I´M AT: Alaska Hostel, Bariloche. $6 for a piece of idyllic tranquility, AKA silencio.
I´m typing this in the living room of a hostel that can sleep perhaps twenty-five people, and there´s no-one else here.
The manager went to bed a quarter of an hour ago. The TV behind me is showing the Sarsfield v Estudiantes game. Juan 'Saba' Veron, of Estudiantes, has just been sent off for a second amarillo. He´s no better here than he was in England.
I ate my tea with a biege cat, annoying type, kept pushing a lumpen nose into my plate. And a brilliant puppy dog who ate my toes and gently bit my hands after I rubbed his stomach. They were both only in it for the cheese, though.
I tried to organise a couple of tours today, for a bit of rafting or hiking and the like, but it´s low season. Very low. It couldn´t get much lower if you killed its relatives and made it drink its own piss. So the trips are either not-happening-until-more-people-get-here, or they are happening, but to make it worth their while they have to charge-each-person-double.
The guide book said this was the best time to come, cos it´s not so busy and you can get a room more easily.
They should have added that it´s just like spending time in the Overlook.
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