Goodbye to Patagonia

   Patagonia showered us with her gifts of bright sunshine and glorious scenery as we frolicked deep within her southern reaches.  As soon as we determined to leave she just showered on us.  We had heard wonderful things about Bariloche yet it almost failed to deliver on account of the incessant rain. 

   Gabi and Max (and their kids, Constantine and Justina) were lovely hosts and took the trouble to take us to visit a nearby waterfall and chocolate factory but sadly there is only so much you can do in an adventure capital soaked to its thermal base-layer.  Luckily all was rectified by churros. 

   Kizzy was concerned that our adventures had peaked too early when we found the most amazing ice cream in the world in southern Brazil.  In Bariloche this run of luck continued with our discovery of the world’s best churros served with hot chocolate.  The churros in Argentina do not come with a pot of chocolate to dip into, they come with injections of smooth and glossy caramel running the length of their cores.  The café in Bariloche, which gave us an afternoon of emergency shelter, had the freshest churros and the perfect sauce to churro ratio, and they practically insisted on serving them with hot chocolate.  Again, we missed the photo op, our intention to return thwarted as the café closed for renovations for the remainder of our stay.

   From Bariloche we turned northward along Lago Nahuel Huapi to the tiny and charming town of Villa Angostura.  As we stood in the street wondering where to go looking for accommodation a lady approached us asked if we needed anything.  She proceeded to call over her husband and loaded us and our bags into her car and drove us to the place we had in mind.  She then wrote down her address in case we had any problems.  Her husband didn't bat an eyelid.  I can only presume she is a nice and generous human being all the time. 

   Our hostel was a gorgeous and well-appointed chalet that, being the tail end of the summer season and heavy with rain, we had to ourselves.  What luxury … or so we thought.  It turned out we were not alone.  We shared the place with some decidedly unsavoury lodgers who turned up in the middle of the night, in the wrong beds (namely ours) and proceeded to eat us alive.  Villa la Angostura did not really work for us.  Aside from the bedbugs, the weather continued in the pattern set in Bariloche, perpetually raining or threatening to rain, and the one break we had we commenced a walk to a waterfall only to find ourselves on an unappealing road in an unappealing forest amongst a cluster of buildings with signs making it very clear this was private property.  Shortly a posse of dogs came along telling us in no uncertain terms to bugger off back the way we came.  We buggered off.