Eighteen hours is a long time to spend on a bus but the promise of free chocolate at the other end made the journey considerably less painful. Bariloche in Patagonia is renowned for its chocolatiers and with the Easter weekend just around the corner it felt like the perfect place to spend the holiday.
And right we were! The moment we stepped down from that stifling bus, the fresh alpine air filled our lungs, carrying with it the faint scent of mouth-watering chocolates. Following our noses, we found the town centre where chocolate shops line every street and chocolate cafés fill every corner. Each one is a wonderland in its own right, an Aladdin's cave of edible treasures; chocolate truffles, chocolate fountains, chocolate flakes and chocolate cakes! Some are wrapped up like tiny gifts in gold and silver, whilst others are left bare to entice your tastebuds. The best part is that there are so many shops competing for your custom that they all serve free samples to capture your interests. Needless to say, they captured ours very well.
Although it was Easter, we all agreed that Bariloche has a Christmassy feel about it. The wooden huts and log cabins look as though they've been plucked straight out of Switzerland and the snow-capped mountains would make an ideal setting for a Santa's grotto.
However, as if to make a point that this weekend was in fact all about Easter, the world's largest chocolate egg stood proudly in the main square. At twenty-seven feet high it was absolutely ginormous. The morning of Easter Sunday, we joined a crowd of Argentinians to watch the egg be cracked open. It was a big event with film crews and radio presenters gathered around and suspense built as somebody babbled in Spanish over a loudspeaker for almost an hour. We understood next to nothing but the countdown was unmistakable: 'Cinco, cuatro, tres, dos, uno!' Trumpets sounded, balloons were released and the first square of chocolate egg smashed to the ground. As more and more pieces fell they revealed the smiling faces of little men, demolishing the egg from the inside outwards.
Everyone was eager to grab a slab of the famous egg but we didn't fancy our chances against the hundreds of Argentinians, even if over half of them were children. Instead, we climbed the big hill back up to our hostel where we had our own secret stash of chocolates waiting for us. Like the big kids that we are we devised an Easter egg hunt, hiding the chocolates around our room and writing cryptic clues which led to each one. Later in the evening we treated ourselves to an all you can eat pizza night and left the restaurant feeling about as large as that egg.
The following day, in a minor attempt at damage control, we cycled the twenty-five kilometres around the lake. The mountainous terrain made for some pretty awesome cycling and we raced down the hills with ridiculous speed. The trouble was, we loved going downhill about as much as we hated going uphill and I guess strictly speaking, we probably only pedalled for about ten kilometres, flew down the other ten, and then pushed the bikes for the remaining five up all of the steep inclines.
Anyway, the morning started out rather grey but the clouds soon broke away, uncovering the most beautiful views out across the mountains. In many ways it reminded me of New Zealand but less green, and more autumnal to match the season. Even the rocky mountains in the far distance looked as though they'd had bursts of red and orange paint splashed across them to make them even more picturesque.
We stopped twice along the way; once at a small beach where we skimmed stones across the surface of the clear green water, and a second time at Hotel Llao Llao, which sits high up in the mountains, overlooking another lake. We'd hoped to be able to relax with a hot chocolate in the hotel cafe but having taken one look around the lobby of this place we realised it was unlikely we'd be able to afford even a water. In our shabby cycling gear we stuck out like sore thumbs and the look on the security guards' faces said it all: 'get on your bikes' quite literally.
If eighteen hours on a bus was long, twenty-four hours was practically a lifetime. However, though the journey back up North held no chocolate consolation, the stunning scenery I'd seen on the cycle continued for hours and I struggled to think of anywhere else I'd rather be than sat on that bus taking it all in. On and on we travelled, passing endless lakes, each one as still and serene as the next. Like an enormous mirror, the water reflected the world so perfectly that it was entirely indistinguishable from the scene itself. I found myself tilting my head to prove this theory, losing my gaze within the light blue waters with as much ease as if I'd been staring up into the infinite skies. Even from behind the thick, flecked glass of the bus window these views were truly breathtaking and I was sad when daylight disappeared leaving only darkness behind.
We've been in South America for just one week but already I can feel myself falling in love with our surroundings. If such beauty can be found by chance during a bus journey, I can hardly imagine the wonders we'll discover when we're truly searching.
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