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.