Well here we are: 2 weeks from the end of the trip, and a delay in getting my VISA for Brazil gives me the opportunity to put up this update. It'll probably be the last one you see before I step onto a plane on the 8th of April which will take me to Miami, and then San Francisco.
I'd love to be able to eloquently express all of my emotions about coming back, but I have no illusions about being able to do so. I couldn't tell you before the trip exactly why I was going, and I can't tell you now exactly what it did for me. Maybe time will tell. It could be after all as someone told me once that "the answers are revealed when the questions are no longer relevant." I do believe that this trip will stay with me indefinitely, and despite the ups and downs (not all of which show up in the blog), I believe for the better.
And now I feel like I've done enough sentimentalizing, but to be honest I'm still not sure what to write about. The most obvious thing would be what should soon be staring at you from the side of this page. It's hard to find even photos of the Iguazu falls to be anything less than awe-inducing. But what you can't see from looking at photos of all the spectacular places I've been are all the smaller real-life details - the people I was with, the conversations we had, the internal struggles. For me these these things are tremendously relevent, and often more impactful than the larger frames which draw the oooo's and ahhh's. But I feel that even to the people that care about me the most, they'd often be lost in translation.
I think a lot about what coming home will be like. I used to think that traveling would give me all these great stories to tell people. Maybe I will have some, but how many more stories will fall instead into an inevitable "you had to be there." I think that what I want now more than a collection of great stories to impress people with would just be that people would love me for who I still am: Stephen, son of Tom and Nancy. I've learned that I'm lucky enough with the friends and family I have to know that that's something I won't lose.
So let me just tell you that I stayed for about another week in Buenos Aires, going to tango classes, hanging out with people, and having a great time. You really have to go to Argentina for those tango classes. There's something deeply fascinating about how the dance is connected with their culture. My teacher explained it to me with the simple statement: "Argentinians want more." And let me just tell you that looking down into the "Devil's throat" of Iguazu falls, you see something a whole lot more heavenly than the name suggests.
Tomorrow I'll hopefully be getting my VISA to enter Brazil, where I'll go to see just a couple more places before coming home - the Pantanal, one of the most dense and varied wildlife regions in the world; and Rio de Janeiro, the 'City of God.'
I'll be looking forward to seeing you all again.
God Bless,
Stephen
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Argentina
Hey folks,
Apologies for neglecting the blog, but here's a short update.
I've been travelling around in Argentina, and have been enjoying it a lot. When I left this off I was on my way to Ushuaia, the southernmost city in the world. Well I got there, and it was OK, but I didn't stay long. It was about as touristy as you might expect, and then maybe a bit more. People get signed certificates verifying that they've been there. I guess it sounds impressive, but the reality is that lot's of these people just fly straight in from the capital. Yet another lesson for me of the journey being more important than the destination.
One interesting thing, at least, was a festival I stumbled upon outside of town where I hadn't the slightest idea what was going on. There were hundreds of kids running around spraying each other with silly spray, while others marched around with costumes. There was loud music blaring, and adults kind of haphazardly mixed into the fray. It was mayhem, and there were almost no tourists there. A parade would later start up where the kids in costumes marched through rows of adults and then along the way would stop and breakdance. Turns out there was some authentic culture in Ushuaia. It didn't make much sense to me, and I guess that's part of what made it authentic.
One interesting thing, at least, was a festival I stumbled upon outside of town where I hadn't the slightest idea what was going on. There were hundreds of kids running around spraying each other with silly spray, while others marched around with costumes. There was loud music blaring, and adults kind of haphazardly mixed into the fray. It was mayhem, and there were almost no tourists there. A parade would later start up where the kids in costumes marched through rows of adults and then along the way would stop and breakdance. Turns out there was some authentic culture in Ushuaia. It didn't make much sense to me, and I guess that's part of what made it authentic.
My journey continued by bus over the rural South in what would be the longest bus journey I've taken so far in my trip and in my life - 38 hours plus a 5 hour layover part way through. Would you believe me if I told you it was easy? Those of us who travel South America by bus are seasoned for that sort of thing. We put down 20 hour bus rides like daily multivitamins.
I arrived in Bariloche, in the lake district of Argentina. For the week I was there, I found ways to get outside of town and see how beautiful the landscape was there. I went on a roadtrip in a rental car with some people I met in my hostel to visit some of the lakes and go swimming. I also went on a bike ride around a popular lake circuit which had me riding up and down hills and cruising through a network of lakes all around me and going swimming. Lastly, I took a tent and some food on a bus outside of town, and then by foot into the mountains. My destination was a popular rock climbing spot, where I was hoping to meet up with someone who had more gear and skills than I did who was willing to take me on as a climbing partner. That actually worked out when I met Ruddy from Brazil. Together we climbed a massive rock that took 3 pitches of rope, and at least as many hours to get to the top of. I was a bit terrified intially, but with determination made it to the top, and it felt great. Afterwards, I went swimming. The lake there was colder than a polar bear.
After camping for the night, I made my way back to Bariloche, and from there onwards to Argentina's wine capital, Mendoza. The scenery there reminded me an awful lot of my home in northern California, which I guess you could say is where the wine is in the northern hemisphere of this side of the world. A popular thing to do there is to tour the vineyards by bicycle sampling wine - this could be a good or bad idea depending upon how much wine you drink. When I went with my friend Amy, we saw some pretty wasted bicyclists (who later got pulled over by the police). I once again discovered that wine tasting wasn't really my thing, but still had a nice pleasant bike ride. That night, a couple friends and I would experience a curious cultural festival in the town. Large crowds gathered as beauty pageant contestants rode through the streets on large floats throwing fruit, boxed wine, and other things at them. Not to be misunderstood, it was the beauty pageant contestants throwing things at the crowd. Personally I was hoping to be one of the lucky ones to catch a melon, but had to settle for several bunches of grapes. As far as an explanation, the only one offered me by a local was that wine and women were the two best things the province produced. So they celebrate them both at the same time.
Before making the trip to the capital, I spent a couple of days sightseeing outside of Mendoza. I saw the biggest mountain outside of the Himalayas, Mt. Aconcagua (I really wanted to climb it, but didn't have the required 2 weeks or $1000 US handy), as well as an old calcified incan stone bridge which was really cool.
And then from the Mendoza countryside I showed up in the most overwhelmingly big city I'd ever been in. The metropolitan area of Buenos Aires has an estimated 14-16 million people. That's a lot of people! Fortunately I had some contacts here, and was able to orient myself initially by staying with one of them in the suburbs and doing day trips into the city. I met Monica in Bariloche. Her family moved to Buenos Aires from the US, and she now works for the US Embassy in Argentina. Her husband, Guillermo, is originally from Peru and since he's home more than Monica we had the opportunity to have lots of good conversations, and all throughout try and work on fixing my now lazy Spanish. It was nice to stay in a house for a change.
