I took a flight very early in the morning from Jorge Newbery airport and, after 2 hours, arrived into a very cold Bariloche. In my ignorance, I had thought of Argentina as a ‘hot’ country before stepping foot on its soil, having no concept of the sheer land mass of the nation and just how far south it extended. With some trepidation I was driven by my friends to our Airbnb, a bit delighted to not be in a hurry to go anywhere on the roads and enjoying the panoramic mountain views I grasped by tilting my head in all angles to peer out of the different windows of the car.

In hindsight the days all blend into one. The famous road of the seven lakes that ended in San Martín de los Andes, getting slightly lost in desert land, sitting in the sun by the lake, and climbing on logs like my twelfth birthday was still just around the corner. We star-gazed and waited in anticipation for the super flower blood moon to creep across the sky. We drank wine and cooked, with varying degrees of success, meals that we enjoyed for their flavour or for their failure.