Gone Skiing.

(Click 'photos' for all of the Bariloche photos)

Life is tough. The last few days have seen me living it up in Bariloche, Argentina, which is a small mountain ski town in central-southwest Argentina near the Chilean border. I know I said that Salta would be hard to beat, but I think Bariloche now has the yellow jersey and is racing ahead. And it's going to be hard to top.

My travels began with a twenty hour bus ride from Buenos Aires to Bariloche. Let me just take a minute to put that in perspective. For those of you who have flown to Japan, think about it this way: you get there, say hi to the jetway operator, turn around and fly home. Once I thought about it like that, I figured that if they only had chicken or beef on the menu there might be a problem. In fact, I was given three meals on the bus, and had the opportunity to have some wine with dinner. Not bad. I have to add that the bathroom was locked during meal times, though. The reasoning behind that was beyond me. What were we going to do? Throw our cream cheese-covered corn beef down the toilet? They promised us champagne or whisky with the final movie of the night, but I think that was lost in translation because the attendant came around with coffee in styrofoam cups instead. I think I might have insulted him when I took the coffee and then gave it back because I decided not to get wired at midnight. Now when I say movies, I'm talking about the classiest pirated movies you know. The rare editions with half of the screen blocked out by someone's back or those that have the entire picture suddenly go crooked because someone let go of the video camera graced my bus trip.

We passed through La Pampa, which is Argentina's version of the midwest. Flat. Grass. More flat. Some of the passengers would jump off the bus at the most random spots along the way; I was under the impression that it was a bus to Bariloche, but apparently you could get off at Timbuktu, Argentina. The lady sitting next to me got up about 4 hours into the trip. I thought she was going to the bathroom, but when she hadn't returned after a couple hours I figured that either she was being punished for going to the bathroom during dinner or she was going to who knows where out in the middle of the desert.

A couple hours out from Bariloche we entered the Lake District, which essentially marks the end of La Pampa and the start of the Andes and Patagonia. I watched the sun rise over one of these lakes, and the view was unreal. But that was nothing compared with what was to come. Bariloche is set on the shores of one of these lakes (Lake Nahuel Huapi), which happens to be ringed by towering Andean peaks. As I looked up the name of the lake, the article mentioned that Bariloche is located in the "foothills" of the Andes. If these are the foothills, then the big boys must be in a league all of their own.

I took a collectivo along the hilly lakeside streets to the hostel, located on the other side of town (the slow ride took all of twenty minutes). The hostel is set back up on a hill, with a view of the lake and background peaks in the distance. I dropped my pack, changed and bolted for the ski area. I should have expected the bus to take twice as long as I thought, because after all Argentina is on a bit of a different schedule, but I was still chomping at the bit to hit the slopes. I rented some gear and walked back outside into a drizzling rain. Rain. You have to be kidding. I proceeded to look up at the cookies-and-cream slope with dirt galore leading to the main lifts. Combine that with the fact that 75% of the lifts were closed due to 'high' winds, and you have a recipe for a less-than-optimal day of skiing. Maybe my expectations were a little high?

Not all lifts were closed, and that was all I needed to know. I grabbed a half-day pass and got up the slope to find my friends who had come down the night before. We ventured out into the whiteout with an Aussie (he's doing a year long travel deal - it seems like every Australian does it. There most be something in the water - if there is, they should export it) they had met at the hostel and explored the mountain for the rest of the afternoon. There was honestly no wind to be worried about; people would be having a party on #2 at Loveland. It felt great to get some turns in though. And no, I didn't have to pay any change on day 1.

Now many say that Argentina does not exploit their tourism potential very well at all. You wouldn't know that judging by the tourism setup in Bariloche. Or Braziloche, as it's also known. Hundreds of teenagers who have never seen the white stuff are bused from Brazil to Bariloche to look at the snow. No, not to ski, not to snowboard, but rather to ride a chairlift up, sing a song, take a picture, throw some snow around and come back down. OK for a day, maybe. But for a week? If I were them I'd call up my Prime Minister and tell him to lay siege to the Argentinian embassy until I could get on some skis. Or just kidnap Maradona and call it good. But hey, if you could wear matching jackets and get a free backpack, who wouldn't jump on the snowventure?

We spent the evening hanging at the hostel meeting the other travelers, aka ski bums, staying there. The common area/bar is run by two British guys, so you can imagine the craziness that happens on Friday and Saturday nights. Eventually we went out on the town, but didn't stay out too late because we had ambitious ski plans for the next day. Mick, one of the dynamic duo, did stay out late however; as we left the hostel the next morning at 9, he was standing outside holding the door completely plastered. Rough night? Long night.

Saturday was marked by a scavenger hunt to find reasonable snow. All that rain from the day before conveniently froze overnight, so I was tempted to rent some ice skates and try my luck on some of the runs. With fresh snow I think the area is amazing - there are dozens of runs for all skill levels. It's just our luck though that they're getting 15 inches Tuesday night. Oh well! The entire day we were laughing about our skis - they were at least 6 or 7 years old, and the wax job was just atrocious. Globs of wax all over the bottom, with bits missing here and there. We asked the rental staff about it, and all we got was a 'Don't worry about it! It'll be fine.' Gotta love that Argentine approach to life! All the way up until the point I get up close and personal with a tree.

By the end of the day we figured we knew the cause for the Argentine Economic Crisis of 2001. Cerro Catedral has about 25 lifts when 12 will do. Lift lines run parallel, roughly the same distance and are separated by maybe 200 feet. Superfluous spending maybe? Or how about the complete dogleg lift that goes up over a rock face with the towers drilled straight into the rock? Necessary? As such we experimented with many lifts, and many of them were too small for me to fit my skis on the rest bar. I really think they discriminate against tall people in this country. The views from the top of the mountain, though, were unbelievable. I really felt like we were on top of the world. Snowcapped peaks, lakes, small pueblos in the distance were everywhere I looked. I've come to conclude that from what I've seen, Argentina is one of the most beautiful places I've ever been.

We decided to bail on skiing Sunday, just because the poor snow conditions were not making it much fun. Instead, we went for a hike. We found our way to several lakes, and the vistas definitely made it worth bailing on skiing Sunday. Our path was the 'bamboo trail,' which should actually be called the 'bamboo tunnel' for people under 5'5". I spent the majority of the hike hunched over. Did I mention something about discrimination against tall people?

Overall Bariloche was absolutely phenomenal. Do I really have to go back to class? Maybe I'll call up a snow tour company and tell them I can build a really good snowman and throw a mean snow-curveball. I have one condition: downloading is not an option.