The wind blows a gale outside this little red computer hut. It is as if to say, "Change is here, may the wind be with you." And so I leave Ancud, and Chiloé, and head back to the mainland, to Puerto Montt. A Navimag ferry awaits me there, with a berth reserved, and a journey to Puerto Chacabuco ahead.
Lindsay finished her NOLS mountaineering class, and is happy to have a couple of days to recuperate on her own before I arrive. While I am looking forward to a couple of days of travel, 24 hours on the ferry, and will be glad to have some company when I finally make it to the plaza in Coyhaique to meet her at high noon on Friday.
Chiloé has been enjoyable for me, with a fortutious turn of events helping me along as I rolled into Parque Nacional de Chiloé on the bus. As I was deboarding the bus a friendly Chilean asked me what I was doing, and was I alone. When I said I really didn't have a plan, and that yes I was alone, he suggested that I join him and his girlfriend on a little boat across the lake we had arrived at to a little camping area next to the park.
Having no plans can have it's advantages, and I was glad to take him up on the suggestion. He and his girlfriend turned out to be angels along my passage, as the camping area was beautiful and relaxing, and they were helpful and friendly all along the way.
Camping was primitive. There was running water, provided by a pipe that came from a mysterious source up a hill, and ended in a rusty porcealin sink. We set out our tents in haphazard patterns near the lake, sheltered by trees, tucked up against a hill which backed the park.
The camping area was full of happy Chileans on holiday from Conception, and Santiago, who were all most welcoming and in the best of moods. However, being an extranjero, a foreigner, I never have felt most at home here, even when all around me are welcoming and warm. There is something disconcerting about never knowing what is being said around a person, and never being able to join in the ongoing conversation.
My helpful friends took me on a great walk along the lake, to a neat nature trail through old forests, with root systems so intertwined that the trail had been built of wood, many feet above the ground. We saw many native birds, plants, and trees. Soon we had finished our nature walk, and walked on to an "artesania", a little tiny shop, in a shed, in a field, where an old couple was sitting around a wood stove with their handmade wares hanging from the cool, dark ceiling, bonking me in the head.
They had many beautiful handmade baskets, made of the local plant fiber, and handmade hats of their sheep's wool. The couple live with no electricity, no incoming food supply, no aid from the government. They are happy and content, but tough, and the conditions of their existence were worn into their faces; many wrinkles and grooves carved into their skin from the passage of many a cold rain storm and exposed sunny day.
I slept long that night, awakening to a sunny day, and a walk to the beach. The surf was not to big, but there were clearly dangerous currents, and I dared not swim. I loved being along the coastline of a body of water that touches Hawaii, Alaska, Oregon, all of South America and New Zealand. What a huge ocean it is.
My time has arrived to leave for the bus! I go to Puerto Montt, and on to the South. Look for another post from Coyhaique.
I'm traveling alone here, and can never see who has visited my blog, so leave me a note on the comments page if you like, or send an e-mail, as I miss you all
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Saturday, February 9, 2008
Chiloé
I bailed out of Pucon this morning, catching the 6:40 bus to Puerto Montt.
Pucon actually grew on me as I spent a few days there, but in the end it was the Americans in my dorm room at the hostel that made me feel like I had to get away imminently. Going all the way to the other end of the world to have a couple of nice Americans speaking English and talking about all the sweet powder we are missing in Utah, while partying every day and making my trip feel more like a weekend in a dorm room at Any College USA, eventually cracked me. Or maybe it was Steve´s chainsaw like snoring 6 feet away from 2 am on every night.
Anyhow as soon as I walked next door to the hostel to the JAC bus depot I was back in Chile, and on my way. I was on the bus for a bit longer than I wished, and by the time we arrived in Puerto Montt I was looking at "ESCAPE" printed on the window, and wondering under what circumstances it was to be used.
Arriving in Puerto Montt was a relief from the bus, like the LA airport is a relief from the seat of a plane; it was nice to be off the bus, but I wanted to get the ¿*^¡ out of there as quickly as possible. People everywhere, lots of beggars, and me with my huge ass backpack. All around the depot there was just a kind of wasteland of metal roofs, and tin buildings, and a shady looking waterfront, so instead of wandering away as I wished to do I found a bus to Chiloe, the 10th region of Chile (as the government labels them from North to South).
It was 2 hours including a 20 minute ferry ride to the island region, and I got off at the first town, Ancud. The bus actually started to take off with my backpack still in the luggage compartment, which really freaked me out, thankfully the driver heard my yelling and stopped.
The town seemed like a really sketchy run down waterfront hole in the wall at first, but once I had put my muchilla (backpack) down at the San Jose hostel, and took a walk around town I had a change of heart.
Antun is a colorful town of what I would guess to be 5000 people. When I say colorful, picture a rainbow of color splashed every where-boats, houses, fences, and usually faded a good 20 years. The people are a hard up, but generally friendly, and it is great to see a real working fishing fleet of small colorful boats. It makes me think of Hemingway´s "Old Man and the Sea."
Tomorrow I´m off to the south central part of the island to Castro, and on to a national park on the west coast of the island. I bet is will be wild ocean and green green vegitation.
Unfortunately I was operation on some bad information regarding the ferry to meet Lindsay in Coyhaique, and I was very disheartened to learn that the boat I was to take no longer runs. I will return to Puerto Montt on Wednesday after visiting the park here to catch the Navimag Ferry to Puerto Chacabuco, a 24 hour trip. That will put me in Coyhaique about 58 hours later than I was supposed to be, hopefully not too much of an inconvenience for my traveling companion.
