Mallín (pronounced "Mazhine"), a district outside of El Bolsón, is known for its widespread use of permaculture, natural architecture, and other sustainable what-have-yous. Despite persistent drizzling and a snowline that is quickly sneaking down from the mountains, I´ve been enjoying walking around Mallín and sight-seeing all the chickens and optimism.
If southern Patagonia was like Nevada, El Bolsón is definitely like northern California-- the displaced space between Marin and Mendocino, transmuted to Argentina, dosed with artesans, and sprinkled with extremely loud, obnoxious exotic birds. I keep incidentally running into people I´ve met before in other parts of Argentina, but more so than that... so many people I see here look just like my friends at home. ¡Everyone! ¡Come meet your doppelganger in El Bolsón!
I´ve been following people-hunches and making some great friends. For example, I sat next to a guy and found out he´s a Peruvian climber who was a mountain guide in Huaraz and--¡what a coincidence!--used to live with my good friend Andrés. He´s been educating me about reading snow and crevasses and we have plans to meet up in Huaraz. I started talking to another guy and found out he´s a devout follower of Paramahansa Yogananda (writer of Autobiography of a Yogi) and carries his picture in his wallet.
I also hung out with a Romanian guy last night. I was excited for the chance to speak Romanian with someone, but in four hours I think I only slid in two sentences--the guy spoke a lot and said almost nothing. He also carries a lot of weapons because he´s afraid of latinos...
Soon I´m heading up to Bariloche to meet up with ´Fredo, life is good. (I hope there is less rain there, so I don´t have to spend so much time at the internet place writing blogposts!)
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