Lo Que Significa Un Año en Chile

 A year ago today, the 23 hours of travel (back when that was a big deal) from California came to an end and I arrived at my final (or so I thought) destination, Santiago de Chile. I had written this post the day before and was about to write this one, the next day.  No post that day though.  I was too busy getting my first taste of Chilean cuisine at the empanada shop down the street and organizing way too much luggage into my cute little blue room in Las Condes.

I had never been to Chile before and I had 0 experience teaching English.  My Spanish was decent but I had no idea what cachai, weon or CSM meant.  I had never surfed, never been paragliding and never hiked Machu Picchu.  I had never heard of Pucón or Iquique and had no idea that I'd be spending a significant amount of time in either.  I'd never seen warning signs for volcano eruptions or tsunamis nor lived near people who considered the constant threat of one or the other to be a normal part of everyday life. I had never tasted cherimoya, pebre, humitas or a terremoto.  Come to think of it, I had never actually met a Chilean person before (to my knowledge, at least).

Needless to say, 366 (leap year) days later, all of that (and so much more) has changed.  Here are a few more things that one year in Chile means....

1. One year in Chile means one year since I've driven a car.

Yup, if you thought I was a bad driver before...watch out.  I'm coming back in July, crazier than ever.  I may be forced to practice in my high school parking lot with my dad until I brush up on my skills.

2. One year in Chile means one year since I've had real Mexican food or decent tequila.

Best believe the Cazadores will be flowin' when I get back.

3. One year in Chile means one year since I've greeted someone without kissing them on the cheek.

If this is how I respond when we see each other again, please do not be startled. 

4. One year in Chile means one year since I've thrown toilet paper in the toilet instead of in a trash can.

I'll try to remember this one when I come back ;-)

5. One year in Chile means one year since I've had a bowl of soul from The Naked Lounge, a jasmine green tea from Empire or an iced coffee from anywhere besides Starbucks.

No Chile, "café helado" is not the same thing.  An iced coffee does not come with sprinkles, an ice-cream cone and a cherry on top.  This concept seems to be lost in translation.

 

6. One year in Chile means one year since I've gone bike-riding through Bidwell, downed an Irish car-bomb at Duffy's or gone skinny dipping at One Mile (not that I would ever do the latter, of course).

7. One year in Chile means one year since I've sent a piece of snail mail.

Sorry about those post-cards I promised.  I'll try to get that accomplished at some point before I leave .

8. One year in Chile means one year since I've used a stove without lighting a match (or occasionally using a lighter).

Electric stoves are very rare here.

9. One year in Chile means one year since I've used a dryer.

Nothing but clotheslines for me.

10. Sadly (almost as sad as #2), One year in Chile also means one year since I've seen a whole lot of people I love :-(
 

On a happier note, Today I celebrated my anniversary with a day off, a delicious little pie from Suiza Pucón and the silly little lake-side photo shoot pictured above.  I wasn't sure whether it was appropriate to make a resolution or a wish as I blew out the candle so I made something that I don't make very often, a plan.  I got a little nugget of good news this morning via e-mail which was just enough to finalize an idea I've been mulling over for a while.  The details will not be revealed quite yet, but you'll see soon enough. 

Cheers to the first year Chile, here's to the rest of our time together :)

Che Boludo: My "Afternoon" in Argentina

In Chile, a “completo” is a hotdog; complete with avocado and tomato and drowning in mayonnaise.  Completos are fatty, cheap and, although they look rather disgusting to me, an undeniable staple of Chilean cuisine. 

However, when a hostel worker in San Martin de Los Andes, Argentina tells you, “Estoy completo”, it doesn’t mean “I’m a big greasy Chilean hotdog”.  In fact, it not only means, “I’m complete (aka, full).” but also, “Every hostel in this town has been booked for weeks.” and simultaneously, “If you think you’re just going to waltz in here and find something on the spot, you’re straight trippin’ home girl.” That’s a rough translation, of course, but you get the idea.

After being told “Estoy completo” for the sixth time, I was starting to get the picture.  I wasn’t going to find a place to stay for the night.

That wouldn’t have been an issue if my initial plan had worked out.  I would have left Pucón in the morning, arrived in San Martin in the afternoon and headed back that evening with a 160-dollar Argentina stamp in my passport and a shiny new visa good for another 90 days in Chile.

