Pobre en Pucon

(Pucon, Chile)
So I´m still slowly making my way north. I´ve arrived in this very expensive, touristy town. I'm waiting for the delivery of my bank card, so I have to stay here at least until that arrives. Luckily I still have some emergency travelers checks, which yield an even worse exchange rate than cash. Speaking of which, what the heck are you doing back there (in the U.S.)? I swear a month ago I was getting almost 500 pesos for a dollar and today I got 450. Why am I losing 10 cents on every dollar? Every day my balance, in pesos, seems to get smaller without my even spending anything.

I went to the beach here yesterday on the lake. There were more people than grains of sand. Definitley not my onda. Great for swimsuit watching, but not great for relaxing when a me-sized piece of sand is even hard to come by. But the water was great. Today I took a bus over to the next town, the next lake, the next beach in Caburgua and found a little bit of solitude. Here is a picture of the main beach area. Unfortunately I must have gotten the camera wet or something because all of the pictures seem to come out like this now. Hopefully it will get better. Any tips?

Tomorrow, if the weather cooperates, I'm going to attempt to climb this volcano, Volcan Villarica. I've never done anything like that before, and it is apparently what you have to do here if you're a backpacking kind of person. We leave at 4 AM and it should take a good part of the day. I hope I'm up to the challenge. I walk a lot, but not up mountains, and never in snow. So check here in a couple of days and you might see some blurry photos from the top of that thing.

Parque Oncol

(Valdivia, Chile)

Other than laundry, I didn't know what I was going to do today, but fate solved that problem when I realized that I had left my cash card in a machine a few days ago. So I've spent

the day trying to figure out what that means for my life. I think I've got it under control now, but I was kind of a mess this morning. On the bright side, I got to practice Spanish with a lot of people today with whom I wouldn't normally have contact.

Yesterday I took a little excursion to Parque Oncol, a private reserve an hour from here. I had a nice hike in the woods, listening to crazy bird calls, trying not to squish lizards sunning themselves in the path. Reaching the top. I could see the sea and the andean foothills. On a clear day, one would be able to see 8 different volcanoes. I could barely make out two. Still, I was reminded that this really is on the ring of fire. Did you know that the biggest earthquake ever recorded (9.5) was around here in 1960?

On one short path I heard a low buzzing sound and realized there were hummingbirds zooming back and forth. So, as a good bird watcher, I stood perfectly still. When they didn't run away, I ventured to take take out my camera. It's pretty hard to take a picture of a hummingbird in flight, but they kept flying closer and closer so I got a couple of good shots. I was thinking, "wow, these are some friendly creatures", buzzing around my head. Then I turned to my right and saw that less than a foot from my right ear was nest, with two eggs in it. That explained things. I moved on and the mama bird landed in the nest and gave me what can only be described as a dirty look.

View from highest point in Oncol. That's Valdivia behind those rivers and islands. Kind of a foggy place.

whatcha been doin in valdivia?

The other night I went to a concert of a Santiago group called Pánico. I don't know if it was simply because i hadn't been to a live show in a long time, but I thought they were pretty good.

Last night I went to the Kunstmann Bierfest. After failing to get to the Cherry Fest in Los Antiguos, and the bierfest in Llanquihue, I thought I was cursed to never arrive at a festival. But I made it. I got there kind of early and amde friends with a couple of guys from Santiago. We chatted and drank beer until about 2 Am. The festival was pretty much what you'd expect of a Germanish beer festival in many ways. There was beer, pork products, traditional dances, German oompah and polka music, the birdy dance. There were also some competitions like log-sawing and beer drinking. One fella finished a liter of beer in 7 seconds. But later in the evening the place suddenly turned latin as another band took the stage and played cumbia, reggeton, salsa, merengue. But it was funny too when the singer just finished singing a German song and then said,"Eso!"(kind of like saying "oh yeah") I was reminded that we were still in Chile.

