For some reason, one of my favorite parts of traveling has been the public transport, like the numerous overnight hard sleeper train rides in China. "Why would you love the neck cramps and lack of leg room, Christie?" Everyone has a destination, a mystery, experiences and adventures from their preceding legs of their journey, a purpose, a personality, an outlook, an attitude, and over extended the hours, one learns these things - or imagines them - about those around them.
In Argentina, our chosen mode of travel: the bus, or omnibus, as they are called in Argentina. Bariloche to El Chaltén, 1200km, or 750 miles, 30 hours, not counting our unexpected 5-hour "layover" in the Perito Moreno bus station. While researching transportation options from Korea, I called TAQSA and encountered a less-than-pleasant agent who I found was telling the truth when I asked her questions about the seats:
"What are the chairs like?" "Plastic."
"Do they recline?" "A little bit."
Short, sweet, and not exaggerated, either way.
When we boarded the bus at 9pm, I began the trip with an uneasy feeling, mainly due to the imposing sign that said "Do not take your shoes off of your feet." Seriously?! OK, maybe it was for our best interests, here in our tight accomodations in which we were chained for the next 30 hours, more or less, but come on! I felt like a prisoner inside as we arrived at about 11:30pm at a gas station in the next town and I gazed at freedom through the fogged glass, where one of our drivers seemed overly cheery in signaling back to me that I could not get off the bus. About 15 minutes later we stopped at a restaurant... now, why couldn't he have indicated that before I used the bus bathroom in the dark??
The next morning when we stopped at another town at 6am for breakfast, the bus drivers, our fellow passengers, everything looked brighter. In fact, later on while camping out in the Perito Moreno bus station for 5 hours, we actually engaged our bus driver in a game of Hearts amidst the backpackers, packs, and luggage.
On our bathroom break in Bajo Caracoles, population about 50, we met the shopkeeper and Jorge, the mechanic, who was a pleasant older man to talk to for a portion of our time there. Mechanics would be critical in an area where very few cars pass. EArly on in our trip, actually, we stopped and a group of passengers helped the drivers push another car until it started again for its two occupants.
So, why 30 hours? Well, about 2/3 of the trip was on gravel road, which lulled me to sleep quite well, to the annoyance of Kirstin and Stephanie. After the spectacular sunset over the nothing, ruled by sheep and wild guanacos, camelid animals that reminded me of deer, 4:30am crept up and before we knew it, we were in El Chalten.
For more photos:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/23065175@N02/sets/72157623280723046/
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