That´s it for now. I´ve been taking lots of pictures, but once again can not find a computer where I can download them to again upload them to the net.
I´ll be back online in a couple of days, look to see another post sometime Wednesday.
Pucon actually grew on me as I spent a few days there, but in the end it was the Americans in my dorm room at the hostel that made me feel like I had to get away imminently. Going all the way to the other end of the world to have a couple of nice Americans speaking English and talking about all the sweet powder we are missing in Utah, while partying every day and making my trip feel more like a weekend in a dorm room at Any College USA, eventually cracked me. Or maybe it was Steve´s chainsaw like snoring 6 feet away from 2 am on every night.
Anyhow as soon as I walked next door to the hostel to the JAC bus depot I was back in Chile, and on my way. I was on the bus for a bit longer than I wished, and by the time we arrived in Puerto Montt I was looking at "ESCAPE" printed on the window, and wondering under what circumstances it was to be used.
Arriving in Puerto Montt was a relief from the bus, like the LA airport is a relief from the seat of a plane; it was nice to be off the bus, but I wanted to get the ¿*^¡ out of there as quickly as possible. People everywhere, lots of beggars, and me with my huge ass backpack. All around the depot there was just a kind of wasteland of metal roofs, and tin buildings, and a shady looking waterfront, so instead of wandering away as I wished to do I found a bus to Chiloe, the 10th region of Chile (as the government labels them from North to South).
It was 2 hours including a 20 minute ferry ride to the island region, and I got off at the first town, Ancud. The bus actually started to take off with my backpack still in the luggage compartment, which really freaked me out, thankfully the driver heard my yelling and stopped.
The town seemed like a really sketchy run down waterfront hole in the wall at first, but once I had put my muchilla (backpack) down at the San Jose hostel, and took a walk around town I had a change of heart.
Antun is a colorful town of what I would guess to be 5000 people. When I say colorful, picture a rainbow of color splashed every where-boats, houses, fences, and usually faded a good 20 years. The people are a hard up, but generally friendly, and it is great to see a real working fishing fleet of small colorful boats. It makes me think of Hemingway´s "Old Man and the Sea."
Tomorrow I´m off to the south central part of the island to Castro, and on to a national park on the west coast of the island. I bet is will be wild ocean and green green vegitation.
Unfortunately I was operation on some bad information regarding the ferry to meet Lindsay in Coyhaique, and I was very disheartened to learn that the boat I was to take no longer runs. I will return to Puerto Montt on Wednesday after visiting the park here to catch the Navimag Ferry to Puerto Chacabuco, a 24 hour trip. That will put me in Coyhaique about 58 hours later than I was supposed to be, hopefully not too much of an inconvenience for my traveling companion.
That´s it for now. I´ve been taking lots of pictures, but once again can not find a computer where I can download them to again upload them to the net.
I´ll be back online in a couple of days, look to see another post sometime Wednesday.
Friday, February 8, 2008
Arucarìa trees, alpine lakes high in the Andes, hot days, and cold, cold, streams have been my surroundings for the past few days. It was with some hesitation that I boarded the JAC tour bus leaving Parque Nacional Huerquehue yesterday afternoon, knowing that I would soon be surrounded by people, cars, computers, and things to attend to. All of which I had been able to leave behind for a few sweet days.
My trek began in the afternoon 5 days ago, as I boarded the little bus bound for Huerquehue. The bus wound it's way up a lazy river, flowing from a distant glacial source, before heading away from the river high into the Andes. The road quickly became dusty and full of washboard as we climbed higher, away from the city, and into the "campo" or country. The switchbacks were tight and steep, once we even had to back up and try again to make it around one.
After nearly an hour of bumping along, a beautiful glacial lake came into view in the valley below. Lago Tinquilco, our stopping point for the bus trip. We descended to the lake, crossing a wooden bridge fit for a fitness trail in our lumbering bus, and stopped at the entry gate to the park. As I went to the guardhouse to buy my entry ticket into the park, I said I wanted to "hacer camping," thinking I was saying that I wanted to go camping in the park. Soon I was very confused as I the ranger replied, "Todo occupado."
It took about a half an hour for me to realize our problem; they thought I wanted to camp right there next to the lake in the high traffic area, and I wanted to hike into the interior of the park, to camp at a primitive refugìo.
Once our difference was understood, I was on the way to the refugio, about 13km from Lago Tinquilco.
My maps are not topographic, and from the way they are printed I thought I would be walking up a glacial valley to further lakes and camping. It was a great surprise to find a steep acsent awaiting me at the head of Lago Tinquilco. The ascent was cut into the mountainside, green arucarìa trees, some plants very similar to bamboo, and many other varieties of green life surrounded me on all sides. I could not tell how far this ascent continued on for, which caused me to take is somewhat slowly, but not too slowly, as it was already growing late in the afternoon and I had a long way to go before making camp for the night.
I ascended for an hour or more, covering about 1500 ft of vertical, with sweet vistas of Lago Tinquilco below and Volcan Villarica in the distance. At the top of my climb I found alpine lakes with crystal blue water, lots of chirping birds (which I could never see), and a more gradual trail leading onwards into the park.
I walked onwards for hours, taking pictures of mountain peaks that would appear through the forest as the underbrush upened up at higher elevation. I spotted two huge birds about the size of golden eagles, with long curved beaks, as they took flight from my presence. As I neared treeline, the trail turned downwards, towards another hidden valley, and the sun set behind a high up treeless summit. I had a couple of hours to make it to the refugio, the only legal camp spot in the park, and although I was feeling the weight of my pack on my shoulders and feet, I was feeling good about making it to camp before dark.
