Bariloche IV: Mountain Vistas, Posh Hotels and No More Lomo!
Expect the Unexpected
Enough dillydallying in central Bariloche, time to rev up the rental car engines and check out the Andes. Our first venture was to drive the Circuito Chico. From Bariloche, this 37-mile scenic route winds west along the rocky shores of Lake Nahuel Huapi to the world-famous Llao Llao Hotel; then it loops back to town through the mountains and Patagonian forests.
It is amazing how disorientated and out-of-whack my internal compass became in the Southern Hemisphere. To this day my mind natters at me, “We went EAST from Bariloche along the Circuito Chico and you know it.” Trust me, my compass went ditzy south of the equator. We drove WEST.
Our first destination was Cerro Campario, the most popular mountain summit lookout near Bariloche.
Forget any notion about hiking up mountain trails on this escapade – been there and done that in the Rockies. And here’s my Mountain Goat Badge to prove it.
We opted to take the easy way up, and the chair lift did the trick. Seven minutes was more than enough time to spend white-knuckling the sides on the open lift while 40 mph winds slammed against us non-stop, causing the suspended chair to swing erratically to and fro. The wind howled so hard at the top of Cerro Campario that it’s a miracle the entire mountain, along with everything on it, wasn’t blown right over the border into Chile.
We continued to boogie along the Circuito Chico WEST to the world-class Llao Llao Resort Hotel. I’m not a betting person, but I suspect you won’t guess how the locals pronounce “Llao Llao.” It’s a real head-scratcher, and if it makes sense to you, then my hat goes off to you. The best I can describe it is “Schzao Schzao” – it’s pronounced in a combo Castilian Spanish dialect with a German flare.
The Llao Llao Hotel was opened in 1938 and it was reputedly modeled after hotels in the Canadian Rockies. Which hotels? They didn’t say. Hmmm. There just aren’t many old hotels in the Canadian Rockies that actually fit all the criteria. Here’s my best guess.
The photos on the left are Llao Llao Hotel in Argentina. The photos on the right are of the Prince of Wales Hotel in Waterton, Alberta, Canada.
Interestingly, Mi Esposo’s family is from a town 35 miles from Waterton.
Tragically, the original Llao Llao hotel was destroyed by fire only ten months after it opened. It was quickly rebuilt and became a favorite stomping ground for aristocratic patrons until it was forced to close its doors in 1976 due to a lack of funds for necessary maintenance. Sounds like they were so busy living high on the hog they let the place go to shambles. The once majestic hotel stood crumbling to pieces and collecting dust for the next 15 years. A group of investors acquired Llao Llao, restored it to its former state of splendor, spiffed it up, polished it off, and its doors were opened again in 1993.
It continues to maintain a prestigious five-star, Michelin-approved hotel status to this day. Llao Llao is back in the limelight as a favorite haunt for wealthy and aristocratic travelers seeking its peaceful impeccable luxury.
All that world-class pomp and circumstance also meant a visit to Llao Llao came with a hefty price tag. Mi Esposo and I aren’t aristocrats, but we can usually clean up well and rub elbows with the best of ‘em.
Recall from my posting in Bariloche III that we were traveling cash-strapped because Mi Esposo’s wallet was stolen. Our daily cash withdrawal limit of 89 U$S was imposed upon us by the banking machines. Merchants add an EXTRA 27% fee to credit card purchases. That is IF they even accept credit cards.
In fact, after paying for the wind-tossed chair lift at Cerro Campario, putting gas in the car, and getting some snacks for the road, we didn’t have two pesos between us.
It’s a real class act to walk into a swanky, posh hotel and not even have a penny in your pocket to tip the doorman.
What could I say? “Sorry, Mr. Doorman. I can’t tip you. I’m flat broke.”
Or, perhaps I could casually walk in and pass him an IOU?
Or, maybe I could just flash my credit card and say, “Mr. Doorman, let’s make a deal. I’ll give you a tip using my credit card, but only if you don’t charge me for the merchant fees. What d’ya think?”
As it was, we simply said, “Thank you,” as we walked by the doorman. Cheap-os!
Mi Esposo plunked himself in a chair facing Llao Llao’s lobby Christmas tree while I went snooping through the shops. I like to check out the assortment of goods in shops when I travel. It’s one way to learn more about the local people and the culture and it provides an easy opening for some interesting conversation. After feasting my eyeballs on all sorts of fabulous stuff ‘n such I joined Mi Esposo in front of the Christmas tree for a cup of coffee. Having no other choice, I paid our bill with my credit card and turned a blind eye to all the fees. After all, it was Christmas.
