Day 195: WWOOFing it

14 Jan

Before I left for Esquel, I had been thinking about my plans to return home. I had originally planned to go back before my 21st birthday, 29th September. The closer this date came and the more fun I was having, the less appealing going home was. I didn’t want my adventures to end, especially when I learned about all the awesome things I could do and see in Argentina (WHALES! GLACIERS! STEAK!). I was also going to run out of money fairly quickly if I kept going at the rate I was, moving around from place to place, living it up in the backpackers’ sense of the word. With a promise I had made to my friends over one year ago and my impending bankruptcy, it seemed like I had no other choice.

When I got back to Bariloche from Esquel, Taryn (one of the owners of the hostel who knew about my plans and financial situation) quickly cornered me in the kitchen and proposed the idea of WWOOFing at 41 Below. First of all, what is WWOOFing?

WWOOFing — World Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms — is best known as an inexpensive way to travel the world and volunteer.

WWOOF is a network of national organizations that help volunteers to live and learn on organic properties. WWOOF organizations bring together hosts and volunteers (“WWOOFers”) to help make a sustainable world. (http://www.wwoofinternational.org/)

In standard WWOOFing scenarios, volunteers work on organic farms in exchange for free accommodation and food. Taryn and Marçelo (the other owner) are part of a WWOOFing project in Auckland, New Zealand, during the summer called Fruit Vans, selling fruit and vegetables on the side of the road. They also tried to convince me to come WWOOF there on a working holiday visa starting in December. 41 Below was their new winter project.

Basically, in exchange for me working a little over twenty hours a week, I would receive free accommodation and food. It seemed pretty awesome. After discussing it with Taryn and some other people staying and working at the hostel, and my family, I decided to stay. I saw it like this:

Reasons to return home:

  1. My 21st birthday promise to friends
  2. Running out of money

Reasons to stay:

  1. Home is not the most exciting place
  2. Having fun
  3. Opportunities presented to me by the Universe
  4. Why the hell not??
  5. Time to LIVE

I chose to stay. Kristen (from USA), who had arrived a few days before I had left for Esquel and had plans to move into an apartment with some Aussies and an American nearby, also signed on to help out in exchange for free food. Along with Kristen and me, Xan (from French Basque Country) and Rhoda (from England) were also WWOOFing at the hostel and we became great friends. Xan and Rhoda had met Taryn and Marçelo in New Zealand after WWOOFing for them at Fruit Vans.

The work wasn’t very glamorous and we each had our days to clean. I didn’t totally mind cleaning toilets and at least I had two other people with whom I could bitch about how nasty it was cleaning the girls’ showers and how stinky the dorm the German men were staying in was. Xan, Rhoda and I each had two days to clean plus we all helped out on Sundays. Kristen and I shared two nights of cooking and two nights of activities, usually dinner out and bowling night. Xan and Rhoda had the same. A few Sundays we all cooked a big breakfast. Monday was taco night, the most delicious night of the week! Saturday was bowling night, which was surprisingly hilarious with the Germans. A few times we made our activity duties into a ski outing to Cerro Catedral.

I am glad I had the experience of WWOOFing, despite all the yucky toilets and things. Making bunk beds is actually really challenging and I got so sick of the smell of cleaning supplies. I certainly got sick of Bariloche and the constant masses of high school seniors on holiday swarming the chocolate shops in town and crowding the lift lines. On the up side, I am so appreciative of the relationships I formed with Kristen, Xan and Rhoda, and the other wonderful people at 41 Below. Cooking with them for sometimes up to 25 people and drinking several bottles of wine are some of the most fun memories I have of my eight months in South America. It is so rare to connect with people on such a deep and personal level that you feel comfortable sharing yourself with them. I am lucky to have met such beautiful people. Also, working in a hostel, I met some really awesome people from all over the world. Something about 41 Below attracted adventurous and life-loving people and I loved hearing their stories.

I stayed in Bariloche until 26th September, which is about when I was planning to head home. Before leaving, Santa Rosa (the fabled South American winter snow storm) hit Bariloche and dumped over a foot of new snow on Cerro Catedral. Our last few days in Bariloche were full of incredible skiing. Imagine getting off the lift and my skis immediately disappeared in the powder. The conditions were unreal and I finally learned to ski powder – being a girl from the East Coast I am used to skiing on ice — though this mostly meant me face-planting (without pain!) several times during a run. I also did my first hike-to-ski! Kristen and I hiked from the top of one lift to La Laguna and the view of Lago Nahuel Huapi was incredible.

