November 2005
Hello again from the mountains of Patagonia.
Lots going on since I bombarded all of you with my last novella.
My friend Melanie came to visit me from Santiago for a couple weeks and managed to survive my multiple attempts on her life. First, she came with Kevin and me down to El Bolsón for a trip with our professor to check out the city attuned with nature (hippies). There was excellent ice cream, a good artisan fair where you can actually have a conversation with the people who make the clothes and jewelry and food, and great weather. At least during the day. Mel and I decided to camp in Bolsón for the night at the local beer brewery (20 different flavors!). We talked to the owner and he said the camping season didn't start for another month and a half, but we could stay for the night anyway since the weather was nice. Six hours later once the sun had set and our fire was out, we were freezing to death inside our tent because the temp dropped to about freezing. We were awake shivering all night until the sun finally came up and warmed the tent enough to get a little sleep. Or to be more exact, nap in between the local rooster crowing his lungs out. I now own a personal vendetta against chicken.
We did make it back to Bariloche the next night and even got a little hiking in beforehand. Our next adventure was some broke fun to Colonia Suiza, a little town 25km from here with access to the national park for $1 round trip. Once we got there we had about two hours to kill until the bus came back, so we walked the road a bit, got bored and decided to jump the fence \into some more interesting terrain. Everything was fine until we abandoned the river and moved farther into the park. A half hour later I mentioned I was the most in the middle of nowhere I had ever been. Another half hour later and we were definitely lost, with differing opinions about how to get back to the river and daylight falling behind the mountains. After we hopped our fourth of seven fences I think we were both concerned, but neither of us wanted to admit it. The situation reminded me of a movie I had seen, so it seemed appropriate to tell Melanie how much I enjoyed the movie Gerry (only Josh will get that). Once we found some old horse trails to follow we tore through trees and brush and even more fences to find the street and our bus home with a couple minutes to spare.
And if that weren't enough, on her last night we decided to grill once more. She still claims it was my idea, which is false. Mel bought the hamburger, I grilled it. A few hours later she was sick and I was soon to follow. I can't remember the last time I was that sick and felt so miserable. We slept for about 22 of the next 24 hours because we couldn't do much else. It was bad enough that Melanie had to cancel her bus tickets home for the next day. Once my coordinator down here, Stella, found out it took quite a bit of convincing for her to not drag us to the hospital. She was very sweet to us though, changing Melanie's tickets and bringing us 7up, (*note that I still don’t know how to ask for this here. Is it “siete arriba,” “siete up,” or “seven up”? Somebody help me out.) which ended up being the only thing either of us could eat for several days.
So Melanie finally made it home and I had a couple rough days (by the way, much nicer being miserable with company. Kevin's good health was of no use to me.), but decided to head to San Martin that weekend for the second day of the Patagonian Climbing Competition. I climbed pretty well, especially considering I hadn't gone to the gym for a couple weeks and had been sick, and narrowly missed the finals for my division. I did meet a bunch of interesting people there. There was a German guy who was traveling around South America to climb until Christmas, who still spoke to me in Spanish even though he knew English. And I also met a climber from San Martin named Walter, who was about 40, but still hanging out with the younger guys. He let me stay at his house for the night, but on the way there, he brought me to his friend's birthday party. I ended up hanging out at this family's house with 30 people I had never met before, but brought me in like I was an invited guest. I found out his friend was the coach of the very successful Argentine mountain biking team. I met another one of his friends who joked with me about how he learned to be a thief in Tucuman, Argentine soccer and, oddly, mid-90s US soccer.
I think we stayed at the party until about 2:00 and then got up fairly early the next morning to go climb in this amazing area I guess had just been opened by the military for public use. It was a pretty unique trip because it was a split group of climbers from Bariloche and San Martin who were all going out to inspect the area and place bolts in some brand new routes. The San Martin people would eventually bring people out for lessons and excursions since most of them are mountain guides and the Bariloche people came out to help (and do a little climbing too). All in all, probably the best weekend I've had down here. An all-Spanish weekend, made some friends, and got to see some amazing places.