Once again I was surprised by the topography, as the trail descended sharply, switchbacking Grand Canyon style, into the valley below. The trail became more and more rocky, with large steps down at every third step. This took a toll on me as I was mentally unprepared for the ruggedness of the terrain, and my feet were feeling close to blistering.
I took the descent slowly, and the light faded away to nothing. I turned on my headlamp, to find many large black spiders were coming out at the change from day to night. Walking onwards I stopped periodically to stretch the now aching muscles in my neck, but continued on mostly directly towards the refugio.
I was startled to find a very large creature in the brush ahead of me, but was soon relieved to see a horses tail. There were then lights ahead, and I had made it to the refugio only about half an hour past nightfall.
The following days were filled with the peacefulness of the valley where the refugio sits, filtering water from the extremely cold Andean stream, reading some good bits of the book I have with me, Louis L'amour´s "Education of a Wandering Man," a few delectable conversations with fellow trekkers passing through from distant lands, and time to stretch and reflect on life.
The days passed quickly, and soon it was time for me to pack up again and head back to the civ.
The walk was much easier on the return as I started at a higher elevation, had a good knowledge of the land, and began my walk hours earlier in the day. My body was more prepared for the walk as well, my legs feeling stronger, with less aches and pain from every part.
A wonderful treat awaited me at midday, as I stopped at Lago Toro for a refreshing dip in the clear, cool water. A few Chileans were there too, and we talked about the country and my trip.
The walk resumed, and was quickly completed, back at the dusty little bus stop by the lake.
Our bus filled to capacity. People and bags everywhere. Then as we went we kept picking up more people, Chileans waiting for a ride to the city from their little houses. One couple boarded the now overful buss with a huge box from a bigscreen TV and 5 bags too. Soon our bus was packed to the gills with people standing in the isle, boxes and bags pushing the driver to the side in his seat. But here this is not a problem. People make way for each other. No one complained, and we all got were we were going quite expediently and with good form.
Back at Hospedaje Wohlenberg, the hostel where I am staying, there was steak on the grill, and beer to be drunk, which we did. The family that ownes the Hospedaje is quite welcoming, making me feel right at home.
I'm here for the afternoon, and evening, then off to Puerto Montt and on to Puerto Chacabuco, where I will find land transport to Coyhaique to meet my friend Lindsay to begin the next segment of my trip.
Thanks for all of the comments and e-mail. It makes me really stoked to hear stories from my friends, and know that you are following my trip.
Rock on at the Merc! I never expected Normous to be behind the counter, but I´m glad he is, as he is part of the family for sure.
I´ll update as I can. Probably from Coyhaique. Maybe I can find a newer computer, where I can upload some pictures. We´ll see.
Chow.
My trek began in the afternoon 5 days ago, as I boarded the little bus bound for Huerquehue. The bus wound it's way up a lazy river, flowing from a distant glacial source, before heading away from the river high into the Andes. The road quickly became dusty and full of washboard as we climbed higher, away from the city, and into the "campo" or country. The switchbacks were tight and steep, once we even had to back up and try again to make it around one.
After nearly an hour of bumping along, a beautiful glacial lake came into view in the valley below. Lago Tinquilco, our stopping point for the bus trip. We descended to the lake, crossing a wooden bridge fit for a fitness trail in our lumbering bus, and stopped at the entry gate to the park. As I went to the guardhouse to buy my entry ticket into the park, I said I wanted to "hacer camping," thinking I was saying that I wanted to go camping in the park. Soon I was very confused as I the ranger replied, "Todo occupado."
It took about a half an hour for me to realize our problem; they thought I wanted to camp right there next to the lake in the high traffic area, and I wanted to hike into the interior of the park, to camp at a primitive refugìo.
Once our difference was understood, I was on the way to the refugio, about 13km from Lago Tinquilco.
My maps are not topographic, and from the way they are printed I thought I would be walking up a glacial valley to further lakes and camping. It was a great surprise to find a steep acsent awaiting me at the head of Lago Tinquilco. The ascent was cut into the mountainside, green arucarìa trees, some plants very similar to bamboo, and many other varieties of green life surrounded me on all sides. I could not tell how far this ascent continued on for, which caused me to take is somewhat slowly, but not too slowly, as it was already growing late in the afternoon and I had a long way to go before making camp for the night.
I ascended for an hour or more, covering about 1500 ft of vertical, with sweet vistas of Lago Tinquilco below and Volcan Villarica in the distance. At the top of my climb I found alpine lakes with crystal blue water, lots of chirping birds (which I could never see), and a more gradual trail leading onwards into the park.
I walked onwards for hours, taking pictures of mountain peaks that would appear through the forest as the underbrush upened up at higher elevation. I spotted two huge birds about the size of golden eagles, with long curved beaks, as they took flight from my presence. As I neared treeline, the trail turned downwards, towards another hidden valley, and the sun set behind a high up treeless summit. I had a couple of hours to make it to the refugio, the only legal camp spot in the park, and although I was feeling the weight of my pack on my shoulders and feet, I was feeling good about making it to camp before dark.
Once again I was surprised by the topography, as the trail descended sharply, switchbacking Grand Canyon style, into the valley below. The trail became more and more rocky, with large steps down at every third step. This took a toll on me as I was mentally unprepared for the ruggedness of the terrain, and my feet were feeling close to blistering.