After a little over a month, I left Bariloche. It was sad saying goodbye to Xan and Rhoda but I’m pretty sure I’ll see them again. It was definitely time. Kristen and I had all of Patagonia to explore over the next month before I finally went home. It was exciting setting out with a travel buddy, something I hadn’t done for the past seven months but for some weekends away.

Next stop, El Fin del Mundoooooooooooo!

Day 190: Vacation from vacation

14 Nov

After a week and a half in Bariloche I decided to take a vacation from my vacation (or really taxing lifestyle). I headed 5 hours south to Esquel to ski at La Hoya, the least expensive ski resort in South America (!!!). Before I get to that, please observe the food provided by my bus company:

Typical bus food in Argentina (usually there’s more bread).

I’d also like to add that they showed a family friendly movie about two brothers from the country attempting to make it big as child music stars in Brasil. Needless to say, I was moved to tears on a few occassions, which can also be attributed to my happiness at the movie not being a violent thriller with aliens and Nicolas Cage.

Anywho, I stayed at Planeta Hostel and had a six person dorm with private bathroom all to my big bad self. I only skied one day and (of course) I missed the only morning mountain transfer by fifteen minutes. Great! The hostel owner gave me directions to the city bus that would take me 25 blocks to the dirt road that goes up to La Hoya (13km outside the town). I quickly forgot anything useful he’d told me and, though I had a map with my route marked on it, none of the streets were marked in real life. Once I got to the main road I couldn’t figure out which side of the road to be on and waited over 20 minutes before I missed a bus going in the right direction. About the same time I was going to throw in the towel, I had a stroke of good backpacker luck in the form of a middle-aged Porteño driving a black SUV. I know, I know. I, too, wish it was Jesus in Santa’s sleigh but after 40 minutes of essentially chillin on the side of the road beggars can’t be choosers. So my savior asked me where such-and-such was (since I obviously looked knowledgable in my flustered way, scurrying all over the street, one side then the other, cow hat in hand). I told him sorry I didn’t know but I whipped out my map and told him of my predicament. He surveyed the map and reached across the passenger seat to open the door. “I can take you there. Get in!” “Really? Are you sure?” I asked in astonishment. He assured me he was and I got in.

Come to find out his name was Jorge, he was from Buenos Aires, a recently-stationed jefe of the border crossing twenty minutes from Esquel, and today was the first day of his vacation. We covered the usual topics of my travels, my studies (I usually make that part up and say I’m a Spanish major), my origins, my plans… I think Jorge was really enjoying the conversation because he offered to drive me the entire 13km up to the resort on a windy dirt road. Eventually he asked my age (as everybody does) and he got very concerned for my safety (as everybody does), gave me his card saying when (not if) I come to Buenos Aires next time I will stay in his five-bedroom house and eat meals with his family. Now I really wish I hadn’t lost that card… We arrived at the end of the road and I thanked Jorge a thousand times (“mil gracias“) and went on my merry way.

Skiing was pretty sweet. The snow was better than Bariloche (meaning it existed and had snowed recently) and I never waited in a lift line. It was an awesome day with perfect weather and beautiful views. I made amigos with all the lifties and spoke lots of español.

Cat-track

Frozen bowl

Top of the top lift

Sun

Halfway

The transfer back to town was full so I had to go by dedo (Spanish for hitchhiking; literally translates to “finger”). I felt kind of silly. Plus I didn’t know how to appear. Do I stare the driver down, daring them not to pick me up? Look excited at the prospect of taking a ride with a stranger? I definitely played both cards and some people gave me the don’t-be-ridiculous face when I gave them the you-obviously-have-space-for-me face. After about ten minutes a large shiny black pick-up stopped driven by a sixty-something year old man. I was so excited! Twice in one day! Our conversation went much of the same route as before and he even drove me to my hostel!

I took a shower, relaxed, and bought a few cervezas at the supermercado to celebrate my successful day.  In the hostel kitchen I found the night receptionist and a few of his buddies, all snowboard instructors at the mountain rocking hardcore goggle tans and chopping things. An important lesson I have learned in hostels: if you don’t have dinner plans of your own (or can’t be bothered to cook), hang out with whomever you think is cooking the best meal. If you are good company, don’t ask to join in, and (this is important) provide your own alcohol, they will most likely offer you a plate. If everybody else is paying, you pay, too. And make sure you do the dishes, too. Keeping this lesson in mind, I decided to hang around the kitchen. The meal looked incredible–steak in a tomato sauce, onions, bell pepper, aji, mashed potatos, roasted sweet potatos) and I was beyond thankful when they asked me to join. As the night went on, the room was filled with twenty or so ski and snowboard instructors and employees from La Hoya. I’m not sure if it was good or bad for my Spanish because everybody was speaking so quickly and in so much Argentine slang. Either way, it was cultural and I enjoyed myself.

