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Published: March 29th 2007
The five
The five traveling women who braved their way up to a lookout point on Chileo where our ears popped but the view turned the trees to broccoli and the sea to a puddle... Five girls: three from the States (Alex, Liz, and myself), one from Brazil (Geisa, pronounced Jayza), and Marketa, from the Czech Republic. A plane, a bus, a ferry, and a trip from Santiago, Chile to Puerto Montt, then to an island in the south of Chile, Chiloe. Here, I'll give you the raw, unedited version from the scribbly pocket journal where i record spontaneous thoughts and impressions.
"Day one: On my own for tonight. In the air now, to arrive in Puerto Montt at 1:35 am, must find my own hostel and sleep a lil bit before taking bus to meet others tomorrow. Dear Self: please stop waiting to buy plane tickets till the last minute. okay? I cant help but think, what would dad say about this?"
"Find taxi. Find hostel. Get ripped off on both, but dont feel like putting up a fight in the middle of the night in a strange port town in South America alone with a taxi driver. Hostel woman is a dear old grandma, I'm sure I'm helping pay for her bladder medications or circulation stockings. Maybe buy her grandchildren easter presents. A worthy cause."
"In airport read Lonely Planet
Mask
Can you spot the fake smile as I pretend to like oysters? Mentally coaching myself as everyone watched me take the first one..."remember dad saying something about how you can swallow it without chewing? you can do it!" Gulp. Mmmmm! Rico! Try it, girls!
Is it ALWAYS the case that little white lies get found out and punished? on Chiloe: says I must see the 'fantastic wooden churches of Chiloe.' uh oh. sounds BORING. What am I doing here? Dear self: please do more research before buying a plane ticket."
Bus ride from Puerto Montt to Chiloe: 3.5 hours. "oh! those aren't clouds....they're MOUNTAINS. Dont breath. Afraid it's not real. Cant take my face from the window.
Pass horses in field. I wonder how they punish horse thieves in Chile? Joyriders?
Snow capped mountains over the lake. Salty air. I am home. An urgency to climb that mountain.
Huge fields bordered with mountains. Room for my soul to breathe. Want to sprint through the fields with my arms in the air shouting to the skies. Smile to myself as I look around the bus. Might not go over so well here. But a great mental picture anyways.
Water mirrors the skies in streams of the fields when I pass them. Looks like a crack in the ground showing through to the skies below. Might the earth be flat after all?
Learned a trick from a bold and confident man on a long plane ride: sleep with your head tied to the
Roll on
The sands of time they roll on.... back of the seat with a sweater. Avoids the awkward wake-to-find-yourself-plastered-against-the-passenger-next-to-you phenomenon. Try it. I feel so attractive right now. Such the latin lover. But I can't sleep with this type of scenery flying past.
Bus mounts a ferry, and I get out. Crossing the sea, some playful animal keeps popping its head up. Two, three, four...there's at least ten of them! "Lobos Marinos," I hear parents tell their children. Sea wolves? They look too happy! I find out later they are seals. And then...a flock of PENGUINS starts jumping alongside the ferry. When greeted by a flock of swans at shorte, I realize I am in another world.
Meet a couple who live a few blocks away from me in Santiago! They ask me to give them English lessons. I agree.
Island of Chiloe
Rolling seaside hills covered in houses of every color of the rainbow. Housing clusters hovering above water on stilts, "palafitos." A little awkward meandering through neighborhoods taking pictures. Hello, I'm here to document your life. Laughed as I passed the "gauntlet of old hags," borderline scary old women whose purpose in life is to press their face up to
Airplane rides
Not the typical patchwork farms I'm used to. Once again, the shade of blue invented for down here is lavishly displayed... the window and stay hidden just long enough until an innocent tourist is right next to them, when they somehow make themselves and all their scary facial growths appear. Egads. Please don't eat me. ...anyone want to go hang out with the fishermen?
Me and the girls tour the wooden churches. Alerce, an amazingly strong, smooth, and durable wood found only in this region, comprises them. They were great, although I can't say I'm as deeply moved by what humans can do with wood as what God can do with wood. I'd rather be outside, but conjuring up all the maturity I could find and kicking my inner third grader, I entered one museum after another with my cultured and history-appreciating friends. I didn't complain. I did eventually, though, find myself mysteriously wandering towards the water or the closest wide open field...
"Sun reflects off the water. Ouch. There's a reason light eyes are so uncommon down here. Because we DIE OFF so quickly with this light. Someone get me some dentists sunglasses please."
"A quietness about this island. Wildflowers take center stage. The amount of color intensity on flowers is so rich it's almost edible."
Helping the locals
He asked for my help. I'm thinking about taking up fishing, what do you think? First mate or boson? (actually I don't even know what those mean....do they apply here?) Lookout spot on the top of a wind whipped hill. "In my head I know those trees are big, but from here they look soft. I want to lay down on them." Perspective.
Oysters. "the freshest on the island." Hmm...I try for politeness, but have never liked them. The other girls love them and down about three raw oysters. Remember this. Foreshadowing.