As far as my early explorations into the city, all I really did was walk around a few places, and go to a museum (A museum for Eva Peron, or 'Evita'). I've relaxed quite a bit when it comes to exploring new places, and I guess traveling in general - taking it in slowly, and taking more of it in. Visiting different neighborhoods in Buenos Aires, I've found it to be an incredibly charming place. In the neighborhood of San Telmo, there's a plaza where you can watch people tango dancing. In the Microcenter, there's a street which at night has musicians, street performers, and artisans. There are 'milongas' throughout the city where you can take dancing classes during the day, and then come to dance later at night.
I've now been in the city for over a week and moved around quite a lot. I've stayed in three different hostels, and another house with some other friends living in BA that I met traveling. One day I took a tango class in a milonga, and realized how much harder tango is than it looks. I'd still definitely like to do more of it. Another day, I went to a futball (soccer) game for the popular Buenos Aires team, the Boca Juniors, and was highly entertained by how spirited their fans are. The whole stadium was singing songs for their team pretty much nonstop for the entire game. And the rest of the time I've just been hanging out with people doing whatever - going to the cinema, cooking empanadas, playing music.
In the moment, you aren't worried about the joy you have then leaving you. We learn, though, that life has it's seasons. It's sad to think this one might just be coming to an end. It's been one of my favorites.
Love to everyone,
Stephen
Friday, February 20, 2009
Patagonia Update (part 2)
[Note: I changed the placement of the pictures so that the newest ones appear at the end of the blog post]
It's always exciting to cross the border into a new country, and I'd heard lots of great things about Argentina. I arrived in a small, but lovely town on the border called Los Antiguos. Yet another example of less being more, I found myself walking down roads with rows of giant poplar trees on either side. Behind them were cozy family homes where you could buy cherries and jam they'd grown and produced. In the place where I stayed, I met an Israeli guy named Dror who I'd hang out with until we both caught the same bus the following day to El Chalten. It's worth mentioning that this bus was different from others I've taken. Instead of still being mostly populated by locals, it was full of nothing but young backpackers. Someone got out a guitar, and we tried to find songs to sing that we all knew. This was interesting because we were all from different places around the world. Sometimes the one's we'd find in common would be in English, othertimes not. I also had some very interesting conversations with some of them. As I've been fond of saying recently, travelling to South America is more than just a South American cultural experience.
With about 800 inhabitants, and maybe hundreds of thousands of visitors per year, El Chalten is a whopper of a tourist destination. Like everybody else, I'd come to trek in the Fitz Roy mountains. I wouldn't be alone this time, however, as Dror and I had decided to do a 2-day trek together; additionally, we'd be joined for the first day by three Israeli girls we'd met. We made all the preparations and far too many ham and cheese sandwiches, and the next day we got up and went. Although this trek would go a lot more smoothly than the last one, I think I actually enjoyed Cerro Castillo more. It's hard to feel like you're out experiencing nature when you're running into a crowd of people going the opposite direction every 2 minutes, when they're stopping you to see if you can help them with their game of 20 questions, or when there are 200 people cramped into your camp. The scenery was still sublime, though, and I'd enjoyed the company of my new Israeli friends. After we got back, Dror and I travelled onward to El Calafate to see the Perito Moreno glacier.
Let me just get it out of the way and say that the glacier was incredible, and that even though I'm going to put a picture up, you had to be there. I went with a couple who rented a car, and it was an exercise in communication since neither of them could speak English or Spanish very well. I can pretty much have a proper Spanish conversation now with anyone, but sometimes you still find situations like these. And you still manage. It's cool.
Another thing that was cool was that I met a couple of musicians from Buenos Aires who put on a concert for our hostel. I love live music, and especially in that kind of a setting, because you can really witness their inspiration. More than that, you can feel it, because you're getting inspired by it yourself. And it was personal, because I'd met them. I'd talked with them. I'd ate with them. Music is something to share, like so many other things, and you come to appreciate those things when you meet people from different cultures. I also like that when you're travelling around and meeting other travellers you know that they will gladly open their homes for you when you travel to their town. And vice versa. I tell my travelling friends that they're going to have to visit me if they come to Seattle. And some of them probably will.
After Calafate, I'd get on a bus for Puerto Natales, Chile to prepare for a world famous trek in the national park Torres del Paine. This one would be bigger and badder than the last two, and I was a bit nervous about finding a group because I really wanted to have one for what would be a 5-day backpacking trip. Of course, I needn't have worried. I worked out a plan to go to an informational talk about the trek and find people to go with there. The plan worked fine. I met a couple of guys from Wales, Caio and Tom, and we agreed to go on the trek together. After the talk, we started renting gear and buying food and making preparations to leave the next morning. This would be the trek where I'd really start to like trekking - the preparations, the feelings of adventure, companionship and self-sufficiency, the cooking, the camptime, the side-trips, getting warm when you're cold, and of course the shower and steak dinner waiting at the end of the road. And I guess after that, the photos and the blog update you create for your family and friends.
Getting to the starting point involved first a bus, then a catamaran. We then set off on what was day 1 of the trek towards a massive glacier called Glacier Grey. Our packs were heavy, because they were carrying all of the food we'd need for the entire 5 days, so we moved slowly. I mentioned side-trips earlier. Once we started getting near Glacier Grey, we went on the first one of them: iceberg hopping! We hadn't planned on it, but when we saw a 10 minute trail leading to a viewpoint for the glacier we dropped our packs and decided to go check it out. Well we could see the glacier looming nearby, but we also saw a large field of icebergs in a lake with some Chilean guys standing on them. That was more interesting. We went down towards them, and Caio was the first one to test out their idea. He tried putting some weight on a smaller iceberg near the shore, and found that it sunk slowly. He jumped from that one onto a larger one which was solid. Tom and I reluctantly stepped out onto them as well. The stakes were obvious - if you fell in the water, you'd have a bit of a situation involving getting real cold real fast. The icebergs were slippery, and so we had to be very cautious. It added to the fun of it, though, and everything about it was fresh and new. I had a blast, and we took pictures.
It would be topped by the side-trip of day 2. Before we embarked on the trek, we'd heard someone mention ice caves down by the glacier, and our interest had been perked since that point. We found a trail leading down to the glacier where there were some rivers flowing towards it as well. Climbing down, we found the caves. I've never seen anything like them. From the outside looking in, the first thing that is astonishing about them is the color; a blue like what would come from an electric blue light, but a natural one. The caves emit this blue like an other-worldly glow, and when you step inside you find yourself surrounded by it. You enter into a space with a mountain of ice surrounding it, and the space continues deep into that mountain. Their are unusual formations in the ice, and it's dripping on you. You can hear, sense, the mountain moving, living. It was accutely uncomfortable. Caio and I went in so far as we could see another passageway branching off deeply into what seemed to be a vast labryinth underneath the glacier before turning back. It was one of the most amazing things I've seen, but we couldn't stay. We didn't want to get eaten by a glacier. Another side-trip on the way back would have us hiking towards a big waterfall. We found ourselves above it looking down into a rainbow. Pretty cool.
