When we first met, it was all exciting and new and hot, I was blown away really, in a wonderland. But as time went on dear, I got to know you, and now all that’s cold and faded and tired. It’s no sueno en vivo nada mas, and I’m not in love with you Santiago. Tonight I’m leavin’ you for good, dear friend, and I probably won’t be back. The one, my true love, mi corazon from the beginning—California—waits for me patiently, and after a brief but sure-to-be-unforgettable affair with Peru, I’m headed home to her. Don’t get me wrong darling, I wouldn’t trade our time for anything, what I’ve learned from you is priceless; I don’t regret a moment and I wouldn’t trade it for anything, you’re part of my eudaimonia. I have to say now though—and it’s something I couldn’t say before I met you—that life is bigger than you, so much bigger, and I gotta go live it. I’ll look back so very fondly, I hope you will too. If I hear that sad but sweet Spanish song on the radio I’ll curl my mouth into a nostalgic smile and daydream about my hot and cold summers in South America.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
pure mornin
sorry to leave you hangin, dad. i'll continue....
I often get the question of what I do during a day, so I might as well spell it out. I woke up bright and early today with Shay, and did the usual routine--I get breakfast together and french press some coffee downstairs while she gets ready. Today it was oatmeal and pears, yesterday I sauteed some banans with just a little butter and brown sugar and cinnamon for the oatmeal. I try to throw in some variety. She went off to school; this is the most commitments she's had in a day so far-- school 10-2 then internship till 10ish. I watched some foodie videos, I've discovered Mark Bittman on NYTimes.com is damn funny and has some good albeit simple ideas. I then went on a few mile run around the Club Hipico horse track. Its really not the ideal running route with the dust, cars, and horse stank, but it avoids intersections. Then stretching and situps, and some pushups, although I slacked on those cause my chest is weak. I hit the shower. but.... there are few things more peeving than being fully soaped up, and having the water go ice cold. (The gas ran out. Each shower hooks up to its own heater and gas tank, the upstairs one is broken). So, much to the behest of my man-bits, I quickly rinsed my lower half, grabbed my towel and shower items, and relocated to the other downstairs shower. Ahh, warmth again. With conditioner then in-hair... ice cold. Again. The other tank hit bottom. I chuckled and cursed at the same time. With some 'oh f-this' angst, I rinsed, washed my face and got the hell outta the cold hell of showering here. I lunched on a sandwich, and went to the grocery store for milk and fruit. The milk here comes in room-temp 1-liter boxes, weird right? Most are terribly designed, too; you have to cut them open, with no option to reseal. Now I'm here, about an hour later, having crossed off a few things on my do to list for the day, and working on the next thing....this. Oh, and I am enjoying a beer, the cold shower warranted one. We picked out several different individual bottles from the Jumbo in an attempt to find at least one decent Chilean beer we can enjoy...and bingo! This one is a winner. One of very few winners. Also on my list today is: to finish up my Spanish resume, and get it out there, do laundry, attend the asado (bbq)/dinner that housemates are throwing (I'll humor them although, this may be pricky, but I'm sure I could make it better), and give the sad OK to mom to send in my humble denial to attend USF Law. Today, as a whole, is a shift away from some pessimism that has infected me as of late. The house, area, lack of funds, blandness of Santiagoan (almost) everything, helpess frustration of the cost of school (and thus the starting on square one yet again), and...gramps....all had my head spinning. I have no intention, however, of straying from the title of this blog. Hell, add an exclamation point to it.
I've decided today, though, to cut my losses. I will expound on the highlights since I left off, at the mouth of Torres, and catch up to today-- to right now.
the Trek. After we set up camp, we got daypacks and cameras and headed up to the Torres del Paine. It was the longest and toughest day hike of the three, but different and inspiring around ever turn. We went from the valley up, into the forest. On the occasions we emerged, we could see the valley and river far below, and the completely opposite, barren landscape of the mirroring uphill of the valley. The last 45 minutes of the hike was near vertical rock and boulder hopping, and then we reached them. It looked...fake! Its grand-and-picturesque-ness was almost unbeleivable. (pictures!) It was a 7-8 hour hike, altogether. We got some flame on the potatoes and sausages, put 'em in foil with seasoning and cheese, and then stuck 'em in under the coals. Then added some avocado and hot sauce; it was good, even if the potatoes were a bit undercooked. It didn't rain that night--a nice start.
