Volcanos and Wine

Pucon in the shadow of Villarica
see all photos »

Well, it took us about 28 hours on buses to get to Pucon from Bariloche and then back to the "civilized" side of the Chile/Argentina border, but I dare say it was worth it.  Things in Chile are relatively expensive, run-down, difficult, and dirty as compared to Argentina.  The food isn't as good, the people aren't as friendly, and the transportation isn't as reliable or convenient.  Why, then, would anyone venture over the border and spend any amount of time in Chile when there is such an obvious better alternative?

Sunrise on Villarica
see all photos »

The answer, as I came to find out, is Pucon.  Pucon (which Shai, Zvika, and I would joke in some of our less mature moments as meaning, "With Poo."  Naturally, its sister city of Pusin means "Without Poo."  If I haven't mentioned it already, it was a really long bus ride) is located right in the shadow of the Villarica volcano.  Now I, in my twenty-two years of calculating and comparatively hazard-free living, have never really given thought to the idea of actually climbing an active volcano just for the sheer amusement of it.  It was just never something that came to mind in between turkey sandwiches and squash practices back home, but lo and behold, Shai and Zvika signed the three of us up for the morning hike.

It was a really far walk
see all photos »

Call me old-fashioned, but I was under the impression that there was some sort of standard for something to be considered "morning."  4:30 AM is not morning to me.  It is night.  It is very clearly the dead of night, and nobody has any earthly business being up at that hour unless they accidentally switched their glass of warm milk for three cans of Red Bull.  At any rate, at 4:30 we climbed into a van in the pitch-black NIGHT and drove the half an hour to the foot of the Villarica volcano.

Smoke and shadows at the top
see all photos »

In hindsight, it's probably good that we started in the darkness, because I think if we had any clear idea what lay ahead of us, there wouldn't have been a snowball's chance in hell that we would have strapped on our boots and crampons and started climbing.  The hike was two hours on rock, three hours on ice, and all this in a biting, sideways wind that seemed to take a certain pride in hitting me in the face.  Not my steeze.

At long last, we made it to the top, only to be hit by even stronger winds and the stench of the sulfur being churned up by the volcano.  After staying a very unpleasant fifteen minutes, we turned back around and began the three-hour descent to the bottom, filled with the knowledge that we had climbed a mountain but with nothing stronger than aspirin to make that knowledge and its physiological souvenirs go away.

Paseo Estado de Israel, Mendoza
see all photos »

So that was Pucon, and quite literally the only thing to do there.  Another eighteen hours on buses later, and Shai, Zvika, and I plopped down here in Mendoza, Argentina.  We went to services on Friday night, where we were pretty amazed by the reform congregation and the intense security.  We had to present passports numerous times, interviewed individually at length about how long we had known each other and what we were doing in Mendoza, and the customs of Judaism.  The interviews took place in a one-way-glass-encircled anteroom with nothing but two chairs and a desk in the middle.  It was intense.

At the same time, with the music from the pianist (a little unconventional...) going in the background and the three of us humming "L'kha Dodi" together, I felt a kinship to these guys that I really liked.  This whole project, I've been focused more or less exclusively on the Jewish diaspora, and being with them has shown me the "homeland," Zionist side of Israel.  It was a completely different side to the Jewish society that I've been observing, and it was good to see that side of the coin.

So here we are in Mendoza, in the heart of Argentina's wine-producing region.  There is no shortage of "L'chayim"s to go around here, and we've been enjoying being back in the land of the strong dollar (and shekel).  Dinner for the three of us usually runs about $20 USD, and a bottle of good, local wine costs like $4.  My problem of late has been trying to figure out what I'm going to do after Argentina and meeting my mom in Peru for a week.  To Costa Rica?  Back down here?  I've sort of missed the season for Patagonia, and many Central American countries, for all their cultural idiosyncracies and opportunities for authentic experiences, don't hold any sort of fascination for me.  I'm sort of stuck on this continent with a dangerous Brazil to my east, nothing but ocean to my west, and a lot of political unrest and poverty to the north.  I have literally no idea how I'm going to spend the last three months of this trip, but that's a question for another day.