Bariloche, Horseriding, wifeswapping, and meat.

Bariloche sits at the foot of the Andes, and the town nestles on the side of the Gutiérrez Lake, and it's surrounded by yet more mountains and lakes. It's also only a few hours away from the Chilean border, so it's a beautiful destination and hub for people moving across to Chile.

For some reason, I'm going to guess the mountains and snow, it reminds me of Austria. The little, wooden houses and chocolatiers finish the look. It a lovely, quaint little town, and I sort of fall in love with the place.

My hostel (hostel 1004) is on the 10th floor of a block of flats that wouldn't look out of place in Hackney. It's right in the middle of the town, overlooking the principal square. I was expecting a quaint, wooden, cottage style hostel, but as I read the easily understandable profanity on the walls of the smelly service lift I realize that my expectations are to be curbed a little.

The guy who owns the hostel has basically bought half of the 10th floor of the block, he's then knocked through 3 apartments at the end to make a reception, kitchen, living area, some bedrooms, and a observation deck. Then he's turned the other flats into dorm rooms. It's amazing and the views across the square and beyond the lake make me feel a little giddy.

There's loads to do and I'm meeting 2 lovely peeps from London that I met in Puerto Madryn, Kat and Adam.

Now sitting on a large animal while it throws you around the countryside is a activity I've always left for jockeys and people making animal porn. There was a incident on a school trip when a horse initially stood on my foot, then bolted for the gate while I was sitting on it. I was only 10 at the time. I still believe to this day that he had a personal problem with me. It could have been the red hair but I don't want to speculate, only to say that since then me and the horses have kept a respectful distance, me in cities, them in fields.

But I am here only once and getting out of your comfort zone is the challenge so I agree to go horse riding round the lake. When we get there and the guy readies the horses I can see that he's paired me up with a ginger horse, I believe that he knows that a ginger would never turn on another ginger, irrespective of species, and I bond with 'caramello' like that fella did with the flying thing in Avatar. But minus the weird hair/tentacles thing. I do try some horse whispering though but Caramello just ignores me.

We trundle along very slowly but the scenery is worth the painfully slow progress, I try kicking Caramello into a trot but he's not bothered, and I acknowledge the unspoken words,
"mate, you're up there because I let you be up there, you kick me again and I'll put you back on the floor, and on your arse"
Animals this big are essentially in charge, and ultimately they are big enough to do it or not do it. They don't even need those whips at the horse racing, I think they're there to make the midget jockeys look a bit more hard.

After a few painful hours we come to an end and have a parrilla, which is just meat bought to you on regular intervals until you're sick, or have the decency to say 'enough'.

That night we all get together and head to the best steakhouse in town, and I get my first taste of supposedly the best meat in Argentina, possibly the continent. The west has always been considered the best area for wines and steak and I am not going to disagree. My filet melts in my mouth like a succulent, beef tasting ice cream, and the wine is so smooth that at one point I slide of my chair. I sit and listen to the banter round the table but the mixture of sublime tastes almost brings a tear to my eye. And I haven't even got to Mendoza yet! or Buenos Aires!

I spend the next couple of days lazing around town and eating the unbelievable chocolate. I am now only 13 days away from going home and the date is so close I'm ready for it. I miss my friends so much that I can't wait to just sit in a pub and listen to my friends speak and jabber rubbish. It's such a strong emotion when I think about my friends and family that I try to fill my mind with anything else, mostly the amazing sites around me, and the podcasts on my Iphone.

There's a 'bring a bottle of wine night' at the hostel, organized by the girls who work there. It's a little odd because the hostel decor is all 70s kaftan and hippy rugs. Then they add some 'mood' lighting and some really bad disco. The girls from the hostel start dancing and it suddenly feels like a early 80s wife swapping party. But you get chatting to the other guests and I meet a amazing Irish couple who have upped sticks and gone traveling for a year and a half, and they've only just started. I am a bit jealous but I just want to get home.


The next day I head to Mendoza. And I've been waiting for this for almost 4 months. The home of malbec wine. This is where things get fat and funny.