The bus ride to Puerto Montt was six hours filled with rolling hills and pockets of water. We had now arrived to the Lake District. We stopped in Valdevilla on the way and I got a glimpse of several cute little German chalets. As we continued traveling further south we passed through many marsh lands with tall swaying reeds and several cow and sheep farms. For the majority of this trip I was sleeping and-or heavily sedated thanks to Advil. By the time we got to Puerto Montt it was raining and I was coughing up sharp pains through my throat. All I wanted to do was have a shower and lie down in a soft bed. But we had another two hour bus ride from here. It was of the local variety meaning it was rather slum like in nature. The bus then boarded a ferry about 30 minutes outside of the city on the coast. It was pitch black out, the wind was howling and we could see ourselves slowly moving towards the Isle de Chiloe with its sparkling lights just off in the distance. We were headed to the small town of Ancud (pronounced an’cun).
I am reading in my journal right now what I wrote as we slowly drove our way into the Ancud bus station: dark, freezing, pain. That about sums up how I felt. Sarah even told me that I looked like I may die, illin. We hopped off the bus and at this point I could barely get my back pack on. I was tired and on the verge of another coughing attack. We grabbed the first taxi (which of course was ridiculously overpriced) and drove straight to the suggested hostel. Our nightmare continued here. The taxi left and we walked up to the front door to realize that it was locked and empty. Could my life get any worse at this point? We finally decided to walk down the street to a restaurant to grab a bite to eat and find out about another hostel that may be open.
We arrived in a huge two story restaurant that specialized in local island creations especially seafood dishes. People down here don´t understand the concept of central heating systems. Sarah ordered a bowl of bread, cream, Gruyere and crab meat. I ordered a bowl of garlic and chicken stuffed ravioli with bolognaise sauce. I only ate one of the ravioli´s as I looked deathly sick. I remember staring at Sarah as she ate each scoop of her seafood porridge, practically screaming inside for her to finish her meal so we could find a hot shower and bed. I barely spoke during the entire meal as my throat wouldn´t allow for it. Sarah commented that the servers at the restaurant must think we are a very unhappy couple or that we just got in a big fight, we looked hurting. To add to the somber dinner moments we had to listen to irritatingly upbeat music such as Nelly Furtado, Mika, Avril and Justin Timberlake throughout our meal. We walked back to Hostal Mundo Nuevo to discover that we were the only ones in the entire two story hotel! We most certainly arrived during the slowest part of the tourist season. Sarah pouted when we found out that all of the penguins had migrated. I would have pouted but I couldn’t muster the energy. The hostel is brand new and outfitted with very comfy beds. We had an entire room to ourselves which was a pleasure.
In the morning I peaked out the window to see the ocean covered in a mystic fog. The scenery reminded me of Loch Ness imagery. One can understand why Chiloe (much like Norway) has such a strong folklore tradition with landscapes steeped in such illusion. I walked downstairs for breakfast and sat by the long oak dining room table. Instantly these two ladies in aprons hustled and bustled around the hostel. In under two minutes they had set an entire place setting, brought coffee-tea, loaves of bread, yogurt (yes, in a bag), fresh fruit, two varieties of jam (we still do not know the origin of the contained fruits) and sliced meats. It was really humorous to see how quickly they worked as soon as I sat down. They were like a well oiled machine. A hot cup of tea does wonders on a sore throat.
We grabbed a map and walked up the coast toward a cluster of little homes on a hill. The streets were lined with dogs (most of whom were howling at the sirens sounding off at the port bellow). The houses are eclectic to say the least, all sorts of odd colour combinations. We sadly ended up getting lost in one of the smallest fishing villages on earth (how sad is that, when the map only has about four streets on it). We stopped by a little market and asked for directions. We had made a wrong turn after leaving our hostel so we walked all the way down the hill again and into the small town of Ancud. We walked past a long rocky terrace which was covered in soft green moss and stared out onto the main shipping yard at the many fishing boats that were gently bobbing up and down. I have a feeling this may be what Iceland looks like. I guess I´ll have to visit to find out now won´t I. We saw an interesting restaurant concept: an old school bus has been converted into a french fry and empenadas eatery. People sit on the bus and eat their greasy food. Now why hadn´t I thought of that earlier.
