14 November 2011

Astute readers will notice that it's been rather a long time since I've written anything in my blog.  Like anything in life, there are a number of contributing factors to this.  On this occasion, firstly, laziness.  I'll admit that it takes some effort to organise myself to sit down and do some writing and I haven't been able to bring myself to do that, largely for the second reason - lack of spare time.  I'm keeping a pretty occupied life and when I have some quiet time, I prefer to leave it quiet and just relax, maybe have a little siesta, maybe just contemplate my navel.  That's how it goes some days.

So, why have I felt compelled to write again?  Some background first - I follow and internet forum about Chile that is largely written for us foreign types (extranjeros, which translates as "aliens") by us foreign types.  It's a great resource for when one has a problem, you put it out there, and you might receive some good advice, maybe you'll receive some crappy advice.  Chances are you'll receive SOME advice.  It's a useful thing.  Anyway, as it turns out, I have received a few emails in recent times all ending with the question, so how's Chile going?  In short, for me, things are trucking along nicely enough.  I've become reasonably used to how things operate - I'm in a reasonably comfortable place.  The language is still not easy, but I'm passable now.

The thing that brings these two lines of thought together is that one of the forero's who has moved here from the US to start a new life has been having a reasonably rough time of it in recent times and appears to now be completely fed-up and looking to leave to live somewhere else.  I feel for the guy - he's done it the hard way.  Packed up his life and moved to another country by himself without any of the support that I've had (people to organise my visa, for example).  So, he's reached the end of his tether with things here.  He has written a long and angry note on the forum and I'm reproducing it here to illustrate "How's Chile?"...  Hopefully I won't offend anyone by the blatant copy and paste.

Saludos,

A




Warning: Stupidity and Incompetence are Rampant in Chile


To those of you who are outside of Chile, you can expect many, many, many, many, encounters with stupidity and incompetence if you come here. My suggestion is to save yourself the trouble and go somewhere else.

The problems are pervasive and infuse every bit of contact you may have with other people, from drivers on the street to bank cashiers to tradesmen to real estate agents. No one seems to care about delivering quality service or a quality finished product. Crap is the rule. If someone manages to rise to the level of mediocre it’s a damn miracle.

Pedestrians are rude and inconsiderate. They will stand in groups at the top of the escalator in a busy mall and talk about their cousin´s girlfriend´s niece or some shit, oblivious to the fact that many people are trying to squeeze past them. They can´t be bothered to move 10 feet away and hold their conversation in the nearby alcove.

Gooey green gobs of dog shit can sit for days in the sun in front of city hall. No one even notices because it is so normal. So is the drunk slumped in the corner slobbering on himself. So are the sick and lame dogs everywhere, the aggressive and dangerous bus drivers, the petty thieves, etc. It´s just normal, everyday life here.

Office personnel will listen endlessly to whatever you have to say before they smile and politely give you wrong information. Office X sends you to Office Y, Office Y sends you to Office Z, Office Z sends you back to Office X and you start over. Nobody will say, "I´m sorry to hear about your problems (that we created for you), and I´m sorry I don´t have a solution for you, but I will try to find someone who can help you."

If that happened I think I would be shocked speechless. It would be like watching a dragon swoop in over the hilltop and breathe fire on to my neighbor's house and burn it to the ground. (I´d think...that was really cool.....can you do it again, but fry my other neighbor this time? You know, the one with the whiney kid and the unruly dog and really bad taste in colors and music. Yeah. That one ).

There are so many people here who just don't give a shit about doing a good job. It doesn´t matter to them that their failure to be conscientious, or increase their knowledge base, or elevate their level of service in any way really fucks with other people’s lives. They are perfectly happy with the role they play in maintaining their fucked up society. They are inept and indifferent, but we are forced to deal with them because they control access to vital services and documents, like reporting taxes and issuing visas.

Of course, this is common in the US, too, which is partly why I left. I used to refer to the US as "idiot nation". Sadly, I have come to the conclusion that Chile deserves the same, and worse.