This dream plan was shattered when, upon my arrival to SM, I was informed that the only daily bus to Chile left at 6 each morning.  I wasn’t shocked.  I half expected this to be the case.  What I didn’t expect was that, when my hostelworld search returned no results, it was because there was literally not a single empty bed left in the whole town.

So that’s how my “afternoon” in Argentina turned into a 27-hour ordeal; how I ended up having speed for dinner (see below), staying up all night in the bus station to wait for the morning bus and munching on sweaty (though still delicious) artesanal cheeses at an hour that can not be rightfully called dinner nor breakfast.

Despite all of the hassle with the bus, I must say, I really enjoyed San Martin.  It's very similar to Pucón in appearance but the city seems somehow more lively.  During the day, there were literally people drinking mate e.v.e.r.y.w.h.e.r.e. (way to be an Argentinian stereotype guys) and I found some pretty cool gords and bombillas (like these) around town.

 At night, there seemed to be live music on every corner with a great variety of styles.  I witnessed some folkloric dancing as well as some tango in the park.  Every performer that I saw had a big group of people surrounding them; cheering and tossing some monedas their way.  Nice supporting of the arts there Argentina.

 Even when things weren't going ideally, I was kept in good spirits by lovely landscapes, tasty food, the rush of being in a new country and the silly sounds of the Argentinian accident; the latter of which continued to keep my giggling all day.  Every time I overheard someone talking about the see-sha (silla), the pla-sha (plaza) or the ply-sha (playa), it put a smile on my face.

Although for the same amount of money and half of the time, I could have flown comfortably to Brazil and been happily sipping a caipirinha and stuffing my face with pão de queijo, I'm glad I finally made it to Argentina.  I've just scratched the surface and I'm ready to get some use out of my ten-year visa.  In the meantime, I'm happy to be back in Chile; the land of "po", "weon", ample available sleeping spaces and the original completo.  Until we meet again Argentina, until we meet again.

 View from the bus.

 Argentinian cookie

 The plaza (aka, the pla-sha)

 The Lake

 

Tango in the Park 

• If you want more information on the new visa fee for Argentina, click here.
• If you want to pay the fee online, you can create an account here.
• If you want to put your head through a wall (or have a good laugh, depending on how badly you need a need an Argentine visa at this particular moment), click here to view the website's tutorial on how to pay the fee, which looks like it's been created using a combination of Google translate and paint.

On Family Life & Fleeing the Country

"Well, transience always carries with it an air of possibility" 

-T.H. Watkins

I snagged that little gem of a quote from a PBS special about the gold rush a few years back and am recently finding that it's becoming increasingly applicable to my life.  

One thing I've noticed about that so-called "transience" is that the speed at which it can change your day-to-day reality is remarkable.  Unknown landscapes become your backyard overnight and complete strangers become your family in a matter of hours.  After a few days, something that was so recently foreign to you, becomes the new norm and you slip seamlessly into routine, just in time for everything to change again.

That's a pretty accurate way to sum up the past few weeks of my life.  In Santiago, I spent 3 days with a friend of a friend and her roommate and daughter.  They were absolutely lovely.  I spent my days doing job research and load after load of free laundry (uh-may-zing after 3 months without a washing machine) and my nights eating onces with the family and talking with them until the wee hours of the morning. Their kindness and generosity overwhelmed me.  They not only put me up but also fed me and offered to help me find a job in Santiago, a place to stay in Valdivia and even to loan me money.  I didn't accept any of those offers but I did take them up on a suggestion to leave a bag at there house for the time-being and thank God I did.  Next time I go abroad, all I'm bringing is a change of clothes and a tooth brush, that's it.  Ok, maybe a stick of deodorant...maybe.  Lugging around all of this baggage has seriously been the bane of my existence on this trip.

And I've been doing a lot of lugging.  As I mentioned, I kicked off my summer in the south with a few days in Puerto Varas where I couch surfed for the first time.  If you're unfamiliar with couch surfing, it is an amazing site that connects people from all of the world.  Travelers can contact people who live in the areas where they're traveling and be hosted in those places for free (have I mentioned lately that I'm broke...pinch every peso!)  I'll admit, I was slightly sketched out by the whole thing at first.  I'd be lying if I said I didn't have my valuables hidden and my pepper spray handy upon arrival.  There's always that initial suspicion of someone who wants to do something nice for you for no good reason but it didn't take me long to loosen up.  