The next day was both rough and relaxing. We arose and headed out to the next camp, on the first hike with the full weight of our packs. It was tough terrain. When we arrived 4-5 hours later at the next refugio, we decided: stick it out here for today. Hike to 'Campo Italiano' at the base of the next day hike (up Valle Frances), drop our packs, do that hike. Then get our packs again, and head to the final camp. We wanted to cook ourselved that night, but discovered they didnt rent stoves. So we signed up for an expensive refugio dinner. It was satisfying but not nearly as satisfying, actually, as the other meals we cooked ourselves. For reference in the pictures: this is where you see us dining on bread-avo-chorizo-tapatio 'salad', skipping rocks on the glacier-water lake, and me falling off a log, and the big meat dinner plate. We met Maya here. I rigged the tarp over the tent as best I could, because we saw the rain clouds coming. Sure enough, we woke up with a very damp tent. Well, a wet tent. Those fancy 20 dollar tents kind of absorb the water through to the inside, instead of shedding it. The tarp saved us though, more or less.
We donned what 'rain gear' we had, and I fashioned a trash bag over my pack to shed the water. We stuck to the plan I told you about. At Campo Italiano, we joined with Maya, because she shed her trekking partner (who couldn't handle it and went home). Valle Frances was one of my three favorite day hikes (lol...). It was dense with wonders...waterfalls, stream-trails, fairy-tale trees, and a persisting view of the massive snow-ice covered mountain ahead. This hike was only a few hours, total. Then we shouldered up our packs yet again, and with the clouds cleared, trekked four hours more to the final camp.
The final camp had a 'kitchen and dining' hut for campers, equipped with stoves! So we dined there. Our dinner was gnocchi with tomato cheese sauce and threw in whatever else we had left, like some chorizo. I set the up the tarp more effectively that night, as you can see in the pictures. I did my best to keep the tarp from touching the tent--to shed off the water, not let it soak through. It was a challenge given that the tarp wasn't quite big enough, and I had a scraggly tree, rocks, and some shrubs to tie onto. But it worked out.
Maya, Corrie and I hiked to the glacier the next day, Shay and Greg left and had massive cheeseburgers in Puerto Natales. The glacier was breathtakingly massive. It just stretched on and on.
We caught a ferry across the lake, and back to the beginning. Funny to think what took us 3 days of trekking, we backtracked in a matter of hours. And the ferry cost 20 bucks, wtf.
(I'm getting into more detail then I meant to for this 'highlights' section!!)
bbbbzzzzzhummmmm (fast forward sound)
Buenos Aires, ARGENTINA! (After a bus to El Calafate, a night there, and another 36 hour bus ride)
BA is wonderful. Ecclectic, alive and enlivening, inexpensive, beautiful, stylish, good food, great meat. But one bad hostel; very bad. Bedbugs. It makes me shudder just thinking about it. Shayla and I woke up with the telltale lines of bites everywhere. Shay took classes in this stuff for the Co-op, so she explained all the nasty details of these resliant little ****s. The lay eggs and come with you. They live anywhere and everywhere. They survive forever, waiting to feast. asldkfjaew;ifjadls;f. Gross, and they were feasting on US. So, we got the hell outta there, to a really awesome hostel nearby. Shay explained that they come with you via eggs. The eggs dont hatch for over a week, and that extreme temperatures will kill them. So, we did our best to contain our belongings, and when we retured home, high heat in the dryer for everything. (So far we are bug-free!). Otherwise, BA was fantastic. Shay and I stayed the final few nights in Shay's previous house-mom's apartment. Oh, and we had an incredible (and spicy! I had to douse my face with cold water twice, I was out-of-practice) dinner at a south-east asian/Argentinean fare place. Greg and I ate some rabbit.
The earthquake happened during all this, and shook us up a bit (hehe). But puns aside, not so funny, a lot of damage was done.
Greg changed his flight plans to leave out of BA, but first, we headed to Mendoza (a few hours from the Chilean border) for a day and a half. We shared a parilla dinner. The first course consisted of the insides of a cow, I'm still not sure which parts exactly. I thoroughly enjoyed the blood sausage, which I usually would rather tiptoe around. The meat was the best I've ever had. They know how to handle a cow in Argentina, from the raising to the cooking. We also took a bike tour of the wineries, olive oileries (?), and specialty fooderies of Mendoza, which was delightful. Greg and I parted ways.