Another conclusion, even darker, is that Chileans don´t want foreigners to come to Chile and try to be productive. If the Chilean government and the Chilean people wanted that, then things would be different. We would be able to open a bank account and we wouldn’t to spend MONTHS without so much as valid ID card (which THEY insist on us having) or a Chilean driver´s license (which THEY insist on us having). Simple things become complicated very quickly when you don’t have ID and can’t move around easily. It shouldn’t take several hours to pay your bills every month, but it does, because we can’t do it on-line and the mail service sucks and the public transport system sucks even worse, so we have to do in person with no valid ID and without permission to drive. All I have is a receipt from the post office that says I mailed a certified letter, a receipt that doesn’t mean anything to anybody. The carabineros don’t want to see that receipt. They want me to show them a valid Chilean driver’s license. The bankers don’t want to see the receipt, either. They want to see a valid Chilean ID card.

Why stay in a place where you are not wanted and a place where simple things are impossible to do because of massive indifference and incompetence? There are better options out there.

The caveat to not wanting foreigners in Chile is that they DO very much want your money. You will pay fees of all kinds, and be expected to tip as well, on top of the 19% value added tax that applies to virtually everything you buy. For that tax money, one might logically expect some kind of service from government employees. HA! What a joke. You get the same blank stares from clerks and secretaries in the city offices, in registro civil, and in the oficina de extranjería. They smile sweetly while they tell you that they can´t help you, you can’t get there from here, it sucks to be you and go fuck yourself. But pay first.

I am a mosquito trapped in Chilean spider web. I’m paralyzed without any valid documents, the struggle to get free is futile and it’s just a matter of time before the spider shows up.

The thought of a class action lawsuit has crossed my mind, but I seriously doubt that foreigners have legal standing for such a complaint. If they won’t give us access to their banking system, why in the world would they give us access to their legal system? That would be massively and unexpectedly stupid….but then….maybe just because of that, it might work. This is Chile, after all, and Chile is full of massive, unexpected stupidity.

It also sucks to live in a country where you can’t leave anything unlocked for more than 30 seconds. Two weeks ago I had 60 dollars worth of groceries stolen from my car while I walked over to the trash can to throw away a paper cup. I reacted slowly because I didn´t believe that anyone would be so audacious to stop their car, put my groceries in their car and drive away while I was 20 meters away. But it happened.

I left the US because I saw that it is in decline and I wanted to try to contribute to a society that was growing. I thought Chile was such a place. But not now. I don´t see any evidence that Chileans are willing and able to overcome their deficiencies, and therefore I expect to see the same old mierda year after year after year, and I´d rather spare myself that frustration.

My paradigms are shifting. I am no longer committed to staying in Chile long term. My original plan was to try it for 3-5 years and see how it goes, but I was also fairly committed to a longer term. I would not have bought a house if I had thought that I was going only going to fix it up and sell it, which seems to be my best course of action now. My design decisions would have been very different, I wouldn’t have taken in pets, I wouldn’t have bothered spending time and money on trying to start and promote a business. I would have kept things a lot simpler. Lesson learned. Now I’m three years in, and feeling really stupid myself because I fell for the allure of Chile’s natural beauty and I tricked myself into thinking that Chile was, somehow, different than any other Latin American country. Nope. Same stupid, Latin shit.

The idea of staying long term isn't very attractive anymore. That's gone. Ten years of this shit would just make the situation even worse. Chile won’t change. It will be the same fucked up country in ten years that it is now. The choice is to learn to accept it, or go somewhere else. I don´t think I want to lower my standards to the point of accepting this. I will actively start the same process I went through in 2001 when I decided I didn’t want to be part of US society any more. It’s time to make new plans and put this bullshit behind me.