Day 3 was rainy. We tried to hike up a hill to see a valley, but only saw fog. After that, the slow march to our next camp was a bit drab. We were cold and wet, and the trails were muddy and sometimes more like rivers than trails. This motivated us to cheat a bit when we got there and a few comforts were available to us. Right next to our camp was a refugio - a place that was heated and had hot showers. We'd still use our tents that night, but we took the warmth and we took the showers, and that was all quite revitalizing. Beyond just Caio and Tom and I, we'd become part of a wider circle of folks all heading the same direction on the trail who would hang out together at camp. It was nice to just sit there together, eat, and talk in that warm lodge.
The next day was thankfully sunny and nice. We had a fairly straightforward hike towards the next camp, which would put us in striking distance of the Torres (or 'towers') for which the park is named. The goal was to get up very early the following day, and get up to the Torres for sunrise, before trekking out of the mountains to the place where a bus would take us out of the park. Along the way, as had been the case for the whole trip, we saw some amazing scenery, and an extra treat: condors. These large birds of prey fly so effortlessly and gracefully through the air that you can't help but be mesmorized by them. Once we got to camp, we had a bit of a party to celebrate our last night in the park - this involved funk music and boxed wine.
You really don't feel like getting up at 4:30 in the morning after 4 days of trekking; not to mention after a night of funk music and boxed wine. But we did it, strapped on headlamps, and started up the mountain over a field of boulders. We brought stoves to prepare hot tea, and sleeping bags and mats to keep us warm. Scrambling over rocks, the cold propelled us to the top, and once we got up there we bundled up, made some tea, and waited for the sun. The Torres loomed in the fog before us like something out of a nightmare. The initial sunrise washed the sky opposite them with brilliant colors, and then began to light them up. This was what we were waiting for, and it was really quite a sight to see. Once it seemed like the show might be over, after the sun had fully appeared and the color brought by it's newness had diminished, a rainbow full and bright came up over the Torres. While we were marveling at that, a couple out of the group we'd been spending time with at camp came down and announced that they'd just gotten engaged.
As we made our way back down and out of the park, we were tired but satisfied. I couldn't have imagined a more perfect finale to the trip. That night we'd all be eating dinner together in a restaurant in Puerto Natales.
And so it is for the traveller, that in a short time like this he's drawn closely to the people around him by the intensity and isolation of his experiences. And afterwards, he goes on his way; alone, and thinking longingly of home. One thing I hope for when I get there, is that we never forget to take time for each other. It's really more important than anything else.
Tomorrow I'm getting on a bus for Ushuaia, the southernmost city in the world. I'm going to the end of the earth, and then I'm coming back.
God Bless,
Stephen
It's always exciting to cross the border into a new country, and I'd heard lots of great things about Argentina. I arrived in a small, but lovely town on the border called Los Antiguos. Yet another example of less being more, I found myself walking down roads with rows of giant poplar trees on either side. Behind them were cozy family homes where you could buy cherries and jam they'd grown and produced. In the place where I stayed, I met an Israeli guy named Dror who I'd hang out with until we both caught the same bus the following day to El Chalten. It's worth mentioning that this bus was different from others I've taken. Instead of still being mostly populated by locals, it was full of nothing but young backpackers. Someone got out a guitar, and we tried to find songs to sing that we all knew. This was interesting because we were all from different places around the world. Sometimes the one's we'd find in common would be in English, othertimes not. I also had some very interesting conversations with some of them. As I've been fond of saying recently, travelling to South America is more than just a South American cultural experience.
With about 800 inhabitants, and maybe hundreds of thousands of visitors per year, El Chalten is a whopper of a tourist destination. Like everybody else, I'd come to trek in the Fitz Roy mountains. I wouldn't be alone this time, however, as Dror and I had decided to do a 2-day trek together; additionally, we'd be joined for the first day by three Israeli girls we'd met. We made all the preparations and far too many ham and cheese sandwiches, and the next day we got up and went. Although this trek would go a lot more smoothly than the last one, I think I actually enjoyed Cerro Castillo more. It's hard to feel like you're out experiencing nature when you're running into a crowd of people going the opposite direction every 2 minutes, when they're stopping you to see if you can help them with their game of 20 questions, or when there are 200 people cramped into your camp. The scenery was still sublime, though, and I'd enjoyed the company of my new Israeli friends. After we got back, Dror and I travelled onward to El Calafate to see the Perito Moreno glacier.
Let me just get it out of the way and say that the glacier was incredible, and that even though I'm going to put a picture up, you had to be there. I went with a couple who rented a car, and it was an exercise in communication since neither of them could speak English or Spanish very well. I can pretty much have a proper Spanish conversation now with anyone, but sometimes you still find situations like these. And you still manage. It's cool.
Another thing that was cool was that I met a couple of musicians from Buenos Aires who put on a concert for our hostel. I love live music, and especially in that kind of a setting, because you can really witness their inspiration. More than that, you can feel it, because you're getting inspired by it yourself. And it was personal, because I'd met them. I'd talked with them. I'd ate with them. Music is something to share, like so many other things, and you come to appreciate those things when you meet people from different cultures. I also like that when you're travelling around and meeting other travellers you know that they will gladly open their homes for you when you travel to their town. And vice versa. I tell my travelling friends that they're going to have to visit me if they come to Seattle. And some of them probably will.
After Calafate, I'd get on a bus for Puerto Natales, Chile to prepare for a world famous trek in the national park Torres del Paine. This one would be bigger and badder than the last two, and I was a bit nervous about finding a group because I really wanted to have one for what would be a 5-day backpacking trip. Of course, I needn't have worried. I worked out a plan to go to an informational talk about the trek and find people to go with there. The plan worked fine. I met a couple of guys from Wales, Caio and Tom, and we agreed to go on the trek together. After the talk, we started renting gear and buying food and making preparations to leave the next morning. This would be the trek where I'd really start to like trekking - the preparations, the feelings of adventure, companionship and self-sufficiency, the cooking, the camptime, the side-trips, getting warm when you're cold, and of course the shower and steak dinner waiting at the end of the road. And I guess after that, the photos and the blog update you create for your family and friends.
Getting to the starting point involved first a bus, then a catamaran. We then set off on what was day 1 of the trek towards a massive glacier called Glacier Grey. Our packs were heavy, because they were carrying all of the food we'd need for the entire 5 days, so we moved slowly. I mentioned side-trips earlier. Once we started getting near Glacier Grey, we went on the first one of them: iceberg hopping! We hadn't planned on it, but when we saw a 10 minute trail leading to a viewpoint for the glacier we dropped our packs and decided to go check it out. Well we could see the glacier looming nearby, but we also saw a large field of icebergs in a lake with some Chilean guys standing on them. That was more interesting. We went down towards them, and Caio was the first one to test out their idea. He tried putting some weight on a smaller iceberg near the shore, and found that it sunk slowly. He jumped from that one onto a larger one which was solid. Tom and I reluctantly stepped out onto them as well. The stakes were obvious - if you fell in the water, you'd have a bit of a situation involving getting real cold real fast. The icebergs were slippery, and so we had to be very cautious. It added to the fun of it, though, and everything about it was fresh and new. I had a blast, and we took pictures.