Shay and I met back in Santiago. She then found out that, because of the quake, she didn't start school until the 22nd! So naturally, we bought 2 tickets to Brazil for the day after. Of course, we didn't know that we needed about 10 days to secure a visa. We found that out after. So, we tried our luck at the Brazilian Consulate, who told us sorry, we'd have to change the flights. The airline wasn't havin' any of that. Not at first, anyway. A few calls later, we got our money back, thank god.
Madison, Allie (our housemate), Shay and I went to La Serena instead. La Serena is a beach town about 6 hours north. We secured a 3 bedroom apt on the beach for a few nights, at the cost of a hostel, and enjoyed ourselves. A tour on the beach one day, a tour through Valle Elqui another day, and a trip up to the massive cross-chapel in the neighboring poorer fishing town of Coquimbo. I liked Coquimbo more. One of those days, on the bus into La Serena, a very curios thing happened. A man in the seat in front and across from us made a clicking sound, and turned toward us. The clicking sound was something you might here on a National Geographic program of indigenous African peoples, or from aliens on a Star Trek episode. This man seemed equally as stern and intense as either of these would be. He then fished into his backpack and revealed to us a whole live crab, and held it out to us in what might have been an offering or a warning, I'm still unsure. With that, he said, in english, 'remember, you remember...' We said, no, pero gracias, senor weirdo. He faced the front again, but swiftly swung around again, holding a leg of that same crab he kindly removed for us, and repeated, 'remember', and said something else in his secret clicking language. He smelled like rancid sea. The bus driver stopped the bus, and led him to the rear, where somone took care of him. then, with a slap of the tougue from the roof to the floor of his mouth....'click click, click'
I wonder if that crab leg had special powers. It was still moving, after all.
We returned to Santiago to finally attempt at settling into 'real' life and a routine. This was upset, however, buy the realization that the house we were in was an overpriced disaster. The more we thought about it, the more we had issue with. The solution of course was to find a new place; but, this is somewhat of a full time job. Nevertheless, a week later we signed on for three months at our soon-to-be new place. It'll be in the heart of the livielest, 'hippest' (as hip as you get 'round here) area, and at the foot of the biggest park in town (a big mountain). It is clean, and beautiful, and clean, and kitchen to only 4 people. Yet, its part of an umbrella building of apts that share the same great outdoor patio, equipped with a bbq, and tables, and lounge chairs. and its clean, and has a shower you can bend over in. And, the police impound, equipped with 24-hour towing, is not on the sidewalk below our balcony. And its essentially the same price! We move in the 16th.
I joined Shay and her program on a day trip to Pomerie, too. The town thrives on crafting anything and everything from the earth of a local mountain. If Peir 1 got a hold of this stuff, you'd be paying hundreds of dollars for handcrafted home-goods from vases to those outdoor fire oven things to masks. Cool pueblo. (pictures!)
The 'real' life element of our time here has set in now, and we are gathering our routines in a place across the world from where we'd call home. I need something purposeful here, yes, something to 'put on my resume' after its all said and done. I'm workin on it. It's quite weird to think we're not even at the halfway point yet, but then again, I know it will go by faster than I can imagine. We have whole new chapters to look forward to, too, like another Mendoza trip, another home in Santiago, Haleys visit!, and Peru (and Bolivia, funds permitting). And tomorrow night we are seeing one of my favorite bands who are touring through Santiago--Placebo.
So we are back to now, all caught up. I put the laundry in during this, too. Y ahora tengo que poner la ropa en la secadora.
Te vaya bien, chow!!