I also had a chance to to repay some long-standing backpackers karmic debt. A million years ago Sean, Pete, Brian and I arrived in Nurnberg, Germany a bit late at night. Not knowing where to stay, we stopped for a beer before looking for a park to sleep in. At the bar we were befriended by a strange group of people who invited us to stay in their apartment for the night, plus made us breakfast in the morning. A really good memory of someone doing a favor for me when I was traveling. Last night I met, outside the beer hall, two ladies from Wales who arrived in Valdivia late at night and decided to hang out outside the beer fest, not wanting to pay the cover. They had no idea where to stay so I told them that if they were still hanging out when I got done in the festival they could come to my humble bedbug-infested cabaña. So I got the floor, and they had the first good night of sleep in awhile. This morning when we got up, they invited me to join them on a short bus trip out to the beach for some seafood. We had a tasty lunch (see food section below). They took off south and I chilled on the beach most of the afternoon

I plan to hang around Valdivia for a few more days and then continue northward. Although it may sound like I have really action-packed days, I don't tend to write about the boring times, reading books, waiting in line buying groceries, sitting around watching Chilean news, trying to study but not being able to concentrate, walking and walking around town, looking at the map yet again. The fact is that traveling alone is, most of the time, mind-numbingly boring. It makes me appreciate the company of my friends, my family, my colleagues, my Lulu. Even the company of random British girls whose accent in English is as hard for me to understand as it is in Spanish are welcome company.

food: This here is fried salmon. I just wanted to stop nd have a little bite to eat, but then I was brought this massive, delicious piece of fish, breaded with a little basil i think. That little dish in the top right is a substance called pebere. It's kind of like mexican salsa, or pico de gallo with less emphasis on tomato, often with parsley or cilantro.

This is the Paila de mariscos I had on the coast today. I'm usually not too adventurous when it come to seafood. I just didn't grow up with it in the midwest. But with the Pulmay experience under my belt, and with the menu assistence of the welsh girls, I leveled up and ordered this seafood soup. It was mostly bivalves, but with one crab claw and a little fish piece. I'm not crazy about the consistency of clams, or mussels, or whatever they were, but I'm getting used to it. The taste is growing on me. And the broth was amazing.

Itchy

Although I’m sure my Spanish has improved a bit this year, I never really had much time or opportunity for formal study. I originally came to Valdivia with this goal. I figured that it was a college town and I’d have no trouble finding a teacher. That hasn’t been the case. I found one person to do language exchange with. Still, I can use this time to study on my own, but I’m having trouble concentrating. I think this is due to the number of insect bites I have on my body, that I suspect come from the bed in which I have been sleeping the past two nights. I’ve already paid for a week so I might just have to deal with it, as uncomfortable as I am. Does anyone have any anti-bedbug suggestions? Why oh why did I leave Coyhaique?

Valdivia is a town on a bunch of rivers that meet the ocean nearby. It was founded in 15-something, but was burned to the ground a few times by the local mapuche. Eventually the Spanish gave up on the port, but was recolonized by the Germans.

Yesterday I took a bus out to the coast to Molinos, Niebla and Isla Mancera to visit the old fortresses that were built to protect against pirates. I also spent some quality beach time, getting some sun and swimming in the bay.

Sorry. I would write more but I’m having a hard time sitting still with all my itchies. Take a look at some pics from my day trip.


Cannons at Fuerte Niebla, one of 18 fortresses in the bay.











This is what I looked like before being covered in itchy welts.

Lou: So, its been a month, now. I’ve heard that when you travel, the homesickness really sinks in at 1 month—which I think was pretty true, but now, I think I’m actually homesick for Mendoza! I suppose the 20 below wind chill could have something to do with it…

Right now, I miss being cold at 32 degrees F.

What do I miss? I miss the truly warm, nice people—going out of one’s way to help a stranger is not unheard of. If they know you—well then, you’re practically family! Talkative people, too Mendocinos are never at a loss for something to say. Maybe they are more creative in the conversation starters because they can’t rely on the old, “Some weather, huh?” (It’s pretty constant within the seasons)

I miss the little things like the tiled sidewalks. I know it was a pain at times, but I miss walking everywhere that we needed to go. (ie being able to)

Also, all of the little shops—mostly clothing with the window displays. It was fun to take note of the displays that frequently changed. There was always a particular “in” color or two or a look. How many times would we be walking down the crowded sidewalks, to almost run into the people in front of us because one had stopped to take a look at the display & pulled the other person to a stop, too!

