Things have been relatively uneventful since my last update, but I will update none the less.
We went camping just outside of the Parque Nacional Chiloé the night before last, which was all in all a very strange experience. We got off the bus without really having a clue what we were doing, where we were staying, and really anything about the place where we had been dropped off. We walked along the road for a while and inquired about some hostels, then ended up deciding to camp at a little place by the lake where we could enjoy hot showers (supposedly) and legal fires at our own camp site. After an unfortunate event that left molly $160 poorer and without a debit card, we decided a nice boat ride would be a good idea to cheer us up. Although there was a nice, cozy motorboat at the end of the dock just waiting to take people out on the lake, I thought it would be nice to take a row boat and enjoy the peace and quiet. "Do you know how to use the oars?" the man asked me in something that I assume must have been Spanish. "Of course I know how to use oars." "Are you sure you know how to use oars? Ok, here you go." And we were off. It turns out that the oars are really heavy and difficult to manage, and that I don´t actually have much of a clue as to what I´m doing. But somehow we managed to make a zig-zagged circle (not that that´s even geometrically posssible) before ditching our pride and bringing it back to the dock.
After our little excursion on the water, we thought one on land might fare better, so we headed out on a trail that indicated a playa (that means beach) on the other end. For the first 15 minutes I was certain that I must be dreaming, although I´m afriad my words won´t really be able to convey how surreal the entire situation was. We were walking on a sandy path through jagged shrubs and trees that looked as if they had come out of a Dr. Seuss book and stumbled awkwardly into reality. The sun was setting, making the mountains in the distance appear like a backdrop on a stage rather than massive piles of earth hundreds of miles away. Every now and then we would pass a pony -- no more than 4 feet tall -- nibbling on the scratchy grass, and every few minutes a group of Chilean people would pass us by with their arms loaded up with twigs, beer, or towels. We could hear the Pacific ocean roaring in the distance, and it seemed entirely appropriate for a unicorn to gallop up to us just in time to save us from a massive earth quake and the sky turning yellow as plants came alive and cows began to float up to the heavens. Fortunately the majority of the last sentence is fictional, although we wouldnt have been too terribly surprised if it actually happened. Needless to say, we got tired of this pseudo dream and decided to turn back. The night was excellent -- we had a glorious fire on which we cooked our little hot dogs and enjoyed a cold beer (or I did, anyhow) and then we laid on the peir listening to Sufjan and looking at the stars. When we came back to the site our neighbors invited us to come enjoy their fire, since ours was dying, and proceeded to offer us drinks, snacks, and several hours worth of fun conversation. The next morning they came over and invited us to join them for lunch, which was perfect since we had actually run out of food and only had half a container of nescafe and a jar of mermelada (jam). After lunch we re-ventured out on the dream path, which was much less dream-like in broad daylight, and made it to the beach of the Pacific Ocean. This beach was unlike any I´ve ever seen, and seemed profound in some wordless way. Molly had a good swim and we both enjoyed tossing our things in the sand and playing in the powerful waves like a pair of small children. It was awesome.
Anyhow, we made it back to Castro, caught a bus to Puerto Montt just as an intermediary stop (thank God -- it was the first place where we have really felt uncomfortable here in Chile. Some really shady guys were whistling and saying crude things at us as we were walking to get dinner. it was not so awesome) then the next morning got on another bus to another town where we caught another bus and now we´re in Futrono, trying to muster up one last hurrah for our last 3 days, although I am so tired from traveling that pretty much the only thing that sounds good right now (besides chinese food) is my own room back in Viña where I don´t have to figure out busses, hostels, or what to do with myself all the time. This month of traveling has been awesome and wonderful and all other similar adjectives, but all good things must come to an end and this one´s end is finally approaching. I will heave a huge sigh when I arrive at my house in Viña, put down my backpack, and settle into a nice conversation with my host mom.
One other thing that is worth commenting on, although it doesn´t really fall in any chronological placement, is that Molly and I have become so close that we actually think the same things a very large portion of the time. Probably 20 times or more in a day one of us says something and the other says "I was just thinking those exact words". Or sometimes we´ll say the same thing at the same time, maybe one of us saying it in Spanish and one in English. It´s so awesome it´s almost creepy.
Anyhow, I think that´s about it. I guess I had a lot to say for not having a lot to say. My appologize if it crossed the line into boring. Feel free to send me a cyber-slap.
But for now I just send you my love and these few words.
Ciao.
Feb 26, 2009
Feb 24, 2009
amigos!!!
God hears our prayers -- all of them. And not just those that we begin saying Dear God with our hands folded, but those that we write in journals, those that we unknowingly think, and those that rise up from conversations with friends. He hears them all and He loves to answer them!
The night before last Molly and I were talking about how much we wished we could make some friends. We really hadn´t met anyone to hang out with since Pucon about 2 weeks ago, and really the people you meet traveling make the whole experience. So, the next morning (that´s yesterday) we got up with a vague plan to visit this look out point then catch a bus to Cucau, the town from which you enter the National Park of Chiloe. The look out point turned out to be really lame (with the exception of one especially funny moment that had to do with a dead end road, too much coffee for breakfast, and an unexpected vehicle) so we decided to head back to the highway to find a bus to take us to a nearby island that I had read was pretty cool. After walking for a while without seeing the bus we needed (or maybe we did, but we didnt know it was the one we wanted) we decided to give hitchiking a try again. After a quick prayer for safety we stuck out our thumbs, and literally within seconds a car pulled over and opened the door. We got in the car with three guys around our age who were going to Dalcahue, the departure city for the island we wanted to go to. After a couple of minutes of silence I figured I should try to start some conversation, so I asked where they were from. Turns out they are all from Valparaiso (the city where we will be studyding) and they are friends from scouts, gonig on vacation for a few weeks. We chatted all the way to Dalcahue, and when we got out we all kind of wandered around together, unsure if we should say our goodbyes or ask if they wanted to accompany us to the island. Before we could even ask them, they invited us to ride with them across the ferry to the island. Before we knew it, we were touring the whole island with our new friends, Esteban, Francisco, and Marco. We taught them english words (such as "shady", which has become our favorite english word to teach people. it is very useful. for example, "hitch hikers are usually very shady") and they taught us Chileanismos as we drove from town to town, taking pictures, getting out at the look out points, and checking out the various artesan markets. We ended up spending the whole day with them, letting them drive us around the island to see what there was to see -- which turned out to be the best thing that could have happened because it would have been much more lame and much less fun to try to do the same thing using the bus system. They were miraculously not shady, and very friendly. Also, it was very refreshing to be able to understand their spanish. The accent in Chiloe is especially difficult to understand, so we were starting to be discouraged and thinking that we could not, in fact, speak Spanish at all. However, we held an entire day´s worth of conversation with our new friends.
On the way back to Castro they were talking about going kayaking with their friend who is in the Navy stationed there, and we realized that if we joined them we wouldn´t make the last bus to Cucau. So we decided to stay another night. That´s the joy of not actually having plans and of knowing that God actually has our entire itinerary planned out for us already. So we told them we were going to find a hostel to stay in for one more night, and they mentioned that a bunch of people had just left from the house where they were staying. So we stopped by to ask the señora if there was room, and there was -- and it was cheaper and ten times more awesome (and included breakfast) than the place we had been staying. So we got our stuff, made ourselves comfortable in our room, and changed into kayaking clothes. We went kayaking (for free) with their friend, Marcello, out in the bay, and took a break on the beach on the other side to walk around and talk about life, sea lions, and funny words in Spanish. When we got back we ate stale cereal out of the back of their car and chatted -- another answer to a prayer, because Molly and I had been talking about how much we had been craving cereal. It was fantastic. We changed clothes and went out for dinner, then they drove us out to a look out point just outside of town where we could see the whole city twinkling in the reflection of the sea. It had the potential to be the ultimate in shady experiences -- going out into the dark with three guys we just met hitch hiking today -- but we could tell they are good guys and didn´t want to do anything bad. Plus our God is taking care of us and He let us know it was ok. It was beautiful, and afterwards we came back and played pool before retiring back to the house to chat over tea with the señora. Then Esteban got out his guitar and played beautiful, wonderful music on his guitar that was missing a string, then we taught them how to swing and two-step. It was the best day ever, and God answered so many prayers. Today they dropped us off in town where we said our goodbyes and made plans to get together in Valparaíso so they can show us the good places to go out and so we can get to know each other more.
So, here are just a few of the prayers God answered just in one day:
-making new friends
-cereal
-listening to/playing/singing along with a guitar
-give us a plan where we had none
-kayaking
-showing us that we can, in fact, speak Spanish
-eating real food
-having friends to hang out with back in Valparaíso
All of these are things that I journaled about or talked to Molly about or prayed about or just reflected on in the quiet moments.
PRAISE GOD!!!! He is awesome.
So now we are waiting for the bus to Cucau, where we will stay for a night or two, see the Park, then start making our way back up north and we start orientation on Monday. I can hardly believe that we only have 5 days of traveling left!!! It has been a great time and I´m excited to make the most of the last bit of time, but it will also be great to settle down with our host families and keep our clothes in a dresser instead of a backpack, to eat cereal and cold milk for breakfast, and to begin to establish patterns and friends in the place that we will call home for the next 5 months. And I am very excited to see the new ways that God shows me His mercy and grace and EXTRAVAGANT love.
p.s. - i have sent some post cards, and i am curious to see how long it takes to get there. so if you get one in the mail let me know.
also, i know i say it every time, but please comment! its so comforting just to know that people are reading this, even if you just say "hi".
love love love,
catie
The night before last Molly and I were talking about how much we wished we could make some friends. We really hadn´t met anyone to hang out with since Pucon about 2 weeks ago, and really the people you meet traveling make the whole experience. So, the next morning (that´s yesterday) we got up with a vague plan to visit this look out point then catch a bus to Cucau, the town from which you enter the National Park of Chiloe. The look out point turned out to be really lame (with the exception of one especially funny moment that had to do with a dead end road, too much coffee for breakfast, and an unexpected vehicle) so we decided to head back to the highway to find a bus to take us to a nearby island that I had read was pretty cool. After walking for a while without seeing the bus we needed (or maybe we did, but we didnt know it was the one we wanted) we decided to give hitchiking a try again. After a quick prayer for safety we stuck out our thumbs, and literally within seconds a car pulled over and opened the door. We got in the car with three guys around our age who were going to Dalcahue, the departure city for the island we wanted to go to. After a couple of minutes of silence I figured I should try to start some conversation, so I asked where they were from. Turns out they are all from Valparaiso (the city where we will be studyding) and they are friends from scouts, gonig on vacation for a few weeks. We chatted all the way to Dalcahue, and when we got out we all kind of wandered around together, unsure if we should say our goodbyes or ask if they wanted to accompany us to the island. Before we could even ask them, they invited us to ride with them across the ferry to the island. Before we knew it, we were touring the whole island with our new friends, Esteban, Francisco, and Marco. We taught them english words (such as "shady", which has become our favorite english word to teach people. it is very useful. for example, "hitch hikers are usually very shady") and they taught us Chileanismos as we drove from town to town, taking pictures, getting out at the look out points, and checking out the various artesan markets. We ended up spending the whole day with them, letting them drive us around the island to see what there was to see -- which turned out to be the best thing that could have happened because it would have been much more lame and much less fun to try to do the same thing using the bus system. They were miraculously not shady, and very friendly. Also, it was very refreshing to be able to understand their spanish. The accent in Chiloe is especially difficult to understand, so we were starting to be discouraged and thinking that we could not, in fact, speak Spanish at all. However, we held an entire day´s worth of conversation with our new friends.