(yes I know it's ciao)
I often get the question of what I do during a day, so I might as well spell it out. I woke up bright and early today with Shay, and did the usual routine--I get breakfast together and french press some coffee downstairs while she gets ready. Today it was oatmeal and pears, yesterday I sauteed some banans with just a little butter and brown sugar and cinnamon for the oatmeal. I try to throw in some variety. She went off to school; this is the most commitments she's had in a day so far-- school 10-2 then internship till 10ish. I watched some foodie videos, I've discovered Mark Bittman on NYTimes.com is damn funny and has some good albeit simple ideas. I then went on a few mile run around the Club Hipico horse track. Its really not the ideal running route with the dust, cars, and horse stank, but it avoids intersections. Then stretching and situps, and some pushups, although I slacked on those cause my chest is weak. I hit the shower. but.... there are few things more peeving than being fully soaped up, and having the water go ice cold. (The gas ran out. Each shower hooks up to its own heater and gas tank, the upstairs one is broken). So, much to the behest of my man-bits, I quickly rinsed my lower half, grabbed my towel and shower items, and relocated to the other downstairs shower. Ahh, warmth again. With conditioner then in-hair... ice cold. Again. The other tank hit bottom. I chuckled and cursed at the same time. With some 'oh f-this' angst, I rinsed, washed my face and got the hell outta the cold hell of showering here. I lunched on a sandwich, and went to the grocery store for milk and fruit. The milk here comes in room-temp 1-liter boxes, weird right? Most are terribly designed, too; you have to cut them open, with no option to reseal. Now I'm here, about an hour later, having crossed off a few things on my do to list for the day, and working on the next thing....this. Oh, and I am enjoying a beer, the cold shower warranted one. We picked out several different individual bottles from the Jumbo in an attempt to find at least one decent Chilean beer we can enjoy...and bingo! This one is a winner. One of very few winners. Also on my list today is: to finish up my Spanish resume, and get it out there, do laundry, attend the asado (bbq)/dinner that housemates are throwing (I'll humor them although, this may be pricky, but I'm sure I could make it better), and give the sad OK to mom to send in my humble denial to attend USF Law. Today, as a whole, is a shift away from some pessimism that has infected me as of late. The house, area, lack of funds, blandness of Santiagoan (almost) everything, helpess frustration of the cost of school (and thus the starting on square one yet again), and...gramps....all had my head spinning. I have no intention, however, of straying from the title of this blog. Hell, add an exclamation point to it.
I've decided today, though, to cut my losses. I will expound on the highlights since I left off, at the mouth of Torres, and catch up to today-- to right now.
the Trek. After we set up camp, we got daypacks and cameras and headed up to the Torres del Paine. It was the longest and toughest day hike of the three, but different and inspiring around ever turn. We went from the valley up, into the forest. On the occasions we emerged, we could see the valley and river far below, and the completely opposite, barren landscape of the mirroring uphill of the valley. The last 45 minutes of the hike was near vertical rock and boulder hopping, and then we reached them. It looked...fake! Its grand-and-picturesque-ness was almost unbeleivable. (pictures!) It was a 7-8 hour hike, altogether. We got some flame on the potatoes and sausages, put 'em in foil with seasoning and cheese, and then stuck 'em in under the coals. Then added some avocado and hot sauce; it was good, even if the potatoes were a bit undercooked. It didn't rain that night--a nice start.
The next day was both rough and relaxing. We arose and headed out to the next camp, on the first hike with the full weight of our packs. It was tough terrain. When we arrived 4-5 hours later at the next refugio, we decided: stick it out here for today. Hike to 'Campo Italiano' at the base of the next day hike (up Valle Frances), drop our packs, do that hike. Then get our packs again, and head to the final camp. We wanted to cook ourselved that night, but discovered they didnt rent stoves. So we signed up for an expensive refugio dinner. It was satisfying but not nearly as satisfying, actually, as the other meals we cooked ourselves. For reference in the pictures: this is where you see us dining on bread-avo-chorizo-tapatio 'salad', skipping rocks on the glacier-water lake, and me falling off a log, and the big meat dinner plate. We met Maya here. I rigged the tarp over the tent as best I could, because we saw the rain clouds coming. Sure enough, we woke up with a very damp tent. Well, a wet tent. Those fancy 20 dollar tents kind of absorb the water through to the inside, instead of shedding it. The tarp saved us though, more or less.
We donned what 'rain gear' we had, and I fashioned a trash bag over my pack to shed the water. We stuck to the plan I told you about. At Campo Italiano, we joined with Maya, because she shed her trekking partner (who couldn't handle it and went home). Valle Frances was one of my three favorite day hikes (lol...). It was dense with wonders...waterfalls, stream-trails, fairy-tale trees, and a persisting view of the massive snow-ice covered mountain ahead. This hike was only a few hours, total. Then we shouldered up our packs yet again, and with the clouds cleared, trekked four hours more to the final camp.
The final camp had a 'kitchen and dining' hut for campers, equipped with stoves! So we dined there. Our dinner was gnocchi with tomato cheese sauce and threw in whatever else we had left, like some chorizo. I set the up the tarp more effectively that night, as you can see in the pictures. I did my best to keep the tarp from touching the tent--to shed off the water, not let it soak through. It was a challenge given that the tarp wasn't quite big enough, and I had a scraggly tree, rocks, and some shrubs to tie onto. But it worked out.