The little spontaneous parties that just came about at our apartment.

I miss the Capoeira group—how friendly and supportive they were to someone that didn’t understand what the heck they were saying much of the time!

I miss the “language exchanges” (which I had time for then!) which were also a cultural exchange & a fun way to meet people to boot.

I miss the awesome fruit & vegetables at Alejandro’s shop. Will I ever be able to eat grapes sold in Minn. again?

I miss having an English class with a wine expert where I was learning just about as much about wine making as he was English.

Oh, and the wine!! Just spending at least 8 pesos (less than 3 dollars) for a bottle of wine guaranteed that it would be pretty good. Here, a 10 peso bottle of wine is 11 dollars & up.

Siesta was sometimes a pain, too--since nearly everything was closed, but now that I have a somewhat regular schedule, I miss the naps—or at least being forced to take it easy for a few hours in the middle of the day (ie most of the afternoon).

Dulce de leche. I still have a stash of mate, but if anyone knows where to buy these things in the Cities let me know!

Fresh, awesome raviolis.

I’m not one for constant adventure, but it can be kind of fun when just going shopping can be a little adventure.

Watching dumb U.S. movies on tv, but since they were dubbed I counted them as spanish practice.

Getting on a bus, watching a movie and waking up at your destination across the country.

There’s probably more, and there’s probably a list just as long of the things I don’t miss. But its more fun to wax nostalgic.

where am I?

(valdivia, chile) Well the bierfest in Llanquihue turned out to be a total fiasco for me. I went over there with the niece of the B&B owner. We got started a little later than planned. I think i spent too much time at the beach. Then the buses went slowly, and my temporary companion walked slowly and wanted to stop and look at the lake and talked and talked and talked. Anyway we got there around 9:00, only to find out that the last bus to return us to Frutillar would leave at 10, and it wouldn't be worth the $10 fee to get in to the fest, buy a beer and return. So we just turned around and headed back. She reminded me that it was my fault, which i guess it was, but i didn't want to hear it, especially after being thwarted in my festquest. Frustrating. But maybe it was all for a reason, because the first thing I saw when I arrived here in Valdivia was a sign announcing the Kunstmann Bierfest this weekend! But now I'm not so sure I'm all that excited. I visited the brewery restaurant last night with some folks from the hostel and I got my taste in. The restaurant was very German-like, yet not quite German. But my Swiss companions said the food olooked like home.

I'm going to try to find a haircut, and a semi-permanent place to stay. This town might be a good place for me to settle down and study a little.

Lago Llanquihue

(Frutillar, Lakes Region, Chile) Ok this is a part of the world in which pronunciation of place names become difficult if you aren't used to words in Mapuche. Lago Llanquihue (yankeé way) is a summer tourist destination for people escaping from the heat of the north. The lake is super clear here in Frutillar and good for swimming. I've had a couple of good days of weather so I've gotten some reading done on the beach and swam a little. I also got out and checked out Puerto Varas and the other side of the lake, closer to the towering Osorno Volcano, where I, and other tourists, were attacked by tabanos, a biting fly the size of a fun-size snickers bar. I went to a cascade near Petrohue that was overrun by busloads of European and Americans, as well as Chilean families. It was one of those place where you have to wait your turn to take "the picture". After visiting patagonia and Iguazu, I think its going tobe hard for a waterfall to impress me forawhile, especially if the is a crowd. Today I'm just taking it easy but the next town over has a bierfest starting today so tonight I'll probably be eating bratwurst and saying a few prosits.



I tried this picture 9 times with the timer before I got it right with my finger pointing at the volcano. There were people watching me.

Nobody was stopping for me. I think they were mostly from Santiago and not accostomed to picking up hitchhikers, as they are in Patagonia and Chiloe. In this picture I am pioneering a new autostop strategy (that didn't work). Finally a bus passed and I was able to get back.

