Don't Cry For Me, Argentina

Left to right: Roberto (chilean), Mari (German), Ryan (buzzed from wine), Walter (crazy Brazilian), Omer (Israeli), Francisca and Antjie (more Germans) at the dinner/barbeque we made.
The group on the hike. Walter undoubtedly saying, "brotha" to Roberto. Read paragraph dedicated to Walter below to understand what I mean.
Omer, Ryan, Walter
The original group: Roberto, Mari, Francisca, Antjie, Ryan. Apparently in Chile bunny's ears behind people in pictures is also funny.


A Chilean, an American, an Israeli, a Brasilan and 3 German girls walk into an Argentinian bar...

It sounds like the start to a complicated and potentially hilarious joke, but it's actually just a good description of my weekend! Let's start from the beginning....

Thursday afternoon found me at the bus stop across from my house, late for class as usual, huddling from the rain as usual. All of a sudden, 3 German girls arrive! They are also exchange students at my university here, and we had met and chatted a couple months ago. When I asked them their plans for the weekend, they said they were leaving for Bariloche, Argentina the next morning, which fortuitously enough, I had planned to do, but had given up because Jorge couldn't go. It was too coincidental to pass up!

So I somewhat invited myself along, bought a bus ticket, and woke up the next morning at 8 a.m. to catch my bus. Or so I thought...

Arriving at 8:46 a.m. for my 8:45 a.m. bus, rather groggy, I became rather alarmed when I noticed my bus leaving, quite rudely, without me. Roberto, the lone Chilean in our group, took the lead as the Chileans are apt to do, and erupted into a dead sprint with my backpack to the top of the street, with me also shouting and following behind him. Fortunately the big bus caught a redlight, so I frantically borded, where I was informed I was on the wrong bus. But fortunately again, it was headed in the right direction, so three hours later I eventually transferred to the right bus. I'm still a little confused about the Chilean bus system...everything else in Chile is late, so why the buses?

Anyway, bus number 2/a.k.a correct bus found me seated next to a 30 year old Irish girl traveling through Patagonia with her boyfriend. She was the first Irish girl I met, and I was pleased to able to tell her my name (Ryan in case you forgot) is Irish. I was also pleased to listen to the Irish accent for 4 hours, which I think is one of the coolest accents. We had quite a shambollucking time (thank you for this excellent addition to my vocab, Irish girl), and I also enjoyed being able to speak English and express myself eloquently.

So we arrived to Bariloche, Argentina, my first entry to the country, singing, "Don't Cry for Me Argentina" (sadly this did not happen, but reflecting on it now, it was one of my life's greatest regrets that it did not), and inadvertently smuggling 3 mandarin oranges across the border. Sorry agricultural protection control!

Then we found the coolest hostal, ever. I met my first Spanish person ever, who had an excellent lisp. I met my first Uruguayan and Argentinian people too, whose accent and ease of understanding compared with the Chileans was also quite nice. The nighttime (which lasted until 4 a.m.) was to me the pinnacle and best of what it means to travel. I had conversations with the Germans, the various Spanish speakers, and this Brasilian guy named Walter, who deserves his own paragraph to follow. All of this took place with the mate being passed around (Argentina, along with the "guys" of Paraguay and Uruguay, are the kings of mate).

Paragraph dedicated to Walter the Brasilian:
Walter the Brasiliean spent 9 months studying in New Zealand, where he learned to talk like a mixture of a rasta man and a rapper. His every fourth word was "brotha" and he often told people not to be haters, even when they clearly were not hating. Just the kind of guy who creates his own interesting show wherever he goes. He and the Israeli had some very funny language exchanges, where they called each other haters in thick accents, and said slightly offensive words, which I have written off as not really understanding what they were saying.

Saturday we assembled our odd group which represented 3 continents and approximately 6ish languages, and headed to a big lake, where we hiked for a bit and traded off speaking English, Spanish, Portuguese, Israeli, and a bit of German for good measure. It was here I discovered my talent for imitating the German language, possibly a trait passed down to me from my father, who also enjoys overdoing the gutteralness of German. Funny enough, in doing this, and saying words like Slcheim and Stineanjf, I accidentally said things that actually existed. The Germans were extremely entertained.

Saturday night is where that first sentence I wrote at the top of this blog actually took place. We went to see a reggae band. Being in South America, it didn't actually start till 1 a.m., and faithful to my grandpa-ness at heart, I fell asleep at the table at 2:30. But Youthful Ryan rebounded thanks to the insistent Germans, and I hit the dance floor after awaking for a solid 1.5 hours! Between the plentiful availability of balloons and Cole family Bar Mitzvah dances, we had a rocking good time. And now, for funniest moment of the weekend recap:

--Me, the 3 Germans, and Roberto the Chilean were at dinner Friday night when I told everyone about when I didn't cut my hair for 1.5 years, and had super long hair. They were amazed, and so I wanted to show them a picture, which happened to be in my money belt, wrapped around my waste, under my shirt. I said, "Check this out," and started to reach for the money belt when I was met by the scream of one of the German girls, saying, "No!!" I looked down and realized that from her angle, it appeared I was reaching down to show everyone my pubic hair. When we all realized what had happened we started BUSTING up laughing, tears flying. It makes me chuckle still as I sit here writing about it.

Well that's about it. An awesome weekend, 4 new friends, a new passport stamp, and the word "shambolluck" in my vocabulary. May you all avoid shambolluck in your life!

And a parting quote:

"Live your life from your heart. Share from your heart. And your story will touch and hear people's souls." --Melody Beattie

Amen, sista!

Love,
Ryan