It would be topped by the side-trip of day 2. Before we embarked on the trek, we'd heard someone mention ice caves down by the glacier, and our interest had been perked since that point. We found a trail leading down to the glacier where there were some rivers flowing towards it as well. Climbing down, we found the caves. I've never seen anything like them. From the outside looking in, the first thing that is astonishing about them is the color; a blue like what would come from an electric blue light, but a natural one. The caves emit this blue like an other-worldly glow, and when you step inside you find yourself surrounded by it. You enter into a space with a mountain of ice surrounding it, and the space continues deep into that mountain. Their are unusual formations in the ice, and it's dripping on you. You can hear, sense, the mountain moving, living. It was accutely uncomfortable. Caio and I went in so far as we could see another passageway branching off deeply into what seemed to be a vast labryinth underneath the glacier before turning back. It was one of the most amazing things I've seen, but we couldn't stay. We didn't want to get eaten by a glacier. Another side-trip on the way back would have us hiking towards a big waterfall. We found ourselves above it looking down into a rainbow. Pretty cool.
Day 3 was rainy. We tried to hike up a hill to see a valley, but only saw fog. After that, the slow march to our next camp was a bit drab. We were cold and wet, and the trails were muddy and sometimes more like rivers than trails. This motivated us to cheat a bit when we got there and a few comforts were available to us. Right next to our camp was a refugio - a place that was heated and had hot showers. We'd still use our tents that night, but we took the warmth and we took the showers, and that was all quite revitalizing. Beyond just Caio and Tom and I, we'd become part of a wider circle of folks all heading the same direction on the trail who would hang out together at camp. It was nice to just sit there together, eat, and talk in that warm lodge.
The next day was thankfully sunny and nice. We had a fairly straightforward hike towards the next camp, which would put us in striking distance of the Torres (or 'towers') for which the park is named. The goal was to get up very early the following day, and get up to the Torres for sunrise, before trekking out of the mountains to the place where a bus would take us out of the park. Along the way, as had been the case for the whole trip, we saw some amazing scenery, and an extra treat: condors. These large birds of prey fly so effortlessly and gracefully through the air that you can't help but be mesmorized by them. Once we got to camp, we had a bit of a party to celebrate our last night in the park - this involved funk music and boxed wine.
You really don't feel like getting up at 4:30 in the morning after 4 days of trekking; not to mention after a night of funk music and boxed wine. But we did it, strapped on headlamps, and started up the mountain over a field of boulders. We brought stoves to prepare hot tea, and sleeping bags and mats to keep us warm. Scrambling over rocks, the cold propelled us to the top, and once we got up there we bundled up, made some tea, and waited for the sun. The Torres loomed in the fog before us like something out of a nightmare. The initial sunrise washed the sky opposite them with brilliant colors, and then began to light them up. This was what we were waiting for, and it was really quite a sight to see. Once it seemed like the show might be over, after the sun had fully appeared and the color brought by it's newness had diminished, a rainbow full and bright came up over the Torres. While we were marveling at that, a couple out of the group we'd been spending time with at camp came down and announced that they'd just gotten engaged.
As we made our way back down and out of the park, we were tired but satisfied. I couldn't have imagined a more perfect finale to the trip. That night we'd all be eating dinner together in a restaurant in Puerto Natales.
And so it is for the traveller, that in a short time like this he's drawn closely to the people around him by the intensity and isolation of his experiences. And afterwards, he goes on his way; alone, and thinking longingly of home. One thing I hope for when I get there, is that we never forget to take time for each other. It's really more important than anything else.
Tomorrow I'm getting on a bus for Ushuaia, the southernmost city in the world. I'm going to the end of the earth, and then I'm coming back.
God Bless,
Stephen
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Patagonia Update (part 1)
HOLA.
Pick a rainy day and settle down in front of your computer screens with a nice cup of hot cocoa and a cat, because this is going to be a monster update folks. You ought not be surprised, it's been what a month since I've last posted anything? Well, let's do something about that.
When I last left this off, I was hanging around in the Puerto Montt area of Chile, and unexpectedly enjoying myself quite a bit. I say this because I was spending a week waiting for a boat in a part of Chile that they call "a waste of time" on the traveller wire. What was happening with me, though, was that I was starting to get a sense of Chilean culture, and liking how spontaneous and inviting it is. One night, for instance, I ended up hanging out with a group of Chilean guys at a Ska concert; another, staying up late with the owner of my hostel playing Blues music (him on his guitar, me on the harmonica); still yet another, going to a Salsa dancing club with a couple of Chileans that I'd just met. It wasn't at all painful that my boat for the south kept getting delayed; quite the opposite.
I did set sail eventually, however, and would take this boat to the village of Chaiten - the first stop on what's called the Carretera Austral, a rugged road travelling through the rural south of Chile. I'd continue immediately by bus from Chaiten to the town of Futaleufu (before the trip, my dad said something about how I was headed for "Timbuktu" and I said he was close). The scenery along the way was striking to say the least. Mountains rise impressively over little villages, and rivers shine turquoise. Futaleufu is one of these little villages, and has a turquoise river of it's own which is world renowned for it's class V white water rafting. This was also the main reason for my stop here to the slight apprehension of my poor family back home. I joined up with some Israeli travellers in the village, and together we formed a rafting group. We found a company to take us out, and the next day went down the river. Lots of fun, and none of us got injured or drowned. Mom was happy.
Leaving Futaleufu, I met a travelling couple who I would join up with and end up spending much of my time with on the Carretera Austral. Lenny, from New York (originally Russia), has travelled all over the world, has a keen eye for photography, and appreciates irony. Isarina, from Switzerland, has all sorts of surprising hobbies ("you were in the circus? really?"), enjoys life, and thinks you should purposefully lose track of time while travelling. I liked them, and our first small adventure together would be hiking through a rainstorm in the rainforest up to a hanging glacier. As that last statement might tell you, Chile is kind of a dynamic place. As for the glacier, it was one of those sights that as Lenny says you want to just "burn into your memory." Unfortunately, I don't think that I can do that for any of you, or even for myself. I do, however, have a picture which I'll put up.
The three of us travelled next to Coyhaique, which is the only town of any real size along the Carretera Austral. I was actually relatively overwhelmed by the population of 40,000, but since there wasn't much to do there except to get some photography lessons from Lenny, we moved on to the village of Cerro Castillo.
We'd split up there temporarily while they went off to do the popular 4 day trek there, and I opted for an alternative 2 day trek. I didn't have any backpacking gear with me, and the only thing I was able to rent was a tent from the son of my hostel owner. Plus, it would be only my second real backpacking trip, and first one I'd attempt on my own. I prepared dry food for the 2 days, borrowed a map from Isarina, and the next day I set off into what would be quite a little adventure. During my walk to camp on the first day, the first thing that went wrong was that I lost Isarina's map. Beating myself up about that a bit, I continued on, and still managed to reach the camp successfully. The rain had started to come down pretty heavily by this point, and so I expediently put up my tent and got everything inside. I'd soon realize, however, that this tent I borrowed from a 12 year old wasn't the best one to have in the rain. The water got through, and I would find myself that evening folding the tarp on the floor to direct it into a corner, while bailing it out of the tent periodically using ziploc baggies. I knew it was going to be a long, cold night, and remember thinking that I'd like to be anywhere else, but then thinking that really what I wanted was just to be with my friends. Cramped up in one part of my tent, I managed to fall asleep, though, and when I woke up the rain had thankfully ceased.