On the way back to Castro they were talking about going kayaking with their friend who is in the Navy stationed there, and we realized that if we joined them we wouldn´t make the last bus to Cucau. So we decided to stay another night. That´s the joy of not actually having plans and of knowing that God actually has our entire itinerary planned out for us already. So we told them we were going to find a hostel to stay in for one more night, and they mentioned that a bunch of people had just left from the house where they were staying. So we stopped by to ask the señora if there was room, and there was -- and it was cheaper and ten times more awesome (and included breakfast) than the place we had been staying. So we got our stuff, made ourselves comfortable in our room, and changed into kayaking clothes. We went kayaking (for free) with their friend, Marcello, out in the bay, and took a break on the beach on the other side to walk around and talk about life, sea lions, and funny words in Spanish. When we got back we ate stale cereal out of the back of their car and chatted -- another answer to a prayer, because Molly and I had been talking about how much we had been craving cereal. It was fantastic. We changed clothes and went out for dinner, then they drove us out to a look out point just outside of town where we could see the whole city twinkling in the reflection of the sea. It had the potential to be the ultimate in shady experiences -- going out into the dark with three guys we just met hitch hiking today -- but we could tell they are good guys and didn´t want to do anything bad. Plus our God is taking care of us and He let us know it was ok. It was beautiful, and afterwards we came back and played pool before retiring back to the house to chat over tea with the señora. Then Esteban got out his guitar and played beautiful, wonderful music on his guitar that was missing a string, then we taught them how to swing and two-step. It was the best day ever, and God answered so many prayers. Today they dropped us off in town where we said our goodbyes and made plans to get together in Valparaíso so they can show us the good places to go out and so we can get to know each other more.
So, here are just a few of the prayers God answered just in one day:
-making new friends
-cereal
-listening to/playing/singing along with a guitar
-give us a plan where we had none
-kayaking
-showing us that we can, in fact, speak Spanish
-eating real food
-having friends to hang out with back in Valparaíso
All of these are things that I journaled about or talked to Molly about or prayed about or just reflected on in the quiet moments.
PRAISE GOD!!!! He is awesome.
So now we are waiting for the bus to Cucau, where we will stay for a night or two, see the Park, then start making our way back up north and we start orientation on Monday. I can hardly believe that we only have 5 days of traveling left!!! It has been a great time and I´m excited to make the most of the last bit of time, but it will also be great to settle down with our host families and keep our clothes in a dresser instead of a backpack, to eat cereal and cold milk for breakfast, and to begin to establish patterns and friends in the place that we will call home for the next 5 months. And I am very excited to see the new ways that God shows me His mercy and grace and EXTRAVAGANT love.
p.s. - i have sent some post cards, and i am curious to see how long it takes to get there. so if you get one in the mail let me know.
also, i know i say it every time, but please comment! its so comforting just to know that people are reading this, even if you just say "hi".
love love love,
catie
Feb 22, 2009
Some photos
<< here i am with some of our puppy friends
here he is catching the sheep we ate 
in Emma´s shop admiring her work
here he is catching the sheep we ate
here we are eating our illegally cooked hotdogs
in Emma´s shop admiring her work
Cook rock formation at the beach in Quemchi
Feb 21, 2009
from puppy love to sheep slaughter
I am sitting in an internet cafe in Castro, the capital of the island of Chiloe, surrounded by teenage boys playing some kind of dragon video game on the computers around me. And when i leave here I am going to the Festival Costumbrista, which is not only full of some of the best food, smells, and sights of the island, but that has attracted thousands of people from all around Chile and the world.
But first, a brief catch-up.
Quemchi was really relaxing, and right before we left we went for a brief walk on the beach where God stepped in once again to give us a little present just to remind us how much He loves us. Puppies. Yes, we were walking down the beach, picking wild blackberries as we went, when we came upon 11 tiny puppies running about on the rocky beach. Needless to say, we stopped for a good while to cuddle, play with, and take pictures of these perritos. The mom was glad for the break and took the opportunity to hang out with her dog friends a little ways up the beach. It was amazing. We decided that someone should name an alcoholic beverage after this experience: instead of sex on the beach, puppies on the beach. Even better.
Then we grabbed some lunch in a little restaurant, where a group of three guys from Santiago came in and promptly introduced themselves. We didn´t stay and chat long, because we had to catch a bus, but we saw them again later when we were waiting for the bus and they were coming out of the restaurant, and Claudio, the more talkative of the three, came up and told us he had a gift for us: two roses made out of napkins and a little piece of paper with his number on it. it was very funny.
We went from the sleepy town of Quemchi out to the country, to the house of a sweet lady named Emma for a taste of what day-to-day life means for her and her family. It really is amazing the amount of faith we are having to put in God in this trip -- we really didn´t know where we were going, what we were getting ourselves into, how we would get there, or anything. We just hopped on a bus with all our things and showed the bus driver the address and asked him to tell us when we should get off. And, praise God, we made it there on a long, dusty road, where Emma and her grandaughter were waiting for us with smiles and a pair of kisses to plant on each of our cheeks. She owns a small artesan shop, a bar-b-q pit type place, and a farm where they produce nearly all of what they consume and sell, from honey to marmelade to meat to the yarn she uses to make her blankets and shawls. When we got to the house she served us some bread that just came out of the oven, some tasty potato thing, and, of course, coffee. We have noticed that every time we get somewhere new God is there to welcome us with a cup of coffee in various forms -- sometimes with milk, sometimes with sugar, sometimes with fake milk, sometimes with nothing.... but whatever the case He´s always there to remind us He´s taking care of us. I think coffee has kind of come to symbolize that...
Later that evening Emma´s son drove us, his sister, and his neice into town to see the old church and to walk down a path by where the river spills into the ocean where he and his sisters used to play and pick blackberries when they were little. We had dinner at about 9:30 that night, which I expected to be something small due to the large snack that accompanied our coffee (here this kind of snack is called once, althoug I cant figure out why) but it soon became apparent that this was not the case. They led us up the hill in the frigid summer night to the fogon (the bbq place) where they proceeded to cook a massive amount of all kinds of meat over a big indoor bonfire. It was just meat in oil, maybe with some cilantro and salt, then we had a couple of potatoes to accompany it. It was so amazing -- words cannot describe. Mmm... to be a carnivore...
That night we snuggled up completely full in our beds while Oryan sparkled upside down from the magestic sky on the other side of the tin roof. In the morning we had more delicious homemade food -- including homemade plum jelly that is quite possibly the best thing i´ve ever put in my mouth -- and spent a long time just sitting around, watching the weather try to make up its mind between sunshine and rain. Because of the weather we really couldnt do much, so we spent a disproportionate part of the day watching disney chanel movies and sipping on coffee in the company of four generations of women in this family. Emma´s mother sat quietly watching life race on around her, Emma was constantly at the stove making marvellous things for us to eat, her daughters conversing and entertaining the youngest, Emma´s grandaughter, as she played with her hot pink My Little Pony on the floor. It was pretty sweet. Except for when it got to the point of excess, and our faces were slowly getting longer and longer as we entered that dangerous trance of television´s inactivity. Eventually we were able to go out with Rita, the youngest daughter who is in her 3rd year studying Social Work, to pick plums and apples in the back pasture. There is something terribly exciting about fruit trees to me. And the knowledge that these same plums might someday be turned into Emma´s magically delicious jelly. Then later they saddled up the horse so we could ride around for a little while. Then, when we asked if there was anything we could do to help, Emma told us we should go out to help them herd some sheep. Actually, we thought she said something about we should take a walk up the street to see crazy people playing soccer, but it turns out we were walking to the back pasture to herd sheep. The whole spanish-speaking thing is going great, as you can see. At any rate, we helped the family herd the sheep, then watched the husband tie one up and load it in a wheelbarrow and, smiling with his two-toothed smile, he told us it was lunch tomorrow. Then they invited us to watch them slaughter it. So we did. We watched them bleed it out, cut its head off, skin it, scoop out the guts, feed the livers and heart to the dogs, then hang it up in the shed. Then today we watched them skewer it all on a giant stick and cook it over a fire behind the fogon. Then we ate it for lunch today, and it was delicious. It was a very different experience, and I think it was good. I think that anyone who eats meat should be ok with seeing it go from animal to meat. Not the prettiest thing to see, but its part of life.
Anyhow, after that we had a small snacky dinner, watched a awful, tacky movie on tv, and went to sleep. We woke up this morning to more plum jelly and coffee, and after the aforementioned lunch we packed up our things and got on a bus to go. It was a really strange 3 days, a lot of which was spent having no clue what to do with ourselves. But I´m glad we went, and I´m also glad to be in a city now with grocery stores and internet cafes.
When we got to Castro we had reservations for a hostel we found online because everyone said that the whole town was full because of the festival. As we were standing outside of the bus station looking clueless (because we were), a woman approached and asked if we needed a hostel, and we said we had one but couldnt find it. She informed us that it was not near the center of town at all, and told us how to get there. "How much does your place cost?" we asked her. Turns out, its way closer, and way cheaper than the place where we had reservations. So she walked us down the street and showed us to our room, and we made ourselves a cup of hot, delicious, welcome coffee. Thanks, God. Even when we try to make plans He´s got something better going on. How awesome is that!
Also, on a side note, the song "If I see you in heaven" seems to be played everywhere here, and it just came on the radio, right after Hotel California. I felt like that was worth mentioning.
And yes, for all of you who have asked, I do plan on learning how to make Kuchen, and I will be more than happy to make it for you when I get back. Gotta share the kuchen love.
But first, a brief catch-up.
Quemchi was really relaxing, and right before we left we went for a brief walk on the beach where God stepped in once again to give us a little present just to remind us how much He loves us. Puppies. Yes, we were walking down the beach, picking wild blackberries as we went, when we came upon 11 tiny puppies running about on the rocky beach. Needless to say, we stopped for a good while to cuddle, play with, and take pictures of these perritos. The mom was glad for the break and took the opportunity to hang out with her dog friends a little ways up the beach. It was amazing. We decided that someone should name an alcoholic beverage after this experience: instead of sex on the beach, puppies on the beach. Even better.
Then we grabbed some lunch in a little restaurant, where a group of three guys from Santiago came in and promptly introduced themselves. We didn´t stay and chat long, because we had to catch a bus, but we saw them again later when we were waiting for the bus and they were coming out of the restaurant, and Claudio, the more talkative of the three, came up and told us he had a gift for us: two roses made out of napkins and a little piece of paper with his number on it. it was very funny.