We entered the small town center which smells of dried fish. We laughed as about six cars were lined up on a street and they were all going off on each other honking up a storm. I kept thinking to myself, do they not understand that honking will not make the car ahead of them move any faster? Honking is clearly one of the great pointless past time of the Chilean people. We walked through a two story market. At every little cubicle sat a little local woman knitting away. Each vendor sold the exact same thing: wool hats, wool socks, wool gloves, wool scarves. A lot of quality wool here. I bought funky little gloves with no finger tips. I feel somewhat like a vagabond. We walked down the street to the food market where we saw the largest grapes on earth. They were the size of huge cow eye balls. I took a picture of one of them against my thumb and it looks three times the size. The odd food items found here are the dried seafood. They look like strings of dried peppers (like the variety I found in Budapest’s farmers market). They are actually dried out oysters and clams strung together with pieces of kelp. We walked back to the hostel and an odd experience followed: the sun blasted its way through the clouds and a rain cloud instantaneously let a short down pour of misty rain. I enjoyed the crunch of polished pebbles and cracked sea shells under my feet.
We spent the late afternoon and evening chatting with our new house guest. He was a really weird guy from Iowa who graduated from Harvard. With every topic of conversation he claimed to be an expert. He started to talk about the history of wine and grappa in Italy and that’s where I drew the line, he was on my turf. Sarah and I wonder if we will ever meet any normal people on this trip. We made a rather nasty meal using Old El Paso Fajita packs. Sarah insisted on buying sour cream, which is sold in small bags here. The small pack was more expensive than two huge breasts of chicken and had the consistency of a thin, poorly prepared soup.
I woke up in the morning and felt that I was slowly getting better as my throat wasn´t hurting as much. We left our hostel and jumped into an empty collectivo. A huge man a few meters down the street hopped into our back seat and I was squished into the window beside me barely able to breath. Sarah paid the 500 pesos fee with a hand full of over 50 cent coins, classic. We hopped on a bus to Castro a coastal Chiloean town over an hour south of Ancud. It poured rain all day and we froze ourselves until irritated. Sarah exclaimed ¨Í haven´t worn my gold ballet shoes or worn any makeup yet, and that’s not right.¨ It seems or expectations of Chile were a bit warped. We arrived at the central bus station and made a short walk to the first hostal sign we could find. The owner is an adorable little lady and she gave us a discount since we were the only people staying in the hotel. I have never been to a place this dead, ghost town. We walked down to the water to check out the market which had a far better assortment than Ancud. They had a ridiculous amount of sheep woolen rugs and sweaters. I found a really beautiful white woolen knit hoody for 24 dollars. We stopped by a little stand where a lady sold a traditional beverage called ¨liqor de oro¨ which is a spirit made of cows milk. She sold many flavors including chocolate, coffee and raspberry. We had the herbal variety and it tasted weird. We decided that Chile´s past time is clearly cheap arcade games from the 80´s as every city has several lining the streets. We walked past the cities cathedral (which is made of pinned down sheet metal). The town is known for its picturesque small town fishing village which features houses sitting on stilts over the waterfront. Sarah and I walked back to the hostel and watched some MTV show about how Ashton Kutcher and Demi Moore have always been destined lovers, cheesy. Then it all started; ¨Why did we come here, this sucks, its raining, I´m freezing, I hate this.¨ We both had a good bitch about our current conditions. Seriously people we were huddled under ten layers of blankets and I couldn´t feel my feet. If I passed the town we are living in back home I would pass by it with no intention of stopping to site see. I´ve reaffirmed in my heart that I hate small towns. What’s worse, its the May 24 weekend back home and as our friends all get together to celebrate we are sitting in our seedy, freezing hotel, alone eating stale salami and hockey puck bread rolls.
