We seem to be in Agentina

Will be sensible and work forwards with dates. So pretend I´m still in Chile.

12 August

Wake up late again. Now that don´t have job, feel obliged to loll about in bed all morning. Have shower - apparently should take advantage of the hot water whilst I can. So I do. With gusto. Huge amounts of it. Check out of hostel and get staff to agree to not steal our stuff but rather look after it whilst we go awanderin´. Get tired of that. Back to hostel to wait for several more hours for bus to somewhere not here. Decide to use free internet. Quickly get infuriated with keyboard. Eventually computer crashes. Fortunately, is while Kruse is using so must be his fault. Decide best course of action for the next five hours is to drink red wine and watch tv. As one does in South America. Feel am seeing the real Chile. And we are in luck! The Da Vinci Code is on. A personal fave. Take great delight in telling American next to me that it´s required viewing. Slightly ruin seriousness of moment by giggling. Wine is to blame.
Movie ends and there is enough time for dinner. Walk round corner and discover Viking restaurant. Three bottles of wine makes us sure this is an excellent idea. The place has gone quite spectactularly overboard with the theme. Think they may have also taken some artistic licence as well - unless zebra roamed the Scandanavian plains and were hunted? Perhaps they did. We are given fake helmets to wear - mine has two woolly yellow plaits. Am now Viking. So eat meat and consume beer with enthusiasm. Look about for wenches.
Wobble to the bus. Has fancy reclining seats. Sleep. Get breakfast about 10 hours later. Foolishly drink the instant coffee. I don´t like coffee at the best of times but decide now is the time to get over this dislike. Start to feel ill quite quickly. Ignore this though as we´re now in Valdivia.

Aug 13
Valdivia is all nice and Germanic whilst still being Chilean. Has nice rivers.
We are viciously attacked by a tout the moment we get off the bus. Her offer seems good but we deem it a better idea to walk around with our packs on for an hour before taking her up on the offer.
Discover the mall. Excellent. Teenage girls. Remember the reason that we´re here and go to the Kunstmann brewery, after sniggering at the name. Childish, yes. Take taxi there only to discover that they are not doing tours today. We are forced to sample the beer at the bar instead and eat German sausages.
Go back to hostel and eat takeaways in bed.