We went from the sleepy town of Quemchi out to the country, to the house of a sweet lady named Emma for a taste of what day-to-day life means for her and her family. It really is amazing the amount of faith we are having to put in God in this trip -- we really didn´t know where we were going, what we were getting ourselves into, how we would get there, or anything. We just hopped on a bus with all our things and showed the bus driver the address and asked him to tell us when we should get off. And, praise God, we made it there on a long, dusty road, where Emma and her grandaughter were waiting for us with smiles and a pair of kisses to plant on each of our cheeks. She owns a small artesan shop, a bar-b-q pit type place, and a farm where they produce nearly all of what they consume and sell, from honey to marmelade to meat to the yarn she uses to make her blankets and shawls. When we got to the house she served us some bread that just came out of the oven, some tasty potato thing, and, of course, coffee. We have noticed that every time we get somewhere new God is there to welcome us with a cup of coffee in various forms -- sometimes with milk, sometimes with sugar, sometimes with fake milk, sometimes with nothing.... but whatever the case He´s always there to remind us He´s taking care of us. I think coffee has kind of come to symbolize that...
Later that evening Emma´s son drove us, his sister, and his neice into town to see the old church and to walk down a path by where the river spills into the ocean where he and his sisters used to play and pick blackberries when they were little. We had dinner at about 9:30 that night, which I expected to be something small due to the large snack that accompanied our coffee (here this kind of snack is called once, althoug I cant figure out why) but it soon became apparent that this was not the case. They led us up the hill in the frigid summer night to the fogon (the bbq place) where they proceeded to cook a massive amount of all kinds of meat over a big indoor bonfire. It was just meat in oil, maybe with some cilantro and salt, then we had a couple of potatoes to accompany it. It was so amazing -- words cannot describe. Mmm... to be a carnivore...
That night we snuggled up completely full in our beds while Oryan sparkled upside down from the magestic sky on the other side of the tin roof. In the morning we had more delicious homemade food -- including homemade plum jelly that is quite possibly the best thing i´ve ever put in my mouth -- and spent a long time just sitting around, watching the weather try to make up its mind between sunshine and rain. Because of the weather we really couldnt do much, so we spent a disproportionate part of the day watching disney chanel movies and sipping on coffee in the company of four generations of women in this family. Emma´s mother sat quietly watching life race on around her, Emma was constantly at the stove making marvellous things for us to eat, her daughters conversing and entertaining the youngest, Emma´s grandaughter, as she played with her hot pink My Little Pony on the floor. It was pretty sweet. Except for when it got to the point of excess, and our faces were slowly getting longer and longer as we entered that dangerous trance of television´s inactivity. Eventually we were able to go out with Rita, the youngest daughter who is in her 3rd year studying Social Work, to pick plums and apples in the back pasture. There is something terribly exciting about fruit trees to me. And the knowledge that these same plums might someday be turned into Emma´s magically delicious jelly. Then later they saddled up the horse so we could ride around for a little while. Then, when we asked if there was anything we could do to help, Emma told us we should go out to help them herd some sheep. Actually, we thought she said something about we should take a walk up the street to see crazy people playing soccer, but it turns out we were walking to the back pasture to herd sheep. The whole spanish-speaking thing is going great, as you can see. At any rate, we helped the family herd the sheep, then watched the husband tie one up and load it in a wheelbarrow and, smiling with his two-toothed smile, he told us it was lunch tomorrow. Then they invited us to watch them slaughter it. So we did. We watched them bleed it out, cut its head off, skin it, scoop out the guts, feed the livers and heart to the dogs, then hang it up in the shed. Then today we watched them skewer it all on a giant stick and cook it over a fire behind the fogon. Then we ate it for lunch today, and it was delicious. It was a very different experience, and I think it was good. I think that anyone who eats meat should be ok with seeing it go from animal to meat. Not the prettiest thing to see, but its part of life.
Anyhow, after that we had a small snacky dinner, watched a awful, tacky movie on tv, and went to sleep. We woke up this morning to more plum jelly and coffee, and after the aforementioned lunch we packed up our things and got on a bus to go. It was a really strange 3 days, a lot of which was spent having no clue what to do with ourselves. But I´m glad we went, and I´m also glad to be in a city now with grocery stores and internet cafes.
When we got to Castro we had reservations for a hostel we found online because everyone said that the whole town was full because of the festival. As we were standing outside of the bus station looking clueless (because we were), a woman approached and asked if we needed a hostel, and we said we had one but couldnt find it. She informed us that it was not near the center of town at all, and told us how to get there. "How much does your place cost?" we asked her. Turns out, its way closer, and way cheaper than the place where we had reservations. So she walked us down the street and showed us to our room, and we made ourselves a cup of hot, delicious, welcome coffee. Thanks, God. Even when we try to make plans He´s got something better going on. How awesome is that!
Also, on a side note, the song "If I see you in heaven" seems to be played everywhere here, and it just came on the radio, right after Hotel California. I felt like that was worth mentioning.
And yes, for all of you who have asked, I do plan on learning how to make Kuchen, and I will be more than happy to make it for you when I get back. Gotta share the kuchen love.
Feb 19, 2009
Fairy tales and Jesus
God is so good!!! He has listened to our prayers and even just our normal conversations between me and Molly. Usually we don´t really know where we´re going to go at the beginning of the day. Like today, I have no idea where I´m going after I finish writing this blog. But God is so faithful and so good and is so excited to be taking us on this trip that I know He has somewhere awesome planned for us!
So in Ancud we just hung out, made friends with our guide, Franco, and tried to avoid the senora of our hostel who, although she was very friendly, developed a habit of screaming three inches from my face when she wanted to talk to us I guess because she thought it would make me understand Spanish better.
Yesterday morning we got up, enjoyed kuchen for breakfast, and then ventured out into the rain to find a bus to somewhere, although we weren´t sure where. Once we had all our things we boarded a bus to Quemchi, a small town that my travel book said was pretty nice, and headed out with a steaming hot milcao -- a fried wad of mashed potatoes with chicken in the middle -- in our hands. We got out of the bus and started walking, waiting for God to show us where He wanted us to stay. And of course, he did. We arrived at a perfectly hospitable little hospedaje facing the ocean where the senora welcomed us in and invited us to enjoy a cup of warm coffee by the fire. There were pictures of mountains and rivers with Psalms written under them decorating the walls everywhere. She suggested that we go visit a small island nearby, which turned out to be the answer to a whole bundle of prayers that Molly and I had lifted up to our Father. We ended up hitch hiking for half of the journey, which is a really normal thing to do in this area, and which was completely necessary in the never ending rain that weighted down our clothes.
The night before, over raspberry daquiries Molly and I had been recalling some of the imaginary games we would play as chileren -- like playing survival-in-the-wildreness games on top of Babe´s dog house in the Boiles´back yard or pretending to be orphans living only in the company of a bunch of animals -- and wishing that some day we would be able to abandon ourselves to imagination again. And God gave us the island.
I cannot describe its magic, or even what happened, because it is too awesome and big for words, but I am pretty sure I am going to write a children´s story about it that hopefully someday you can read.
God also knew how much I was missing my family, and so he brought them to visit me in my dream last night. I was there with my grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins, parents, Tyler and Cody, (and even two little kittens!) and we were all just hanging out. Normally my dreams are very complicated, but this was just us hanging out, listening to Grandaddy make up songs on the piano and enjoying each other´s company. Thanks, God.
Anyhow, I have to go. we keep getting kicked off the computers, which is probably for the best because we need to go enjoy the fact that its not raining at the moment.
I posted pictures on facebook -- you should go check them out.
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2002065&id=1536330170&saved#/album.php?aid=2002065&id=1536330170&ref=mf
love love love......... and PLEASE keep the comments coming! its so great to feel connected to the other side of the equator and to know that we are not being forgotten in our absence.
So in Ancud we just hung out, made friends with our guide, Franco, and tried to avoid the senora of our hostel who, although she was very friendly, developed a habit of screaming three inches from my face when she wanted to talk to us I guess because she thought it would make me understand Spanish better.
Yesterday morning we got up, enjoyed kuchen for breakfast, and then ventured out into the rain to find a bus to somewhere, although we weren´t sure where. Once we had all our things we boarded a bus to Quemchi, a small town that my travel book said was pretty nice, and headed out with a steaming hot milcao -- a fried wad of mashed potatoes with chicken in the middle -- in our hands. We got out of the bus and started walking, waiting for God to show us where He wanted us to stay. And of course, he did. We arrived at a perfectly hospitable little hospedaje facing the ocean where the senora welcomed us in and invited us to enjoy a cup of warm coffee by the fire. There were pictures of mountains and rivers with Psalms written under them decorating the walls everywhere. She suggested that we go visit a small island nearby, which turned out to be the answer to a whole bundle of prayers that Molly and I had lifted up to our Father. We ended up hitch hiking for half of the journey, which is a really normal thing to do in this area, and which was completely necessary in the never ending rain that weighted down our clothes.
The night before, over raspberry daquiries Molly and I had been recalling some of the imaginary games we would play as chileren -- like playing survival-in-the-wildreness games on top of Babe´s dog house in the Boiles´back yard or pretending to be orphans living only in the company of a bunch of animals -- and wishing that some day we would be able to abandon ourselves to imagination again. And God gave us the island.
I cannot describe its magic, or even what happened, because it is too awesome and big for words, but I am pretty sure I am going to write a children´s story about it that hopefully someday you can read.
God also knew how much I was missing my family, and so he brought them to visit me in my dream last night. I was there with my grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins, parents, Tyler and Cody, (and even two little kittens!) and we were all just hanging out. Normally my dreams are very complicated, but this was just us hanging out, listening to Grandaddy make up songs on the piano and enjoying each other´s company. Thanks, God.
Anyhow, I have to go. we keep getting kicked off the computers, which is probably for the best because we need to go enjoy the fact that its not raining at the moment.
I posted pictures on facebook -- you should go check them out.
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2002065&id=1536330170&saved#/album.php?aid=2002065&id=1536330170&ref=mf
love love love......... and PLEASE keep the comments coming! its so great to feel connected to the other side of the equator and to know that we are not being forgotten in our absence.
Feb 17, 2009
Cachai´po, juevon?
Day 2 in Ancud.
When we got here at about 9 last night we could not find the hostel we had reservations for, but that was because God wanted us to stay somewhere different. So we wandered until we came to a large, bright blue building and the owner welcomed us in and made us coffee. Yes, this is where we are supposed to be. We had coffee with real milk, I took a gloriously hot shower, then we went to bed. This morning we got up, ate Kuchen for breakfast (I could really get used to this whole eating Kuchen at least once a day thing. Its the most delicious food ever made) and loaded into a bus with another couple from the hostel to go to the Pinguinera Pinihuil -- a penguin colony nearby. After picking up a few more people and our guide, we began the bumpy drive along the coast, stopping preiodically for our guide, a second year law school student named Franco, to show us some kind of flower, berry, or rock formation that, according to legend, is home to burried treasure guarded by the Traucos. The penguin tour itself was not especially thrilling -- we loaded into a boat and tossed about on the waves for about 30 minutes, getting some excellent views of penguins hanging out on some big rocks. This is the only place in the world where these two kinds of penguins can ever be seen together. Come March, one breed migrates north and the other south, but every year they come together here and lay their eggs on the misty shores of Chiloe. It began to rain and the waves were getting larger, so we had to go back to the shore, but we used our extra time to grab some Empanadas de queso y loco at a restaurant right by the shore.
