
The bus ride was long, but not unbearable. We stopped twice for food at restaurants where they had the food waiting for us when we arrived. No one on the bus spoke English, so conversation was minimal. When the bus arrived in Bariloche, I was well rested. I had slept a good portion of the trip. I unloaded my gear and caught a taxi into town. I don't remember if I had a hostel in mind, or whether I went hunting one that night. Either way, I ended up at the Marco Polo Inn, which ended up being a great place.
I spent the next couple of days exploring the town and meeting other travelers at the hostel. I was the only American in town, but their was a Canadian and a few younger guys from England and Australia. I also met Felix and Broos, two crazy Dutch guys who I ended up traveling with for most of the rest of my time in Argentina.


Each night the hostel tenants would gather for dinner, which was complimentary. It was a good chance to meet other travelers and plan activities. After dinner, people would linger and talk. Eventually people would take to the pool table or to drinking games. This could last all night, or only a little while if the group decided to out to one of the local bars.

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