My second couch surfing experience in Caburgua was even more amazing.  The girl who hosted me was renting a lakeside cabin in Playa Blanca with her family.  I spent a couple of nights with them there and then went back to their house in Temuco (about an hour away) for one extra night.  The whole family was such buena onda.  I had an amazing time with them.  Not only was the place beautiful but the people were tons of fun.  Great location, awesome company, good food & drinks and all for free?!  Holllller.

To be honest, these random little encounters I've had with now four different individuals/families (in Santiago, Puerto Varas, Caburgua/Temuco and now in Pucón) have been some of my best experiences in Chile.  Hooray for talking to strangers.

Now, I find myself right smack in the middle of a completely different family; complete with a mom, dad, two small children (6 and 9), a few dogs and twenty-something foreigners from all over the world.   

After my night in Temuco, I bid farewell to my new adopted family and headed back to Pucón where I had landed a job at  La Bicicleta; a hostel/restaurant in the central part of this cute little city.  For now, my plans to work in the mine are off, or at least postponed for the time-being.  In the meantime, I'm going to take advantage of being in this gorgeous (although, right now, hot as hell) place and try to do all of the outdoorsy stuff I can.  Bring on the hiking, kayaking, rafting, canyoning, biking and whatever else you've got for me Pucón.  

Tomorrow I'm off to do an (insanely expensive) border hop to Argentina to renew my visa and earn my ninth Chilean passport stamp upon re-entry.  I'll be hanging out in San Martin de los Andes for the day (maybe day and a half) thus bringing my total bus time for the past month up to a record-breaking 58.5 hours (ew).  I'll be setting off around 10:30 AM and returning either later in the same night or the next morning depending on the bus schedule, available accommodations and, frankly, how I feel.  Who knows, if I really fall in love with it, I may never return.  Crazier things have happened.  I guess that's the beauty of transience, anything is possible.

Solo ida

Iquique > Valparaíso (25 hours) > Santiago (2 hours) > Valparaíso (2 more hours) > 

Santiago (Yup, 2 more) > Puerto Varas (12 hours) > Valdivia (3 hours) > 

Pucón (2.5 hours) > Caburgua (.5 hours) > Temuco (2 hours)

Subtract the 2.5 hours I traveled by car between  Pucón, Caburgua and Temuco and that leaves a whopping 48.5 hours that I've spent on a bus this month (given that my calculations are correct...feel free to check).  If I believed in bad omens, this trip would most definitely not have happened. As I mentioned, the trip down to central Chile wasn't quite as smooth as we'd hoped it would be.  

We bought our tickets with a few weeks of anticipation, got everything ready (with not so much anticipation...can you say, last minute?) and rushed down to the bus station on Saturday night.  We got there pretty much right at the departure time but they were still loading people onto the bus so we figured we were fine.  When they saw us and all of our luggage (ok, MY luggage...still haven't quite mastered the arts of traveling light), they took one look at us and said, no way in hell (in not so many words).  We (I) had too much luggage.  They weren't going to take us, no way.  

Time to go to the register and change our ticket time.  Wait, what's that you say?  You have no more tickets until after Christmas and you don't want to give me back my money (Almost $200 USD).  

Oh.  hell. no.

Enter enraged gringa (me) vacillating between calm rational discussion and screaming concha tu madre at the saleswoman, who couldn't have been less helpful.  She sent me back to the mercado where I bought the tickets only to talk to another saleswoman who was nicer but equally unhelpful.  After two hours of arguing, crying and running (literally) back and forth between mercado and the bus station, I finally surrendered.  We paid to store our bags at the station overnight and bought two new tickets (110 USD a pop) with a different company (screw you Pullman) for the next morning.  I asked the vendor from the other company about the sobre equipaje (excess luggage) fee and, taking pity on me, he told me he would talk to the driver and make sure I didn't have to pay anything else extra.