7 November 2010

I think the fact that I’ve gone to bed so early has meant that I’ve also woken up quite early this morning, definitely before the sun is over the hills! I’ve slept very soundly, despite the altitude for at least the first six hours, but from then on, it’s been a bit restless, with having to go pee-pee being the first of a few disturbances. I manage to doze a few times and finally get up at around 7AM, feeling very lazy. Breakfast is a simple affair of cereal and milk, and a small craving for some toast that isn’t helpful given that I don’t have bread or a toaster.

It takes about an hour to finish brekky and get everything packed up again and onto the bike, and then I’m off. I have a plan to take an alternative route back to Copiapo, however I’m not so sure about how it will go. I’ve only seen one route in the area the turnoff is supposed to be, but it features a very large sign indicating that access is strictly forbidden by the traditional owners. This is a line in the sand that my “dumb tourist” routine won’t cross. Still, I’ll look a bit harder on the way back and see what I can see.

I tick off all of the sights I saw yesterday in my mind as I ride past them. I again find myself reflecting on how remote the area is, with every one of the little camps for livestock looking somewhat deserted, despite the animals hanging around. At about that exact second, not one, but two 4WD utes zooms towards me out of a corner. Not sure who got the bigger surprise, but there is enough room for both of us to pass by without trouble. I breathe a little sigh of relief that I’ve been riding carefully, sticking to my side of the road!

Every one of the possible alternative routes back to Copiapo turns out not to be viable. I pass back through the little settlement selling bread and other things and again flirt with the idea of buying some bread, just for the sake of it, however there looks to be a roaring trade in truck drivers here today. Can’t for the life of me imagine where they are going? Perhaps they are heading up to Cerro Casale? I decide to pass on through and before long find myself at the turn off where I originally had to decide about upstream or downstream. The road downstream looks sufficiently well used that I decide to have a go and see where it takes me. It heads in roughly the right direction to get me to Copiapo, but it certainly isn’t the one marked on the map, although it does now appear on my GPS, once I’ve adjusted it to show roads and rivers (which had somehow been turned off).

Within the first few kilometres, I realise why the road seems in well-used condition. It appears Boart Longyear are doing some drilling in the area and getting their water by truck from a point along this road. The appearance of the first truck couldn’t be worse timed. It comes at the narrowest point in the track so far – I come to a screeching halt, think about back pedalling but there isn’t time with the truck bearing down on me with no apparent diminution of its speed. There’s nowhere to go other than try and ride up onto the windrow beside the track that overlooks the river 15m below, as the other side of the track is a vertical face cut into the hill. Obviously being on a windrow overlooking a river with a large truck heading towards you is somewhat nerve-wracking, particularly when the driver doesn’t appear to give a damn about your existence. He squeezes past in the end with maybe 20cm to spare from the bike, while I fulfil my part of the deal by not overbalancing and falling down to a watery landing. I also don’t want to give the wrong impression when I say he squeezed past – that implies he slowed down and gingerly edged past. No such thing. I don’t think he dropped any speed whatsoever from before he saw me and until he passed. I was, as you might imagine, a little emotional at this point…

Having calmed down and pressing on, the road winds its way slowly down through all manner of tight corners and scenery. The valley is quite narrow, but has a definite human presence with a number of stock yards along the way. There’s a few other water trucks, all of which are much more courteous and I get a cheerful wave from all of them. At one point, when passing through a thickly treed grove adjacent to a farm, I meet another one, and both of us get a fright and pull off to our respective sides of the road. We exchange (genuine) pleasantries, and the driver warns me of another truck coming along behind. I remain tucked off the road until the second truck passes, again soliciting both a fright for him and a pleasant wave thereafter.

Continuing down, I soon meet an unexpected sight, with the owners of the previously mentioned farm driving a mob of horses and donkeys up the road to the farm towards me. As you might imagine on a remote narrow road, a mob of horses and donkeys might get a bit of a fright with a motorbike barrelling through them, so given that I need a break anyway, I pull off to the side of the road, climb up the side of the hill and pull out the camera. All animals involved are a bit skittish to see a motorbike and human parked on the edge of their otherwise simple road, however once the leaders nervously pass by, the others follow in a more sedate manner. The cowboys consist of Dad and a son who is perhaps around my age. Dad is playing it cool (or treating me with disdain), not giving me a second look, however I get a cheerful smile and wave from the son.

