One Apple A Day #175
Lago Posada, January 7th, 2017
Sunday, or Today’s night or Pablo’s time. Argentina welcomed us back with a bloody red sky. The sun had gone behind the mountains, and the remaining red light created long shadows. We were in the middle of nowhere. The customs officers had told us that our planned destination is 200 kilometres away. We would never make it in time to find a place to stay so we changed the plan. Following the officer’s advice, we headed to Lago Posada where we arrived after 8 pm.
For a small town with six white roads, fifty houses, 300 people, and lost in the middle of the Andes at least 100 km for any other human instalments, it was damn late.
The roads were empty but some dogs that were strolling around. They say that fortune favours the bold. We felt bolt that night, and that, apparently, was enough because we found the only available place with rooms, a sort of B&B called “ospedaje”. The owner was ready to close and go to sleep. A few minutes later and we would have to sleep in the truck. Once we had the room, it was time to find food. The only shop in town was shut. The only restaurant was closed. We spotted a few men talking on a porch, and we asked what two hungry Italian can do in their town. The only place they knew was the closed restaurant.
Resigned to eat some broken crackers and open a can of tuna, we reached the edge of the town. And fortune showed us that life is magical.
It was the last house of road. A tall wooden building, with a sloping roof and big window on the front. There was light inside and what seemed tables of a restaurant. There was no sign anywhere, but we decided that it was worth a try, so we ringed the bell.
After a few seconds, a smiling guy named Pablo welcomed us in the “Casa Patagonica Río Tarde”. A small guest house with a few rooms. He told us that usually, they serve dinner only to their guests. But a family got stuck somewhere so we could take their table. We had a memorable evening. Delicious food and wine but, most of all, a pleasant conversation with Pablo. In a funny mix of Italian, Spanish and English we talked about just anything: politic, philosophy, photography, travel, Patagonia, food, wine, the world, our lives, life in general. When we left, we hugged as you would do with your best friend.
We are now walking on the silent roads of Lago Posada. A bit unsteady on our legs due to the bottle of Malbec we just enjoyed. Or maybe, our dizziness is due to the emotions of this long day.
A day in the calendar, a week in our memories.