For those of you who speak spanish, you might be wondering, as were we, what an Empanada de loco might be. As it turns out, it is not crazy-flavored empanadas, but rather empanadas with mollsuks. At any rate, they were delicious, and all 9 of us on the tour sat together and told stories and jokes -- many of which revolved around mine and Molly´s inability to speak or understand Spanish. But everyone here reassures that our Spanish is very good, and have even gone so far as to say that our accents are good sound almost authentic.
On the ride back Franco taught us all kinds of new Chilote words -- it seems that this island not only has its own magic, but its own language. Later tonight we are going to go get drinks with our new friend Franco and hopefully learn more.
Even though we have not yet done much here and, to tell the truth we don´t really have a clue as to what we´re going to do, I can tell there is a sense of mystery and fantasy here on this giant island called Chiloe. The ominous mist that never fully leaves gives everything a sense of secrecy, as if trying to hide the whispers between all the plants, animals, and waters. Tiny flowers that look like fairies decorate the countryside everywhere, dancing between blackberry brambles and trees that bear a fruit similar to a blueberry. I feel like if I could hold my breath and be still enough, I would actually see a fairy tale unfolding before my very eyes. I can hardly wait to write more about the surprises that God is going to show us on this magic island.
Ciao.
p.s. - the title of this entry is the essence of chileanismos. It roughly translates to "do you get it, dude?" but the way it is said is that makes it a true chileanismo :D
When we got here at about 9 last night we could not find the hostel we had reservations for, but that was because God wanted us to stay somewhere different. So we wandered until we came to a large, bright blue building and the owner welcomed us in and made us coffee. Yes, this is where we are supposed to be. We had coffee with real milk, I took a gloriously hot shower, then we went to bed. This morning we got up, ate Kuchen for breakfast (I could really get used to this whole eating Kuchen at least once a day thing. Its the most delicious food ever made) and loaded into a bus with another couple from the hostel to go to the Pinguinera Pinihuil -- a penguin colony nearby. After picking up a few more people and our guide, we began the bumpy drive along the coast, stopping preiodically for our guide, a second year law school student named Franco, to show us some kind of flower, berry, or rock formation that, according to legend, is home to burried treasure guarded by the Traucos. The penguin tour itself was not especially thrilling -- we loaded into a boat and tossed about on the waves for about 30 minutes, getting some excellent views of penguins hanging out on some big rocks. This is the only place in the world where these two kinds of penguins can ever be seen together. Come March, one breed migrates north and the other south, but every year they come together here and lay their eggs on the misty shores of Chiloe. It began to rain and the waves were getting larger, so we had to go back to the shore, but we used our extra time to grab some Empanadas de queso y loco at a restaurant right by the shore.
For those of you who speak spanish, you might be wondering, as were we, what an Empanada de loco might be. As it turns out, it is not crazy-flavored empanadas, but rather empanadas with mollsuks. At any rate, they were delicious, and all 9 of us on the tour sat together and told stories and jokes -- many of which revolved around mine and Molly´s inability to speak or understand Spanish. But everyone here reassures that our Spanish is very good, and have even gone so far as to say that our accents are good sound almost authentic.
On the ride back Franco taught us all kinds of new Chilote words -- it seems that this island not only has its own magic, but its own language. Later tonight we are going to go get drinks with our new friend Franco and hopefully learn more.
Even though we have not yet done much here and, to tell the truth we don´t really have a clue as to what we´re going to do, I can tell there is a sense of mystery and fantasy here on this giant island called Chiloe. The ominous mist that never fully leaves gives everything a sense of secrecy, as if trying to hide the whispers between all the plants, animals, and waters. Tiny flowers that look like fairies decorate the countryside everywhere, dancing between blackberry brambles and trees that bear a fruit similar to a blueberry. I feel like if I could hold my breath and be still enough, I would actually see a fairy tale unfolding before my very eyes. I can hardly wait to write more about the surprises that God is going to show us on this magic island.
Ciao.
p.s. - the title of this entry is the essence of chileanismos. It roughly translates to "do you get it, dude?" but the way it is said is that makes it a true chileanismo :D
Feb 16, 2009
Petrohue
Yes, I am blogging twice in a day. God is so good to me and gave us a computer at the hostel we´re staying in tonight. God has been good to us in so many ways. But more on that in a moment.
After our sweet time in Frutillar we decided at the last minute to make a visit to another neighboring town called Petrohue, which we knew very little about and which was not in the slightest a part of our plan -- or whatever vague resemblance of a plan we´ve had. It became obvious later that God told us to go there. It´s pretty awesome how He can tell us to do things even when we don´t think we´re listening. So, we hopped on a bus and a few hours later found ourselves in the midst of a few buildings that make up the town of Petrohue within the borders of Parque Nacional Vicinte Perez Rosales. It was raining, as has been our customary welcome to each of our destination towns here in Chile. We considered waiting it out in a building, but when it became apparent that it was not going to let up we braved the pelting, cold rain to find a small motorboat to take us to the other side of the river where our hospedaje was located. This place was beautiful and perfect. We came in from the rain and it was warm and smelled of burning wood, and we dried off to enjoy a cup of hot coffee. The storm gave us ample time to sit and enjoy the scenery -- which included a massive volcano when the clouds cleared enough for us to see-- and we had some quality alone-with-God time. It was amazing. We decided to dine in the hostel -- mostly because the grocery store was closed and we had no food -- despite the fact that it was expensive by the standards we´ve been going by (about $9 each). Again, God blessed us by making this decision for us -- it was the most amazing meal I have ever consumed. Rainbow trout that the owner had caught in the river earlier that day, grilled to perfection so that it melted in our mouths. It was accompanied by rice, potatoes, salad, homemade bread, and a bottle of wine that some friends we made gave to us. It was perfect. Over dinner Molly and I ran through our day verbally and talked about all the things that made it the most perfect day ever -- from the rain to the food to the views to the new friends we had made. After dinner we chatted a while with new friends, then went to bed in our warm room (right above the kitchen, looking out oer the river and volcano) in our real mattresses. We laughed so many times just amazed at how good God has been to us. He is the best travel agent.
Anyhow, this morning we had an amazing homemade breakfast at the hospedaje then made our way to Chiloe, and now we are in Ancud in a hostel that feels and smells like a home. Its lovely and I need to go to sleep now. Tomorrow we see penguins.
After our sweet time in Frutillar we decided at the last minute to make a visit to another neighboring town called Petrohue, which we knew very little about and which was not in the slightest a part of our plan -- or whatever vague resemblance of a plan we´ve had. It became obvious later that God told us to go there. It´s pretty awesome how He can tell us to do things even when we don´t think we´re listening. So, we hopped on a bus and a few hours later found ourselves in the midst of a few buildings that make up the town of Petrohue within the borders of Parque Nacional Vicinte Perez Rosales. It was raining, as has been our customary welcome to each of our destination towns here in Chile. We considered waiting it out in a building, but when it became apparent that it was not going to let up we braved the pelting, cold rain to find a small motorboat to take us to the other side of the river where our hospedaje was located. This place was beautiful and perfect. We came in from the rain and it was warm and smelled of burning wood, and we dried off to enjoy a cup of hot coffee. The storm gave us ample time to sit and enjoy the scenery -- which included a massive volcano when the clouds cleared enough for us to see-- and we had some quality alone-with-God time. It was amazing. We decided to dine in the hostel -- mostly because the grocery store was closed and we had no food -- despite the fact that it was expensive by the standards we´ve been going by (about $9 each). Again, God blessed us by making this decision for us -- it was the most amazing meal I have ever consumed. Rainbow trout that the owner had caught in the river earlier that day, grilled to perfection so that it melted in our mouths. It was accompanied by rice, potatoes, salad, homemade bread, and a bottle of wine that some friends we made gave to us. It was perfect. Over dinner Molly and I ran through our day verbally and talked about all the things that made it the most perfect day ever -- from the rain to the food to the views to the new friends we had made. After dinner we chatted a while with new friends, then went to bed in our warm room (right above the kitchen, looking out oer the river and volcano) in our real mattresses. We laughed so many times just amazed at how good God has been to us. He is the best travel agent.
Anyhow, this morning we had an amazing homemade breakfast at the hospedaje then made our way to Chiloe, and now we are in Ancud in a hostel that feels and smells like a home. Its lovely and I need to go to sleep now. Tomorrow we see penguins.
It takes two to strawberry
Frutillar. The verb form of strawberry. A fantastically quaint town on the shore of Lago Llanquihue. Land of the world´s best deserts.
After a thoroughly hum-drum time in Puerto Varas, we hopped on a bus to Frutillar in hopes of finding more excitement. This was the first time we arrived in a new town without hostel reservations beforeheand, but we found the most perfectly cozy hospedaje (which I dont even think had a name...the sign just said Hospedaje, which is basically like having a sign that says "Lodging") We dropped our things and went for a stroll in search of some lunch. In route we were stopped by a case full of appalingly delectable looking deserts, and decided that our appetite would be better spent on a massive hunk of chocolate cake than real food from a restaurant. So we proceeded to dive into what shall go down in history as the best chocolate cake ever.
We spent some time at the pier hoping that some lucious chilean boys would invite us to take a spin out on their boat, but when that didnt happen after half an hour or so we called it quits and retired back to the hostel to nap and recouperate. I should take this moment to describe ever so briefly the scenery in the town of "To Strawberry". The lower part of the town is the resort arrea, made up of a handfull of quaint old German houses lining the shore of the lake, and everything that wasnt a house/hospedaje was pretty much either an artesan market, restaurant, or bakery. The world´s brightest and most massive flowers sprinkle the coutryside, fighting for prominence in front of houses of architecture stunning in its simpliity and quaintness. On the other side of the lake is a massive volcano that watches over the sleepy little town and her sailboats when the clouds clear away.
Anyhow, as we passed our beloved desert stand for a second time we reailzed that we both had an urgent need for another one of its treasures: me a slice of Kuchen (google it...its delicious) and Molly a scoop of chocolate gelatto. Satisfied again, we went along on our way. After spending some time trying to create some sort of plan for the next day, we emerged to find the streets filled with thousands of people, many of whom were screaming before a stage of three hott 20-somethings singing a song that basically said "you taught me how to love you, how to touch you, how to kiss you, but now that its over the one last thing you have to teach me is how to forget you". They must be cousins of the backstreet boys. The finale of this unexpected valentines day festival was a parade of floating floats lit up in red and pink and an abundance of hearts. We sat on the beach eating yet another desert (apple pastry) in awe of this event.
The next morning we each had one last slice of Kuchen for breakfast and went on our way....
And unfortunately i have to leave this here....much more to come........ love and blessings to you all.
After a thoroughly hum-drum time in Puerto Varas, we hopped on a bus to Frutillar in hopes of finding more excitement. This was the first time we arrived in a new town without hostel reservations beforeheand, but we found the most perfectly cozy hospedaje (which I dont even think had a name...the sign just said Hospedaje, which is basically like having a sign that says "Lodging") We dropped our things and went for a stroll in search of some lunch. In route we were stopped by a case full of appalingly delectable looking deserts, and decided that our appetite would be better spent on a massive hunk of chocolate cake than real food from a restaurant. So we proceeded to dive into what shall go down in history as the best chocolate cake ever.