The next day I headed back to Bariloche on a 9:30am bus. When we stopped in El Bolson, I looked out my window and saw this funny looking dog…

Stray dog in El Bolson

JUST KIDDING

Dog in El Bolson

“How was your vacation from vacation??” one of the girls at 41 Below asked when I arrived. That title makes sense now, doesn’t it…?

Day 249+several: Te explico, entonces.

14 Nov

Anywho, if you’ve been reading my blog over the past eight months (yes, it’s been that long), you’ve probably noticed a significant decline in the frequency of my posting. The main reason for this is because I was traveling in Patagonia with a friend (yes, I traveled with another person!) I met in Bariloche so I was really busy doing crazy awesome shit (skiing at the end of the world, hiking in Parque Nacional Torres del Paine, enjoying a salad pita pocket overlooking the world’s only growing glacier…) AND I was having too much fun and couldn’t be bothered to sit in an internet cafe, thank you very much.

Well, I’m home now. Weird, isn’t it? For you and for me. I’ll get to that soon enough. Much of it involves language confusion and being just plain lazy . Just wanted to holla at y’all and say yes, I am indeed alive and well, just busy. Let’s not forget I have no money, okay?

Nos vemos,

Megan

Day 180: Home again

10 Oct

Nick and I left Las Trancas around 10am on Sunday, August 19. Let me tell you, rental cars are the way to roll in the first world! We stopped whenever we wanted, pretended we didn’t speak Spanish (a.k.a. I kept my mouth shut) when we got pulled over for barely speeding, ate at really fancy gas station restaurants (there was avocado on my sandwich!)… What a stroke of luck! As part of the deal, I would be Nick’s translator when we got to the border and I offered to pay the
tolls. Not bad. As expected, though, Nick talked the ENTIRE twelve hour journey, like I didn’t sleep at all. “I’m starting to get hoarse from talking so much!” he’d say. At least his stories were interesting. I mean, how often do you spend a cross-continent road trip with a guy who spent three years cycling through Europe, Africa and Asia? He’s definitely been around the block.

The border was a piece of cake and I wasn’t very necessary to translate, I think Nick just wanted the company, though I did translate several of his jokes to the immigration officials. The bathrooms were really nice and had toilet paper and flushable toilets. Obviously my standards aren’t so high since Bolivia. We got our stamps no problem but after further review of my passport, I see, in typical South American fashion, the Chileans claim I left them on 29 August (wrong) while the Argentines claim I arrived on 19 August (right). And my Bolivia exit stamp says I left on 30 May so does that mean I get 60 days worth of my overstay fee back? Anyways, when the officers saw Nick’s massive (like canoes) skis in the trunk of the car we got sent through right away so it was all super easy.

We arrived in Bariloche around what we thought was 10:30pm (I learned there is a one hour time difference between Chile and Argentina the next day when I missed breakfast at my hostel). It was like the City of Blinding Lights — bars, restaurants, shops, Brazilians… Clearly I had arrived in the most resort-y of ski resort towns and I knew I was going to like it. Nick made sure I found the hostel he’d stayed in the last time he was there, Hostel 41 Below, and we said our goodbyes.

So that’s been my home for the past … 37 days (that reason will become apparent later). I was planning on staying only four days then heading to Villa La Angostura to ski Cerro Bayo and maybe continue north to Las Leñas near Mendoza but immediately I felt a very strong sense of community and I didn’t want to leave. In the three weeks since I’d left Bolivia I had only really connected with a few people in Valparaiso but here it was different. Everything became funny again
and I felt like myself. Plus, the food was awesome (all vegetarian communal dinners) and I discovered a new love for pumpkin. I felt like I had a new home and I couldn’t be bothered to pack my bag and leave.

The snow was alright. Definitely the most beautiful view of any place I have ever skied. The mountain (Cerro Catedral) was huge and seriously lacking in snow. Have I ever skied somewhere where you have to take a lift up halfway to reach any sort of snow? I’m not sure.