Back on the bike and downhill, before too long I start to see vineyards. It’s amazing how far up the valley they have come and are using up every bit of flat land the valley has, which isn’t much. They aren’t exactly recently planted either, with some of the trunks being quite thick. They’re well established and well-tended, fed by drip irrigation. It’s also a sign I’m heading in a reasonable direction. Another 10 k’s or so and I’m out onto the main road to the south of Copiapo. I recognise where I am with some surprise, as I’m a long way north of where I was expecting to come out. I have maybe half an hour to go until it is time for my scheduled call to my emergency contact to let him know I’m OK, so I high-tail it to the north. I find an area with mobile reception right on 12pm, call Samuel to let him know I’m OK, then I’m off again, back to Copiapo.

It’s hot again down in the lower valley, so I’m looking forward to getting home and getting out of the thick gear I’ve got on. I eventually don’t have much choice to stop however, as I run out of fuel about 30km before Tierra Amarilla. It’s been a fantastic run, with the speedo indicating about 380km from the tank, however I know that overestimates the distance a bit. I’d guess at around 350km, which is still not too bad! I strip off all of my heavy clothing, add in my 10L, pack everything away, and then cruise into Copiapo at around 1PM, just in time for lunch. Perfect. First things first though – unload the bike, have a shower and change clothes, then down to get a vanilla ice-cream! I can then head back to my apartment and satisfy the urge for toast.

Chau.

6 November 2010

It feels like a long time now since I had the bike out for a decent ride, but really, I’m sure it has only been a few weeks. The end of the year in Chile is approaching very rapidly for me. I’m off to Australia for most of December, with plans to continue on to Europe for most of January, followed by a work trip to Canada at the end of January. As such, I only have a few weekends left before a long time away, so I’m feeling the need to get out and about this weekend.

I have a tourist map of the area around Copiapo on which I mark off all of the roads that I have travelled (having stolen the idea from my work colleague Mike). There is one road that stands out as not having been travelled. It isn’t so much that I haven’t travelled all of it, but that I’ve only travelled some of it on one of my earlier trips. It is the one towards a pass into Argentina called Pircas Negras, and I was unable to go the whole distance previously because of the distance involved and a perception on my behalf that I wouldn’t have enough petrol in the tank to make the journey. Having subsequently done a few long trips, I am now much more confident that I’d be able to do the trip with the fuel I carry in the main tank of the bike, but I’ve also purchased some spare containers and carry 10L extra, which is good for another 170km or so. All in all, the distance to the border is now well within my reach.

It takes a couple of hours to get all of my stuff organised out of my bodega (storage unit), packed up for a night camping under the stars and then loaded on to the bike, but I’m eventually ready to rumble. Off I go to the south of Copiapo and boy, it’s hot with all of the gear that I’m wearing. I’ve decided to wear a fair bit of the clothing I know that I’ll need later in the afternoon once I get up into the cold of the mountains, not to mention tonight, but at the moment, I’m cooking myself.

I get fully fuelled up in Tierra Amarilla (at the last petrol station on the route), then head further south through Nantoco. Not much further and I turn left, leaving the much-loved bitumen behind and heading off onto the dirt. This section of the dirt road is fairly well traversed and in pretty good condition, so I can get along at a reasonable pace. I’m surprised to find that I remember a lot of the route, to the point where I even remember what is coming around the next corner, so I feel like I’m travelling along quite nicely and that I’ll be at Pircas Negras in no time at all. There’s a few cars coming in the other direction that provide a kind of company for me, although it seems a bit like waving to the other traffic isn’t really the done thing here – perhaps the truckies do it, as they are the one’s who tend to wave back, rather than the car drivers?