We spent some time at the pier hoping that some lucious chilean boys would invite us to take a spin out on their boat, but when that didnt happen after half an hour or so we called it quits and retired back to the hostel to nap and recouperate. I should take this moment to describe ever so briefly the scenery in the town of "To Strawberry". The lower part of the town is the resort arrea, made up of a handfull of quaint old German houses lining the shore of the lake, and everything that wasnt a house/hospedaje was pretty much either an artesan market, restaurant, or bakery. The world´s brightest and most massive flowers sprinkle the coutryside, fighting for prominence in front of houses of architecture stunning in its simpliity and quaintness. On the other side of the lake is a massive volcano that watches over the sleepy little town and her sailboats when the clouds clear away.
Anyhow, as we passed our beloved desert stand for a second time we reailzed that we both had an urgent need for another one of its treasures: me a slice of Kuchen (google it...its delicious) and Molly a scoop of chocolate gelatto. Satisfied again, we went along on our way. After spending some time trying to create some sort of plan for the next day, we emerged to find the streets filled with thousands of people, many of whom were screaming before a stage of three hott 20-somethings singing a song that basically said "you taught me how to love you, how to touch you, how to kiss you, but now that its over the one last thing you have to teach me is how to forget you". They must be cousins of the backstreet boys. The finale of this unexpected valentines day festival was a parade of floating floats lit up in red and pink and an abundance of hearts. We sat on the beach eating yet another desert (apple pastry) in awe of this event.
The next morning we each had one last slice of Kuchen for breakfast and went on our way....
And unfortunately i have to leave this here....much more to come........ love and blessings to you all.
Feb 13, 2009
Pueto Varas
Not too much has happened since my last post, although I´m aching to maintain some sort of contact with a place I call home -- whehter that be the United States, Texas, Nacogdoches, Austin, St Ed´s, Hope in the City..........
We left Pucon yesterday, which felt strikingly similar to leaving home. We had made many good friends who we will miss, and we had begun to know which fruit stands had the best plums and which panaderia had the freshest, softest bread. On our last afternoon our friend Gustavo took us up to a giant wooden statue of Jesus that overlooks a cemetery and the entire town. He has the best view of the bay and eveything that goes on in those streets below. We spent a good deal of time up there, talking and laughing and singing. Gustavo said he was amazed by our views about God. He had always assumed that all Estado Unidenses (united statesian? this doesnt really exist in english so i use spanish) were Christians and did the whole church thing. But he also said we were the first ones of our kind he had met in the thousands of people he has met in working and traveling in hostels. We talked about how church is so much more than a building, and took moments of silence to marvel at the beautiful sanctuary that God had built around us -- with walls made up of mountains and skies of the clearest blue. It was a sweet moment. Later that night we cooked together, which actually ended up being one of the most disgusting meals i´ve ever had, but we washed it down with some vino and everything was ok. The next morning we bought our bus tickets and hugged Gustavo goodbye at the station, wondering where our adventuring might land us next.
It turns out that a bus to Puerto Varas isn´t exactly a bus to Puerto Varas. We had tickets from Pucon to Temuco and from Temuco to Puerto Varas, but we missed our bus in Temuco and after much confusion and complete failure on our parts to understand and/or speak Spanish we bought another pair of tickets and waited for the next bus. 6 hours later we were dropped off on the side of the highway, with instructions to cross the footbridge over the highway and wait for a minibus to Puerto Varas. We had no idea where we were, and the only thing nearby was a Shell station as the sun settled in below the horizon. I said jokingly as we were walking across the foot bridge "The only thing that could perfect the hilarity of this situation would be rain"... and sure enough, only a few minutes later we were standing in the dark in the rain on the side of the highway hoping that a bus might come sweep us away. We decided that God was laughing at us so hard he started crying. After 20 minutes of standing in the rain to absolutely no avail, we crossed back over to the Shell station and put on our most pitiful wet puppy faces and asked the guy working there what in the world we were supposed to do. He told us we had to stand on the side of the highway and flag a bus down. That´s right, they don´t jus stop when they see someone waiting, you have to flag them down from the side of the highway. So we treked back across in the cold rain, laughing hysterically at every aspect of this ridiculous situation, and stood in a puddle with our hands waving wildly at any pair of headlights that we suspected might be a bus. Finally about 10 minutes later a small bus stopped and, although it was full, we boarded and piled up our soaking wet backpacks. (thank God for waterproofing!!!) A few minutes later we arrived in Puerto Varas just two blocks from our hostel (which I was so glad we had reservations for). Again, this hostel makes me appreciate Backpackers. We are staying in a shared dorm area, which is a large room with 12 beds and 2 bathrooms. We each get a locker that is about 3x2 feet in which to store our valuables.
We´re having a hard time knowing what to do with ourselves here. It is definitely a touristy town, and there are tons of older Canadian couples around town taking pictures of the flowers and sporting their fanny packs. Most of the options for things to do are expensive kayaking, rafting, or horseback riding trips. And since we havent made any friends here we are almost entirely left without a clue as to what we should do. I think Molly and I have both hit the funk part of the trip, and it is a miriacle that neither of us ended in tears after yesterday´s shinanigan. God has been taking great care of us and I am so grateful. I have faith that He´s got more in store for us, so for now we´ll just keep on keepin´on and keep our eyes opened for a new adventure.
We left Pucon yesterday, which felt strikingly similar to leaving home. We had made many good friends who we will miss, and we had begun to know which fruit stands had the best plums and which panaderia had the freshest, softest bread. On our last afternoon our friend Gustavo took us up to a giant wooden statue of Jesus that overlooks a cemetery and the entire town. He has the best view of the bay and eveything that goes on in those streets below. We spent a good deal of time up there, talking and laughing and singing. Gustavo said he was amazed by our views about God. He had always assumed that all Estado Unidenses (united statesian? this doesnt really exist in english so i use spanish) were Christians and did the whole church thing. But he also said we were the first ones of our kind he had met in the thousands of people he has met in working and traveling in hostels. We talked about how church is so much more than a building, and took moments of silence to marvel at the beautiful sanctuary that God had built around us -- with walls made up of mountains and skies of the clearest blue. It was a sweet moment. Later that night we cooked together, which actually ended up being one of the most disgusting meals i´ve ever had, but we washed it down with some vino and everything was ok. The next morning we bought our bus tickets and hugged Gustavo goodbye at the station, wondering where our adventuring might land us next.
It turns out that a bus to Puerto Varas isn´t exactly a bus to Puerto Varas. We had tickets from Pucon to Temuco and from Temuco to Puerto Varas, but we missed our bus in Temuco and after much confusion and complete failure on our parts to understand and/or speak Spanish we bought another pair of tickets and waited for the next bus. 6 hours later we were dropped off on the side of the highway, with instructions to cross the footbridge over the highway and wait for a minibus to Puerto Varas. We had no idea where we were, and the only thing nearby was a Shell station as the sun settled in below the horizon. I said jokingly as we were walking across the foot bridge "The only thing that could perfect the hilarity of this situation would be rain"... and sure enough, only a few minutes later we were standing in the dark in the rain on the side of the highway hoping that a bus might come sweep us away. We decided that God was laughing at us so hard he started crying. After 20 minutes of standing in the rain to absolutely no avail, we crossed back over to the Shell station and put on our most pitiful wet puppy faces and asked the guy working there what in the world we were supposed to do. He told us we had to stand on the side of the highway and flag a bus down. That´s right, they don´t jus stop when they see someone waiting, you have to flag them down from the side of the highway. So we treked back across in the cold rain, laughing hysterically at every aspect of this ridiculous situation, and stood in a puddle with our hands waving wildly at any pair of headlights that we suspected might be a bus. Finally about 10 minutes later a small bus stopped and, although it was full, we boarded and piled up our soaking wet backpacks. (thank God for waterproofing!!!) A few minutes later we arrived in Puerto Varas just two blocks from our hostel (which I was so glad we had reservations for). Again, this hostel makes me appreciate Backpackers. We are staying in a shared dorm area, which is a large room with 12 beds and 2 bathrooms. We each get a locker that is about 3x2 feet in which to store our valuables.
We´re having a hard time knowing what to do with ourselves here. It is definitely a touristy town, and there are tons of older Canadian couples around town taking pictures of the flowers and sporting their fanny packs. Most of the options for things to do are expensive kayaking, rafting, or horseback riding trips. And since we havent made any friends here we are almost entirely left without a clue as to what we should do. I think Molly and I have both hit the funk part of the trip, and it is a miriacle that neither of us ended in tears after yesterday´s shinanigan. God has been taking great care of us and I am so grateful. I have faith that He´s got more in store for us, so for now we´ll just keep on keepin´on and keep our eyes opened for a new adventure.
Feb 10, 2009
camping y carne
The past three days we have been in Parque Nacional Huerquehue, which is absolutely beautiful. We arrived on Sunday afternoon and set up camp with plenty of daylight left to take a dip in the lake, dry off, and sit on a log over the water to read my book for an hour or so. We had packed minimal food, not knowing exactly how to pack for a three day camping trip where we may or may not be able to make a fire and we definitely didnt have any pots or pans or anything with which to cook. Turns out fires are illegal in this park, but we secretly made a miniature one out of twigs for about 3 minutes -- just long enough to cook our hot dogs then stomp it out before anyone saw. Those were the most delicious hot dogs we had ever eaten.
After spending the night snuggled up in our one-man-tent, which is actually the perfect size for both of us, we mozied about until we worked up the energy to begin our trek, which we didn´t imagine would take more than 4 or 5 hours. Already exhausted from our attempt at the volcano two days earlier and a 2-hour attempt at a shorter trail the day before, we were panting after the first half-hour of uphill hiking. It continued to be uphill for the next 3 or 4 hours nonstop, and as I already discussed in my last blog we don´t do so well with the uphill. We were having to stop ver frequently and let people pass us. I dont understand how they all made it look so easy. I guess we´re just really badly out of shape -- or we´ve just been very spoiled by how flat Texas is. Anyhow, we made it to the waterfalls, the lakes, then faced the looooooong last leg of that day´s journey down the other side of the mountain into the river valley where our camp ground was to be.