I'd decided the previous night that if the weather looked good, I'd make an effort to continue on and reach my destination. If it looked like more of the same, I'd head back towards town the same way I came from and at least be warm, safe, and happy once I'd gotten there. It did look good though, and there happened to be an elderly Polish guy who'd set up camp there that night, who pointed me in the right direction. This led me up a severely steep, rocky pass, and after pushing myself up it, I found myself looking down upon the lake I wanted to get to; the beautiful Lake Cerro Castillo, nestled under the glaciers of the mountain Cerro Castillo. A successful excursion after all, I thought. Not quite. From the lake I could look see a pass which I suspected was the one which would take me straight back to town. I followed a trail for about an hour heading towards it until I encountered an American couple heading the other way. They had a map which showed the trail back to town as being one that went straight down the mountain from the lake; not how I remembered it, but they had a map and I didn't [little side note: I later found out their map was old, and that the way I had been going would have been the correct way]. So I went back, and searched for a trail leaving from the lake. I couldn't find one, but climbing up a bit above the lake I could actually see the town below and straight in front of me. Shortly after setting off down the mountain without a trail, I discovered that things might be more difficult than they seemed. I'd find myself scrambling above rocky cliffs which I'd have to traverse until I could find a way down, bushwhacking it through thick brush alongside a ravine I couldn't cross, and losing sight of the village as soon as I gotten far enough down the mountain. Things didn't get any easier either once they got flatter. I'd reach a marsh with brush so thick I couldn't go any further, or another ravine, or hills that seemed to just be giant rocks. I knew where town was, but couldn't for the life of me figure out how to get there; that is, until I came upon a trail. I rejoiced thinking that I'd found the trail that I hadn't been able to find earlier - the one which would take me straight back to town. It seemed to be going in the wrong direction, though, and before I knew it I was standing in the middle of a field of cows mooing at me. I couldn't believe how ridiculous my situation was, but realized that the ranchers that owned these cows would have a way to get back to town. I found some horse trails in the pasture, and followed them. I had to hop over some fences, but eventually the horse trails took me to a road, and eventually that road led me back. I'd get there at 9pm, about an hour before dark.
Comically enough, the next day, there was a giant national festival in the little village. The place was packed. I witnessed a parade and a rodeo, and participated in a night of folk dancing that night in the gymnasium. None of this was quite as great as it sounds. Since I had to wait another day for a bus anyways, I stuck around to be reunited with Lenny and Isarina the following evening. We had a final supper together before splitting up for good. They would continue south along the Carretera Austral to Cochrane. I'd go to Puerto Ibañez where I could catch a ferry to the Chile-Argentina border. I felt that the time had come for me to cross into the fourth new country of my journey, and couldn't wait. Of course I did have to wait in Puerto Ibañez for my ferry, which was unfortunate considering the liveliness of Puerto Ibañez (or lack thereof). Soon enough, though, I was crossing into the land of steak and tango. That was 2 weeks ago, and that is where I will leave you at the moment. Expect the second part of this update soon!
Saludos,
Stephen
Pick a rainy day and settle down in front of your computer screens with a nice cup of hot cocoa and a cat, because this is going to be a monster update folks. You ought not be surprised, it's been what a month since I've last posted anything? Well, let's do something about that.
When I last left this off, I was hanging around in the Puerto Montt area of Chile, and unexpectedly enjoying myself quite a bit. I say this because I was spending a week waiting for a boat in a part of Chile that they call "a waste of time" on the traveller wire. What was happening with me, though, was that I was starting to get a sense of Chilean culture, and liking how spontaneous and inviting it is. One night, for instance, I ended up hanging out with a group of Chilean guys at a Ska concert; another, staying up late with the owner of my hostel playing Blues music (him on his guitar, me on the harmonica); still yet another, going to a Salsa dancing club with a couple of Chileans that I'd just met. It wasn't at all painful that my boat for the south kept getting delayed; quite the opposite.
I did set sail eventually, however, and would take this boat to the village of Chaiten - the first stop on what's called the Carretera Austral, a rugged road travelling through the rural south of Chile. I'd continue immediately by bus from Chaiten to the town of Futaleufu (before the trip, my dad said something about how I was headed for "Timbuktu" and I said he was close). The scenery along the way was striking to say the least. Mountains rise impressively over little villages, and rivers shine turquoise. Futaleufu is one of these little villages, and has a turquoise river of it's own which is world renowned for it's class V white water rafting. This was also the main reason for my stop here to the slight apprehension of my poor family back home. I joined up with some Israeli travellers in the village, and together we formed a rafting group. We found a company to take us out, and the next day went down the river. Lots of fun, and none of us got injured or drowned. Mom was happy.
Leaving Futaleufu, I met a travelling couple who I would join up with and end up spending much of my time with on the Carretera Austral. Lenny, from New York (originally Russia), has travelled all over the world, has a keen eye for photography, and appreciates irony. Isarina, from Switzerland, has all sorts of surprising hobbies ("you were in the circus? really?"), enjoys life, and thinks you should purposefully lose track of time while travelling. I liked them, and our first small adventure together would be hiking through a rainstorm in the rainforest up to a hanging glacier. As that last statement might tell you, Chile is kind of a dynamic place. As for the glacier, it was one of those sights that as Lenny says you want to just "burn into your memory." Unfortunately, I don't think that I can do that for any of you, or even for myself. I do, however, have a picture which I'll put up.
The three of us travelled next to Coyhaique, which is the only town of any real size along the Carretera Austral. I was actually relatively overwhelmed by the population of 40,000, but since there wasn't much to do there except to get some photography lessons from Lenny, we moved on to the village of Cerro Castillo.
We'd split up there temporarily while they went off to do the popular 4 day trek there, and I opted for an alternative 2 day trek. I didn't have any backpacking gear with me, and the only thing I was able to rent was a tent from the son of my hostel owner. Plus, it would be only my second real backpacking trip, and first one I'd attempt on my own. I prepared dry food for the 2 days, borrowed a map from Isarina, and the next day I set off into what would be quite a little adventure. During my walk to camp on the first day, the first thing that went wrong was that I lost Isarina's map. Beating myself up about that a bit, I continued on, and still managed to reach the camp successfully. The rain had started to come down pretty heavily by this point, and so I expediently put up my tent and got everything inside. I'd soon realize, however, that this tent I borrowed from a 12 year old wasn't the best one to have in the rain. The water got through, and I would find myself that evening folding the tarp on the floor to direct it into a corner, while bailing it out of the tent periodically using ziploc baggies. I knew it was going to be a long, cold night, and remember thinking that I'd like to be anywhere else, but then thinking that really what I wanted was just to be with my friends. Cramped up in one part of my tent, I managed to fall asleep, though, and when I woke up the rain had thankfully ceased.