Isla Chiloe Tourism

(Castro, Isla Chiloe, Chile ) http://www.chiloeweb.com/chwb/chiloeisland/general_mapa_chiloe.html It's nice that during the day everyone else is out doing stuff, so I am able to hog the computer in this hostel. I'm going take advantage of this time to write a short entry about Chileo and what I did this morning.

Someone told me that Chiloe looks a lot like Ireland. An island, rolling hills, rain, nice people with a history of isolation, green, green green. I was asking around for opinions of what I should do here today. I asked about the national park, but when they mentioned big mosquitos I decided against it. I was a pretty good tourist today though, doing what everyone does when they come to Chiloe, look at the old wooden churches. That's the big thing this island is famous for. There is a distinct syle to them, and they are almost entirely wooden. The one from yesterday's blog was not so pretty on the outside but beautifully burnished wood on the inside. That´s kind of how they are - weather beaten exteriors. My first stop was the town of Dalcahue, where I checked out this church, then caught a ferry over to the next island.

Then a bus took me to the town of Achao, where I visited the oldest of Chiloe's churches, a UNESCO World Heritage site. Sorry I couldn't take flash photos inside, but you can kind of get the idea. Believe it or not, this sucker was built without any nails. The used tongue and groove for the siding and roof, and wooden pegs to hold the rest together.

I used a combination of bus and thumb to get back to Castro. I figured that I might as well hitch while I'm still in a safe region to do so. Plus I get to practice my Spanish with strangers.

Puerto Montt - Castro

(Castro, Isla Chiloe, Chile) I have a feeling that the weather really plays a big part in my experiences in new places. Yesterday I flew to Puerto Montt (about the same price as bussing it and saved me about 18 hours) and it was suddenly humid. Cloudy and humid. I stayed in what turned out to be a real dive hotel that smelled like mold, had no TP or hot water. Also I suppose I was pretty tired from taxi, plane and bus. So maybe all these factors influenced my dislike of Puerto Montt, or as some have said, Muerto Montt. I wandered around the streets and the shore for awhile, had some fried fish and went to bed.

Today, on the other hand, I'm quite happy. And it probably has something to do with the first "partly sunny" day I've seen in awhile. I got up early and took a bus (and ferry) to Chiloe Island, found a very comfy hospedaje and immediately took a shower and drank a comforting mate. There are pros and cons of traveling alone. One con is boredom, and only a few hours into this solo mission, with nothing to do in Puerto Montt, I was feeling it. At least if Lou was around we could've whipped out the Spanish Scrabble. One pro of traveling alone is increased flexibility and if I end up in a dive hotel, or reach a dead end, I don't have to feel responsible for anyone but myself. For example, today I went to wander Castro. I looked at the church, some houses on stilts, then realized I was on a highway that headed toward a scenic overlook. I quickly got a ride out there, took one picture and headed back. Only I was in a construction zone, with each direction taking turns every 5 minutes or so. Nobody wanted to stop for me. So I walked back towards town. 20 minutes later I talked to a couple of construction workers who offered to stop traffic for me! They got me a ride pretty quickly with their authoritative orange jumpers.

Thanks to the teachings of my buddies in Coyhaique, I had my first solo hitchhike. Short, but confidence-building. So I'm thinking about a longer trip tomorrow.

Food: Ok, people. I have to tell you about what might be the greatest Chilean invention. On Sunday La Mama made pulmay, also known as curanto. This meal is a kind of soup I suppose, but oh so much more. I think the recipe goes something like this: take everything, put it in a pot, cook, enjoy. Ok, maybe not everything, but it did have sausages, potatoes, beef, pork, chicken, smoked pork ribs, onions, white wine and clams. We were each served a heaping portion. I'm not sure if I'd ever eaten big clams before, but they were tasty (and fun to eat!). The others commented on how my face was turning red and maybe I broke out a little in reaction to the seafood, but I didn't care. The broth was so good that I ignored the hot sauce on the table. Then I succumbed to the classic aftereffect of Pulmay; tiredness, as the body attempts to digest to vitamins and proteins. I vowed that I wouldn't eat again for three days, but 6 or 7 hours later, there I was again, having part two, although this time the clams had all day to mellow with the rest of the meal and emerged even tastier. I'm going to miss the Mama's cooking.

