March of the Penguins... or Brazilians if you prefer.

Bariloche is a destination ski town attracting visitors from around the World. And by "around the World", I mean mostly Brazil. The town is bustling with Brazilians who just want to get a glimpse of snow, make snowballs and throw them. Each person seems to be having the time of his or her life and parades around with a massive smile comensurate with a guy who just received a paid weekend getaway to Vegas with his friends from his girlfriend, wife or wives (assuming they practice polygamy).

Since Brazilians don't wear anything but skimpy swim suits, none of them own any winter clothing, and thusly, they all arrive here and rent ski outfits. Variety is a little spotty...

If you notice, the people are waiting in line for ski lifts, yet they don't have any of the necessary equipment to actually ski. Instead, they go up to the mountain wearing moon boots, have a snowball fight while waiting in the lift line, ride the lift up the mountain, have a snowball fight up on the mountain, and then ride down the lift down where they point and laugh at each other for wearing such stupid outfits. It's a vicious cycle.

In other news (And I can report this after the fact (mom), because I am not in a wheelchair): I nearly broke my neck when I accidently skied off a 12 foot cliff and landed on a flat section which consequently ejected me out of my skis and I proceeded to land directly on my head, leaving a 5-inch deep imprint of my head in the packed/wet snow. Immediately thereafter, I obviously took out my plaster of paris kit and saved the formation.

This just in: I am about to get on my final bus journey of my trip (20 hours).. I can no longer see the monitor through my cascading tears of sadness.