Feeling defeated, we started walking home.  About four blocks from the station, I got a call from one of my best friends in Iquique who I had called to vent somewhere in the midst of the chaos.  He asked where we were and told us to stay put until he could get there.  The three of us made our way back to the bus station together.  I was doubtful anything good would come out of it but Luis was determined.  After five minutes, FIVE MINUTES, of talking with the same saleswoman I'd just spent the better part of the night with, Luis had the name of a manager and a promise that, if he came back the next day, he could get our money back.  Enter equally enraged (but knows when to keep her mouth shut) gringa.  If it was that easy, why couldn't we have got that settled two hours ago?

The next morning, we got the bus station earlier than I've ever arrived before a bus in my Chilean life.  There was no way we were going to risk anything going wrong.  A bus from our company was just arriving but it was still a good 45 minutes before our departure.  Paranoid (and rightfully so), I showed the man loading luggage on the bus my ticket and asked him if it was this one or the next.  Sure enough, he told me that it was our bus and started putting our bags on board.  We hopped on and, to our surprise, the bus took off within ten minutes...about a half an hour before departure time.  We thought it was a bit odd but were stoked to arrive in Valpo a little ahead of schedule.

When the guy came around to take our tickets, he gave us the ultimate stink face.  We were on the wrong bus.  Our conversation (roughly translated) went something like this:

Ticket Collector: You're on the wrong bus.

Irritated Gringa: Really?  Because I double-checked that this was the right bus before we got on.

Ticket Collector: (talking to me like I'm an idiot) Who told you this was the right bus?

Even-More-Irritated Gringa: (pointing) Ummm...your homie right over there.  I showed him my ticket and he said this was the bus.

Ticket Collector: Well, it's not.  We're going to drop you off in Bajo Molle (aka middle of the nowhere) and you can wait for your bus there.

Livid Gringa: Are you #$%@ing kidding me?  We're like five minutes from the station.  Drop us off here and we'll walk back for god's sake.

Ticket Collector: Nope, we're dropping you off in Bajo Molle.

Livid Gringa with smoke coming out of her ears: But I DON'T TRUST THAT!  Drop us off here!

Ticket Collector: Nope.  

So there we were, with all of our (my) baggage, in the middle of the dessert at 8 in the morning, cursing Pullman bus, Condor bus, and Iquique for plotting a mastermind plan to keep us trapped there forever.  Luckily I had the foresight to snap this picture as a lovely keepsake of our morning.

Twenty-something hours later, we finally made it to Valpo...but I've already told you all about that.  After Christmas, we headed back to Santiago where we spent five nights before New Years and then returned for Jeff's last two nights in Chile.  I'm glad that he had the chance to see a little more of Chile before setting off since his experience has been primarily limited to Northern Chile which is completely different from the central and southern parts of the country.

We did lots of typical tourist stuff; hiking up cerros de San Cristobal and Santa Lucia, tasting strange flavors of ice-cream at Emporio La Rosa, strolling down Pio Nono, shopping in the artisanal markets and stopping by La Piojera for some typical Chilean food and (of course) some terremotos.

 Chorrillana at La Piojera

 Terremotos: The National Drink of Chile

 Cerro Santa Lucia

 Cerro San Cristobal

Kenita and Jeff

On Calle Estados Unidos

In addition to all that "typical Santiaguino" stuff, we also took advantage of being in a city and indulged in some typical (north) American stuff.  Usally I try to avoid seeking out stuff from the US while traveling but it was good to have a little taste of home after almost a year abroad.  Iced coffees were sipped, muffins were snarfed and cravings were quenched...Sorry, not sorry.  Overall, we had a great time.  Yay for ignoring the signs and forging on ahead anyway, bad omens be damned.

Since Jeff left, things have been a little unstable (yes, even more-so than they were before).  I spent one night in a hostel in Santiago and then a few days with a friend while I was waiting on a response from my boss in Iquique about the position in the mine.  Sitting around playing the waiting game was starting to get me down so I decided to bite the bullet and by myself a one-way ticket south to Puerto Varas.  I already had an interview there so I figured it could either be a job opportunity for a fun little vacation.  Since then, I've been taking things (quite literally) day by day, going where the wind (and my very limited travel funds) take me and buying "solo ida" (just one-way) because God knows if and when the vuelta (return) will happen.