Through one of the areas of switch-backs, I come across a low-loader carrying a front-end loader. It’s crawling its way up the hill, generating quite a bit of dust, so it is a relief to find a suitable passing place before too long! The escort vehicle waves me past as well and then I’m back to my own thoughts, remembering where there was snow last time I was here and remembering the vicious wind at the crest of the hill just ahead. I stop at the crest and again, the wind is tearing through here, but not as strongly as last time. I’m at about 3,000m and it is now quite cool and I’m already thankful that I’m wearing everything I put on earlier, despite the heat lower down in the valley. It’s the first stop I’ve made in about 100km, which must be a near record for me in comparison with my original need for stretching after no more than 50km when I first got the bike. This point also looks to be quite a common place for a break, as there is a bunch of other 4WD’s here this afternoon, with more visible on the road coming up from the east.

The arrival of the low-loader escort vehicle brings me back to reality and I recommence the journey. I estimate that I’m perhaps half way to my destination and it’s still only early in the day. I idly wonder if I can make it to Pircas Negras and back today…

Onwards and downwards into the next valley, I’m rather tentative heading downhill on the gravel roads. I have no desire to have the front wheel slide out from under me while heading down the steep roads here, particularly when the corners tend to have very little guarding on them and there is a long slope downwards from here. After what seems a long time, I finally get to the bottom. The geology on the way down has been fascinating – another reason for taking things slowly is so that I can have time to look out and see the world.

The bottom of the valley presents a challenge. There is a fork in the road that isn’t on the map that I have. My GPS isn’t too much use here either as the fork doesn’t show up on its map. I decide to take a bit of a chance with the upstream route rather than the downstream route. It seems obvious, and so it turns out. I’ve been waiting for a small landmark (settlement or area) on the map to appear, and around only a few more corners (through impossibly narrow chasms), the valley opens out into paddocks of a green crop which looks like it might be lucerne? Either way, it is obviously a farmed crop, and before too long, I see the houses of the farmers, their goats, horses and so on. Looks like a pretty tough life up here with few luxuries – the horses stand sleepily next to the poles they are tethered to outside the huts which look half dug into the ground. The huts themselves have walls made of stacked rocks, a timber-framed roof and have a tarpaulin stretches over the top. Pretty basic, and I can’t help but wonder how much warmth they retain in the night, or just as importantly, how much of the howling icy gale finds its way through the gaps. Perhaps this is only a non-winter kind of place? There is also a shop from which the sign says that I can buy bread, drinks and snacks, but somehow I have my doubts about getting fresh bread here, which is the one thing I have realised I have forgotten.

Before the end of this little scattered community is done, I realise why the front-end loader is on its way up the hills – there is a whole bunch of roadworks going on. I come to a stop where the guy holding the sign is. He seems rather confused about seeing a tourist, but I manage to soothe his nerves (or just confuse him more?) when I indicate that I’m going on a different road to the one that the rest of the roadworks are on. Either way, he indicates that I can pass, so off I go.

From here on in, I know that I’m in a pretty remote kind of place. I see no other humans for the rest of the day, although there are signs of them being about – huts off in the distance on the other side of the valley, inhabited by people tending to the herds of donkeys / horses / goats that are scattered about wherever there is an area of sufficient grass on the floor of the valley for them to graze. The hills are again barren…

The road also deteriorates, with many more potholes and corrugations, not to mention being considerably narrower than previously. I can’t help but shiver every now and again, perhaps a little with the cold air now that the sun has left the valley floor for the day, but also perhaps with the realisation that if I have an accident, it might be a long time before I’m found (I do have a satellite phone, as well as a rescue plan that kicks in tomorrow afternoon, but still…). I make my way along at not much more than 50 or 60km/h.

