Bariloche

BARRILOCHE

We were lucky enough to get a week’s RCI accommodation near Barriloche, a quaint town in the heart of Argentina’s lake district. Because Argentina Aerolinas charges foreigners a very high premium on local flights, flying there was expensive and set our budget back (We didn’t have the time for the alternative 20 hour bus journey each way). However, it was worth it as our accommodation included a bath with Jacuzzi jets (Tereza couldn’t remember the last time she had a bath), indoor heating, a magnificent view over Lake [ ], a kitchen to cook in, a heated pool and spa – LUXURY!

What’s more, nature gave us a royal welcome by putting on its autumn finery. We were enchanted as we walked to our chalet through a colonnade of young silver barked poplars, their interlaced bows forming an archway of illuminated stained-glass leaves above. Our advance along the rich mosaic of pale beaten gold and russet leaves was heralded by a ticker-tape parade of autumn’s petals strewn from the vaults above. Obviously we had arrived earlier than expected, because the fey architects of this mosaic were still in the process of glazing it, and we had to step in and out of spreading pools of dappled buttercup-sunlight, a task that left us quite giddy. It didn’t help that the air was laced with the intoxicating incense of drying autumn leaves and sweet poplar bark. Drugged by the delightful vapours, we listened to a crisp breeze from the lake whisper of winter and watched it colluded with lances of light to transform the ceiling above into a rustling chime of burnished sequins. Only the falling darkness saved us from the mesmerising kaleidoscope, and we finally stumbled away from the fey ambush to the safety of our beds. In the morning we awoke to discover we hadn’t escaped but had in fact been transported to a land of exquisite beauty.

Ricky: “This was my Rivendell where I could pause, contemplate and dream before setting out on the next adventure. Tripping on autumn, I’d sit for hours mesmerised by the smoky mote-filled spotlight-beams of sunlight playing on the mobiles of blazing leaves, transforming them into troupes of mandolins dancing to the wind’s choreography. Enraptured, I’d watch the ensnared sprites present a feral fugue of colours before being freed by errant zephyrs to perform a final manic dance of death until their exhausted husks collapsed on the ground. As the curtains of darkness fell each night, I would return to our chalet filled with the mysterious wistful air of autumn and to dream of enchanting elves dressed in gowns of autumn leaves.”

Barriloche is referred to as Argentina’s little Switzerland, and not without reason, many of the buildings mimic Swiss chalets and the shops are renowned for selling chocolate. In fact, the Swiss came to Argentina many years ago. Unfortunately the Swiss left their chocolate making secrets in Switzerland as, to our disappointments, the much hailed chocolate proved to be of inferior quality. It was advertised as the best chocolate in the world but to us it tasted like cooking chocolate – even our cheap chocolates at home tasted ten times better. The same could be said for the ice-cream.

Like Switzerland, Barriloche is primarily a skiing destination but also has some great hiking. We arrived in the sleepy hollow season, so most of the shops were closed for the mornings, but it was so great to rest, read and take in the surroundings.

The entire region was filled with glassy-eyed lakes dreaming of the heavens above with the autumn colours melting in around the edges. We couldn’t pass up the opportunity to do a seven lake tour around Barriloche. The lakes were spectacular, each time you thought you had seen the most beautiful lake there was another in sight. The lakes were surrounded by mountains that were covered by a tapestry of rust coloured trees strewn with ghostly green tufts of lichen. Every now and again the autumn colours were set off against the stark bone white skeletons of dead trees, their crooked limbs clawing the sky. The tour took us to the quaint village of San Carlos, where the wealthy go to ski. The return trip took us through the petrified remains of an ancient realm of giants, filled with their great bones. Colossal stone gargoyles gazed down from the crumbling remains of enormous stone battlements onto scarps filled with hideous rocky monsters entombed in basalt and the dashed remains of fallen granite wyverns. There was a sense of timeless patience that one day the curse that had petrified them would be lifted and their massive forms would rise to rule the earth again. It was therefore with some relief that we returned to Barriloche and the protection of the tall erect poplar knights that guarded our chalet. They looked so proud with their golden mantles limned by the setting sun. That night we drowned in lakes of colour: livid red, burnished gold, tobacco leaf yellow, sage green, olive, tarnished silver, sunburnt umber and sallow leached beige.

Too soon it was time to say good bye to autumn and leave the irresistible tart all trussed up in rouge and bright make-up for her short lived flirtation with the fading sun. After another delayed flight and a made dash across town to find our flight to Rio also delayed it was time for Rio. Ricky “Tereza swore to write a number of letters to complaining about Argentina Aerolinas and Varig”.

Argentina is definitely a country to see, there is so much to offer and we didn’t even go down to Patagonia. Tereza “Ricky was disappointed that the fabled stunning women of Argentina were not evident, in general he found them pretty ordinary. I on the other hand was surprised to discover that Argentinean men are quite handsome and to find an ugly one was quite hard find!”