Bahia Blanca

January 4, 2011

The landscape today was a downhill spiral, metaphorically from the scenic-way of the last two days to bleak plain which was made even more foreboding by dark rain cloud moving in from the west. The first hour was on dry road but thereafter it spat for a while and I most have read the synopsis well as when I stopped to put on the rain-jacket it suddenly began to pelt down bouncing back up from the road.

The road South to Bahia Blanca, was after having managed to remain on quiet roads the whole way from Buenos Aires was the first road which had quite allot of trucks. Typically, there would be nothing in either direction for a few minutes, then along would come two or three trucks in a row and simultaneously the same from the opposite direction. A Murphy's law, as on the few occasions there wasn't oncoming traffic, they swung out and gave me a wide berth, but with no room to swing out because of traffic, I found myself having to ride off onto the grass, as they don't like to slow down and so brush past your should too close for comfort.

And of coarse the weather didn't make me feel any safer. I wear a bright yellow rain-jacket, nevertheless, I felt invisible in the grey gloom and spray every time those trucks past. The initial downpour petered out to persistent drizzle and my poor new cassette and chain was being covered with gritty crap. It is all downhill from here for the drive-train once that gets on.

The distance from Tornquist is a short day and I planned to be in Bahia Blanca around lunch-time. I had bough food to eat at 10-11 o clock, but on wet days stopping isn't attractive unless there's a bus-shelter which on this road there were none. But, relieve came in the guise of the driveway to an estancia which had a fancy gate with a roof on top. The gates themselves had a padlock on them and the drive hadn't been driven on for months, so I wasn't going to get in anybody's way.

The view as I sat with my back Lent against the gate was rather sad, dull and grey, at a line of electricity pylons which crossed the road a little way off and led off across the dark plain to the horizon.

I arrived in Bahia Blanca as expected a little after one, and as I rode in it really began to pour down. I took shelter in the leanto veranda of a pizza restaurant thence discover the the food looks OK and it's a wifi zone, so I was in and remained there till three when the rain eased off.

In the info centre, when I found it after enquiring the whereabouts, first at the municipal building and then a bank, the lady marked on a city-plan where the hostel was and when I enquired about bikeshops marked two close to the centre.

The hostel. And oh, streets in Argentina are typically named after historic military leaders, former presidents, early provincial governors, Argentine provinces, Latin American countries, though rarely countries outside of America, but an exception is perhaps made for Israel, the Jewish state as allot of the immigrants that came to Argentina where of that faith.

Bahia Blanca Hostel, it has in light blue and white letters over the door which is on a street corner. The building is formally a hotel from the early years of the twentieth century, and has mush the same fixtures. The old reception desk still remains, there's a function room where the old cash register sits and not allot else is kept in that room. There is the old kitchen with a catering size range cooker circa 1900. The whole place has rustic charm. Breakfast is in the old cafe where the view is out upon the street through a shop window, though the view isn't mush, the street is scruffy these days, the pavement is broken, many of the buildings are vacant, there's a secondhand furniture shop across the street and a brothel on the other corner.

With the exception of Amad from South Africa and his three friends, I'm the only foreigner here. There is a large group of young fellows from Buenos Aires that are very load, they typically have conversations shouting at each other across a room of people. The only time they keep their mouths shut is when they're playing Ping Pong in the next room but then the ping pong sound in that direction is only short lived as when one misses, the other lets out such a euphoric roar. And then the mobile phones ring, the volume is full on and they let them ring for ever so long before answering.

Amad and his friends are Muslim and dress in white Islamic attire complete with white caps. They don't know what to think of me as mush of the time here I've been sat with the Netbook in front of me, not being sociable. His friend sat pleating with me one night "who do you work for". I said no one. "Who pays you" he wasn't convince by no one. I told him this is a journal so people can read about my journey. "Don't be writing about me" he stressed.

This guest sat there the whole time in silence.

A nice new pedal. Lets hope this one lasts.

It has been raining non-stop in Bahia Blanca since Tuesday afternoon. Well that's an exaggeration, it hasn't been raining continuously, it's just been raining more of the time than the short intervals when it's been fair. To cross the street outside the hostel I most take a long way round on the shore of a mega puddle.

The rain isn't a problem for me at the moment, as I've luckily gotten here in time for a couple of days updating this journal. And I have located the bikeshop and bough the pedals.

Today's ride: 85 km (53 miles)
Total: 8,116 km (5,040 miles)

Rate this entry's writing	Heart	0
Comment on this entry	Comment	0