Bus ride back to Puerto Montt highlighted by a fabulous Steven Seagal movie. Opening scene includes army men, a club, a hummer, a "love" scene, machine guns, and murder by an exceptionally attractive and seductive woman. And downhill. They play it through twice. Aaaand a third time. Proud to represent the best. Yay America. I promise, you fellow passengers should not think of me as decadent, easy, or cold hearted.
Puerto Montt, Punto Varas
Our last day is spent being led around to every unbelievably beautiful destination I could imagine by a young and energetic guide, Omar. As much as I hate to admit it, tours are becoming my favorite way to travel. We got ALL the highlights of these two cities in one day, including two boat rides and going up a volcano.
Volcan Osorno
Quite possibly one of the most photogenic mounds of earth I've been close to. You'll see proof of this. More to come in pictures.
On the way back, Alex started complaining she wasn't feeling good. "Just sit down and watch the skyline for awhile, I bet you're carsick/boatsick/etc." Still not feeling good. On our final trip back to the hostel in the tour van, she needs Omar to pull over. NOW. Little 95 pound Alex gets out and displays her "motion" sickness. Wandering away to get some privacy, suddenly faints right on the sidewalk. Luckily, we had an EMT wilderness trained guide with us, as well as a nurse from Spain who happened to be on the trip. As I said, tours are my new favorite thing ever.
Tourist van by day, a tourist ambulance by night. Omar is now highlighting the best urgent care centers of Puerto Montt. After dropping off all the other passengers and sending the other girls to the house, Liz, Alex, and I head to the emergency room with the very sick puppy. Alex's blue lips, shivering body, and big blue eyes are convincing enough to get her in right away, and she's hooked up to an IV and given anti nausea meds. Liz, who is back accompanying her, suddenly is overcome
Blending in
Maybe I'll just save relatives the funeral expenses and stay here until that volcano explodes and I really connect with this lava. I suppose it would be a romantic way to die... by the exact same nausea. "I need a bathroom. NOW." (Note: all this is said in spanish. I think that the ultimate test of spanish is for a girl to be fainted dead on the sidewalk vomiting, then wake up and have to answer questions and speak spanish. Or explain to doctors, nurses, and other victims to get out of my way if you want to be in those same clothes at the end of the night. I salute you both, Alex and Liz.)
So we got two for the price of one at the hospital when Liz displayed her sickness to the sympathetic clinic staff, and they eventually sent her home stocked full of anti nausea and rehydration meds. Omar had to leave, so Alex and I braved this Chilean emergency room. I did have to have a verbal semi-brawl with the staff who wanted to charge Alex twice over as we were leaving the emergency room. A step up from meekly handing my insurance card to the polite secretary in the states, it was a challenge to think straight but I'm about done with being taken advantage of as a tourist.
Two IV bags, some laughs,
Jipped
My childhood blackberry bush in our backyard produced about four blackberries each summer, for which we eagerly waited and guarded from the little kids until ripe. One look at this roadside beast and I realize the truth: I was jipped. and Dr. Mendez's broken english instructions later, we hobble out and back to the hostel. We are not greeted by happy friends with the chicken soup then had promised, no, we are not greeted at all. They are all in bed with buckets next to them. "All of you??" "yes. All of us." (Thankyou, Alerce, the smoothest wood in the world, for combining with the satin rugs to create the slipperyest surface for running to the bathroom in the middle of the night. Balance and speed training were complimentary included in the $12/night hostel.)
As every one of them lay in bed saying, "I want my mo-o--o-o-om," I did my best to fill in the position. I slept, so grateful at least one of us was healthy enough to help the others. But that morning about six I woke, realizing I hadn't escaped the curse.
If you could name one food that is the absolute worst to eat when overseas, what would it be? Being a smart and experienced traveler, off the top of my head, I'd name seafood. Shellfish, actually. Hmm...sound familiar? Yes, those raw oysters we ate in Chiloe, the "freshest in the island," really made
City of the Roses
Punto Varas, founded by excellent german gardeners, is called the city of the roses because they line the streets. You could actually get a $100 ticket fine for cutting one. I almost did, but I figured they're cheaper at the florist shop up the street. an impact. We were all too happy the next morning to get on a plane, then bus, then metro....
"I know in a week we're going to laugh about this a lot. But now....uuhhhgghghgghhhh...."
"As I lay there on the sidewalk with a crowd of people around me speaking in a foreign language, I said to myself 'I just want to go home.' And I realized that by home I meant the hostel I had been at one night. Yes, I've reached the place that 'home' is anywhere I've got a bed, a bathroom I don't have to pay for, and a hot shower."
-Alex, laying in the Puerto Montt urgent care clinic with IV in hand.
So, as lucky as Omar the cute tour guide was to land a group of five girls on his daytrip, his plans to go out for cervesas afterwards were shattered by shellfish. Hey, you win some, you lose some...
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mary
non-member comment
wow
wow. says it all.