We left the hotel, opened the door and were faced with an outrageous rain storm. It is amazing how you can become oblivious to the weather outside when sitting in a hotel dwelling on other things. Puddles the size of small lakes filled the city streets. Cars ploughed through them as if they didn´t care that pedestrians may just get wiped out. We pranced over fast moving rivers as we jumped from street to street. We stopped at the hilariously titled OK Coral which is a local bar hangout. The spot is plastered with flags and sports team logos from all over the world. We were excited as we were hoping to talk to some locals here during dinner. Then we found out they didn´t accept visa so we had to leave, much to our dismay. We headed to a barren pizza joint which played old American cowboy music. As we looked through our menu I shuddered at the thought of how mangled I must look dripping wet. I ordered a grande mocacchino and we shared a pizza de hambre (bacon, fried egg and olives). The waitress told us that there was one disco in town and it wasn´t worth visiting until 1am at the earliest. She told us to pop by a local bar and restaurant to stare at locals. So we did, and Sarah ordered a cup of tea with milk. Which became a hilarious joke as the waitress misunderstood and poured steaming frothy milk into her cup rather than hot water. I ordered a Baileys on the rocks and sipped every drop for over an hour. A crazed man sitting by himself stared at both of us the entire evening while drinking several bottles of coca cola.
The next morning we woke up and I had to cross my legs for about 30 minutes as there were only two bathrooms available and they were both being occupied. Apparently some new visitors had come by that night and they enjoyed lengthy stays on the water closet! I finally rushed into the bathroom and slammed the door realizing the entire room smelled of fresh paint. We enjoyed breakfast with the two owners of the hotel downstairs in their kitchen. Sarah practiced more of her Spanish with them as I had no clue what was going on. We took a four hour bus north towards Ancud through the wet landscape and arrived at the ferry station. We walked around the 30 minute ferry to the mainland and stood at the stern watching the seals follow our boat and playfully splash the birds overhead. The water looked as dark as black ink and the clouds were multiple layers: a spectrum of dark black, grey, blue
and a hint of cotton white.
We arrived in Puerto Montt and our hearts sank in our chests. We walked to each and every bus company and found out that they all leave for Bariloche at 8am or 2pm. It was 4pm and it looked as though we would be spending one more night in Chile, with no Chilean pesos, in the cold. We walked into the city and tried to get chipper. We found a big hostal sign on a hill and walked up to be greeted by a chubby lady who appeared to be preparing for a birthday party. She showed us our tiny little room and the bathrooms. We were unable to take a shower here as the bathtub was full of oysters (we could not stop laughing at how ridiculous our circumstances were). We had a sudden craving for McDonald’s and found one on the main street. We splurged on Chicken Nuggets with honey mustard (they looked really confused when we asked for honey), 1/4 pounder with fries and coke. We finished that off with a chocolate sundae (and a stomach that didn´t agree with what we had just consumed, obviously). We found the main waterfront pedestrian street which was rather impressive. Even though Puerto Montt was gloomy and cold it is actually the countries fastest growing city. We walked into the mall and I found comfort in walking past several Channel and Lacoste perfume and cologne cosmetics counters. We found it impossible to orient ourselves around the mall. The exterior looked like what we were used to at home but the interior was set up just like a Chilean market, with many dead ends. We made our way to an ATM and took enough money out for our one night’s hostel stay and a hot theater date. We arrived 20 minutes before Spider Man 3 started (thank goodness it was in English). We were thoroughly entertained by the film and enjoyed being able to put our feet up. We walked back home in the dark past some interesting little bars playing polka music.
We woke up in the morning to the call of our alarm clock, 7am. Our bus left at 8:30am and we did not want to miss it! We threw on our cloths, packed up and tip toed down the stairs, scurrying to the terminal in time to buy our one way ticket out of Chile and into Argentina. Magnificent!
