Like Austria but more Chile

There was a hazily organised plan at the end of last nights mix and match drinking sesh to meet at our hostel in Puerto Varas some time to go for a walk on some nearby volcano. Although we stayed in different hostels and arrived at the volcano on two different local buses somehow we manage to all rock up in one place at roughly the same time.

Puerto Varas marks the beginning of the Chilean Lake District, and sits on the opposite end of Lago Llanquihue to Volcano Osorno. The road round the lake had a hugely Alpine meadow feel, supported by the large snowy mountain background and the old wooden pointy roofed chalet style homes and farms.

After Sandra asked directions at the police station, we lazily strolled along roads and paths, down to lake viewpoints and munching on blackberries by the side of the road. Occasionally we had to dive for cover as a dripping truck hurtled by or a car screamed down the hill leaving the smell of burning breaks.

Bored of stomping along paved roads we take a trail off through the forest and find ourselves walking across a mile wide luna lava field. The trail completely dissolved and we kind of mad the rest up, arriving back at a main road where a bus driver succeeded in charging us twice what we'd paid on the journey out, cos we were 5 minutes further drive down a tourist road.

That night we had a fantastically bilingual meal flowing with good chat, red wine and bizarre white jelly sauced steaks and super salty fish. Later we went to another place for cake and Nescafe coffee (Chile don't do real coffee). In fact, it began to dawn on all of us that a prevalent overriding theme in Chile was that a rock bottom, basically sour-faced, unfriendly customer service. Who knows if this town was representative of Chile, but the country appeared to me to be the grumpy, expensive, lanky sister of Argentina.

So the next day it was a delight to be bussing round the fantastic lake views and towering mountains en route to Argentina, destination Bariloche: A ski town set in idyllic mountain lakes with infamous chocolate, real coffee and dem bad bwai bife steaks. Two passport controls, a check-in and a shower later, and French Fred & I are sinking the Quilmez Beers and all over the steaks and Spanish chorizo omelettes. Though I won't lie, it is becoming possible to eat to much beef, irrespective of girth and calibre. Bring on the place that sells Llama steaks...


Barns