Possibly the two double espressos at Cafe Martinez had something to do with it, but my body and mind are awake and ready almost all night. After an hour asleep, an hour awake, over and over, I somehow rouse my weary self long enough to appreciate that we have left Kansas behind and are in a very different world altogether. This is a sunrise, Patagonia-style...
We pull into Sierra Grande and suddenly you can see how different things really are. I am reminded of Lanzarote, as much as I can remember the place, but I wish I had been able to see where the land changed from green and yellow stripes to green and yellow patches.
I managed to scrape another tiny sleep together, and awaken as we begin our descent into Puerto Madryn.
The town, obviously, lies on the coast, just to the south of wildlife sanctuary Peninsula Valdés. With a population of around 30,000, its about the same size as Carrick. I think I shall refrain from making any more comparisons like that, however. I'm not sure that 40% of the population of Puerto Madryn are 'postmen' who check under their cars every morning.
We have arrived at 8am, which is a bit of an anti-social time to arrive at a hostel, so we spend a couple of hours hanging out in the bus station, enjoying coffee and medialunas with marmalade until it all gets a bit hot and we accept a need to have showers. La Tosca Hostel is four or five blocks away, a short walk, and turns out to be a very nice building with friendly, helpful staff who want to help us see a variety of interesting animals and landscapes, which is exactly why we came here. Our private room features remarkably comfy bunk beds and a shared bathroom between the rooms. "Knock before entering" demonstrates our host. "NO!" comes the voice from the other side of the door.
We try and sleep but it doesn't happen, and we accept an early night is on the cards. Might as well go out, have lunch, and see the town.
Oh my, a shop called Sara!
We wandered down the seafront and found a lot of little shops selling touristy things, some of which were quite tasteful, yet exactly matched the sort of people who would come here. Tasteful, but probably still all mass-produced somewhere else. Not too offensive though. We disregard a few eateries to end up in Parrilla Estela, where Sarah gets pollo en salsa del bosque (which seems to be a pepper and porcini sauce) whilst I enjoy bife de chorizo (which I later learn is New York strip steak) plus a fregg and good chips. We also risk a Patagonian wine that could really have done with being a few degrees colder. Having said that, excellent meal.
A walk along the front then...
Puerto Madryn has a nice beach. It was, however, pleasantly quiet compared to the Hell of Mar Del Plata. I guess not a lot of people go to Patagonia for a summer holiday.
A touristic map of the region
Massive Penguin! Tiny Girlfriend!
An arty homemade version of that cave with all the handprints in it (which I cannot remember the name of, at this time)
Might as well go to the local supermarket and buy some of the worst wine I've ever had. Even in Argentina, wine on a "2 for $30" offer should have been a massive warning (after we successfully stayed away from the garishly-labelled Carcassone wine on the end-bay). Baps and ham and cream cheese were for dinner, Despicable Me 2 the entertainment. Early was the bedtime too, in preparation for a great big walk the next day.
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