Here come the Germans!

---

A few hours after leaving Pucon, the bus arrived in Valdivia, as buses tend to do. I therefore got off, as people tend to do when their bus reaches their destination.

The first thing to note about Valdivia is that it contains the most difficult to find hostel I've encountered so far. It's supposedly the most popular in town, but we managed to walk past it three times before spotting the tiny sign above the door that gives away its location. First task completed, it was time to hit the streets of Valdivia.

In a touristy sense, I'd come to Valdivia because it sounded like a nice spot to spend a couple of days, with a river winding through town, a lively fish market, and slightly bizarrely, a huge German presence. The actual word for cake around these parts is Kuchen, which I'm sure any German speakers among you will recognise as definitely not being of Spanish origin. There is also a locally brewed beer, Kuntzmann, although I never got round to trying it.

However, despite all the touristy things, the first day in Valdivia was mainly spent looking for camping gear. As I'm going to be spending a fair whack of time down in Patagonia, buying a tent and the such seemed to be a sensible move. Unfortunately, Valdivia didn't have one that lived up to my demands of being cheap, lightweight and weatherproof, so I decided to wait until Puerto Montt, which would have a larger selection.

I mentioned the fish market, but on the first night there we eschewed this in favour of steak, which I can report was delicious. On the second night though, it seemed rude not to buy from there, so we decided to go for a bit of a wander across the river to Isla Teja, before coming back to buy our evenings fish. There was so much choice... hake, salmon, swordfish, mussels, and all at very reasonable prices.

Unfortunately, the big word in that last sentence was "was". On our return, the last of the fish was being thrown to the sealions that like to hang around the market, waiting for just this moment. Darnation. Beaten but not bowed, we feasted on fish and chips from a cheapy restaurant, assuming that it must have come from the market, therefore we hadn't missed out. Or something like that.

The next day, it was time to set sail (almost literally) for the island of Chiloe. But not before the stop in Puerto Montt to buy camping equipment. A stop which cost me my wallet. Darned pickpockets.

Stewart

---