As I approach the Chilean border checkpoint for Pircas Negras, I pass the turnoff to the Cerro Casale Project, a high-altitude porphyry system. I’m half tempted to ride on in and see if anyone is there, but the size of the mountain is daunting, not to mention the snow cover and possibility of having to make some creek crossings along the way. I decide that I don’t like the possibility of having wet feet, not to mention that it wasn’t on my route plan, so I continue on. The plain here has a large selection of wildlife (donkeys and horses), all of which are curious at the intrusion into their otherwise peaceful lives.

The checkpoint is abandoned, as I knew it would be, but it looks in good enough condition to resume operations immediately as I ride up to it. Closer inspection reveals that might be a bit optimistic, as I can now see some of the doors are open, some of the wall and roof cladding is not so well attached, and there is a bit of a state of disrepair to it. Not too bad, but I can imagine that it can’t be too long before looters take off with many of the pieces still here. I make a mental note that it might be a good place to camp later on. There is a simple boom gate blocking access along the main road, but a well-used diversion allows me to ride around this without fuss. There is also a much more secure boom gate, complete with chain and padlock, another few hundred metres up the road. This time the diversion road is not so well used, disappearing across the pampa through gullies and loose gravel that I am unwilling to risk on the bike while I am here on my own. Closer inspection of the boom gate shows a small opportunity to the side where a bike might fit through, which mine fortunately does, and off I go again towards the border.

This part of the road is very infrequently used. It climbs up and out of the valley, snaking its way up the mountain. Very few tyre tracks are evident, and there has been a fair amount of small rockfalls in the road cuttings that means it is unlikely too many vehicles have been up here in quite a while. I pick my way through cautiously, and keep climbing, stopping only to take photos of Cerro Casale. I get to a point where I start to begin to think that I might be able to actually reach the border markers, but then, poop, there’s a gate. The type of gate that it won’t be possible to pass. Seriously concreted in place at a point where the road is cut into the hill – there’s no going around! I’m convinced that I can see the top of the hill where the border will be – perhaps only another 400m or so. It’s too far to walk in my current boots, which remove skin from my toes when walking faster than a cheese grater, not to mention the time of day (sun is setting rapidly) and the altitude (my GPS shows about 4,400m although this isn’t super accurate). I look for other alternatives and am surprised to see a rough track heading up through the gully below me. I flirt with the idea of having a go for about a second, however cowardice/common sense remind me of where I am and I accept that I’ve reached the limit of what is possible here. It’s time to head back to the border checkpoint while there is still light and make myself comfortable for the night.

The route back down is slow and steady – again, no desire for problems at this time of day. I ride around the final barrier between me and camp and breathe a sigh that is a mixture of relief and exhilaration. It’s been a fabulous day and quite an adventure. Now, where to sleep? There are a number of options that I discover around the place. Obviously I can sleep out in the open, however there are a number of doors to the buildings that are open, and although none of the areas are spotlessly clean, I end up choosing the least dirty. One little office looked like it might be quite good, however the odour from the en-suite ended up being a bit more than I could accept – it seems other travellers had decided that the toilet might be a good place for a dump, despite there obviously being no water in which to flush the residue. I was also to find this in a number of other places, including on that looked like a storeroom for toilets, with a good half a dozen of them having been used. Other visitors, not liking the idea of dumping into an unconnected toilet, had simply used the floor of that particular room. Not so nice.

My bedroom for the night ended up being in a room that was perhaps a small dining hall or similar. I pushed the big table out of the way, cleaned the floor as best I could (note to self – buy a small bannister brush for such occasions), rolled out the swag, and all was good with the world. Dinner consisted of a can of stewed porotos (much better than it sounds) and a packet of mixed vegetables, washed down with a swig of surprisingly warm water out of my bottle in the luggage box.

I kick back on the swag listening to the wind howl through the buildings, pleased with the fact I’d found somewhere indoors to camp. I ducked outside every once in a while as the light faded and the stars became visible. The sky is brilliantly clear, although far too much moonlight to be able to appreciate the stars on their own. Nonetheless, it’s a spectacular night – the moonlit mountains being spectacular enough.

