…in which imagine that I’m a clever traveler, and get storm-lashed for it…

Bariloche, Argentina
20-21 December 2008

I look up from my book and smile on board the Aerolineas Argentina jet. We are beginning our descent towards the regional airport in San Carlos de Bariloche, Patagonia. I’m pleased with myself, because I’ve managed to navigate the airports of Buenos Aires well enough to find a place to store my big bag of polar gear. I’ve been lugging that ding-dang bag around since before I traveled to Antarctica - three weeks now - in addition to my regular roller bag of clothes and a computer bag.

Before I even started traveling, I had a first, less-clever plan to ship the big polar gear bag back home after that part of the trip was over. But when I got to Argentina the shippers here told me that I could ship my bag to the US, but that it might get hung up in US Customs in Miami or Memphis or LA, and that if it did, I’d have to fly to some damned US city to retrieve it. So, I’m stuck with three bags. I look like the everything-but-the-kitchen-sink-two-huge-suitcases-American that I guess I am, rather than a carefree jetsetter that I imagine myself to be.

But now I’m a travel-light, fancy-free roamer. I’m looking forward to Christmas week in the Patagonian mountains and lakes around Bariloche.

My smile fades a little as I look out the 737 and see clouds and light rain. I forgot to check the weather before I left Buenos Aires. Oh well, it’s summer here, and it’s the mountains, so it’ll rain from time to time, I think to myself, switching off my e-book and tightening my seat belt.

The Bariloche airport is one of those little ones where there are no jetways and you walk to the terminal. People around me pull out umbrellas and zip up their parkas as the light rain starts to drive harder. It’s a good thing the terminal is small and close. I zip up my single layer of windbreaker and hustle over to the building.

Outside, I grab a remise. It’s barely big enough for me and by two bags. Leaving the airport, I catch my first view of Lago Nahuel Haupi, a huge glacier-dug Alpine lake. It is absolutely beautiful: deep blue, surrounded on all sides by big snow-capped peaks, and at the moment, featuring large, white-capped waves. Rolling in our remise towards the town center, I see that these waves are a meter high – big for a lake!

The rain spits at us. We drive right to the center, which has a spectacular view of Nahuel Haupi. The architecture here is a mix of Swiss-German chalets and polished South American hardwood log cabins (cabañas?). Kind of a Tyrolean Lake Tahoe.

In fact, the hotel we pull up to is called the Hotel Tyrol. The Tyrol is inexpensive, small and quiet. My room is simple, but everything works, and my large window looks directly out at Lago Nahuel Haupi.

I completely unpack, as I usually do in hotels. I like to put everything away if I’m staying more than one day. It helps with the disruptive feeling that goes with traveling, and I tend to stay in small places, so it helps to make the most of the space to put things in drawers and use the hangers. Of course, I haven’t been unpacking the big polar bag, which for a moment, I’m again glad I ditched in Buenos Aires.

My mother gave me a tiny Christmas stocking to take with me on my trip, knowing I’d be by myself on the holidays. Through Antarctica and Buenos Aires I’ve taken care not too look inside or even feel the stocking when I handle it, so as not to spoil whatever tiny surprise may be inside of it. Since I’ll be here through Xmas, I hang the little stocking – maybe 10 cm long – from the center of the curtain rod with a length of dental floss. Now I’m ready for the holidays, with much less fuss than I usually go through.

It’s early, so I go out into the rain and wind to explore the town. I pass hotel staff cleaning women wearing outfits from the Sound of Music. Heading outside, the rain has turned into a full storm. Cold winds buffet the pedestrians, and the driving rain cuts through my jeans. I really wish I had that polar gear bag with me now.

The many backpackers drifting through town look comfortable. The holiday vacationers look less so. And I shiver, hands in pockets, and manage to walk through the small central district by taking it 15 minutes at a time, stopping in shops or cafes or travel agencies to warm up.

The town is seriously cute. The civic center buildings are made from wonderful, large stone blocks. Many of the buildings have a particular Patagonian look to them, with these yellow, treated, hardwood logs in wide use. And everywhere you can see big mountains, green hillsides and the sprawling Lago Nahuel Haupi. It’s definitely a tourist town, sort of like Ushuaia, but more upscale. This is a pretty rich place.

I’m cold and a bit tired, so I return to the Tyrol and nap. Afterwards, going out for dinner, it’s even colder and stormier. I can’t be outside for more than a few minutes.

In the morning, the storm is still going strong, and the weather forecast is for another full day of bad weather.

Defeated, I head into a ski shop to buy a heavy fleece jacket and a wool ski hat, even though I have two of each in the bag that is sitting at the Jorge Newbery Airport in B.A., at a cost of 12 pesos per day.

The air is clean, if cold. And this is what I wanted. Even though I’m still chilled, I’m glad I came here, and I’m looking forward to getting out into those mountains when the weather lifts.