Petite planes and horrible hostels

A bit behind with updates this week so you might get a few in short succession now!

Tuesday morning started with a trip to the local launderette (don't say we never give you enough detail!) and an extended breakfast in a cafe around the corner waiting for the laundry to be ready!

At 3pm we headed to the airport for our last minute flight to Bariloche.

We'd managed to book a flight at short notice with Lade airlines as it worked out only slightly more expensive than sitting on a bus for over 20 hours.... I'm sure you'd have done the same!

We were there 1 hour before departure (fine for a domestic flight) and yet the check in desk wasn't open & there were only 3 other people in the queue. It was weird for sure and I was more than a bit worried that I'd messed the online booking up as it was all in Spanish and I have to admit to guessing a fair bit of the stuff I was inputting!

However, 30 minutes before departure a middle aged Lade employee arrived, issued us all with a piece of paper that I'm sure they would call a ticket and ushered us towards security! The paper had no flight number and no chance of a seat number. I began stretching as I imagined we'd be peddling all the way to Bariloche!

5 minutes before take off, the same employee arrived at the gate and literally did a head count on the five of us (we'd all become quite united in what could easily have been our last ever flight) and personally led us down some stairs to the runway! I quickly asked (in Spanish) where the nearest toilet was and when his answer was "In Bariloche" I was certain that this was Mr Lade and he was not only the check in clerk and the gate attendant, he was going to fly us in his own 6 seater plane to Bariloche!

Fortunately I was wrong but only just. We were led to a small, old military plane, got onboard and sat wherever we liked. 

When we checked in, Mr Lade had very studiously weighed every bag twice, even our hand luggage (and one other passenger's spare waking boots) and this level of precision carried on when we all chose our seats.

The German couple who we'd discussed swapping notes to our loved ones with sat down next to each other and were quickly separated as he was about 6ft7 and 20 stone. He was very nicely asked if he wouldn't mind sitting on a special seat right in the middle of the plane! Apparently, if he sat one side or the other, the pilot would have to compensate for his weight! Luckily he was all muscle so was not offended, unlike me, who would've loved to have been asked to move for being a human muscle machine.

As it turned out, we weren't given parachutes, didn't have to pedal, navigate or hold the rudder and there was no need to write our messages to loved ones as the flight was pretty uneventful and we arrived in Bariloche on time. Our bags made it to the carousel before we did!

We got the bus to the town and walked a  mile or so to our next hostel, Patanuk.

This was, by far, the worst room we'd had so far, in fact, ever! The indescribable stench, dingy lighting and mouldy shower curtain were a little too much for us and we made a decision to look the next day for a different abode to abide within.

That evening, to cheer ourselves up we headed to the best steak restaurant in town according to Lauren's brother, Eliott who'd visited Bariloche a few years ago.

We were not disappointed and the rib eye steak cooked "jugoso" (juicy) washed down with a bottle of Malbec, was a welcome end to an interesting day.