Not quite like New York City

As I have mentioned, I made it to Chalten at twelve o'clock at night. I didnt see a thing , but it was dark so I didnt expect to see much anyways.
It was funny though, when I woke up, to see that there actually wasnt anything to see. The town, if you can call it that, is one dusty strip with what would be a supermarket, one public phone and one restaurant. At the end of the strip thre is a campsite, and at the very beginning there is a tourist information that doubles as a post office and pharmacy... at least they are efficient.
Roaming the streets , or better yet, the one street, are backpackers, trekkers and rock-climbers from all over the world: Switzerland, Italy, Germany, US and Israel, just to name some of the ones I talked to. Every country is represented in the Avenida San Martin, the only street of Chalten.
Every person you see sports a big smile, but its funny how there are two predominatly different smiles that you can tall apart.
Proud and tall, taking bold steps towards the east end o the strip is athe smile of thfe one who is about to go up the mountain. It shows many teeth and clean shaven faces of men or tanned cheeks on women.
Not as proud or as tall, but definitely more enthused, is the smile of those returning from teh mountain. Their back have long arched from teh weight of their backpacks. They thread soft steps, in hopes not to upset their newly formed quarter sized blisters on the soles of their feet. Their reward awaits at the west end of the strip: a lukeworm shower and opportunity to shave and the ability to look at those sporting the other type of smile and say "I wanna see if he is going to walk this proudly when the mountain is done with him !!!!"