Originally published at travelswithdelaney.com.

El Bolson: The Fool.

Is very cold, and very rainy, and very not fantastic. I had such high hopes for the city, having heard indirectly from Uncle Kevin’s friend that it was a very cool, very laid-back place, which it is, I think, if you’re living here. But if you’re just visiting, and it’s early Spring, the only thing to do is hike around the neighboring mountains. And if it’s 10 degrees and lluvia lluvia lluvia todo la tiempo, there’s not a thing to do. I asked the guy at the tourist desk (my new best friend, BTW) for a place to “drink beer and play pool” and he laughed. In my face.

It also seems to be high school/middle school trip time. We saw a lot of kids in Bariloche (at the teenage dance club costume party, for instance) on these trips, and they’ve taken over the sleepy pueblito of El Bolson as well. Alon and I were looking for a place to stay our first night here and found a very nice looking one called Refugio Patagonico. We walked there in the rain to find that a school group had it booked for the next three days. So we found one close by called Posada del Buscador, which is where I am currently located. It is run by a very kindly, very religious, very mature couple who needed to know what our marital status was before allowing us beds. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a nice, cozy, dry place to spend a night, but I was ready to go after one night.

Hiking to Cerro Amigo in the rain:

Entonces, this morning I set out in the rain to find a hostel in the campo. I asked my BFF at the tourist office to give them a call for me and reserve a bed for the night, but when no one answered he told me that “they have a place for you, I’m sure.” I took a bus that would drop me off a Kilometro or two from the Altos del Sur and promptly missed my stop. By the time I walked back to the beginning of the mountain road I was soaked, but it took another half hour or so of climbing in the rain before I broke down and hailed a remise to take me the last Kilometro, where we found a big sign on a chain saying “Cerrado.” I know this story is getting long, and sorry, it doesn’t get any more interesting, but I need to describe some of the valleys, no?

I had picked up a brochure for El Pueblito, another promising hostel in the campo while discussing my options with Tourist Office BFF, and asked my kind taxista to drive me across town to find it. We found it, and it was an amazing building in a beautiful (albeit rainy) setting, but the moment I walked in, a good-natured, hirsute man in llama wool sweater told me that the place was booked full for the next two nights. Another school group. I didn’t even have time to take off the soggy 14-year-old on my back.

So here I am, surrounded by doilies, an extensive plate collection on the wall, bible sayings above my bed, and inquiries into my comings-and goings with every departure and arrival.

An extensive plate collection on the wall:

Here’s to better luck in Puerto Montt, no?

In Patagonia,

Soggy McPants