Just when I thought I couldn´t walk any more, we saw the sign for Camping Renahue, the destination of our trek. Basically, it was an open area with one spicket and a sign. There was a couple there, German I think, who we asked about the area, expecting to find some sort of ranger or someone to check us in and whatnot. This was certainly not the case, so we dropped our bags and set up the tent. A sign indicated that there was fresh baked bread just 15 minutes away, which we assumed was part of the refugio that was shown on the map, so we decided to check it out. The other reason we wanted to check it out was because we had seen hoof prints on our way down the mountain, and hoped that perhaps we could ride horses for the steep climb back up the mountain in the morning, sparing our aching feet from that arduous part of the journey. The timing was all wrong, and we quickly realized that we would be coming back to the camp ground in the dark, armed only with my handy head lamp (thanks maya!!! i love that thing). But trek on we did, and finally - after walking in circles a few times and having to decide what we thought was a trail and what was not - we came upon a small building, which turned out to be a barn. A group of sheep stared us down as we neared, then began bleeting our arrival as we rounded the corner towards the house that was nestled behind them. I knew this couldnt be the hostel. This was either something out of a horror movie and we were about to be kidnaped never to be seen again (other than the German couple there was nobody around for miles) or something magical was about to happen. Once again under the mentality of "we might as well, we came this far" we walked through the garden to knock on the door. A short older lady was bent over a wood-burning stove, and turned to greet us. We could hardly understand a word she said, though we managed to gather that the Refugio on the map did not exist, this was her private house just beyond the park boundaries, and that she does, indeed, make fresh bread if we want to buy some or a cold beer. After much confusing rambling, which may or may not have resulted in any level of understanding on either side of the conversation, we bid her farewell and sought out the trail again. I wish we could have stayed with her for a while just to hear her story -- why she lives there, if she lives alone, what she does all day. It is obvious that she devotes a good deal of time in her garden, which was an orchestra of bright colors arranged perfectly in that wild-yet-planned fashion. The walk back to camp should have been one of the most frightening experiences in my life, but I kept singing praise songs in my head the whole way to remind myself that I have nothing to fear because my God is protecting me. And let me take this opportunity to pause and say how extravagant He has been with grace over this past week. So many situations that could have potentially been disasterous He has protected us, and then gone further by blessing us in so many ways we could have never even asked for. I have always felt most prayerful when I am in nature, and the entire hiking trip I felt as if I was in conversation with Him -- whether it was me begging for mercy on my throbbing feet or praising Him for His masterful artwork all around me. And He was and is faithful -- we got out of there alive and all the better for it. Praise God!!!!
Anyhow, we made our way back in the dark, which took us about 20 to 30 minutes, tripping over things and trying to share the one light between the two of us. We even managed to see a huge spider that was likely the Chilean version of a black widow. When we got back to camp we were all business because we both wanted to sleep so much. We made our little twig fire again and cooked our pitiful yet absolutely delicious hot dogs, wrote in the journals for a while, then snuggled up in our little tent.
We woke in the morning and got our things ready to go, and soon we were back on the trail going up instead of down this time. It was still painful and my little toes -- which by this point were literally just two giant blisters instead of two small toes -- were screaming at me to stop and just sit, but we pushed through with many grunted prayers. The trek back was mostly uneventful, and went faster than the day before. At one of the checkpoints we saw a spider called an Aracna Pollito, which was about 3 inches across but that apparently can grow to be more like 5 or 6 inches across. When we finally arrived at the park entrance around 3 in the afternoon I thought my feet were going to fall off, and after I sat down I never wanted to stand again. Ironically, we had to stand for the first 20 minutes of the bus ride back because everyone else rushed to get on before us when it finally arrived. South America doesn´t really have the same concept of order and fairness as we do in the states -- the fact that we were the second people to get there to wait for the bus meant nothing in getting us a seat. Oh well. Shortly after a few people got off, so were were able to take their seats.
When we got back to Pucon we were hoping to stay in Hostal Backpackers again for the night, but they were full so we found two beds at a hostel nearby. It really made me appreciate Backpackers, where we felt at home since the moment we got here. In fact, we spent more time at Backpackers last night than we did in our own hostel -- just hanging out with the friends we have made here. In fact, I am in Backpackers now because we decided to stay another night tonight. I will be sad to leave the friends we have made here.
We had asked one of those friends, Gustavo from Uruguay, to come get dinner with us last night. We were going to celebrate the fact that we could finally eat real food (instead of hot dogs, cheese, and fruit) by having an all-out feast. When we came to meet him to go out, he informed us that his boss, Claudio, wanted him to come to dinner with him. So, instead of splitting company, we all dined together. Claudio, Gustavo, Boris, me, Molly, and two women who also work at the hostel. Claudio is one of those men who just seemes to own everything he looks at. Walking to the restaurant he would cross diagonally at the instersections just to show that cars would stop for him in all directions. When we got to the restaurant, which he picked, he made it clear that his seat was the head of the table, and he promptly told us that it wasn´t necessary to look at the menus becaue he was going to order for all of us -- appetizer, drinks, and the meal. When the brought out the bread he forcefully tore off his portion, tossing the rest aside, then gnawing on it like a man. He is unmistakably the jefe around here. We had pisco sours to start, then the food arrived -- two platters piled high with meat. There were probably 4 or 5 different animals represented on each platter, accompanied only by a half of a tomato and a few potatoes. We all dug in, sawing off our hunks of meat then slapping them on our plate, washing it all down with the wine that Claudio ordered for us. It was the most perfect meal I could have asked for -- especially after 3 days of eating hardly more than bread for every meal. As the vino flowed so did our conversation, and we all listened and laughed along as Claudio told his stories of climbing the volcano over 1000 times, of flying over the farther point of the earth, and of the numerous people he has met over his years of working at the hostel. When he had a really good story that he wanted to make sure that Molly and I fully understood he would slow down and throw in random english words for emphasis. It was all fantastic, and really characterized much of our time here in Chile so far. The people are so welcoming and accomodating, and they just want to hang out and tell stories, and there should always be some vino involved.
Later on Molly and I hung out with Gustavo at the hostel for a while, then I went with Boris and another guy named Rami from the hostel to a club, which was a lot of fun. Again I got to experience the lack of order that is here -- there was no line to get in, simply a mass of people and whoever pushed the hardest to get to the front got in first. We danced for a while then came back to our respective homes around 3 in the morning. Besides the intense smell of cigarette smoke that followed me into my bed, it was a lot of fun.
Anyhow, this morning we checked out of that hostel and came back to Hostal Backpackers to re-check in here, and we´ve had a relaxing day of writing post cards, doing laundry, and being generally very lazy. Tomorrow we will leave and go probably to Puerto Varas, though we are still not sure. Sometimes it is really good not to know.
Praise God!
After spending the night snuggled up in our one-man-tent, which is actually the perfect size for both of us, we mozied about until we worked up the energy to begin our trek, which we didn´t imagine would take more than 4 or 5 hours. Already exhausted from our attempt at the volcano two days earlier and a 2-hour attempt at a shorter trail the day before, we were panting after the first half-hour of uphill hiking. It continued to be uphill for the next 3 or 4 hours nonstop, and as I already discussed in my last blog we don´t do so well with the uphill. We were having to stop ver frequently and let people pass us. I dont understand how they all made it look so easy. I guess we´re just really badly out of shape -- or we´ve just been very spoiled by how flat Texas is. Anyhow, we made it to the waterfalls, the lakes, then faced the looooooong last leg of that day´s journey down the other side of the mountain into the river valley where our camp ground was to be.
Just when I thought I couldn´t walk any more, we saw the sign for Camping Renahue, the destination of our trek. Basically, it was an open area with one spicket and a sign. There was a couple there, German I think, who we asked about the area, expecting to find some sort of ranger or someone to check us in and whatnot. This was certainly not the case, so we dropped our bags and set up the tent. A sign indicated that there was fresh baked bread just 15 minutes away, which we assumed was part of the refugio that was shown on the map, so we decided to check it out. The other reason we wanted to check it out was because we had seen hoof prints on our way down the mountain, and hoped that perhaps we could ride horses for the steep climb back up the mountain in the morning, sparing our aching feet from that arduous part of the journey. The timing was all wrong, and we quickly realized that we would be coming back to the camp ground in the dark, armed only with my handy head lamp (thanks maya!!! i love that thing). But trek on we did, and finally - after walking in circles a few times and having to decide what we thought was a trail and what was not - we came upon a small building, which turned out to be a barn. A group of sheep stared us down as we neared, then began bleeting our arrival as we rounded the corner towards the house that was nestled behind them. I knew this couldnt be the hostel. This was either something out of a horror movie and we were about to be kidnaped never to be seen again (other than the German couple there was nobody around for miles) or something magical was about to happen. Once again under the mentality of "we might as well, we came this far" we walked through the garden to knock on the door. A short older lady was bent over a wood-burning stove, and turned to greet us. We could hardly understand a word she said, though we managed to gather that the Refugio on the map did not exist, this was her private house just beyond the park boundaries, and that she does, indeed, make fresh bread if we want to buy some or a cold beer. After much confusing rambling, which may or may not have resulted in any level of understanding on either side of the conversation, we bid her farewell and sought out the trail again. I wish we could have stayed with her for a while just to hear her story -- why she lives there, if she lives alone, what she does all day. It is obvious that she devotes a good deal of time in her garden, which was an orchestra of bright colors arranged perfectly in that wild-yet-planned fashion. The walk back to camp should have been one of the most frightening experiences in my life, but I kept singing praise songs in my head the whole way to remind myself that I have nothing to fear because my God is protecting me. And let me take this opportunity to pause and say how extravagant He has been with grace over this past week. So many situations that could have potentially been disasterous He has protected us, and then gone further by blessing us in so many ways we could have never even asked for. I have always felt most prayerful when I am in nature, and the entire hiking trip I felt as if I was in conversation with Him -- whether it was me begging for mercy on my throbbing feet or praising Him for His masterful artwork all around me. And He was and is faithful -- we got out of there alive and all the better for it. Praise God!!!!
Anyhow, we made our way back in the dark, which took us about 20 to 30 minutes, tripping over things and trying to share the one light between the two of us. We even managed to see a huge spider that was likely the Chilean version of a black widow. When we got back to camp we were all business because we both wanted to sleep so much. We made our little twig fire again and cooked our pitiful yet absolutely delicious hot dogs, wrote in the journals for a while, then snuggled up in our little tent.
We woke in the morning and got our things ready to go, and soon we were back on the trail going up instead of down this time. It was still painful and my little toes -- which by this point were literally just two giant blisters instead of two small toes -- were screaming at me to stop and just sit, but we pushed through with many grunted prayers. The trek back was mostly uneventful, and went faster than the day before. At one of the checkpoints we saw a spider called an Aracna Pollito, which was about 3 inches across but that apparently can grow to be more like 5 or 6 inches across. When we finally arrived at the park entrance around 3 in the afternoon I thought my feet were going to fall off, and after I sat down I never wanted to stand again. Ironically, we had to stand for the first 20 minutes of the bus ride back because everyone else rushed to get on before us when it finally arrived. South America doesn´t really have the same concept of order and fairness as we do in the states -- the fact that we were the second people to get there to wait for the bus meant nothing in getting us a seat. Oh well. Shortly after a few people got off, so were were able to take their seats.
When we got back to Pucon we were hoping to stay in Hostal Backpackers again for the night, but they were full so we found two beds at a hostel nearby. It really made me appreciate Backpackers, where we felt at home since the moment we got here. In fact, we spent more time at Backpackers last night than we did in our own hostel -- just hanging out with the friends we have made here. In fact, I am in Backpackers now because we decided to stay another night tonight. I will be sad to leave the friends we have made here.