But of course all my fun down here has to have consequences. When I got back Sunday night I itched all over, but I figured since I had been outside and traipsing through thick trees and bushes it was normal. I woke up in the morning and had what seemed to be ant bites to me on my arm and a couple on my torso, they itched, but not a big deal. After class I noticed a few more and joked with Kevin about it, until two hours later when I looked at my stomach again and I was completely covered with raised, red, horrible marks all over myself. Apparently I had found whatever the Argentine version of Poison Oak is and did the equivalent of rolling around in it until I hadn't missed a spot. When I showed Kevin the second time, he flopped pretty quickly from laughing to, "Umm...maybe we need to call someone?" It was not pretty. I called Stella again and told her I definitely needed a doctor this time, so I took my first trip to an Argentine Emergency Room. There was a ridiculous discussion with the doctor where he tried to tell me I at some bad sausage at the competition, but it didn't affect the other people because they were all Argentine and were used to it (every person down here I related this to, also thought it was ridiculous). Eventually I convinced him it was a plant-related reaction, and that it probably didn't matter because I would be getting the same treatment. This le
d to the following conversation, probably only appreciated by those of you who know me and my trepidation with shots...
Doctor: "Bueno, entonces, necesitas una inyección de cortisona por la vena."
*he leaves*
Me (to myself): "Did I hear 'injection in the vein'?"
*nurse enters, with syringe*
Me: "Discúlpame…por la vena?" (Excuse me...in the vein?)
Nurse: "Si." *taps syringe*
Me: "Ah. Bueno." *panic*
Yet another journey survived, though, as the wrath of San Martin's foliage was gone by the following day.
Once again, sorry for the half-hour I sucked from you day, but that's what's up in the daily life of: Matthew Berry--Argentine adventurer and disaster seeker. I wish all of you well and a Happy Thanksgiving (or a plain Happy Thursday to Alex and Julia). Eat some turkey and pumpkin pie for me.
Ciao all,
Hello again from the mountains of Patagonia.
Lots going on since I bombarded all of you with my last novella.
My friend Melanie came to visit me from Santiago for a couple weeks and managed to survive my multiple attempts on her life. First, she came with Kevin and me down to El Bolsón for a trip with our professor to check out the city attuned with nature (hippies). There was excellent ice cream, a good artisan fair where you can actually have a conversation with the people who make the clothes and jewelry and food, and great weather. At least during the day. Mel and I decided to camp in Bolsón for the night at the local beer brewery (20 different flavors!). We talked to the owner and he said the camping season didn't start for another month and a half, but we could stay for the night anyway since the weather was nice. Six hours later once the sun had set and our fire was out, we were freezing to death inside our tent because the temp dropped to about freezing. We were awake shivering all night until the sun finally came up and warmed the tent enough to get a little sleep. Or to be more exact, nap in between the local rooster crowing his lungs out. I now own a personal vendetta against chicken.
We did make it back to Bariloche the next night and even got a little hiking in beforehand. Our next adventure was some broke fun to Colonia Suiza, a little town 25km from here with access to the national park for $1 round trip. Once we got there we had about two hours to kill until the bus came back, so we walked the road a bit, got bored and decided to jump the fence \into some more interesting terrain. Everything was fine until we abandoned the river and moved farther into the park. A half hour later I mentioned I was the most in the middle of nowhere I had ever been. Another half hour later and we were definitely lost, with differing opinions about how to get back to the river and daylight falling behind the mountains. After we hopped our fourth of seven fences I think we were both concerned, but neither of us wanted to admit it. The situation reminded me of a movie I had seen, so it seemed appropriate to tell Melanie how much I enjoyed the movie Gerry (only Josh will get that). Once we found some old horse trails to follow we tore through trees and brush and even more fences to find the street and our bus home with a couple minutes to spare.