I'd decided the previous night that if the weather looked good, I'd make an effort to continue on and reach my destination. If it looked like more of the same, I'd head back towards town the same way I came from and at least be warm, safe, and happy once I'd gotten there. It did look good though, and there happened to be an elderly Polish guy who'd set up camp there that night, who pointed me in the right direction. This led me up a severely steep, rocky pass, and after pushing myself up it, I found myself looking down upon the lake I wanted to get to; the beautiful Lake Cerro Castillo, nestled under the glaciers of the mountain Cerro Castillo. A successful excursion after all, I thought. Not quite. From the lake I could look see a pass which I suspected was the one which would take me straight back to town. I followed a trail for about an hour heading towards it until I encountered an American couple heading the other way. They had a map which showed the trail back to town as being one that went straight down the mountain from the lake; not how I remembered it, but they had a map and I didn't [little side note: I later found out their map was old, and that the way I had been going would have been the correct way]. So I went back, and searched for a trail leaving from the lake. I couldn't find one, but climbing up a bit above the lake I could actually see the town below and straight in front of me. Shortly after setting off down the mountain without a trail, I discovered that things might be more difficult than they seemed. I'd find myself scrambling above rocky cliffs which I'd have to traverse until I could find a way down, bushwhacking it through thick brush alongside a ravine I couldn't cross, and losing sight of the village as soon as I gotten far enough down the mountain. Things didn't get any easier either once they got flatter. I'd reach a marsh with brush so thick I couldn't go any further, or another ravine, or hills that seemed to just be giant rocks. I knew where town was, but couldn't for the life of me figure out how to get there; that is, until I came upon a trail. I rejoiced thinking that I'd found the trail that I hadn't been able to find earlier - the one which would take me straight back to town. It seemed to be going in the wrong direction, though, and before I knew it I was standing in the middle of a field of cows mooing at me. I couldn't believe how ridiculous my situation was, but realized that the ranchers that owned these cows would have a way to get back to town. I found some horse trails in the pasture, and followed them. I had to hop over some fences, but eventually the horse trails took me to a road, and eventually that road led me back. I'd get there at 9pm, about an hour before dark.
Comically enough, the next day, there was a giant national festival in the little village. The place was packed. I witnessed a parade and a rodeo, and participated in a night of folk dancing that night in the gymnasium. None of this was quite as great as it sounds. Since I had to wait another day for a bus anyways, I stuck around to be reunited with Lenny and Isarina the following evening. We had a final supper together before splitting up for good. They would continue south along the Carretera Austral to Cochrane. I'd go to Puerto Ibañez where I could catch a ferry to the Chile-Argentina border. I felt that the time had come for me to cross into the fourth new country of my journey, and couldn't wait. Of course I did have to wait in Puerto Ibañez for my ferry, which was unfortunate considering the liveliness of Puerto Ibañez (or lack thereof). Soon enough, though, I was crossing into the land of steak and tango. That was 2 weeks ago, and that is where I will leave you at the moment. Expect the second part of this update soon!
Saludos,
Stephen
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Goin' Down South
Howdy everybody,
I would love to be able to make a nice long post here, but unfortunately I won't be able to. I wanted to send something out though before I started down south any further, because things are about to get super rural. They're also going to get interesting.
The plan goes something like this. Having reached the end of the panamerican highway, I'll be getting on a boat tomorrow night in Puerto Montt that will take me to the north end of what's called the Carretera Austral - a road in southern chile that doesn't connect with the northern part of Chile and goes through rural Patagonia. I'll spend at least a week traveling this road, and am prepared for what I've been told will be slooooow traveling. Buses in some places only run once or twice a week, hitchhiking generally requires waiting for hours, and the weather can stop all travel for days. I've also picked up on the traveler wire that this road has some of the most amazing scenery there is. Reaching the end of this road, I'll need to cross into Argentina to get down further south in Chile where I'll be trekking the world reknowned Torres Del Paine. Look them up! On passage in Argentina, I'll be visiting the world's last advancing glacier, the Perito Moreno, as well as a town called El Chalten where I'm planning on doing some trekking in the Fitz Roy mountain range. After all this, I'm en route for the southernmost city in the world, Ushuaia.
Don't expect too many (if any) blog posts for the next few weeks, but don't forget about me, and be waiting for a killer update when I'm done. In the meanwhile, check out the photos that I've added to my facebook for the island of Chiloe
1st part of link: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?
2nd part: aid=97491&l=74b63&id=591556557
(put them together)
Much love, chau!
Stephen
I would love to be able to make a nice long post here, but unfortunately I won't be able to. I wanted to send something out though before I started down south any further, because things are about to get super rural. They're also going to get interesting.
The plan goes something like this. Having reached the end of the panamerican highway, I'll be getting on a boat tomorrow night in Puerto Montt that will take me to the north end of what's called the Carretera Austral - a road in southern chile that doesn't connect with the northern part of Chile and goes through rural Patagonia. I'll spend at least a week traveling this road, and am prepared for what I've been told will be slooooow traveling. Buses in some places only run once or twice a week, hitchhiking generally requires waiting for hours, and the weather can stop all travel for days. I've also picked up on the traveler wire that this road has some of the most amazing scenery there is. Reaching the end of this road, I'll need to cross into Argentina to get down further south in Chile where I'll be trekking the world reknowned Torres Del Paine. Look them up! On passage in Argentina, I'll be visiting the world's last advancing glacier, the Perito Moreno, as well as a town called El Chalten where I'm planning on doing some trekking in the Fitz Roy mountain range. After all this, I'm en route for the southernmost city in the world, Ushuaia.
Don't expect too many (if any) blog posts for the next few weeks, but don't forget about me, and be waiting for a killer update when I'm done. In the meanwhile, check out the photos that I've added to my facebook for the island of Chiloe
1st part of link: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?
2nd part: aid=97491&l=74b63&id=591556557
(put them together)
Much love, chau!
Stephen
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Land of Lakes
Hey there folks,
Well I finished up in Santiago, and decided to head off South. Mendoza can wait until I visit Argentina later. One noteworthy occurance was that I bought a new harmonica to replace the two that I'd previously spent. It was a start at replacing the things I'd figured out I didn't really need, but still missed. I'd later buy another camera in the town of Temuco, and continue the trend.
All it took to get moving again was to pick up a bus ticket. I've gotten used to arriving in a place without any plans, and making the best of it. Turned out there wasn't much to make of Temuco. The nearby national park looked promising, but since you had to pay for an expensive tour to go see it, I passed. I spent one night there, and then got on another bus for Pucon (with a new camera in my pocket!). Oh, and I also ran out of money here, and had to get bailed out by mom and dad again. They'd sent me some debit cards which I was expecting to be able to start using, but it turned out we'd never received the PIN numbers for them. It was a bit frustrating, but part of traveling is about moving on despite the frustrations, and learning how to not get frustrated by them. With some money from mom and dad to keep going, I told Wells Fargo to go ahead and "send 'em again!" And I arrived in Pucon.