As we drove away from Llao Llao the sun was setting behind the mountains. I won’t tell you which direction it was setting in, because if I do my mind will start kicking up that storm again. Llao Llao was the point where the Circuito Chico turned and looped back, so we headed to Bariloche for our favorite dinner - LOMO.
Trial and error, mostly error and lots of them, have convinced me to become a vegetarian whenever I travel internationally. It’s a policy that has served me well. Overall, vegetarian meals tend to be consistently more creative, safe, and delicious.
However, from the moment I caught my first whiff of Argentine lomo in a restaurant, I ditched my vegetarian spiel and transformed into a carnivore with a hankering for beef, beef, and more beef. Ah, but not just any beef – it had to be LOMO.
Lomo is akin to a scrumptious filet mignon cooked to perfection on an open fire.
Prior to this lomo insanity, I ate beef maybe once or twice a year. But I was a lomo goner from the get-go.
I ate lomo for lunch every day. I ate lomo for dinner every day. When I wasn’t eating lomo, I daydreamed about lomo. I started eating two lomos for lunch. I woke up in the morning planning my daily lomo fix.
My stomach groaned growled, and gurgled, “Lo-mo, lo-mo, lo-mo.”
The grumbling and moaning were downright embarrassing. It would NOT STOP squawking and fussing, “Lo-mo, lo-mo, lo-mo.”
The lomo beast was growing into a tyrannical dictator with no scruples and a demanding control freak. What unleashed this rude insatiable brat?
By a quirk of fate, I was triggered with beef déjà vu, the result of being raised on good, old-fashioned Canadian Prime Alberta Beef. Of all things… a beef déjà vu? Really? How unglamorous can a déjà vu be? A BEEF déjà vu!!
Both Argentina and my homeland, Alberta, are reputed to have the BEST BEEF IN THE WORLD. Is this possible? Yes, absolutely.
Argentina has the Best Beef in the Southern Hemisphere and
Alberta has the Best Beef in the Northern Hemisphere.
What makes the beef in these two areas so different from anywhere else in the world?
Bossy and Toro graze on large, fertile grasslands and their natural diet provides them with more Omega 3 fatty acids than their grain-fed cousins The result is a more nutritious, leaner meat with exceptional flavor.
They aren’t injected full of antibiotics, artificial hormones, gunk, stuff, goo, sludge, and who knows what else.
The beef is cut in a way that enhances the tenderness and flavor. Have you ever had an expensive steak that is tougher than shoe leather? It probably wasn’t cut properly.
Argentine beef is slow-cooked over an open wood fire. Propane or gas is never used to cook lomo.
Mi Esposo was happy to entertain my lomo monster as it gave him the opportunity to indulge his inner carnivore as well. Unlike my unruly beast, his was a regular run-of-the-mill inner carnivore that behaved itself and didn’t go hog wild. He was thoroughly amused by my behavior because it was not only completely out of character, it was almost bizarre.
LOMO WAS GOOD STUFF!!! Until the beast horned in on me.
I overdosed on Lomo! YUP. I am NOT pulling your leg. Look it up on Dr. Google, it’s there. Who would have thunk? The bottom line is my digestive system was having trouble adequately breaking down all the beef protein from the lomo.
Warning! Warning! Warning! System overload. Harmful lomo protein leaking through gut and entering bloodstream. Warning! Urgent Message: NO MORE LOMO!!! Repeat command! NO MORE LOMO!!!
Symptoms of Lomo Overdose:
Chills, shivering, goosebumps, shaking, chattering teeth.
Rumbly-tumbly tummy, gurgling, churning.
Foul Beef breath, in severe cases foul Bull breath.
Involuntary moaning, groaning, mooing.
Confusion, may talk nonsense about cows, beef, and cattle.
Mumbling the words, “No more lomo!”
Treatment of Lomo Overdose:
No More Lomo! Total abstinence is essential for recovery.
Prop pillows around patient, wrap in fuzzy blankets, and top with a warm hat.
Dim the lights and lull the patient to sleep gently singing sweet loving, lullabies.
Warning: DO NOT hum The Brahms Lullaby. The Patient will immediately associate the Brahms Lullaby with Brahma Bulls and crash into a coma.
Prognosis: The patient will be back to normal within 24 hours. No More Lomo for 12 months minimum. Thereafter, Lomo moderation is highly recommended.
I am glad to get to know Bariloche through your stories. Lomo is quite good, very ..."particular", for lack of a better word. I had it from an Argentine market in southern California.