Home cookin´!

(Coyhaique, Chile) I ate some good Chilean home-cooking with the family in Coyhaique. The Mama makes some wonderful soups on cold days. Lunch is always the principal meal which generally consists of something hot, salad, bread and sometimes dessert of ice cream. She made a fine lentil stew with for new years. A couple of times the Mama made sopaipillas, fried bread. Another time she made a similar treat called “calzones rotos” (broken underwear) that had a twisted shape with powdered sugar.

When we went out to dance at Quilantal a couple of weeks ago, we ordered munchies in the form of Pichanga. It was pretty good, but they insisted that we had to have The Real Pichanga at home the next day. Think of every kind of bar munchie food you’ve ever had, throw it all in one pan and bake. It is mostly french fries with steak, hot dog slices, pickles olives, sausage, olives, cheese, cocktail onions. After baking the whole deal, diners attack the mountain of food nacho style, but with toothpicks. Ketchup, mustard, mayo and hot sauce can be applied as needed.

Queulat

(Coyahaique, Chile) I thought I was getting the idea of what patagonia is all about, but now I know that one doesn’t really know Patagonia until he has walked a few kilometers uphill with a 40 pound backpack in the rain. This week Sergio and I went for a little camping trip to Queulat Nacional Park. Again we relied solely on thumb power to get us there. We had some pretty good luck getting rides on the way there but also did some rough walking on forest roads. Finally some park workers picked us up and told us we were crazy to be walking in the rain and that we still had 40 km

to go. Lucky for us they stopped.

This trip we stayed in a more organizad campground with bathrooms and running water. It rained most of the time, but we found some other travelers to hang out and drink wine with. The main attraction of the park is Ventisquero Queulat, a glaciar hanging off a mountain. We took a boat trip out to get a closer look. The park worker was telling us that in the 1970s the glaciers reached all the way to the lake but you can see from the picture how small it is now. So we’re likely the last generation to be able to see it.

We didn’t do too much hiking in the park. We mostly just chatted with the neighbors ate and cooked. We got to Queulat in record time and so had plenty of time to find another place. The return trip to Puerto Aisen will always be known as “pickup de la muerte” to us. A group of three 20-something gringo fishermen, drinking beer and listening to Van Morrison told us to hop in back. It was great to get a ride all the way to Mañihuales but it was cold and uncomfortable. You don’t know Patagonia unitl you’ve rode for two hours on a potholed gravel road in the back of a pickup in the rain and sleet. The view, of course, was amazing. Mountains, waterfalls, rivers, fjords. But my hands were too cold to bother with taking pictures of any of it. From Mañihuales we got a ride from “pickup de la muerte II” all the way to Aisen. We had planned to get a ride to another lake to camp but it was getting late, and we were cold so we wimped out and stayed in a Hostel that had cable TV.

Monday I’m hitting the road for solo travel. I fly to Puerto Montt and then I don’t have any plan, only to meet up with Sergio in Santiago in a month or so. The time here in Coyhaique really has flown. The family I’m staying with is a special group of people, each person a real character. They are bummed that I’m leaving. “Why can’t you change your flight?” It really has been nice staying there and getting to know them all, and I always wanted to have a home stay. Oh... and the food. I'm not starving for sure.

Festival de Cerezas ( or An Unexpected Trip to Rio Mayo)

The Mission: Enjoyment of Cherry Festival in Los Antiguos, Argentina
The crew:
Dan
Sergio
Jaime (sergio’s uncle)
Claudia (Jaime’s wife)
Cata (Claudia’s sister)
The Mama (Cata and Claudia’s mom)
Fefi, Martin, Rayen (kids)
Ford Explorer

We got going on Saturday afternoon. The plan was to go as a whole family to the Festival de Cereza for two days, finding a place to camp in Los Antiguos. From there, Sergio and I had planned to cross back into Chile alone for a 5 or 6 day hiking, hitching camping tour around a big lake. But this wasn’t to be so.