I was glad I did, as I liked the place immediately much more than Temuco. The climate is pleasant, cool; the atmosphere laid back; and the scenery mighty impressive! It's on a lake with a beach, and is surrounded by mountains and the standout Volcan Villarica - a 3,000 meter high volcano. I also found a very charming and not very touristy place to stay. The lady that runs the place really just bends over backwards to be accomodating, and it shows right away by the fact that while she's putting up travelers in her lovely home she's staying in the shed in the backyard. I felt so comfortable here that I cooked something for the first time in my travels - chicken noodle soup from scratch which I've been able to save money by eating every night. Yes, that's right, I've been eating out 3 times a day for months. In Peru and Bolivia it was actually cheaper, and not really that unhealthy.
In the great outdoors, I've only really had one adventure since arriving here. I took a minibus, and hitchhiked (for the first time in my life) out to a place called Ojos de Caburgua. The 'Ojos' or 'Eyes' were a series of small waterfalls surrounding a pool of a surprising shade of green. They were beautiful, and I was happy to be there. It's more satisfying to get somewhere on your own, without paying for a tour to get there. And the rewards in this case were sweet. I was hoping to try the same again today by taking a bus to a nearby National Park where there's hiking to be found, but I missed the bus so it'll have to wait for tomorrow. Of course that's fortunate for you all, because it means I have today to update my blog! Besides the hiking, I am planning on splurging on one tour here, and that's for some intense river rafting. So stay tuned folks, there's more to come. And afterwards, it's time for Patagonia.
There's gonna be action, and I'm gonna bring it to you right here with pictures and blogging.
Chau,
STEPHEN
Well I finished up in Santiago, and decided to head off South. Mendoza can wait until I visit Argentina later. One noteworthy occurance was that I bought a new harmonica to replace the two that I'd previously spent. It was a start at replacing the things I'd figured out I didn't really need, but still missed. I'd later buy another camera in the town of Temuco, and continue the trend.
All it took to get moving again was to pick up a bus ticket. I've gotten used to arriving in a place without any plans, and making the best of it. Turned out there wasn't much to make of Temuco. The nearby national park looked promising, but since you had to pay for an expensive tour to go see it, I passed. I spent one night there, and then got on another bus for Pucon (with a new camera in my pocket!). Oh, and I also ran out of money here, and had to get bailed out by mom and dad again. They'd sent me some debit cards which I was expecting to be able to start using, but it turned out we'd never received the PIN numbers for them. It was a bit frustrating, but part of traveling is about moving on despite the frustrations, and learning how to not get frustrated by them. With some money from mom and dad to keep going, I told Wells Fargo to go ahead and "send 'em again!" And I arrived in Pucon.
I was glad I did, as I liked the place immediately much more than Temuco. The climate is pleasant, cool; the atmosphere laid back; and the scenery mighty impressive! It's on a lake with a beach, and is surrounded by mountains and the standout Volcan Villarica - a 3,000 meter high volcano. I also found a very charming and not very touristy place to stay. The lady that runs the place really just bends over backwards to be accomodating, and it shows right away by the fact that while she's putting up travelers in her lovely home she's staying in the shed in the backyard. I felt so comfortable here that I cooked something for the first time in my travels - chicken noodle soup from scratch which I've been able to save money by eating every night. Yes, that's right, I've been eating out 3 times a day for months. In Peru and Bolivia it was actually cheaper, and not really that unhealthy.
In the great outdoors, I've only really had one adventure since arriving here. I took a minibus, and hitchhiked (for the first time in my life) out to a place called Ojos de Caburgua. The 'Ojos' or 'Eyes' were a series of small waterfalls surrounding a pool of a surprising shade of green. They were beautiful, and I was happy to be there. It's more satisfying to get somewhere on your own, without paying for a tour to get there. And the rewards in this case were sweet. I was hoping to try the same again today by taking a bus to a nearby National Park where there's hiking to be found, but I missed the bus so it'll have to wait for tomorrow. Of course that's fortunate for you all, because it means I have today to update my blog! Besides the hiking, I am planning on splurging on one tour here, and that's for some intense river rafting. So stay tuned folks, there's more to come. And afterwards, it's time for Patagonia.
There's gonna be action, and I'm gonna bring it to you right here with pictures and blogging.
Chau,
STEPHEN
Sunday, January 4, 2009
The Blog Liveth
Hey there folks,
I haven't touched this thing in so long that I think it's going to be more of a recap than anything. I could dig up revelations about places past visited, but something would be lost with my energy in discussing them. I've had new experiences and revelations which occupy me more now.
After I got things straightened out in Bolivia for me to leave, I decided to stay. I wanted to be somewhere special for Christmas, and still had some friends that I'd met traveling in Bolivia. I'd stay in La Paz for a couple days, and then head off to the town of Potosi to visit some mines. These were basically surprising for the outright terrible working conditions that people put up with; conditions that had them on average not living past the age of 40. Suddenly no job that I've done seems all that bad. After this, I made my way to Sucre where I'd meet up with a couple of Canadians that I'd become good traveling companions with, as well as some new Australian friends that they'd met. There we would bunker down for Christmas, and try to make the best of our first away from home.
The town was a warm, festive little place - perfect for the occasion. Christmas dinner wasn't the same. Neither was visiting with my family through a webcam. But really for what it was, it was quite nice. I appreciated the time I spent with my friends there. On the afternoon of the next day, I'd set off towards Chile with the rushed plan of making it to the famed New Years celebration in Valparaiso, just outside of Santiago.
I spent a few days in San Pedro de Atacama Chile, and did a few tours of the local sights while I was there; hooking up with a really great Brazilian crowd from Sao Paulo who I'll no doubt meet up with again when I get to Brazil. The place was neat. I was getting a bit tired of deserts and high altitudes by this point (The 'vamos a la playa?' or 'are we going to the beach now?' joke never got old), but the Valley of the Moon was one of the coolest places that I've seen. As such, it's impossible to describe, and the one picture I got with my mostly broken camera is entirely insufficient. Anyways, after a couple days I got on what would be the longest bus ride I've had so far - 23 hours and 30 minutes to Santiago. I'd skip over the whole of Northern Chile, and be thrown from a small tourist town into the bustling city.
That said, it wasn't really so bad. I loved getting onto the subway near the bus station, and getting zipped along to right up near my hostel. Before I did I picked up some bus tickets that would take me to Valparaiso the next day, and then bring be back the following morning.
Ever since then, I've had almost no kind of normal with regards to eating and sleeping schedules; among other things.
The evening of the 31st I'd arrive in Valparaiso alone for the celebrations. This would turn out not to be much of a problem at all, as I was quickly adopted by a group of young and exuberant Chileans who were more than anxious to share their drinks and shishkabobs with me. This is one of the things that I love about Latin America. In a very short time you can become part of a family. And while that happened, the crowds just poured in all around us. As it got closer and closer to 2009 the energy of the place picked up more and more. One person would start singing a song in Chilean and the crowd around them would all loudly join in. It didn't matter that they had come as part of different groups. For this party, everyone was together.