I took the descent slowly, and the light faded away to nothing. I turned on my headlamp, to find many large black spiders were coming out at the change from day to night. Walking onwards I stopped periodically to stretch the now aching muscles in my neck, but continued on mostly directly towards the refugio.
I was startled to find a very large creature in the brush ahead of me, but was soon relieved to see a horses tail. There were then lights ahead, and I had made it to the refugio only about half an hour past nightfall.
The following days were filled with the peacefulness of the valley where the refugio sits, filtering water from the extremely cold Andean stream, reading some good bits of the book I have with me, Louis L'amour´s "Education of a Wandering Man," a few delectable conversations with fellow trekkers passing through from distant lands, and time to stretch and reflect on life.
The days passed quickly, and soon it was time for me to pack up again and head back to the civ.
The walk was much easier on the return as I started at a higher elevation, had a good knowledge of the land, and began my walk hours earlier in the day. My body was more prepared for the walk as well, my legs feeling stronger, with less aches and pain from every part.
A wonderful treat awaited me at midday, as I stopped at Lago Toro for a refreshing dip in the clear, cool water. A few Chileans were there too, and we talked about the country and my trip.
The walk resumed, and was quickly completed, back at the dusty little bus stop by the lake.
Our bus filled to capacity. People and bags everywhere. Then as we went we kept picking up more people, Chileans waiting for a ride to the city from their little houses. One couple boarded the now overful buss with a huge box from a bigscreen TV and 5 bags too. Soon our bus was packed to the gills with people standing in the isle, boxes and bags pushing the driver to the side in his seat. But here this is not a problem. People make way for each other. No one complained, and we all got were we were going quite expediently and with good form.
Back at Hospedaje Wohlenberg, the hostel where I am staying, there was steak on the grill, and beer to be drunk, which we did. The family that ownes the Hospedaje is quite welcoming, making me feel right at home.
I'm here for the afternoon, and evening, then off to Puerto Montt and on to Puerto Chacabuco, where I will find land transport to Coyhaique to meet my friend Lindsay to begin the next segment of my trip.
Thanks for all of the comments and e-mail. It makes me really stoked to hear stories from my friends, and know that you are following my trip.
Rock on at the Merc! I never expected Normous to be behind the counter, but I´m glad he is, as he is part of the family for sure.
I´ll update as I can. Probably from Coyhaique. Maybe I can find a newer computer, where I can upload some pictures. We´ll see.
Chow.
Sunday, February 3, 2008
Sedona del Sur
I´ve made it to Pucon, a little town I call the Sedona of the South. If you have been to Sedona recently you can picture the beautiful rocks, blue sky, hot summer days, and lots and lots of consumeristic touristas wandering the streets buying everything from jeep tours to wedding gowns. Well similarly here in Pucon, everyone comes for the natural beauty of the place, but immediatly forgets that when they arrive, and spends all of their time in little shops and ice cream parlours.
Anyhow, I'm gearing up for a few days in the mountains around town here, beginning tomorrow morning.
Since my last entry I´ve "hacer dedo" hitch hiked down the Panamerican Highway with a fearless 69 year old lady named Judy, from Philadelphia, bussed along a busy stretch of highway leaving Santiago, taken another bus from Chillan to Pucon, had two long conversations using only Spanish, walked way too far around Pucon with a backpack that is way too big for walking far, tent camped outside the hostel where I am at now (due to the over full rooms last night), eaten cazuala (good Chilean food-rice, chicken, veggie stew), and sushi (Sedona of the South I say), missed a bus, caught a better bus, met a beautiful girl on the better bus, said goodbye to her, marveled at the smoking volcano out my window here, and recieved a few good e-mails from you out there.
Just a short entry for now, as I don´t want to be one of those people spending all my time inside when I came here to be outside. Sorry there are no pictures-the computers here aren´t quite as up to date as in the good 'ol Estados Unidos.
More later. I´ll be out backpacking until Thursday afternoon.
Anyhow, I'm gearing up for a few days in the mountains around town here, beginning tomorrow morning.
Since my last entry I´ve "hacer dedo" hitch hiked down the Panamerican Highway with a fearless 69 year old lady named Judy, from Philadelphia, bussed along a busy stretch of highway leaving Santiago, taken another bus from Chillan to Pucon, had two long conversations using only Spanish, walked way too far around Pucon with a backpack that is way too big for walking far, tent camped outside the hostel where I am at now (due to the over full rooms last night), eaten cazuala (good Chilean food-rice, chicken, veggie stew), and sushi (Sedona of the South I say), missed a bus, caught a better bus, met a beautiful girl on the better bus, said goodbye to her, marveled at the smoking volcano out my window here, and recieved a few good e-mails from you out there.
Just a short entry for now, as I don´t want to be one of those people spending all my time inside when I came here to be outside. Sorry there are no pictures-the computers here aren´t quite as up to date as in the good 'ol Estados Unidos.
More later. I´ll be out backpacking until Thursday afternoon.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Mi dia en Santiago
"What IS that dripping on me? Is someone spitting on me from one of these buildings? Maybe shouldn´t try to figure it out now, someone might try to take my bag, I might run into someone, I´ll figure it out later."
There are people everywhere. Cars honking, people talking, I catch a word I know every so often, but much is lost on me. Santiago is jammed with people. People on the sidewalk, motorscooters in the streets, busses, people leaning out of balcony windows.
