A Gringo in Cochrane

11-24
930PM

I left the estancia yesterday, and spent the day in Cochrane. Agneta and I had one final lunch together at my hostal for the night - Hostal Lago Esmeralda. Agenta was off to climb San Lorenzo - the second highest peak in Patagonia. She invited me along, but I didnt have the appropriate gear. Our original plan was to travel to Fitz Roy (el Chalten) together, but it being so early in the season we wouldnt be able to catch a ferry until Saturday. So we agreed to return in 2011 and do Fitz Roy together, having become such good friends over the past couple of weeks (this disaster bred kinship!).

I said goodbye to Agneta and was finally alone - something Id been pining for for over a week now. First on my list was to find an internet cafe, which turned out not to exist. Next, after wandering for what felt like miles, was to find the bus terminal, from which Id head to Coyhaique the following morning at 8 am. I found it and continued to the Plaza De Armas (built with stone supplied by the Tompkins), and relaxed while reading Emerson.

I swear I must have been the only non chilean in Cochrane. It is about a month before tourist season starts, and I was the only occupant in my hostal last night. Speaking very little spanish, I managed to get a coffee at the hostal, and find out that dinner was at 930. At 930, frightened to head down to the restaurant where 5 Argentinian gauchos had been having beer and smoking since 4 pm, I decided it would be good to eat real food, even if it meant doing so eons outside my comfort zone.

I sat down and asked for the menu, but got a salad instead. WOW! I thought, what a coincidence! He must have read my mind - a salad is exactly what I wanted. I finished and sat back, sipping water, listening to the gauchos tell what I imagined were jokes, and watching porn on TV (this is a common occurance during a chilean dinner). Excited to get the hell out of there, I looked for the chef and noticed him carrying an enormous bowl of soup in my direction. He placed it in front of me, chicken thigh and all, and I couldnt find the courage to turn it away. And so I ate it. I ate chicken. For the first time since going vegetarian in August, I ate meat. And it was delicious.

It did come from their backyard, I would soon thereafter learn, during a terrible conversation with the chef, who tried to chat with me. He couldnt understand why I didnt climb the mountain with my friend, or why I would be traveling alone for the rest of my trip. I think he had a hard time wrapping his brain around why I would travel all this way and spend all this money to do hard manual labor on the estancia.

When I had finally made it to my bed, having paid the bill and agreeing to miss breakfast in the morning because Id be up way before anyone else to catch my bus, I collapsed into the inviting pile of sheets and pillows and........broke the bed... snap! crack! boom! several of the beams supporting my mattress had broken. Luckily, nobody noticed due to the gaucho laughter and sick, crying hostal baby, so I snuck to the bathroom, intent on a long overdue shower. This is when I noticed the ceiling angled so severely Id have to squat to take a shower. Feeling defeated I got into bed gently, positioned myself into the uncomfortable dip, and fell asleep watching the only music video on my iPOD - shot in the head by moby.

This is what I get for being the only gringo in cochrane.