Here are some photos from my first few weeks in Bariloche:

Day 178: Becoming a ski bum (sort of)

6 Oct

After an eight-hour bus ride from Valparaiso, I arrived in Chillan. My plan was to get a bus to Las Trancas near Nevados de Chillan ski resort. Everybody I asked said it was impossible because, in typical Chilean fashion, today was a random religious holiday for this department and no buses were running. No. Way. A taxi man offered 35,000 pesos ($70) to take me to Las Trancas but I said no way I’d take my chances with the bus, which was at another terminal.

I probably spent an hour at the other bus terminal. I couldn’t get a straight answer: “No buses ever go there, amiga.” “Yes the next one leaves at 6!” “They leave every 20 minutes, I’m sure!” “That line isn’t running today, señorita.” Finally a few viejos set me straight and said the next bus didn’t leave till tomorrow. Wonderful. I was stuck.

As if the perpetual rain weren’t enough (and the fact that my raincoat was stuffed in the bottom of my pack, inaccessible in my time of need), I also had developed a mystery illness on my bus journey and, since today was a religious holiday, there were no taxis on the roads. To say I felt defeated and near tears is an understatement. Sick, tired, soaking wet and pissed off I wandered the blocks near the terminal in vain.

Now, since this is a backpacker’s blog, we must remember that at this point in the story the backpacker usually has a stroke of good luck. The clouds will part, the rain will cease, Jesus will come down… In my case, a shiny SUV pulled up next to me and rolled down the front window. “Where are you going?” asked the forty-something year old driver as his straight-haired wife peered over his shoulder. “Hostel Canada [the best quality hostel I could find in my Lonely Planet on short notice] but I don’t know where it is…” “We’ll take you there. Get in!” Normally, I would have refused the offer for safety precautions but the woman had a Gucci bag, for God’s sake! They seemed friendly and like they weren’t going to rob me so I accepted.

Once inside the warm and dry car, the couple talked and talked. “We were just driving by and saw you looking so sad and wet walking in the rain and I told him, We have to help her!” the woman said. She was right. I must have looked pretty pathetic. They also gave me a small tour of the city, pointing out plazas and statues and streets. When we reached the street with the hostel, they drove me up and down so I could decide whether I liked it. And, as per usual, when I told them my age they became incredibly worried for my safety as a young female traveling alone. Finally, we reached my stop. I got out, grabbed my
pack and thanked them profusely for being the silver lining to my previously cloudy day.

The next morning I headed to the same bus station and caught the midday bus to Las Trancas. Sadly when I arrived after just over an hour’s journey, I quickly learned that the Southern Hemisphere was having as shit a winter as our’s previous. No snow in sight and the rain continued to fall in buckets.

Oh well. My hostel (Riding Chile) seemed cool and I met a group of  Americans, including two sponsored skiers, who were spending three weeks at the mountain shooting a ski film. They had just arrived from Peru where they were doing some sustainability projects in a small community outside Lima as part of their non-profit, Full Circle Project.

The next morning I took the 9am transfer to the mountain and once again saw how little snow there was. Ski-in-ski-out did not exist at the fancy steps-from-the-slopes hotels. Oh well. When I finally made it to the top of the mountain it was incredible! The views, the mountains, the steep, wide slopes! Unfortunately my skis seemed like they hadn’t been sharpened since they were first made and by mid-day I was sliding all over the icy pistes. Then it started raining which was an awesome addition to the forceful wind that’d been going strong all day. I decided to bail around 3pm because I couldn’t see anything (I ski with sunglasses here because my goggles are at home) and I feared I might run into somebody.

Back at the hostel some new people had arrived — two Australian couples, a French girl and a 60-something guy from Utah. They were all very friendly and invited me to join their asado (traditional Chilean barbecue) for dinner. What luck! The asado was awesome! The most delicious steak, pork, chorizo and chicken all slow-cooked on a grill outside while we stood around chatting and drinking vino tinto. This was my initiation to ski bum territory.

Skiers and snowboarders from Canada, Utah, Australia, Wyoming, Santiago, Brasil. The founder of Powder Quest, a luxury ski touring company running tours in South and North America. An Aussie couple who had just spent the last winter working at a ski resort in BC. They discussed gear, touring, back country, the shit winter we just had and the one we had all just traveled so far to experience again. I was so lost. Touring? Back country? Skins? Either way it sounded exciting and I wanted to learn more.

The next day I skied some off-piste terrain (which I apprently knew nothing about at the time!) with a group of French Canadians, including one girl I’d previously met in Sucre, Bolivia (crazy!). I was still pretty weary of powder but now that I think of it, the snow was pretty sweet.