And if that weren't enough, on her last night we decided to grill once more. She still claims it was my idea, which is false. Mel bought the hamburger, I grilled it. A few hours later she was sick and I was soon to follow. I can't remember the last time I was that sick and felt so miserable. We slept for about 22 of the next 24 hours because we couldn't do much else. It was bad enough that Melanie had to cancel her bus tickets home for the next day. Once my coordinator down here, Stella, found out it took quite a bit of convincing for her to not drag us to the hospital. She was very sweet to us though, changing Melanie's tickets and bringing us 7up, (*note that I still don’t know how to ask for this here. Is it “siete arriba,” “siete up,” or “seven up”? Somebody help me out.) which ended up being the only thing either of us could eat for several days.
So Melanie finally made it home and I had a couple rough days (by the way, much nicer being miserable with company. Kevin's good health was of no use to me.), but decided to head to San Martin that weekend for the second day of the Patagonian Climbing Competition. I climbed pretty well, especially considering I hadn't gone to the gym for a couple weeks and had been sick, and narrowly missed the finals for my division. I did meet a bunch of interesting people there. There was a German guy who was traveling around South America to climb until Christmas, who still spoke to me in Spanish even though he knew English. And I also met a climber from San Martin named Walter, who was about 40, but still hanging out with the younger guys. He let me stay at his house for the night, but on the way there, he brought me to his friend's birthday party. I ended up hanging out at this family's house with 30 people I had never met before, but brought me in like I was an invited guest. I found out his friend was the coach of the very successful Argentine mountain biking team. I met another one of his friends who joked with me about how he learned to be a thief in Tucuman, Argentine soccer and, oddly, mid-90s US soccer.
I think we stayed at the party until about 2:00 and then got up fairly early the next morning to go climb in this amazing area I guess had just been opened by the military for public use. It was a pretty unique trip because it was a split group of climbers from Bariloche and San Martin who were all going out to inspect the area and place bolts in some brand new routes. The San Martin people would eventually bring people out for lessons and excursions since most of them are mountain guides and the Bariloche people came out to help (and do a little climbing too). All in all, probably the best weekend I've had down here. An all-Spanish weekend, made some friends, and got to see some amazing places.
But of course all my fun down here has to have consequences. When I got back Sunday night I itched all over, but I figured since I had been outside and traipsing through thick trees and bushes it was normal. I woke up in the morning and had what seemed to be ant bites to me on my arm and a couple on my torso, they itched, but not a big deal. After class I noticed a few more and joked with Kevin about it, until two hours later when I looked at my stomach again and I was completely covered with raised, red, horrible marks all over myself. Apparently I had found whatever the Argentine version of Poison Oak is and did the equivalent of rolling around in it until I hadn't missed a spot. When I showed Kevin the second time, he flopped pretty quickly from laughing to, "Umm...maybe we need to call someone?" It was not pretty. I called Stella again and told her I definitely needed a doctor this time, so I took my first trip to an Argentine Emergency Room. There was a ridiculous discussion with the doctor where he tried to tell me I at some bad sausage at the competition, but it didn't affect the other people because they were all Argentine and were used to it (every person down here I related this to, also thought it was ridiculous). Eventually I convinced him it was a plant-related reaction, and that it probably didn't matter because I would be getting the same treatment. This le
d to the following conversation, probably only appreciated by those of you who know me and my trepidation with shots...Doctor: "Bueno, entonces, necesitas una inyección de cortisona por la vena."
*he leaves*
Me (to myself): "Did I hear 'injection in the vein'?"
*nurse enters, with syringe*
Me: "Discúlpame…por la vena?" (Excuse me...in the vein?)
Nurse: "Si." *taps syringe*
Me: "Ah. Bueno." *panic*
Yet another journey survived, though, as the wrath of San Martin's foliage was gone by the following day.
Once again, sorry for the half-hour I sucked from you day, but that's what's up in the daily life of: Matthew Berry--Argentine adventurer and disaster seeker. I wish all of you well and a Happy Thanksgiving (or a plain Happy Thursday to Alex and Julia). Eat some turkey and pumpkin pie for me.
Ciao all,
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