I have been more or less living with the bus company's website open, checking different routes and playing with different travel/work plans.  One awesome thing about the south is that the distances are much shorter between cities than in north of Chile.  In the past week I've had the chance to explore five different beautiful cities and with a little more time in the south, I'll be able to see so many more.  It's also getting to be about visa renewal time so it looks like a mini-trip to Argentina might be in order.

Meanwhile, my life, much like my new favorite website is esperando respuesta, awaiting an answer.

 A much-needed cold beer on a hot hot day in Valdivia 

(Kunstmann Torobayo to be exact, one of my favorite beers)

 Valdivia from the bridge

 Me, melting in the hot Valdvia sun

More beautiful lakes (in Valdivia)

 Sheep crossing our path in Caburgua

 At the dock in Pucón

 Park in Central Pucón

 Vocano View from Pucón

 Cabin in Caburgua

 Inside View

Me & Paula on our last day in Caburgua,

about to head to Temuco

 

Puerto Varas: Sweden in Spanish

 

Blame it on the fact that I've been stranded in a desert for the past nine months and everything green looks the same to me, but upon my arrival to Puerto Varas on Tuesday, I couldn't help but be reminded of my very first international adventure in Sweden, almost four years ago. 

Perhaps it was the lush vegetation, the quaint little country houses with streams of smoke pouring out of cute little chimneys or the lingering smell of waffle cones which seems to follow you freaking everywhere (or is that just me?) but there is something about Puerto Varas that left me feeling quite deja vu-ish.  Despite a signifigant difference in the blonde population, the two places are strangely similar.  Every so often, my reminiscing would be interruped by the shrill cry of "weon" reminding me that I wasn´t in Scandinavia but rather suprisingly in Chile; the same country where I´ve spent the past eleven months.

I arrived in Puerto Varas around 9:30 in the morning. The gorgeous green countryside was draped in fog and it was raining just the perfect amount.  I made my way to the house where I was couch surfing just in time for introductions and a quick breakfast before I dropped off my things and set out to wander aimlessly for a while, as (you may have noticed) is my tendency.  My trek lasted about two hours and wasn't unlike the walk around Värmdö from which this blog got its name.  

Later in the day, I had an interview for a language school.  At this point it looks like I´ll be returning to Iquique to work in the mine but I´m keeping my options open.  If I've learned anything in the past year, it is have a plan B.  The school was great and the owner was super nice but the salary is about half what I´d be making up North.  Womp womp.

I went out with my couchsurfing host and some friends of hers for a few beers (can you say microbrews on tap? ohhh yeaahhh) on Tuesday night and the next morning I went to the National Park .  Needless to say, a few hours of nature was just what the doctor ordered.  Since I´m a little crunched for time at the moment, I´ll  just let the pictures (below) speak for themselves. 

 

The Simpsons Phenomenon

In the first edition of 5 Things You Didn't Know About Chile, you may recall that I tossed out the (somewhat bold) statement that "In Chile, The Simpsons are bigger than Jesus."  Now, just to show that that's not something I take lightly, I have compiled pictures of a few of the Simpson-themed things I've come across during my time here... 

Cookies

 

Buses

Towels

 Posters

 Foam hats

 Binders

 Notebooks

 

More Notebooks

 Sippy Cups

Murals

 Mugs

Handmade Mugs

 T-Shirts

 Pillows

 Cologne and Shampoo/Shower Gel Sets

 Puppets

 

Bars

and the best of all...

Actual Duff Beer!

(Today Colo-Colo won, Concha Su Madre!!)

Still not convinced?  Here are some other places the Simpsons have been showing up lately...

 Hiding behind the dog chow at the local mini mart...

 In some street art by the beach...

 
In more street art...on the way to Agro

 In comcast ads...

 In the academy...

In the doctor's office...

 

 On T-shirts...

 In Bingo Games...

 On backpacks...

 In plush form...

 

On floats...

  

In weird costumes...

And my new personal favorite, in the flesh!  Here we have Homero next to a street preacher in Bellavista which really feels like it was created specifically in response to my comment about The Simpsons being bigger than Jesus in Chile.  You'll have to watch the clip to see whose in the lead now...