"Which way am I going anyhow?" I´d think as I walked. "The sun seems to be in a little lower in front of me, so that must me North. No maybe it is West." I didn´t know. Tall buildings blocked out the landscape entirely, and when I did get a glimple into the distance it was obscured by a heavy haze lying on the city.
Santiago reminds me of the pictures I have seen of cities in Asia. So many people in the streets that is impossible to walk in a straight line. Sometimes the pedestrians form critical masses, blocking the honking traffic for a few moments, to shuffle across the street. But somehow among the honking cars, and chattering Chileans, an overall calm remains. There are many, many homeless here. Sleeping on the streets, walking the streets. Living on the street. And many homeless perros too. But unlike the US they do not beg from me as I pass, they are just living their lives, and although I know I stick out with my pale skin and ponytail, they leave me alone.
The city is like no place I´ve ever been. Little shops jam the streets, each selling a little bit of this, or that, many times repeated upon themselves. I was looking for a little padlock, some sunscreen, and a place to change some money from dollars into Chilean Pesos. I looked in a hundred little shops all "Farmacia" or some such name, and found sunscreen easily. But it took hours of looking to find a lock. Finally after wandering for many hours, and asking many questions I came to a little ¨Ferreteria", or as it translates in my mind, an "iron store." There I found a little lock.
As for changing money... As I was walking through one of the city squares, taking a couple of pictures, a couple approached me. A woman of about 30, and a man of near 40. They asked where I was from, using English better than my Spanish, but not ideal. I gathered that they were looking to ask for money. They said they were students at the university here, explained that all universities here are private, and it is difficult to pay for an education with the wages made here. They were very interested in my life in the US, and I enjoyed practicing my Spanish as we talked.
They took me to the Catholic Cathedral, built about 400 years ago, to the presidential palace, where Pinochet had a bloody coup sometime in the 70´s, and to a couple of interesting museums which we did not enter, but they suggested. They kept mentioning how they needed money for their education. I told them I had no Chilean money with me, but if they could take me to a place where I could change money I would get some. They were very intent. This all made me a bit nervous, but I did appreciate their hospitality, and it was worth it to me to give them a few dollars for the tour, regardless of whether they were truly students of pediatrics, and veterinary medicine as they claimed.
However once they had finally found a place where I could change money (which was surprisingly difficult as no regular bank will do this) they became a bit short and demanding. It was clear they each wanted to get going, and they wanted some money before they were going to leave, so I pulled out a 10,000 peso note from my pocket (not really comprehending the value of the note) and handed it to the man. He seemed really quite put off, which I didn´t understand, and said it was really not very much. "She has to pay for school too you know." I said that just because I was from the Estados Unidos did not mean that I was made of money, but eventually gave the woman 10,000 pesos as well.
I really wasn´t sure how much I 10,000 pesos was, so I went to the quietest spot I could find near a museum and thought about it for a while. I realized it is somewhere in the neighborhood of a US $22, and felt a bit used, but figured that it was worth paying this amount to learn a bit about how the world works, so I could learn to avoid this type of thing in the future. I was glad everything had gone as it did, and decided I would stay away from anyone being overly friendly in the future.
I´m staying at the Andes Hostel, in the Bella Artes district of Santiago. It is very cosmopolitain, and located near much of the activity of the city. There are little cafes and clubs all around, and lots of little farmacias etc.
After my walk through the city with my "amigos" earlier today I figure I walked about 8 or 10 miles, and I was tired. So I went to sleep for a while at 6, woke at midnight, and am now wide awake. My body doesn´t have any idea what time it is.
In the morning I am going to find the bus station, figure out when I can leave for Puerto Montt (my jumping off point for Patagonia, and the ferry to Puerto Aisen), and try to arrange for a bus leaving the day after tomorrow. I´d like to visit a couple of the museums here, and the Biblioteca National (National Library), eat a meal somewhere (which I never did today), and repack once again before heading south. But Aside from that I´m really ready to get out of this metropolis, and go somewhere more rural.
I think I´ll try to get to Coyhaique a few days before Lindsay´s class ends, as it looks beautiful there, and I think I will be glad to get away from the city, where I am always somewhat on edge.
It is two hours earlier than Eastern Standard Time here, for those of you who may be wondering what time it is down here.
As for that water that kept dripping on me- all of the buildings have little air conditioners in the widows here, so walking the sidewalk you are constantly being dripped on from some high up window.
Send comments as you can! I´d like to know what you all think.
Adios,
Eugenio
There are people everywhere. Cars honking, people talking, I catch a word I know every so often, but much is lost on me. Santiago is jammed with people. People on the sidewalk, motorscooters in the streets, busses, people leaning out of balcony windows.
"Which way am I going anyhow?" I´d think as I walked. "The sun seems to be in a little lower in front of me, so that must me North. No maybe it is West." I didn´t know. Tall buildings blocked out the landscape entirely, and when I did get a glimple into the distance it was obscured by a heavy haze lying on the city.
Santiago reminds me of the pictures I have seen of cities in Asia. So many people in the streets that is impossible to walk in a straight line. Sometimes the pedestrians form critical masses, blocking the honking traffic for a few moments, to shuffle across the street. But somehow among the honking cars, and chattering Chileans, an overall calm remains. There are many, many homeless here. Sleeping on the streets, walking the streets. Living on the street. And many homeless perros too. But unlike the US they do not beg from me as I pass, they are just living their lives, and although I know I stick out with my pale skin and ponytail, they leave me alone.