A countdown started up at one point, and the place just erupted once it ran out. Shortly afterwards, an absolutely massive fireworks show took place, which was undoubtedly the best one that I've ever seen or may see for a while. Afterwards the place was just crazy. The people in my group all walked around trying to find each other, and it was practically impossible. This small little town whose streets had looked nice and clean when I had arrived, now looked like a battle had taken place. And there were people, lot's of people. I'd leave the craziness behind at some point, and get on a bus back to Santiago, since there hadn't been any place for me to stay in Valparaiso that night. Arriving at 7:00 in the morning, I'd find that the subway which had been so useful for getting me to my hostel last time to be closed, and I´d walk. Once I finally got there, I was utterly exhausted, and slept through the middle part of the day.
I spent those next couple days just hanging around in the hostel and that part of town. It was a nice cozy little hostel with a couch, a tv, a balcony, a stereo, what would turn into a dance floor. I made a group of friends here, and we would stay up exceptionally late also; to match New Years. By the third day, I was exhausted, and part of me was relieved that this group started breaking up as it would give me a chance to recuperate from now 3 days of staying up into the late morning, and maybe about 1 proper night's sleep between them. It's easy to adopt an attitude that spending time with people is better than maintaining a healthy routine, but it had caught up with me. It was nice to sleep in the next day, and then just go on a leisurely walk around the city. It doesn't do all my friends justice that I don't talk about all of them individually here, but so it goes.
I've since decided that I agree with everyone who says that Santiago is quite like any US city. Lima had it's frantic drivers and colorful bohemian markets, La Paz had it's unnatural placement and sometimes bizarre happenings. Santiago has modern buildings, and people jogging through the parks with their ipods. For me still, though, the city--any city--is more about the people you meet and the time you spend with them than it is about the city itself and what's there.
For the moment, I'm still waiting on some credit cards, and pondering a trip over to Mendoza, Argentina. I reckon I'll be quite ready afterwards to set off into the desolate and breathtaking south; the land of mountains, and maybe some solitude.
Don't give up on my blog writing folks, it still lives! Just had a bit of an absent stretch there. And I still love and miss all of my friends back home.
Sincerely,
Stephen
I haven't touched this thing in so long that I think it's going to be more of a recap than anything. I could dig up revelations about places past visited, but something would be lost with my energy in discussing them. I've had new experiences and revelations which occupy me more now.
After I got things straightened out in Bolivia for me to leave, I decided to stay. I wanted to be somewhere special for Christmas, and still had some friends that I'd met traveling in Bolivia. I'd stay in La Paz for a couple days, and then head off to the town of Potosi to visit some mines. These were basically surprising for the outright terrible working conditions that people put up with; conditions that had them on average not living past the age of 40. Suddenly no job that I've done seems all that bad. After this, I made my way to Sucre where I'd meet up with a couple of Canadians that I'd become good traveling companions with, as well as some new Australian friends that they'd met. There we would bunker down for Christmas, and try to make the best of our first away from home.
The town was a warm, festive little place - perfect for the occasion. Christmas dinner wasn't the same. Neither was visiting with my family through a webcam. But really for what it was, it was quite nice. I appreciated the time I spent with my friends there. On the afternoon of the next day, I'd set off towards Chile with the rushed plan of making it to the famed New Years celebration in Valparaiso, just outside of Santiago.
I spent a few days in San Pedro de Atacama Chile, and did a few tours of the local sights while I was there; hooking up with a really great Brazilian crowd from Sao Paulo who I'll no doubt meet up with again when I get to Brazil. The place was neat. I was getting a bit tired of deserts and high altitudes by this point (The 'vamos a la playa?' or 'are we going to the beach now?' joke never got old), but the Valley of the Moon was one of the coolest places that I've seen. As such, it's impossible to describe, and the one picture I got with my mostly broken camera is entirely insufficient. Anyways, after a couple days I got on what would be the longest bus ride I've had so far - 23 hours and 30 minutes to Santiago. I'd skip over the whole of Northern Chile, and be thrown from a small tourist town into the bustling city.
That said, it wasn't really so bad. I loved getting onto the subway near the bus station, and getting zipped along to right up near my hostel. Before I did I picked up some bus tickets that would take me to Valparaiso the next day, and then bring be back the following morning.
Ever since then, I've had almost no kind of normal with regards to eating and sleeping schedules; among other things.
The evening of the 31st I'd arrive in Valparaiso alone for the celebrations. This would turn out not to be much of a problem at all, as I was quickly adopted by a group of young and exuberant Chileans who were more than anxious to share their drinks and shishkabobs with me. This is one of the things that I love about Latin America. In a very short time you can become part of a family. And while that happened, the crowds just poured in all around us. As it got closer and closer to 2009 the energy of the place picked up more and more. One person would start singing a song in Chilean and the crowd around them would all loudly join in. It didn't matter that they had come as part of different groups. For this party, everyone was together.
A countdown started up at one point, and the place just erupted once it ran out. Shortly afterwards, an absolutely massive fireworks show took place, which was undoubtedly the best one that I've ever seen or may see for a while. Afterwards the place was just crazy. The people in my group all walked around trying to find each other, and it was practically impossible. This small little town whose streets had looked nice and clean when I had arrived, now looked like a battle had taken place. And there were people, lot's of people. I'd leave the craziness behind at some point, and get on a bus back to Santiago, since there hadn't been any place for me to stay in Valparaiso that night. Arriving at 7:00 in the morning, I'd find that the subway which had been so useful for getting me to my hostel last time to be closed, and I´d walk. Once I finally got there, I was utterly exhausted, and slept through the middle part of the day.
I spent those next couple days just hanging around in the hostel and that part of town. It was a nice cozy little hostel with a couch, a tv, a balcony, a stereo, what would turn into a dance floor. I made a group of friends here, and we would stay up exceptionally late also; to match New Years. By the third day, I was exhausted, and part of me was relieved that this group started breaking up as it would give me a chance to recuperate from now 3 days of staying up into the late morning, and maybe about 1 proper night's sleep between them. It's easy to adopt an attitude that spending time with people is better than maintaining a healthy routine, but it had caught up with me. It was nice to sleep in the next day, and then just go on a leisurely walk around the city. It doesn't do all my friends justice that I don't talk about all of them individually here, but so it goes.
I've since decided that I agree with everyone who says that Santiago is quite like any US city. Lima had it's frantic drivers and colorful bohemian markets, La Paz had it's unnatural placement and sometimes bizarre happenings. Santiago has modern buildings, and people jogging through the parks with their ipods. For me still, though, the city--any city--is more about the people you meet and the time you spend with them than it is about the city itself and what's there.
For the moment, I'm still waiting on some credit cards, and pondering a trip over to Mendoza, Argentina. I reckon I'll be quite ready afterwards to set off into the desolate and breathtaking south; the land of mountains, and maybe some solitude.
Don't give up on my blog writing folks, it still lives! Just had a bit of an absent stretch there. And I still love and miss all of my friends back home.
Sincerely,
Stephen
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