kid play with the knobs of a TV that you had to pay to watch. I was on the brink of strangling him “¡¡¡¡¡¡¡TENÉS QUE PAGAR, CHE BOLUDA!!!!!!!” when Gus arrived looking a bit distraught. He was now the proud owner of 3 counterfeit $100 peso notes (~$70 USD).

Counterfeit notes are “common” in Argentina (“common” because it’s not like you get them every time you need change, but it could happen at least once that you get one in your time here—especially if you let taxistas in to the equation). Here’s how to distinguish real from fake:

·         The 100 in the corner should change from green to bluish-black

·         The thin silver paper should be threaded through the entire bill, but only be visible in a dotted line pattern

·         Like USD, you should see your dead prez when you hold the bill up to light

·         Finally, you can make purple marks with the bill on paper.

Gus’s bills met none of these criteria. They literally looked like someone printed them off on a home printer. They weren’t even the right dimensions. And he got them from an ATM…Argentina, you never cease to amaze me with your shenanigans. Luckily Gus was keeping his cool a lot better than I think I would have. But in terms of getting ripped off in Argentina, which is a tourist must obligatory rite of passage, I’d rather get fake bills than have someone mug me.

Angela showed up and we had just a short time before we were to board our 20 hour bus ride to Bariloche.

Hold on. Did I just calmly dismiss a 20 hour bus ride? Maybe my realizations about going with the flow are really starting to hit me already. Because 20 hours is about how long it took me to get from the US to Buenos Aires, all the way across the world and it’s taking me the same amount of time to get across this lengthy but not widthy country?

On board the bus we recognized Ryan, the non-hipster-hipster from Kansas, who is actually a little more West Coast than I even am. We shared cookies, music and long-distance relationship stories, to which he decided we’d resume after a hearty glass of wine. I guess I can’t say I blame him…

Meanwhile, the bus was showing movies and they kicked off the marathon with Grown Ups with Adam Sandler, Chris Rock, David Spade, Kevin James and Rob Schneider (WHO GAVE THIS THE GREEN LIGHT?!)—so I stood to lose a serious amount of brain cells, save for the fact that instead of listening to it, I read the Spanish subtitles instead. It was the kind of movie that I couldn’t stop watching because I couldn’t believe how ridiculous it was. The movie had a plot, but not really.  It was essentially just Adam Sandler and friends doing crap in a cabin one weekend in the summer after their beloved basketball coach from 5^th grade dies. It showcased what the average American does over summer. I was sort of embarrassed because while it wasn’t some anthropological fragment of American culture, it was definitely a reflection of it. And don’t even get me started on Iron Man 2. Are we there yet?