The city is like no place I´ve ever been. Little shops jam the streets, each selling a little bit of this, or that, many times repeated upon themselves. I was looking for a little padlock, some sunscreen, and a place to change some money from dollars into Chilean Pesos. I looked in a hundred little shops all "Farmacia" or some such name, and found sunscreen easily. But it took hours of looking to find a lock. Finally after wandering for many hours, and asking many questions I came to a little ¨Ferreteria", or as it translates in my mind, an "iron store." There I found a little lock.
As for changing money... As I was walking through one of the city squares, taking a couple of pictures, a couple approached me. A woman of about 30, and a man of near 40. They asked where I was from, using English better than my Spanish, but not ideal. I gathered that they were looking to ask for money. They said they were students at the university here, explained that all universities here are private, and it is difficult to pay for an education with the wages made here. They were very interested in my life in the US, and I enjoyed practicing my Spanish as we talked.
They took me to the Catholic Cathedral, built about 400 years ago, to the presidential palace, where Pinochet had a bloody coup sometime in the 70´s, and to a couple of interesting museums which we did not enter, but they suggested. They kept mentioning how they needed money for their education. I told them I had no Chilean money with me, but if they could take me to a place where I could change money I would get some. They were very intent. This all made me a bit nervous, but I did appreciate their hospitality, and it was worth it to me to give them a few dollars for the tour, regardless of whether they were truly students of pediatrics, and veterinary medicine as they claimed.
However once they had finally found a place where I could change money (which was surprisingly difficult as no regular bank will do this) they became a bit short and demanding. It was clear they each wanted to get going, and they wanted some money before they were going to leave, so I pulled out a 10,000 peso note from my pocket (not really comprehending the value of the note) and handed it to the man. He seemed really quite put off, which I didn´t understand, and said it was really not very much. "She has to pay for school too you know." I said that just because I was from the Estados Unidos did not mean that I was made of money, but eventually gave the woman 10,000 pesos as well.
I really wasn´t sure how much I 10,000 pesos was, so I went to the quietest spot I could find near a museum and thought about it for a while. I realized it is somewhere in the neighborhood of a US $22, and felt a bit used, but figured that it was worth paying this amount to learn a bit about how the world works, so I could learn to avoid this type of thing in the future. I was glad everything had gone as it did, and decided I would stay away from anyone being overly friendly in the future.
I´m staying at the Andes Hostel, in the Bella Artes district of Santiago. It is very cosmopolitain, and located near much of the activity of the city. There are little cafes and clubs all around, and lots of little farmacias etc.
After my walk through the city with my "amigos" earlier today I figure I walked about 8 or 10 miles, and I was tired. So I went to sleep for a while at 6, woke at midnight, and am now wide awake. My body doesn´t have any idea what time it is.
In the morning I am going to find the bus station, figure out when I can leave for Puerto Montt (my jumping off point for Patagonia, and the ferry to Puerto Aisen), and try to arrange for a bus leaving the day after tomorrow. I´d like to visit a couple of the museums here, and the Biblioteca National (National Library), eat a meal somewhere (which I never did today), and repack once again before heading south. But Aside from that I´m really ready to get out of this metropolis, and go somewhere more rural.
I think I´ll try to get to Coyhaique a few days before Lindsay´s class ends, as it looks beautiful there, and I think I will be glad to get away from the city, where I am always somewhat on edge.
It is two hours earlier than Eastern Standard Time here, for those of you who may be wondering what time it is down here.
As for that water that kept dripping on me- all of the buildings have little air conditioners in the widows here, so walking the sidewalk you are constantly being dripped on from some high up window.
Send comments as you can! I´d like to know what you all think.
Adios,
Eugenio
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
And so It begins..
The lights came over the hill, I was out of breath from hiking through the snow carrying everything I will use to travel to South America on my back, the car stopped in the darkness and the passenger window slid down, "Bus isn't running this morning, weather emergency, sorry," the driver said. The window slid up and he drove away into the darkness of the morning blizzard.
The snow fell on my face, I thought of the train I was to catch 50 miles away through the darkness and the snow, and I started walking. My arm instinctively reached outwards, my thumb pointing up into the darkness of the morning.
A semi rolled by apathetically ignoring the plight of this traveler. A friend's truck lerched past, driver weary and unaware of me as he focused on making it to his destination safely. Another truck approached. My arm began waving around, my legs lifting my body up and down. "Stop, stop, wait for me," my soul shouted. The truck stopped. The driver eyed me suspiciously.. "Can you take me to Eugene? I've got to catch the 9 o'clock train, and there is no bus this morning," I said.
We rolled into the blizzard and my trip had begun.
A day's journey behind me, I sit in a sunlit window contemplating the journey to come. "I'm traveling not so much to learn what is out There, as to learn what is in Here," I think.
It is a social life I lead, one of many friends and countless acquaintances. For me the struggle is to find a space, find the strength, to be alone, to just do Eug's stuff. To what do what is right for me, now.
I find it difficult to set myself aside, and focus on my goals, my projects, as I am often distracted by the temptation to journey to a friendly locale, enjoy the company, and often a good meal together. This trip is a sort of forced isolation for a soul weary from too much of a good thing.
The sun still shines through the bay window I sit next to, illuminating the ever green foliage that comprises every unpaved inch of Cascadia. It speaks to me, "leave the little glowing plastic box Eug, the world awaits," and so I go.
The snow fell on my face, I thought of the train I was to catch 50 miles away through the darkness and the snow, and I started walking. My arm instinctively reached outwards, my thumb pointing up into the darkness of the morning.
