Street vendor wares in San Martin de los Andes
The drive from Bariloche to San Martin de los Andes is publicized as the seven lakes road, crossing a pass in the Andes and between all these lakes. We planned to do it as a long day trip, but R's friend Nick arranged for us to stay in a private condo in San Martin.
I lost track of the number of waterfalls, although most were probably ephermal from the storm we were driving through.
Our little rental steed, a Volkswagen Gol (not Golf, that extra letter implies a larger car), managed the gravel road, the pass, the snow, but it wasn't easy on R having to look out for all the potholes. The road is paved through the attractive town of Villa de Angostura, and the Argentinians are working on paving the rest, which connects two national parks, Nahuel Huapi and Lanin. Bryan actually fell asleep despite the bumps and the cramped backseat.
A chair with a view of the village of San Martin at the edge of lake #7, Lake Lacar
The vacation home seemed like paradise, once the caretakers found the key. Warm, perfectly proportioned, a fireplace in our bedroom with a lake view beyond. I loved the monster home barbeque installation - just the thing for a Sunday asado.
The Argentines call them media lunas or half-moons
We went into town and had the best meal of the trip at restaurant called La Tasca. Bryan's venison was incredible, and the memory of R's morel soup is haunting. Forget the beef, seek the Patagonian mushrooms. And breakfast was so charming: a bag of fresh croissants and coffee fixings hung on a hook on the front door
Private residence in San Martin de los Andes
This lovely home was in the same compound as our place. Spring had arrived in full glory: I've never seen roses and columbines blooming at the same time as daffodils before. Three dogs guarded our compound, assuring us that no one walking up the road would enter, and that we were safe from the three other dogs who lived across the road.
A pavilion in the plaza
After breakfast, we wandered about San Martin, doing a little shopping (found the coolest carved mate cup) and waiting for the weather to improve for the drive back. The weaver was very pleased that I wanted to photograph his shawl. I couldn't get his wife to part with a shawl pin; they were gifts if I bought a shawl, for which I didn't have room in my bags.
The Beast two years into its voyage
Saw these guys in San Martin de los Andes and again in Bariloche, but at neither point was it possible to speak. They are on quite an adventure.
San Martin de los Andes across Lago Lacar
I would go back to San Martin de los Andes in a millisecond, and there's a direct flight from Buenos Aires.
Early spring shrub along the roadsides
The improved weather made the return drive a lot more pleasant. With more time, we could have hiked a number of interesting places, or just stopped and fished.
In a rush to the next campaign stop
We almost didn't get home at all because this guy nearly drove us off the road. Salvatori was at the helm, turns out he was in a rush to make a campaign stop in Villa de Angostura. I guess the guv doesn't worry about speeding tickets.
Andes and Lake Nahuel Huapi
Let's forget about the 36 hour return, the lost luggage and all the drama that seems to necessarily accompany air travel these days. I now speak enough Spanish so that when I bought a bottle of wine to leave for our hosts in the condo, I couldn't get out of the wineshop for the conversation about contemporary Argentine music. Understood perhaps 30%, but enough to hold up my end. On the transfer between airports in Buenos Aires, the driver explained the progressive scale of speeding ticket costs, the standing of his favorite soccer teams and why the regional airport was closing for a month (to fix the hump in the runway). Back in Salt Lake, I turned on my favorite mariachi/nortena music station, and found my comprehension has gone from words and phrases to lyrics of songs I've never heard before. I want to remember what I've learned about speaking Spanish, about Argentina, about how wonderful people can be when I try to speak their language and show a genuine interest in their world. I'm not sure I'll ever get back to Patagonia, but I won't soon forget it.
