Things I would do again
- Go back to Huechahue. The horses were amazing, the food was great, the accommodations were comfortable, and the hostess and staff went out of their way to make everyone happy. Full marks.
- Ride every day, even when I was feeling lazy. All the slacker fumes were blown away whenever we stretched into a gallop across the sun-blasted fields.
- Do the scary bits, including the belly crawl into a basalt cave and the vertiginous horseback descents. They remain terrifying in my memory, so I didn't exactly prove anything by doing them except that doing frightening things won't kill me. Possibly a philosophy not to be taken to extremes.
- Have hot chocolate and churros. My pancreas begged for mercy and I would not heed, because the sugar was so good.
- Eat steak with fried eggs. First of all, Maciej was right about the meat, and second of all, the eggs are fried in the salted lard from the steaks. Greasy delight. Add a pomelo soda and you've got the kind of meal that will make me happy to be alive with a fork to hand.
- Get a manicure on the eve of setting out. The silliness of neatly painted hussy-red nails on a vacation that involved scrabbling on rocks, yanking on rawhide cinches, and scratching canine tummies was offset by the happiness of having someone pamper me for an hour.
- Take Aerolineas Argentinas. The airline appears to operate on the razor edge of chaos, stories about hair-raising delays were common, and booking tickets involves a ridiculous byzantine dance that seems designed to funnel work to travel agents. In a country with buses that (a) have beds in them and (b) run every day like clockwork, it's madness to fly if you're not in a tearing hurry.
- Camp in the mountains using borrowed gear. It's possible to camp comfortably, but it's a lot easier with your own stuff, and a Thinsulate mat is much more comfortable than lumpy horse blankets.
- Stick my digicam in my pocket without its case. Alas, poor Exilim, the dust finished it off.
- Go to a tango show. They're full of tourists, and unless you actually know anything about tango, one show is much like another. (To be fair, the price of my ticket covered a fantastic insalata capprese and the largest glass of wine I've ever seen poured, possibly because the waiter felt bad that I was there on my own.)
- Buy so much chocolate. I tread on the edge of heresy as far as received wisdom goes, but the Argentine chocolate just didn't do it for me. The ice cream is a different story, and if someone can ship me a gallon or two of Freddo's malbec con frutas rojas sorbet, I will be greatly in their debt.
- Bother bringing contacts. I went through the full song and dance to get a new set, and then it was far too dusty to ever make them worth the hassle.
4 comments:
Whoa! You're all belly crawling in basalt caves!
Hyep. It scared the hell out of me, for serious, but if I hadn't done it I would've been upset with myself. I did make the guide promise not to make any stupid jokes (not that he had given me reason to worry, but I wanted to cover my bases) and had him talk to me as I was doing the squiggling. He seemed a little bemused but was perfectly willing.
Didn't realize it was so dusty. I know photographers who go to Africa always take extra precautions because the dust kills equipment.
We had lunch and a siesta on a riverbank one day, and I think that some of the sand mixed in with the dust. Frustrating, but I decided not to let my camera's problems interfere with having a good time.
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