I stretch things out until about 9.30PM, at which time I feel the need for sleep. Not so sure how I’ll go sleeping at this altitude (over 3,000m) – rumour is it can be a bit tough on your first night at altitude, but we’ll see how it goes!

Buenas noches!

1 November 2010

After a long sleep in (again), today is a bit of a lazy day to look around Temuco before my flight home in the afternoon. There’s not really a lot to report from today other than a visit to Cerro Nielol, which is the hill around which the town is built and provides generous views across the countryside, despite not being particularly elevated. It is mostly forested and quite a nice drive up to the summit lookout.

Probably the highlight of the day is the flight back to Santiago, which features the clearest air that I’ve had for any of my flights around Chile so far. It seems I can see forever, and the snow-capped peaks are fantastic. I play “spot the volcano”, which isn’t particularly challenging, as there is a line of them along the Andes (obviously enough), but at one stage, I reckon I can see 7 of them in my field of view. I get a buzz out of that!

The paddocks we fly over are also pleasing to the eye with their irregular geometric patterns, not to mention the patches of starkly yellow crop, which I will presume to be canola until someone tell eventually tells me differently. Suffice to say that for the one hour flight, I spend most of my time glued to the window with my camera.

Not much to report about Santiago (other than the clear air and the view of the mountains over the city), other than indulging again in yet another chai latte from Starbucks. I still haven’t found one outside of Santiago and Valparaiso, despite being convinced that in a tourist haven like Pucon I’d be sure to find one, there was none to be found there.

Back to reality in Copiapo… I catch the transfer bus back to town, rather than the private taxi I normally take. All goes well to begin with, with the exception of the bloke who decides he wants to be dropped off along the way. The bus driver seems to think that he means just on the side of the road, but no, that isn’t what was meant. Just down this side road. OK, so down the side road we go. Just up to this corner, then turn left. Then along for a while, then turn right. OK, now down this road to the left. Yep, a bit further, then the road on the right. Yeah, that house over there on the left, yep, perfect. Thanks very much. Only 5 minutes off the road – a couple of kilometres. Without a navigator now, it takes 10 minutes to find our way back to the highway. Suffice to say, no-one is impressed…

Nonetheless, back to Copiapo, back to my apartment and back to my own bed. Ted isn’t impressed with the hours that I keep and gives me the silent treatment…

Another weekend of adventure and excitement comes to an end.

Saludos,

Andrew

31 October 2010

While waking up is not usually THE most exciting thing that it is possible to do in this world, today, by the time I have wiped the sleep from my eyes and become fully awake, I’m as excited as Big Kev used to be (for the non-Australians, simply search the web for “Big Kev” if you want to know more). I’ve had the best night’s sleep for a long time. No dogs barking. No traffic noise. Just peace and quiet. How’s the serenity? Better than Bonnie Doon, I reckon! Something else to confuse the non-Australians…


Breakfast is a surprise. I have supplies for a simple breakfast of cereal and toast, however my host, the lovely Carolina (fluent in Spanish, English and French) and her assistant Etienne (her beautifully mannered son of around 6-8 years old) provides breakfast as well, which I obviously hadn’t expected. Delicious eggs from their own chooks, very delicious home-made bread, not to mention the local honey and jams, followed up with a cup of tea. Very highly recommended for anyone in the vicinity of Pucon! See www.facebook.com/maisonnomade, km 15 Pucon.Caburgua, nomadepucon@gmail.com, ph. +56 8293 6388.

After brekky, it’s off to see the vicinity! The sun is shining at this moment through a hole in the clouds, vegetation (and my, isn’t there a lot of it, shockingly green in the bright light) glistening with drops of water, Carolina’s pair of hounds racing madly around the yard, not to mention the three kids zooming around happily, and I haven’t even left the front gate yet. There’s still a little bit of cloud hanging around, so not everything is yet visible, but I can see enough to know that this area (both generally and specifically) is fairly gifted in terms of scenery.