Sure we got a late start, but the sun doesn’t go down here until after ten. We crossed into Argentina without any problems and went to buy gas. Of course we didn’t buy gas before leaving because gas is much cheaper in Argentina. This first town, a town of two businesses, didn’t have any gas, even at the gas station. The radiator was leaking so some instant cement was purchased and we ate a picnic while waiting for it to solidify. Back on the road, we headed to the next town, Doctor Roja. They didn’t have any gas either, but we asked around and found a lady who sold us ten litres, enough so we could get to the next town, Rio Mayo, buy some gas, and floor it to Los Antiguos. But that wasn’t to be.

I don’t know exactly how many miles of dusty gravel was between the two towns, but in Patagonia you can go hours without a town, especially when you have to stop every 20 minutes to put more water in the radiator. This is what we did. And the plan of finding gas turned into the plan of finding gas then a mechanic. I have to admire the dedication of the Chilean people. If I had a car full of people and the radiator was clunking out, gas was hard to find and the kids were screaming, I might have aborted right away. Eventually we got to Rio Mayo, national capital of sheep skinning (their festival is next weekend). The mechanic was very sorry to say that the radiator was beyond fixing and that he didn’t have a new radiator for us. We ended up staying in a hotel in Rio Mayo.

The next day we got up and the plans of keeping on toward the festival had changed to heading back to Chile. We filled up as many water bottles as we had, and hit that same stretch of road, back towards Doctor Rojas. This time it took a lot longer. We stopped every 20 minutes, then 15, then 10 then 5, to put more water in the engine. Soon there was oil spewing along with the steam. While we waited for the radiator to cool down each time, we flagged down the few cars that passed, asking for extra water. This was serious desert territory, and we had kids with us, some of them getting cranky. One group of people agreed to take the Mama back to Coyhaique. One trucker told us there was a farm nearby so we headed there. The owner cranked up the windmill and got some water pumping put of the earth for us. We filled all our bottles and he also gave us a big bucket of backup water. We had a picnic among some chickens then hit the road.

It was windy and dusty. We stopped a lot. Cata remembered seeing a small river on the way in, so we stopped there and got everything filled up again. At some point, Sergio got a ride into Doctor Rojas to find a town truck or some kind of help. For the next couple of hours we drove, stopped, cooled down, filled water, started again. Somehow it always barely started. But all good things come to an end, even Ford trucks. Finally it quit, but soon Sergio arrived with the policeman from the town (he and his wife are the only cops there), who pulled us back to town, but he told us he didn’t have enough gas to take us any further. Luckily, we had bought an extra 20-liter jug of gas. So he agreed to pull us to the border.

It was a race against time, because Chile closes its doors at 8 pm. The Explorer was taking a beating from rocks being tossed up by the cop truck. There were at least four windshield dings by the time we got to Coyhaique Alto border crossing. Once we got to Chile, someone Jaime knows was waiting for us with his truck.. We threw all our stuff, plus Sergio and me, in the back, the other 6 sat in the pickup for the hour ride back to town, where the Mama was worried sick about us.

I’m getting used to having plans changed at the last minute. I feel terrible for Jaime and Claudia who not only have a dead car sitting at the border, wasted their entire weekend, plus money, and have to go to work tomorrow. I get to use tomorrow to recover and head out camping, with a more limited agenda, on Tuesday. If it truly is to be.

Puerto Aisen y Lago Palos

Sergio, Cata and I went on an overnight camping trip. we decided on a place aboput 70 km away for our first venture as a team. we didnt really get going til about noon, but I was told "if you're in a hurry in Patagonia, you're probably missing out on something." Anyway, we hitched a ride to Puerto Aisen and started walking to lake that was only supposed to be 1km away, but turned out to be more like 25. That was ok because after a series of rides we got to within 10 minutes of Lago Palos. But unfortunately we could go no further because there was some dynamiting going on up ahead and we would have to wiat an hour. It turned out to be 2 hours but we got some rest in the meantime. We we got through, we go to see the last explosion. They were clearing a new road because an earthquake a few years ago ruined that old road.