A semi rolled by apathetically ignoring the plight of this traveler. A friend's truck lerched past, driver weary and unaware of me as he focused on making it to his destination safely. Another truck approached. My arm began waving around, my legs lifting my body up and down. "Stop, stop, wait for me," my soul shouted. The truck stopped. The driver eyed me suspiciously.. "Can you take me to Eugene? I've got to catch the 9 o'clock train, and there is no bus this morning," I said.
We rolled into the blizzard and my trip had begun.
A day's journey behind me, I sit in a sunlit window contemplating the journey to come. "I'm traveling not so much to learn what is out There, as to learn what is in Here," I think.
It is a social life I lead, one of many friends and countless acquaintances. For me the struggle is to find a space, find the strength, to be alone, to just do Eug's stuff. To what do what is right for me, now.
I find it difficult to set myself aside, and focus on my goals, my projects, as I am often distracted by the temptation to journey to a friendly locale, enjoy the company, and often a good meal together. This trip is a sort of forced isolation for a soul weary from too much of a good thing.
The sun still shines through the bay window I sit next to, illuminating the ever green foliage that comprises every unpaved inch of Cascadia. It speaks to me, "leave the little glowing plastic box Eug, the world awaits," and so I go.
Monday, January 28, 2008
Headin' Out
I'm leaving Oakridge in a few short hours, voyaging first to Portland and then on to Santiago, Chile and beyond, to Patagonia for a backpacking adventure. I've been up all night doing last minute preparations, and now at 4 am I am finally basically ready to go. My pack waits next to me, and the snow continues to fall outside during an unusually cold and snowy night here in Oakridge.
I wrote a letter about talking about what I've been up to a couple of weeks ago when Natty was here with the good intention of sending it out in paper form before I left. But as often happens with me, time flew by and I didn't get it in the mail, so at Natty's suggestion I'm going to post it here on the blog for you all to check out if you like.
I'll post as often as I can along the way as my adventure unfolds. Tune in every so often as there should be some interesting tales to come.
My letter follows:
January 9, 2008
Greetings from the Snowy Northwest,
As the snow falls outside McKenzie’s and Danielle’s cabin here in Crescent, Oregon, my friend Natty and I are inside drinking orange juice snow slushies and staying warm by the fire. We have been looking forward to seeing each other, as we have grown to be close friends and she left to attend the Women’s History Masters Program at Sarah Lawrence College in New York last fall.
I have been working at the Willamette Mountain Mercantile for a over two years now, (http://mtnmercantile.blogspot.com & www.mtnmercantile.com) and things are good. We sell all types of outdoor equipment; bikes, skis, clothing, cast iron cookware, and camping stuff. Located on Highway 58, and being the only outdoor shop in Oakridge or for many miles in any direction, we meet all types of people doing all kinds of interesting things. I often tend the shop by myself, stoking the woodstove, answering questions, fixing bikes and skis, and generally helping people find ways to enjoy the outdoors near Oakridge.
On my days off I have been enjoying the wonderful outdoor opportunities all around Oakridge. Mountain biking and skiing are perennial (doesn’t this mean all year long?)favorite activities, but I like to ride around on my unicycle, swim in the many streams and lakes nearby, and play ping pong too.
Last year I attended Central Oregon Community College during the fall term, and Lane Community College during the spring term. I studied writing, Spanish, geography, and website design. I contemplated returning to continue my studies this fall at Lane Community College; however, I decided to take a couple terms off to follow other dreams. My friends and co workers McKenzie and Danielle, were expecting a baby this fall, and Lindsay (Natty’s sister) was planning a trip to Patagonia, Chile for the spring. I decided to work through the fall and go to Patagonia with Lindsay for an extended trip in the spring.
The summer flew by as I filled my days working at the shop, seeing friends who were passing though, leading amazing tours through the forested mountains and lush coastlines of Oregon with Wild Heart Cycling (www.wildheartcycling.com), doing support at the Cascade Cream Puff mountain bike race, putting a new roof on Win and Mark’s house in Oakridge, building a deck next to the Airstream trailer which I call home, going out for cruiser bike rides after work with friends, hanging out with my dad here in Oakridge, and keeping all of the mountain bikers’ bikes well tuned.
As the fall hit it was wonderful to enjoy the rain; a fresh and cleansing event I look forward to after every dry Oregon summer. Danielle’s belly was getting big, and she was taking time away from the shop to nurture herself and the baby. McKenzie and I tended the shop until early December when he and Danielle headed down to Coburg to spend the remainder of their pregnancy with McKenzie’s family. Lindsay and I bought our tickets to Chile over Thanksgiving from her family’s house in Bend, solidifying our travel plans together.
December flew by. With McKenzie and Danielle gone I was largely in charge at the Mercantile, leaving me lots to do. This was good for me as I needed some extra hours to save for my upcoming trip, and I enjoyed the time at the shop. Their baby was born a healthy 9lbs, 11oz, on December 23, and they named him William Huckleberry Bowerman. I love him! I hope they call him Huck, a name I’ve always liked.
Natty and Lindsay both came home a couple of days before Christmas, and I went to Bend and to celebrate the holiday with their family. We all enjoyed our time together. Lindsay and I made final plans for our trip, and she left on the 1st of January for Santiago. Once in Santiago she traveled southward to Coyhaique, in the Patagonia region, where she is taking a NOLS mountaineering course beginning tomorrow.