Aug 14
Decide that we ought to go to Argentina and Kruse has read in some guide book that we can catch a ferry from a village in the mountains. Despite being unable to find this note in our guide book, we decide to do it. So we catch a bus to Panguipulli where we wait for another bus to Puerto Fuy. Have extremely nice lunch, although am weirded out by the fact that the waitress does not want to look at Kruse. How´s that supposed to make him feel? He does need a shave, but, still. Leave and realise that we still have an hour so go to another restaurant where they don´t understand us and we don´t understand them and they laugh at us. Suspect Kruse´s Spanish as obviously no one would just laugh at me. Order beer eventually and drink two bottles despite knowing that bus will probably not have a toilet. Realise once on bus that am not sure how am going to last for two hours but have no choice at this point. Am so stupid at times.
Ninety minutes later and both Kruse and I are in agony. Apparently the scenery up here is beautiful - lakes and snow etc. I wouldn´t know - am concentrating fiercely on not wetting pants. Gets to stage where I am sitting as still as possible and holding armrest with deathgrip. Kruse has opted for the childlike option of leg-jiggling. Fact that bus is lurching and bumping over gravel road not helping. I start to imagine ways I can sureptitiously wet my pants. Bus conductor walks past and I ask, possibly with a rather wild look in my eye "Toilet?". He says we have about 15 minutes left. We nod desperately. He laughs. Hate bus conductor. A few minutes later, as we drop another passenger in his village, he passes us again and I say that we need a toilet urgently, in very bad Spanish. Passenger who is getting off overhears and says we can use the one at his house. Fecking brilliance. Almost let bladder go then and there with relief. His family are amused by the plight of the foreigners. Fair enough.
Fifteen minutes later we are in Puerto Fuy. Tiny village with about three streets on the edge of a mighty river, covered in snow and looking rather quaint. And it is cold. Hostel is really someone´s home, with extra bedrooms. We are given sheets and blankets so can make our single beds. Later, when we come back upstairs we will discover that they have been remade - apparently our bedmaking skills leave much to be desired. I blame my mother.
Aside from catching the ferry, there is little else to do in the middle of winter here, so we opt for eating dinner. At which point we notice that hardly any of the houses have any lights on. As we stand in the street, a restaurant´s lights suddenly come on, accompanied by a cheer. Suspect there has been a power cut to some of the houses here.
Walk into restaurant and are stared at. Are told that we can´t eat there (think you have to order in advance) but, thank god, they can serve us booze. About 12 other people in the room. They all seem to be blue-collar workers who were smart enough to pre-order. They sort of ignore us and concentrate on getting the tv to go. It won´t so a DVD is inserted. Transformers! Excellent. Except it is a very badly pirated copy with no Spanish subtitles. So a new one is put in. And suddenly the room feels warmer. It´s a medley of 80s music videos - 30-second clips of some all-time classics. Everyone is smiling. Impossible not to when Van Halen is asking why this can´t be love. As we leave, I spot a man droning along to Shout by Tears for Fears. I love Chile.
Slip and slide in darkness and snow to other restaurant, where a small dog challenges Kruse. I find this enjoyable as animals and small children usually adore him. As punishment for such bad thoughts, I step in a puddle and get wet socks. I hate wet socks. However, am still riding high after 80s music extravaganza (must get hold of this DVD for self) so ignore and stumble in. They say we´ll have to wait an hour but they can feed the hungry, wet foreigners. We watch tv with more workers (why the hell are there so many workmen up here? There´s almost one for every house. I can´t work out what the hell they´re doing in the middle of winter) and get pork and rice and lettuce. Remarkably good. As we are finishing, workers all gather round the telly - obviously a favourite programme is about to start. And it´s a ... soap opera. Kruse remarks that he thinks it´s the only time he´s seen seven men get that enthusiastic about a soap.
Back at the hostel we ask what time the ferry to Argentina goes. Catastrophe. It doesn´t. Only in summer. That would possibly explain why people kept looking at us oddly all the way up here.
Decide to catch bus back to Panguipulli the next day and spend the evening chatting to old man who says I have a lovely latin name, but that Kruse has a girly name. Kruse´s night gets worse when hostel dog decides it likes me the best. All good until dog farts while sitting on me.

Aug 15
Spent most of day puttering about village as bus doesn´t go until late afternoon - although we´ve been told a few different times, which is not helpful. Took some cheesy photos in the snow. Saw a cow. Talked to some dogs. Had a close encounter with a pig. Spent the afternoon staring out the window, waiting for a bus, any bus, to take us away from this rather idyllic little spot. Decide to have a final drink at 3pm as bus really ought to be here in the hour. Remembering previous day´s almost pant-wetting, I have very little beer. Kruse has quite a bit. Wonder if this is a good idea. Of course not. On the bus he gets the jiggly foot again. But - there are advantages to being a male, and he jumps off when we pick up another passenger and makes himself less jiggly. I giggle, like a girl.
Back at Panguipulli we discover that we can´t get to Argentina from there either so have to backtrack to Valdivia. Getting to Argentina is becoming a bitch. A very picturesque bitch. In mean time, we are starving and cold and it´s a two hour bus trip so we look for food. No restaurants open so it´s chips and chocolate and water for dinner. YUM. Let Kruse have a cigarette to stop him whining about the cold.
Valdivia again - eat Chinese, drink probably a little too much pisco and watch Alien vs Predator. A quality evening.

Aug 16.
Catch bus to Argentina. Terribly easy. Nice trip through the mountains with lots of snow and mildly smelly toilet. Get through both borders easily, although Kruse takes the longest because the officers want to talk to him about rugby. It was the NZ passport.
Bariloche is an Argentinian Queenstown, sort of. Very pretty, full of tourists, big lake and a bit pricey. We get a cabana to ourselves and drink red wine and I take advantage of the hot water and decent shower. Eat far too much meat for dinner. Make friends with a stray dog. Lots of stray dogs in South America. This one really seems to like us and I feel remarkably guilty that we can´t and won´t feed him.

Aug 17
Today. Find internet and answer queries from family as to whether or not we were in Peru for the earthquake. Kruse attempts to teach me chess. I don´t like chess. Kruse wins chess. Need to find a toilet. Might go and do that now.