Back at the hostel, Nick, the 60-something year-old, very talkative, well-informed, enthusiastic telemark skier from Utah who comes down to South America every summer (winter here) and skis all over Chile and Argentina, invited me to join him as a translator (and company, I’m sure) in his rental car to Bariloche, Argentina, free of charge. Awesome! I had kind of ruled out Bariloche and Patagonia for being so expensive but decided to join him because the vibe of Bariloche sounded way more my style than Las Leñas, up north near Mendoza. So the next morning we packed up the car and headed south in search of snow and to become a ski bum.

Day 173: That time my camera got stolen AGAIN but I still really enjoyed Valparaíso.

7 Sep

That´s an interesting title, yeah? So after Santiago Chris and I headed to Valparaíso on the coast. We stayed at Patapata Hostel which turned out to be so awesome and full of such awesome gente that I stayed for five nights even after Chris had left for Mendoza, Argentina.

Why did I enjoy Valparaíso so much? you ask.

  • The hostel has Earth Hour every Saturday night when they turn off all the lights and sit with candles.
  • Jorge (the owner of the hostel) made incredible choripan one night.
  • The nightlife was super fun.
  • Cool people kept coming in and out of the hostel, including a really sweet English couple and a group of Irish guys and an Aussie.
  • The streets are filled with beautiful graffiti.
  • The sushi is delicious.
  • People are really nice.
  • Everything is so colorful.
  • It´s a very creative city.
  • I got to see the ocean again.
  • They have cool cable cars that run up and down the hills.
  • A tienda we went to was playing ¨Miami¨by Will Smith (awesome!).
  • I found a cool used bookshop.
  • There´s tons of awesome artisan shops.
  • I felt good vibes and got on really well with the people I met!

So normally this is the part where I´d show you photos, right? Not this time. I have ONE photo because I uploaded that one to Facebook but other than that I will show a few from Google.

Crazy dog that lived next to the hostel.

Entonces, on Monday night the English couple, a Mexican guy working at the hostel and German guy staying at the hostel and I went out to a few bars and a club in town. For some reason I felt the need to bring wads of cash with me and my camera, though I didn´t take any pictures. It was a really fun night full of wine, gin and tonics and dancing. The next morning I searched and searched and even went back to one of the bars where I remembered having my camera but couldn´t find it. After further inspection of my wallet, I found I only had loose change when I had probably spent about 6000 or 7000 pesos ($12 or $14) but brought out at least 60,000. STUPID. This is what I think happened: I spent some time at the bar in the last club we went to and perhaps my bag was around on my back so I didn´t see what was going down but some thief reached into my bag, took my camera and cash but left my wallet because if they´d taken my wallet I would have started freaking out.

Another one bites the dust, apparently.

Isn´t it a great story? Not so much. I was incredibly frustrated but after talking to my mom and sister on the phone I decided to buy another camera because I am the kind of person that wants to have photos. You may not agree but that is me.

Here are some photos from Google…

Houses and buildings

Boats at the port

Awesome street art and typical stairs

Ascensor (cable car)

Next up, more skiing :)

Day 169.5: Dreams come true!

7 Sep

Before I get to Valparaíso, I must include photos from my incredible (and incredibly expensive, I might add) two days skiing at Valle Nevado with Chris.

I remember when my dad first told me about the possibility of skiing in the summer in Chile. I don´t remember my exact age, maybe 13, but at that point I was skiing every weekend all winter long. I couldn´t believe  this news! An endless winter! Why had I never realized this before? Dad and I resolved to do it together, some day, somehow. Nearly eight years later (if that was my correct age at the time of this revelation), ¨Ski in South America¨has remained on my Big Dreams for Life list.

Unfortunately, my dad´s visit to South America (this time, I say!) was short and we could only include a whirlwind tour of Bolivia (awesome and beautiful, still!). Fortunately, I got that chance to check such a huge dream off that list.

My Facebook status for that day:

Big CHECK! off my Dream List (list of dreams) today: Ski in the summer in South America. An amazingly beautiful day carving up the slopes with big dancing, moustaches and retro garb at Valle Nevado with Chris/Tomás González! Back tomorrow!

And if you notice, Chris bought a crazy awesome pink ski suit at a secondhand shop in Santiago for about $10. He loved it so much he posted it home! You may also notice he is rocking a creepy-looking moustache inspired by the Chilean gymnast sensation Tomás González:

Tomás González in all his glory

When in South America, one is obliged to take the piss, as the English say.

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