Snowboarding for beginners.




Attempting to remove the worm.
Somewhere in Bolivia I think, probably in the heart of the damp, green Amazon, something bad happened to me. I don’t have a clue what it was, maybe a canny, hungry six legged beastie, maybe a rusty nail, who knows? Whatever it was I got to Bariloche sporting a nasty bump on my side. It was purple and an angry red, and it was growing. In order not to panic unduly, I booked an appointment with a doctor at a private clinic in town. For good measure Amanda booked in too to check up on her ulcer. The pills we got from Nicaragua lessened the problem for her but hadn’t gotten rid of it. We were afraid it might be one of those bacterial ulcers that just keep coming back again and again, she was due a blood test after our snowboarding and I was due a dose of insect repellent.

So Thats what a snow board looks like!





We were planning to leave the slopes a little earlier than on our ski day for the removal of my worm, we would also avoid the annoying queues on the way home. We could be forgiven then for wanting to get straight into it as soon as we arrived. The day started out well. There were far less students there on our return trip. We managed to get organised and up the mountain a good half an hour quicker than the previous day. The queue for boots and board was correspondingly smaller too. Fully laden we waited outside, feet like blocks of ice, hands clenched in the cold, looking expectantly for our instructor.

Time passed and passed……
It appeared that he was still at the bottom, with no knowledge of our lesson, we seemed to be the only ones booked in for snowboarding that day and no-body had bothered to tell him. Amanda went quickly into Spanish expletive mode whilst I urgently told the other instructors our position, namely that we had very little time and didn’t appreciate having nothing to do with it. He stared back through his designer wrapround shades impassively, what expression I could see said “yeah… what do you want me to do about it?” Being too cool for school didn’t impress me too much, Amanda boosted into overdrive and it turned a little ugly. Eventually we got hold of a guy with a radio and managed to contact our instructor who, an hour and a half late, rushed up full of apologies for our situation, which as it turned out was none of his fault.

Our first ever snowboarding lesson.



Getting straight into it we spent very little time on the less than baby slope, conscious as he was of our encroaching deadlines. Before we knew it we’d zipped through the formalities, “this is your board, there are many like it but this one is mine…” and started to hurtle uncontrollably downhill. I loved it, getting the hang of the main skill, not falling on your arse, quite quickly. Amanda got a little stuck at the getting off your arse in the first place stage and had to be helped up to the vertical every time she wanted to go. After a couple of hairy moments I started to feel comfortable, able to go all the way down our slope without falling over, more importantly I could also get back up on the death-trap ski-lift beast. Amanda however was having less fun. After our time was up, our instructor told us we were ready to go out on our own, wiping a proud tear from his eye, and Amanda went back to the equipment shed to swap her board for a pair of skis.





Exhausted, we sat on a comfy lump of snow to eat the sandwiches that I had fallen on fifteen times that day. They still tasted alright. As our time ran out we got in that one last run, Amanda looking like she was born with skis on (ouch!), and me, trying to look cool. As we joined the much smaller queue for the way down we took in the views all around us, the lake sparkling in the late afternoon sun, the white haired old mountains and the skiers zipping around underneath us. This was definitely the life. I don’t know if Amanda wants to go skiing again, I certainly want to try out my snowboarding legs at some time.

Like a duck to water



Off to the doctors.
We reached the bus stop all too quickly and started out towards home. I had time for a quick wash, then rushed out for the doctors, who diagnosed me with a local infection, nothing to worry about, take this antibiotic cream and everything will be ok. Amanda found out that her ulcer is caused by factors other than bacteria, which I think is good, though I’m not sure.

That cheese thing.
Feeling much better about my ever expanding egg, we went out that night, first for a couple of beers with some of the many people we met in our funky hostel, then to a restaurant. Not just any restaurant mind you, this night we were after the food Bariloche is second famous for (after chocolate)… FONDUE!!!

Every time we went walking through town, looking for chocolate, ski wear, new batteries or just looking (but mostly for chocolate) we’d pass these expensive looking restaurants selling fondue s their main attraction. I’d never partaken of a gooey cheese dip dinner before and quite frankly didn’t see what all the fuss could possibly be all about. Amanda on the other hand was keen to do as the locals do. So, as a reward for all our hard skiing, and to make us both feel better about being cripplingly ill because of our travels, we went and found our restaurant. Very posh it was, so we ordered loads of local wine, and a big bowl of cheese with dips. I was literally expecting a load of melted cheese, I wasn’t prepared for what came. Plates of veggies, bread and stuff, all around this beautiful cheese and wine type sauce… Not cheese on its own after all. You learn something new every day. It was lovely; definitely something I’d do again. Though, next time I might have the chocolate one.

Don’t Cry for me Argentina.
Sadly, we had to say goodbye to Argentina the following morning. I love Argentina, the places you can go there are incredible, some of the most stunning scenery in the world, and some of the nicest people. Definitely somewhere to go back to one day.

Loaded up with stuff for Australia, huge boxes of chocolate, Amanda’s cumulative shopping sprees, arctic weather thermal gear and beach wear alike, we sadly headed off to our last bus station of Argentina and sat, despondently on our bags. Through the beautiful forests of the Torres Del Paige, our next stop was our final country, Chile, yet again. We’d made it this far… what could possible go wrong with only a couple of weeks to go?

Masters of the slope?!?