As for me, I’m leaving on the 29th of January (my dad’s birthday) from Oakridge, and flying out of Portland on the 30th. My trip will follow Lindsay’s footsteps, as I fly to Santiago and continue onward to Coyhaique where we will rendezvous on the 11th of February. From there we will travel south together via ferry to Torres del Paines National Park, for a week long backpacking trip around the torres, or towers, of granite rising several thousand feet out of the surrounding forest and lakes.
After our adventure around Torres del Paines we don't have any set plans, we only know that we are looking forward to adventure, quality experience, and joy when we can find it. So we'll play it by ear, and listen to the recommendations that come along the way before we make plans.
Our flights back to the states leave on March 12. We are both going to fly to New York to visit Natty for a week, before returning to Portland on the 19th. I've never been to New York City, and I'm looking forward to that part of the trip as much as the rugged and rural landscape of Patagonia.
I'll try to keep you posted via my blog along the way.
See you out there!
Eugene
I wrote a letter about talking about what I've been up to a couple of weeks ago when Natty was here with the good intention of sending it out in paper form before I left. But as often happens with me, time flew by and I didn't get it in the mail, so at Natty's suggestion I'm going to post it here on the blog for you all to check out if you like.
I'll post as often as I can along the way as my adventure unfolds. Tune in every so often as there should be some interesting tales to come.
My letter follows:
January 9, 2008
Greetings from the Snowy Northwest,
As the snow falls outside McKenzie’s and Danielle’s cabin here in Crescent, Oregon, my friend Natty and I are inside drinking orange juice snow slushies and staying warm by the fire. We have been looking forward to seeing each other, as we have grown to be close friends and she left to attend the Women’s History Masters Program at Sarah Lawrence College in New York last fall.
I have been working at the Willamette Mountain Mercantile for a over two years now, (http://mtnmercantile.blogspot.com & www.mtnmercantile.com) and things are good. We sell all types of outdoor equipment; bikes, skis, clothing, cast iron cookware, and camping stuff. Located on Highway 58, and being the only outdoor shop in Oakridge or for many miles in any direction, we meet all types of people doing all kinds of interesting things. I often tend the shop by myself, stoking the woodstove, answering questions, fixing bikes and skis, and generally helping people find ways to enjoy the outdoors near Oakridge.
On my days off I have been enjoying the wonderful outdoor opportunities all around Oakridge. Mountain biking and skiing are perennial (doesn’t this mean all year long?)favorite activities, but I like to ride around on my unicycle, swim in the many streams and lakes nearby, and play ping pong too.
Last year I attended Central Oregon Community College during the fall term, and Lane Community College during the spring term. I studied writing, Spanish, geography, and website design. I contemplated returning to continue my studies this fall at Lane Community College; however, I decided to take a couple terms off to follow other dreams. My friends and co workers McKenzie and Danielle, were expecting a baby this fall, and Lindsay (Natty’s sister) was planning a trip to Patagonia, Chile for the spring. I decided to work through the fall and go to Patagonia with Lindsay for an extended trip in the spring.
The summer flew by as I filled my days working at the shop, seeing friends who were passing though, leading amazing tours through the forested mountains and lush coastlines of Oregon with Wild Heart Cycling (www.wildheartcycling.com), doing support at the Cascade Cream Puff mountain bike race, putting a new roof on Win and Mark’s house in Oakridge, building a deck next to the Airstream trailer which I call home, going out for cruiser bike rides after work with friends, hanging out with my dad here in Oakridge, and keeping all of the mountain bikers’ bikes well tuned.
As the fall hit it was wonderful to enjoy the rain; a fresh and cleansing event I look forward to after every dry Oregon summer. Danielle’s belly was getting big, and she was taking time away from the shop to nurture herself and the baby. McKenzie and I tended the shop until early December when he and Danielle headed down to Coburg to spend the remainder of their pregnancy with McKenzie’s family. Lindsay and I bought our tickets to Chile over Thanksgiving from her family’s house in Bend, solidifying our travel plans together.
December flew by. With McKenzie and Danielle gone I was largely in charge at the Mercantile, leaving me lots to do. This was good for me as I needed some extra hours to save for my upcoming trip, and I enjoyed the time at the shop. Their baby was born a healthy 9lbs, 11oz, on December 23, and they named him William Huckleberry Bowerman. I love him! I hope they call him Huck, a name I’ve always liked.
Natty and Lindsay both came home a couple of days before Christmas, and I went to Bend and to celebrate the holiday with their family. We all enjoyed our time together. Lindsay and I made final plans for our trip, and she left on the 1st of January for Santiago. Once in Santiago she traveled southward to Coyhaique, in the Patagonia region, where she is taking a NOLS mountaineering course beginning tomorrow.
As for me, I’m leaving on the 29th of January (my dad’s birthday) from Oakridge, and flying out of Portland on the 30th. My trip will follow Lindsay’s footsteps, as I fly to Santiago and continue onward to Coyhaique where we will rendezvous on the 11th of February. From there we will travel south together via ferry to Torres del Paines National Park, for a week long backpacking trip around the torres, or towers, of granite rising several thousand feet out of the surrounding forest and lakes.
After our adventure around Torres del Paines we don't have any set plans, we only know that we are looking forward to adventure, quality experience, and joy when we can find it. So we'll play it by ear, and listen to the recommendations that come along the way before we make plans.
Our flights back to the states leave on March 12. We are both going to fly to New York to visit Natty for a week, before returning to Portland on the 19th. I've never been to New York City, and I'm looking forward to that part of the trip as much as the rugged and rural landscape of Patagonia.
I'll try to keep you posted via my blog along the way.
See you out there!
Eugene
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