I’m off towards Caburgua to see the lake and scenery. The hills are all covered in trees, the little patchwork farmlets, wandering animals, rambling blackberry bushes, fluffy clouds, cool but not cold – just perfect…

Wandering into the little town on the shore of the lake, I’m again taken by the view. The lake is still, framed by the same tree-covered hills I’ve been admiring all along the route, and in the background, the top of one of the hills is covered in freshly fallen snow. While the weather is far too cool for me to even think about swimming, not to mention my childhood memories of thermally stratified lakes (where the top 30cm or so is pleasantly warm, but the layer of water underneath is very cold), there are a few brave/foolhardy lads (amongst a larger group – all up, maybe 10) who have ventured into the water and are splashing about having a great time. It doesn’t take too long before they leave the water again, and at that point, I notice that they may be somewhat fortified against the cold. There are some bottles amongst the group that look suspiciously like beer bottles… I wonder if last night’s revelries have simply continued into this morning?

I walk down to the edge of the lake on the dark grey-coloured sand. It’s a bit off-putting for an Aussie who is used to white sandy beaches, but I soon realise that the sand is indeed sandy and not clayey as I expected. It is just that the source rocks are grey coloured, rather than the quartz-rich rocks that supply material for Australian beaches. I remember the same on the beaches of Krakatoa! There is a small ramp leading out into the lake that I walk out on and admire the extraordinarily clear water. I check the water temperature with my hand and yes, it is rather cold. The lads swimming are even crazier than I thought they might be!

Back to the car and off on a drive around the lake, I appear to have chosen a route that ends in a dead-end after a couple of kilometres. There is what looks like a boatshed down on the edge of the water and a well-used gap in the fence near it. Given that no-one is around, I park next to an extremely rustic fence, slip through the gap and head on down towards the water. It is clearly meant to be a tourist type area, given the little kiosks scattered around, however all are currently closed due to it not being tourist season. I therefore don’t feel too guilty about wandering around, even though it might be argued that the area is closed off. I might have mentioned before that one of the benefits of being a gringo (or tourist anywhere for that matter) is blissful ignorance of some of the ‘rules’ that locals know? Tee hee hee!!

The beach here is much more inviting – a lovely cream colour that feels much more like home. I wander idly for a while, enjoying the sun and the view. Idyllic, and no wonder the Pucon area is a bit of a new-age, transcendental kind of place. It certainly is very peaceful and relaxing.

As it is approaching lunchtime, so my tummy rumbles seem to be saying, it’s back to the car and return to Maison Nomade to collect my stuff and depart. By now, the cloud has lifted that much further that the tops of the hills are more clearly visible and I am stunned to see one sticking out well above the others. I haven’t seen it earlier for some reason, but the volcano Villarica is towering over the other hills surrounding it. At first glance, it seems to be a volcano-shaped cloud, but with more time it is apparent that the whole thing is now coated in fresh snow and is just gloriously beautiful in the sunlight. It even seems to be lightly smoking, or is it just powder snow being blown off the summit – hard to be sure, but I think it was smoke! The realisation of how big it is and how close it is give added meaning to the signs and notices around the place of what to do if the volcano erupts! It’s got a bit of the “Dante’s Peak” feel to it, although thankfully there is no need to drive across a lava flow on this visit!

On arrival back at Maison Nomade, it seems that Carolina has prepared lunch and it is possible to join her and her family for a Chilean lunch. I can’t rave enough about porotos (for those of Australian experience, imagine baked beans, but without the sauce and a little bit less mushy) – these were in a soup that was just fantastic – many thanks Carolina! The kids, particularly Etienne, are interested in the strange gringo!

Packing up and heading off, it is quite late in the day. The drive back to Temuco is done with the sun setting towards the coast. The fresh air, mountains, rivers snow and scenery have been a tonic and I’ve enjoyed my brief taste of this part of the world immensely. I imagine it would be chaotic in tourist season, but outside of that, it is highly recommended.

Chao for now!

Andrew