Only a short 45-minute bus ride ($2) from Trelew is the village of Gaimen, a Welsh cultural centre (it holds their annual Eistedfodd).
The Museo Histó²©£o Regional Gales ($1) is pleasantly set in the old railway station, but you'll be delayed waiting for trains back home. The only knowledge I gleaned from this exhibition of pioneer relics was that my home city of Bristol is called Caerodor, in Welsh.
More interesting was Mary, the museum's curator, a sprite old lady in her 70s with roots in Gwent. She was keen to try and teach the ignorant tourist (i.e. me) a few word of God's own language. I'm afraid the only one that really stuck was thank you, <i>diolch,</i> with the "ch" pronounced as like in the Scottish "loch."
Next was the Parque El Desafio, hailed by Guinness as the World's Largest Recycled Park. Dear me, are they that desperate to fill that book these days? This is a prime example of the Lonely Planet raving over something quirky while failing to mention the fact that it's (literally and metaphorically) rubbish.
Crude displays from painted bottles that wouldn't be out of place in a primary school art class are adorned by short plaques containing the wisdom of the exhibit's creator, JoaquÃn Alonso. It's, ahem, "wittingly mocking of today's values," or stomach-churningly trite, meaningless whimsy. Exhibit A: "There are two kinds of paupers: those who have no money and those who have no ideas" (pictured).
But most disappointing was the traditional Welsh tea. Billed as an artery-stopping cavalcade of cakes, I skipped lunch to make room. With hunger gnawing my insides, I headed to Ty Nain (Yrigoyen 283), a pretty white cottage lost in ivy. Initial signs were good, with the walls covered in memorabilia and cheesy Welsh folk music tinkling in the background.
But then the main event arrived--seven meagre slices of stodgy cake and a few of bread and butter, all washed down my a pot of weak tea. It barely took the edge off my hunger, let alone provoke life-threatening bloatedness. And it's $20 ($7) for the privilege, roughly equal to a night's accommodation or six cups of decent coffee. In keeping with the Welsh theme, I'd been fleeced.
You could easily visit Gaimen in an afternoon. But who knows why you'd want to do such a thing. Surely you can find something better to do in Patagonia?