We had asked one of those friends, Gustavo from Uruguay, to come get dinner with us last night. We were going to celebrate the fact that we could finally eat real food (instead of hot dogs, cheese, and fruit) by having an all-out feast. When we came to meet him to go out, he informed us that his boss, Claudio, wanted him to come to dinner with him. So, instead of splitting company, we all dined together. Claudio, Gustavo, Boris, me, Molly, and two women who also work at the hostel. Claudio is one of those men who just seemes to own everything he looks at. Walking to the restaurant he would cross diagonally at the instersections just to show that cars would stop for him in all directions. When we got to the restaurant, which he picked, he made it clear that his seat was the head of the table, and he promptly told us that it wasn´t necessary to look at the menus becaue he was going to order for all of us -- appetizer, drinks, and the meal. When the brought out the bread he forcefully tore off his portion, tossing the rest aside, then gnawing on it like a man. He is unmistakably the jefe around here. We had pisco sours to start, then the food arrived -- two platters piled high with meat. There were probably 4 or 5 different animals represented on each platter, accompanied only by a half of a tomato and a few potatoes. We all dug in, sawing off our hunks of meat then slapping them on our plate, washing it all down with the wine that Claudio ordered for us. It was the most perfect meal I could have asked for -- especially after 3 days of eating hardly more than bread for every meal. As the vino flowed so did our conversation, and we all listened and laughed along as Claudio told his stories of climbing the volcano over 1000 times, of flying over the farther point of the earth, and of the numerous people he has met over his years of working at the hostel. When he had a really good story that he wanted to make sure that Molly and I fully understood he would slow down and throw in random english words for emphasis. It was all fantastic, and really characterized much of our time here in Chile so far. The people are so welcoming and accomodating, and they just want to hang out and tell stories, and there should always be some vino involved.
Later on Molly and I hung out with Gustavo at the hostel for a while, then I went with Boris and another guy named Rami from the hostel to a club, which was a lot of fun. Again I got to experience the lack of order that is here -- there was no line to get in, simply a mass of people and whoever pushed the hardest to get to the front got in first. We danced for a while then came back to our respective homes around 3 in the morning. Besides the intense smell of cigarette smoke that followed me into my bed, it was a lot of fun.
Anyhow, this morning we checked out of that hostel and came back to Hostal Backpackers to re-check in here, and we´ve had a relaxing day of writing post cards, doing laundry, and being generally very lazy. Tomorrow we will leave and go probably to Puerto Varas, though we are still not sure. Sometimes it is really good not to know.
Praise God!
Feb 7, 2009
So the adventures begin...
I can hardly believe that this is only day 3 here in Pucon -- I feel as though I have lived here for months already. The hostel we are staying in makes us feel so at home and the days are so long here that it is easy to forget.
Anyhow, I guess I will try to be chronoligal here, to keep things sane.
Thursday evening Molly and I caught the late afternoon minibus to Los Pozones, one of the many thermal baths in the area. Although we weren´t entirely sure there would be another bus to take us back that evening, we made our way down the slippery, muddy hill, taking in the smells of the steaming earth and the fresh rain, admiring the cascading greenery and panoramic view. There were about seven different baths, which consisted of natural rock pools anywhere from 12 feet t 30 feet across, steaming in the cool, after rain air, filled with people of all ages and walks of life. We undressed down to our swimsuits (which, of course, resulted in a few comments about gringas, no han vista al sol, mira que blanca es...) and got in. It was really amazing. It would have been worth the while even if we hadn´t gotten in the water, just to see the scenery. A roaring river ran alongside the pools, filling the air with its soothing music, and the rain sporadically dribbled down on us, cooling our faces while our submerged bodies soaked in the earth´s natural heat. After about an hour and a half we dashed into the cold air and tried to dry off as well as we could sharing one traveler´s towl that was about 10 by 24 inches. We made it, then climbed the muddy steps to the bus stop where a bus did in fact arrive shortly thereafter to carry us along the bumpy road to the place we´re calling home for these three days.
Friday we slept in, and it was glorious. The beds are equipped with layers upon layers of blankets, and the smell of wood and wet earth put me quickly to sleep and then gently soothed me awake in the morning. We explored the town a bit, visited the black volcanic sand beach, got lost for a while, then met outside the hostel to leave for the canopy tour. Molly and I and a girl named Laura, from Uruguay, who works at the hostel loaded up in the bus, picked up some Israili boys from another hostel, and headed out to the river. We have gotten to be friends with Laura -- she is patient with our slow spanish intake, and I love listening to her stories and explanations of things. Anyhow, we all jumped out of the van and suited up in our zipping gear, and hoped that we understood the important points of the directions they gave us all in Spanish. This was the best way to see the scenery I could have asked for -- a crew of really friendly guides zipped us from platform to platform through the lush greenery of the canopy, periodically over a gushing river or inbetween two very close trees. For about an hour we did this, zipping back and forth, swapping jokes and talking about where we were all from with the guides. It was a sweet experience. When we got to the end and we were chatting with everyone, they told us one of the guides was having a birthday party later that night, and we were invited. (This ended up being a failed endeavor, as we only knew the street name and nothing else. ) Later in the evening we braved the super market and then cooked some deliciously fattening potatoes for ourselves and our friend Laura with bacon and cheese -- except that cheddar cheese does not exist here. they only know of one kind of cheese here in chile, but luckily it is delicious.
Saturday we woke up at 3:45am, threw on several layers of highliter-yellow gear, and piled into a van with granola bars hanging out of our mouths to ride to the base of the Volcano Villarrica. The plan was to start climbing ridiculously early in order to watch the sunrise from the steaming crater of the still-active volcano. We started in the frigid early morning mist, and I can´t tell you if it was the stars above me or the altitude that took my breath away -- or maybe a combination of both. We could see millions of stars speckling the sky, unfamiliar constellations smiling down on us and urging me to keep on keepin on through the steep incine of loose gravel. I don´t know exactly what I expected, but apparently not that we would be walking up a slope the whole way. Within the first half hour Molly and I had fallen to the back of the group (along with the two other Americans on the trek) and before I knew it Molly was no more than a tiny twinkling light slowly making its way up the path below me, accompanied by the angelic light of Francisco, the patient guide who stayed with her as she threw up the granola bars from an hour earlier. As morning began to peep over the horizon, we neared a building that housed the end of a ski lift, where I waited with Molly and we continued up together with our faithful guide. Having left all of her energy in a puddle of vomit a few hundred feet below us, Molly was moving very slowly and it became apparent that we weren´t going to make it to the top. So, we went as far as we could in a stop-and-go fashion, then perched ourselves on some nice rocks for an hour or so, then slid down the ice on our butts like penguins as far as the ice went. My ego didn´t want me to write the truth, that we didn´t make it to the top, and we joked about stealing some of our friends´pictures from the crater so we could tell everyone we made it, but alas, my conscience got the better of me. So there it is, the story of the volcano that we only 1/3 of the way conquered. Fortunately, Francisco was muy muy guapo and willing to partake in choppy Spanish conversation with us, which made it much more enjoyable. Besides the fact that the views were absolutely incredible. As the clouds rolled in with the morning sun it began to look like we were at the beach, and that the clouds were the sea. It was absolutely phenomenal.
So, then we came back, took the best nap of our lives, got dressed up, and went out to take advantage of the free drink coupons that our hostel hands out to its guests at a bar called Mamas y Tapas. By the time we left, our table was decorated with two empty beer glasses, a coffee mug with the remains of Kahlua, a tall, empty white russian glass, and an empty pisco sour. We had quite a time, and made our way back to the hostel to eat a bit and chat with some Israli guys that are staying here. We had quite a night.
This morning we had to get up and pack up our things to check out by 10, and we will be leaving in about 30 minutes to Parque Nacional Huerquehue to camp for a few days. So, I won´t have any access to internet for a while, but keep the comments coming! i love hearing from you guys!!!!!!
love love,
catie
Anyhow, I guess I will try to be chronoligal here, to keep things sane.
Thursday evening Molly and I caught the late afternoon minibus to Los Pozones, one of the many thermal baths in the area. Although we weren´t entirely sure there would be another bus to take us back that evening, we made our way down the slippery, muddy hill, taking in the smells of the steaming earth and the fresh rain, admiring the cascading greenery and panoramic view. There were about seven different baths, which consisted of natural rock pools anywhere from 12 feet t 30 feet across, steaming in the cool, after rain air, filled with people of all ages and walks of life. We undressed down to our swimsuits (which, of course, resulted in a few comments about gringas, no han vista al sol, mira que blanca es...) and got in. It was really amazing. It would have been worth the while even if we hadn´t gotten in the water, just to see the scenery. A roaring river ran alongside the pools, filling the air with its soothing music, and the rain sporadically dribbled down on us, cooling our faces while our submerged bodies soaked in the earth´s natural heat. After about an hour and a half we dashed into the cold air and tried to dry off as well as we could sharing one traveler´s towl that was about 10 by 24 inches. We made it, then climbed the muddy steps to the bus stop where a bus did in fact arrive shortly thereafter to carry us along the bumpy road to the place we´re calling home for these three days.
Friday we slept in, and it was glorious. The beds are equipped with layers upon layers of blankets, and the smell of wood and wet earth put me quickly to sleep and then gently soothed me awake in the morning. We explored the town a bit, visited the black volcanic sand beach, got lost for a while, then met outside the hostel to leave for the canopy tour. Molly and I and a girl named Laura, from Uruguay, who works at the hostel loaded up in the bus, picked up some Israili boys from another hostel, and headed out to the river. We have gotten to be friends with Laura -- she is patient with our slow spanish intake, and I love listening to her stories and explanations of things. Anyhow, we all jumped out of the van and suited up in our zipping gear, and hoped that we understood the important points of the directions they gave us all in Spanish. This was the best way to see the scenery I could have asked for -- a crew of really friendly guides zipped us from platform to platform through the lush greenery of the canopy, periodically over a gushing river or inbetween two very close trees. For about an hour we did this, zipping back and forth, swapping jokes and talking about where we were all from with the guides. It was a sweet experience. When we got to the end and we were chatting with everyone, they told us one of the guides was having a birthday party later that night, and we were invited. (This ended up being a failed endeavor, as we only knew the street name and nothing else. ) Later in the evening we braved the super market and then cooked some deliciously fattening potatoes for ourselves and our friend Laura with bacon and cheese -- except that cheddar cheese does not exist here. they only know of one kind of cheese here in chile, but luckily it is delicious.
Saturday we woke up at 3:45am, threw on several layers of highliter-yellow gear, and piled into a van with granola bars hanging out of our mouths to ride to the base of the Volcano Villarrica. The plan was to start climbing ridiculously early in order to watch the sunrise from the steaming crater of the still-active volcano. We started in the frigid early morning mist, and I can´t tell you if it was the stars above me or the altitude that took my breath away -- or maybe a combination of both. We could see millions of stars speckling the sky, unfamiliar constellations smiling down on us and urging me to keep on keepin on through the steep incine of loose gravel. I don´t know exactly what I expected, but apparently not that we would be walking up a slope the whole way. Within the first half hour Molly and I had fallen to the back of the group (along with the two other Americans on the trek) and before I knew it Molly was no more than a tiny twinkling light slowly making its way up the path below me, accompanied by the angelic light of Francisco, the patient guide who stayed with her as she threw up the granola bars from an hour earlier. As morning began to peep over the horizon, we neared a building that housed the end of a ski lift, where I waited with Molly and we continued up together with our faithful guide. Having left all of her energy in a puddle of vomit a few hundred feet below us, Molly was moving very slowly and it became apparent that we weren´t going to make it to the top. So, we went as far as we could in a stop-and-go fashion, then perched ourselves on some nice rocks for an hour or so, then slid down the ice on our butts like penguins as far as the ice went. My ego didn´t want me to write the truth, that we didn´t make it to the top, and we joked about stealing some of our friends´pictures from the crater so we could tell everyone we made it, but alas, my conscience got the better of me. So there it is, the story of the volcano that we only 1/3 of the way conquered. Fortunately, Francisco was muy muy guapo and willing to partake in choppy Spanish conversation with us, which made it much more enjoyable. Besides the fact that the views were absolutely incredible. As the clouds rolled in with the morning sun it began to look like we were at the beach, and that the clouds were the sea. It was absolutely phenomenal.