We found a lakeside piece of flat ground next to some cows and made our campsite. When we ran out of water, Cata just went up the hill to a house, introduced us as the people camping on their land, and asked for some water. We didn't really do anything but make fire, eat, drink and sleep and make our way back home. It took us a few hours, some standing around on the side of a highway and picking calafate berries while we tried to get a ride. But overall i think we had pretty good luck in getting rides. I think the people in this area are very open to picking people up and it is safe, unless you consider riding in the back of a pickup dangerous.

Here's a weird side note: I was just informed that Blanca, a friend of the family, gave the name Dan to the baby chicken she had over here the other night. I don't know whether or not to be honored by the gesture.

Feliz Daniel Nuevo

In this pic I'm standing atop Piedra del Indio in Coyhaique, Chile. On the other side there is a profile of a face. Why do they always call naturally ocurring things that look something like people "_____ del indio" when they just look like any old guy? I'm serious. I've seen Cabeza del Indio in El Bolson, in Colorado there is Sleeping Ute. Do you think the Utes just call him "sleeping guy?"

Ok. Obviously Louann having gone back to the states has given me time to think some very profound thoughts. Please excuse any typos. I’m not a very good typist, but in addition to that, this computer is trying to autocorrect my spelling, but in Spanish.

It turns out we got lucky the first few days in Coyhaique, in terms of weather. Its a good thing we got to swim a couple times and see some staff befote the customary clouds and rain came in. What we got the frist few days was freakishly nice weather. Cloudy is the norm. So the days are spent doing minor householdy things, chopping wood, playing with kids, drinking mate and eating. Most of today was spent getting the dog to the vets (she either got hit by a car or beat up by another dog) and waiting, going to the pharmacy and waiting. We got some bikes fixed up so we’ve tooled around town a bit, but these hills make me not look forward to returning home.

One night we adults went out to Quilantal, a dance hall. There were two live bands. They placed the normal cumbia stuff that seems to be popular, plus mexican corridos and local folk dances like chamamé, and cueca, Chile’s national dance. I can probably count on one hand the number of times Lou and I went out to dance in the past year, but I got out and boogied a couple of times that night. I got to be the front of a boogie-train! Toward the end of the night Claudia asked if I wanted to cueca. I said, no, not really. But then Cata reminded me that if I didn’t try it now, I might never have the chance. So, I was given a ketchup stained napkin from the table and headed to the dance floor. I think Lou and I saw this dance before in Mendoza, men and women dancing around each other, waving hankies around, but I never really paid attention to what they were actually doing. So I can’t say that I actually danced a cueca. Claudia danced a cueca and I sort of chased her around the floor with a dirty napkin. But I guess I never had the chance to do that before either.

New Years wasn’t all that different from New Years in the states, although I did hear of some popular New Year superstitions. People eat lentils for good luck, and some people wear yellow underwear into the new year for luck. Also, the first 12 days of January tell what your next 12 months will be like. If you spend the first day hungover, well, that’s what your January will be like. I don’t know what it means for my March, having spent much of today waiting for a dog to get repaired.

On New Years, we had a big lamb asado again, this time in the yard. The neighbors next door did the same. There was lamb in the air in Coyhaique. We ate and drank. A pretty mellow family time. There is a tradition of visiting another family alter midnight, but we did no such thing. Someone realized it was 10 to midnight and so we did we we do in the states, try to get the champagne open and turn on the TV for the official word. Long hugs for all the sat outside by the fire and had a guitar session. Someone found Claudias old song books from the 80s and we slaughtered spanish-language pop songs. Although I didn’t know most of them, it was fun to find in the collection some songs that I’d been listening to in solitude for years. Silvio Rodríguez, Roberto Carlos, Sui Generis.

About 2 AM, Sergio, Cata and I decided to go and try to find something less homey. We went walking. We walked around for about an tour and a half. All we found was 3 expensive places with 10 and 15 dollar cobres. All the dives seemed to be closed. But Coyhaique is a town not known for its night life. Eventually we found a place that sold a bottle of wine for $8, which is a bit high but we were desperate to sit down. Did I mention that we were also wearing hats from the kids’ costume collection? After the wine, we went back to the house and chatted by the fire til well after the sun came up.