So, then we came back, took the best nap of our lives, got dressed up, and went out to take advantage of the free drink coupons that our hostel hands out to its guests at a bar called Mamas y Tapas. By the time we left, our table was decorated with two empty beer glasses, a coffee mug with the remains of Kahlua, a tall, empty white russian glass, and an empty pisco sour. We had quite a time, and made our way back to the hostel to eat a bit and chat with some Israli guys that are staying here. We had quite a night.
This morning we had to get up and pack up our things to check out by 10, and we will be leaving in about 30 minutes to Parque Nacional Huerquehue to camp for a few days. So, I won´t have any access to internet for a while, but keep the comments coming! i love hearing from you guys!!!!!!
love love,
catie
Feb 5, 2009
Pucon
Hostels should exist everywhere ... This place is beautiful. the first thing that struck me was the smell -- it smells like Maya´s house. The open windows, the wood burning stove that warms the common area, and the natural wood walls that gently welcome me into their spaces. It is rainy today and cold, although this is not a bad thing. We have been pretty sedate, as we recover from the 12 hour bus ride it to get to here. We went for a walk around the town -- which reminds me of Crested Butte in colorado, because it is a small, cozy town that you can walk a circle around in probably about an hour, but along the main street are dozens of tourist operaters to take you to the volcano, or zip lining through the canopy, or rafting, or kayaking, or wind surfing, or camping, or to the thermal baths..... everything. it´s an awesome place, although i realize that i could easily spend too much money here. I´ve been haning out in the common area with a couple of brittish girls and some australian guys, although i mostly just listen to their conversation that seems to come from a completely different world. all these pop culture icons and movies and tv shows that i don´t watch... Gustavo is one of the hombres that works here, and he is a lot of fun to talk to. He welcomed us in when we arrived a solid 2 hours before check in time and offered us tea. He is a talker and a joker. He came here from Uruguay when he was traveling a year ago, stayed at this hostel for a while, then when he came back through about month ago he decided to stay here so now he´s working here for a while. it sounds like a fantastic life to me.
it´s pretty overwhelming to be in this place where we have no idea what we´re doing, much less how long we´re going to be here. in some ways a month seems very short, but in others it seems very very long, and i really can´t imagine what i will be doing every day for the next 23 days. Besides the fact that we have reservations here for the next two nights and that we want to end up in Chiloe in about 2 weeks, the only other thing I know is that God is with me and that He is good. This is what one might call an excercize of faith.
Anyhow, I don´t want to spend too much time on here. We´ll hopefully be heading out again soon to brave the rain to soak in some hot springs up by the mountains. Ay, de verdad me encanta este pais.
it´s pretty overwhelming to be in this place where we have no idea what we´re doing, much less how long we´re going to be here. in some ways a month seems very short, but in others it seems very very long, and i really can´t imagine what i will be doing every day for the next 23 days. Besides the fact that we have reservations here for the next two nights and that we want to end up in Chiloe in about 2 weeks, the only other thing I know is that God is with me and that He is good. This is what one might call an excercize of faith.
Anyhow, I don´t want to spend too much time on here. We´ll hopefully be heading out again soon to brave the rain to soak in some hot springs up by the mountains. Ay, de verdad me encanta este pais.
Feb 4, 2009
CHILE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
After almost missing our flight from Houston to Miami because we simply forgot to listen, the rest of our hours of flying went very smoothly. Although I have been a Christian for some time, this was the first time I prayed for a trip from my heart. I’m not sure if it’s sacrilegious to have a favorite prayer, but that one was definitely my favorite. As the plane’s wheels abandoned contact with the cement Molly and I were hand in hand, thanking God for this trip and for His mercy and asking for His protection and guidance. What a sweet feeling that the further and further we got from the ground upon which our entire lives are built, to feel more and more positive that we were going where I AM desires us to be! Anyhow, the flight passed as painlessly as 8 hours of being sedate can pass, and soon we found ourselves face to face with our own personal taxi driver holding a sign made just for us. Joel, the taxi driver, proceeded to carry as much of our luggage as we would let him, then describe to us on a small laminated map each valley, tunnel, and town we would be passing through en route to Vina del Mar. The best way I can think to describe Vina is as if the ocean spilled out a giant puddle of buildings that opposed gravity and spilled up the side of the mountains. We quickly arrived at my new home and my mama came out to greet me with a hug and a kiss, and the next thing I knew I was closing the door on Molly and Joel and entering a whirlpool of Espanol. I managed to comprehend which room was mine, where to put my things, and, after about seven explanations, how to lock the door. Then my mama promptly poured me a glass of water and sat me down at the dining room table to chat. The good news is that she loves to talk, so in a sense I was eased back into the Spanish speaking world by simply comprehending for a while before having to come up with many words of my own.
Chileans are a bit like Texans, in that they are exceedingly proud of their homeland. A friend who came to visit my mama told me that God created all the countries and then Chile, in which he combined all the best parts of his other creations. Then, to top it off, he snuggled them in safe and secure between the cordillera and the Pacific Ocean. “Ay, mija,” they both declared repeatedly, “te va a encantar este pais.” I did not doubt them for a second.
During lunch I asked my mama about what she does for a living, and for a moment I was afraid I had poked a sore that was better off undisturbed by the way she was saying she used to teach art to kindergarteners and used to have a boutique downtown. As it turns out, she had a stroke about a year and a half ago. Before her stroke she was the busybody of all busybodies, going to work at 8:30 in the morning and working until 10 at night between the four or five bus rides it took to dart her between her two jobs throughout the course of the day. She said she never had time for anything and all she could focus on was working hard to make things better for herself and her daughter. Then the stroke hit. She could not get out of bed for a year, nor could she write, speak, or feed herself. She told me that God was telling her to slow down. By the miracle of grace she relearned how to walk and perform other daily activities, building up to her taking a trip to a beach up north a week ago after finally getting approval from her doctor that she was well enough to escape the cage that her bed had become. As we devoured our lunch (which, by the way, was delicious) she explained to me how her life has changed since then, and how she realized that those things in life that we don’t like and that don’t even matter in the first place really are not worth the while. She enjoys her days now that she still hasn’t been able to go back to work, cooking meals for her family, getting actively involved in her church, going for walks by the beach, reading a book. This woman is wonderful.
After lunch Molly, her host sister, and I went to buy bus tickets to Pucon for tomorrow – an experience that reminded me that however much I may be able to impress people in the States with my Spanish, I always have a lot of room to grow. Then we went to the mall to buy cell phones we can use for calls within the country, then back to Molly’s house to play with ring tones as if we were fourteen-year-olds getting cell phones for the first time. I came back home, watched some extremely bizarre tv show with my mama, tried to take a nap, then decided it would be a better use of my time to watch the sunset from the beach with Molly. I don’t know if sunsets have this effect on anyone else – I can’t imagine them not – but they take my breath away. There is no way to describe the sentiment that makes my guts suddenly become weightless inside of me, or the peace that some slanted rays of light sing to me. This sunset was extra special.
Anyhow, later on i ate dinner with my mom, and we talked about God and how awesome he is, how it's awesome when you actually get to know Him and be in a relationship, and I told her about the Shack. It was sweet.
Anyhow, i have to rush because i am leaving soon...
today molly and i visited a feria artesenal, which was really cool even though we didnt buy anything. then to the beach, where i'm crossing my fingers that i didnt get burned.
Molly and I will soon be getting on a bus to Pucon, which is a sweet little town between an active volcano and a huge beautiful lake....we'll stay in Holsal Backpackers for the first two nighgts, and past that i have no idea...
more later i hope...
ciao
Chileans are a bit like Texans, in that they are exceedingly proud of their homeland. A friend who came to visit my mama told me that God created all the countries and then Chile, in which he combined all the best parts of his other creations. Then, to top it off, he snuggled them in safe and secure between the cordillera and the Pacific Ocean. “Ay, mija,” they both declared repeatedly, “te va a encantar este pais.” I did not doubt them for a second.
During lunch I asked my mama about what she does for a living, and for a moment I was afraid I had poked a sore that was better off undisturbed by the way she was saying she used to teach art to kindergarteners and used to have a boutique downtown. As it turns out, she had a stroke about a year and a half ago. Before her stroke she was the busybody of all busybodies, going to work at 8:30 in the morning and working until 10 at night between the four or five bus rides it took to dart her between her two jobs throughout the course of the day. She said she never had time for anything and all she could focus on was working hard to make things better for herself and her daughter. Then the stroke hit. She could not get out of bed for a year, nor could she write, speak, or feed herself. She told me that God was telling her to slow down. By the miracle of grace she relearned how to walk and perform other daily activities, building up to her taking a trip to a beach up north a week ago after finally getting approval from her doctor that she was well enough to escape the cage that her bed had become. As we devoured our lunch (which, by the way, was delicious) she explained to me how her life has changed since then, and how she realized that those things in life that we don’t like and that don’t even matter in the first place really are not worth the while. She enjoys her days now that she still hasn’t been able to go back to work, cooking meals for her family, getting actively involved in her church, going for walks by the beach, reading a book. This woman is wonderful.
After lunch Molly, her host sister, and I went to buy bus tickets to Pucon for tomorrow – an experience that reminded me that however much I may be able to impress people in the States with my Spanish, I always have a lot of room to grow. Then we went to the mall to buy cell phones we can use for calls within the country, then back to Molly’s house to play with ring tones as if we were fourteen-year-olds getting cell phones for the first time. I came back home, watched some extremely bizarre tv show with my mama, tried to take a nap, then decided it would be a better use of my time to watch the sunset from the beach with Molly. I don’t know if sunsets have this effect on anyone else – I can’t imagine them not – but they take my breath away. There is no way to describe the sentiment that makes my guts suddenly become weightless inside of me, or the peace that some slanted rays of light sing to me. This sunset was extra special.
Anyhow, later on i ate dinner with my mom, and we talked about God and how awesome he is, how it's awesome when you actually get to know Him and be in a relationship, and I told her about the Shack. It was sweet.
Anyhow, i have to rush because i am leaving soon...
today molly and i visited a feria artesenal, which was really cool even though we didnt buy anything. then to the beach, where i'm crossing my fingers that i didnt get burned.
Molly and I will soon be getting on a bus to Pucon, which is a sweet little town between an active volcano and a huge beautiful lake....we'll stay in Holsal Backpackers for the first two nighgts, and past that i have no idea...
more later i hope...
ciao
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