Maya, Corrie and I hiked to the glacier the next day, Shay and Greg left and had massive cheeseburgers in Puerto Natales. The glacier was breathtakingly massive. It just stretched on and on.
We caught a ferry across the lake, and back to the beginning. Funny to think what took us 3 days of trekking, we backtracked in a matter of hours. And the ferry cost 20 bucks, wtf.
(I'm getting into more detail then I meant to for this 'highlights' section!!)
bbbbzzzzzhummmmm (fast forward sound)
Buenos Aires, ARGENTINA! (After a bus to El Calafate, a night there, and another 36 hour bus ride)
BA is wonderful. Ecclectic, alive and enlivening, inexpensive, beautiful, stylish, good food, great meat. But one bad hostel; very bad. Bedbugs. It makes me shudder just thinking about it. Shayla and I woke up with the telltale lines of bites everywhere. Shay took classes in this stuff for the Co-op, so she explained all the nasty details of these resliant little ****s. The lay eggs and come with you. They live anywhere and everywhere. They survive forever, waiting to feast. asldkfjaew;ifjadls;f. Gross, and they were feasting on US. So, we got the hell outta there, to a really awesome hostel nearby. Shay explained that they come with you via eggs. The eggs dont hatch for over a week, and that extreme temperatures will kill them. So, we did our best to contain our belongings, and when we retured home, high heat in the dryer for everything. (So far we are bug-free!). Otherwise, BA was fantastic. Shay and I stayed the final few nights in Shay's previous house-mom's apartment. Oh, and we had an incredible (and spicy! I had to douse my face with cold water twice, I was out-of-practice) dinner at a south-east asian/Argentinean fare place. Greg and I ate some rabbit.
The earthquake happened during all this, and shook us up a bit (hehe). But puns aside, not so funny, a lot of damage was done.
Greg changed his flight plans to leave out of BA, but first, we headed to Mendoza (a few hours from the Chilean border) for a day and a half. We shared a parilla dinner. The first course consisted of the insides of a cow, I'm still not sure which parts exactly. I thoroughly enjoyed the blood sausage, which I usually would rather tiptoe around. The meat was the best I've ever had. They know how to handle a cow in Argentina, from the raising to the cooking. We also took a bike tour of the wineries, olive oileries (?), and specialty fooderies of Mendoza, which was delightful. Greg and I parted ways.
Shay and I met back in Santiago. She then found out that, because of the quake, she didn't start school until the 22nd! So naturally, we bought 2 tickets to Brazil for the day after. Of course, we didn't know that we needed about 10 days to secure a visa. We found that out after. So, we tried our luck at the Brazilian Consulate, who told us sorry, we'd have to change the flights. The airline wasn't havin' any of that. Not at first, anyway. A few calls later, we got our money back, thank god.
Madison, Allie (our housemate), Shay and I went to La Serena instead. La Serena is a beach town about 6 hours north. We secured a 3 bedroom apt on the beach for a few nights, at the cost of a hostel, and enjoyed ourselves. A tour on the beach one day, a tour through Valle Elqui another day, and a trip up to the massive cross-chapel in the neighboring poorer fishing town of Coquimbo. I liked Coquimbo more. One of those days, on the bus into La Serena, a very curios thing happened. A man in the seat in front and across from us made a clicking sound, and turned toward us. The clicking sound was something you might here on a National Geographic program of indigenous African peoples, or from aliens on a Star Trek episode. This man seemed equally as stern and intense as either of these would be. He then fished into his backpack and revealed to us a whole live crab, and held it out to us in what might have been an offering or a warning, I'm still unsure. With that, he said, in english, 'remember, you remember...' We said, no, pero gracias, senor weirdo. He faced the front again, but swiftly swung around again, holding a leg of that same crab he kindly removed for us, and repeated, 'remember', and said something else in his secret clicking language. He smelled like rancid sea. The bus driver stopped the bus, and led him to the rear, where somone took care of him. then, with a slap of the tougue from the roof to the floor of his mouth....'click click, click'
I wonder if that crab leg had special powers. It was still moving, after all.
We returned to Santiago to finally attempt at settling into 'real' life and a routine. This was upset, however, buy the realization that the house we were in was an overpriced disaster. The more we thought about it, the more we had issue with. The solution of course was to find a new place; but, this is somewhat of a full time job. Nevertheless, a week later we signed on for three months at our soon-to-be new place. It'll be in the heart of the livielest, 'hippest' (as hip as you get 'round here) area, and at the foot of the biggest park in town (a big mountain). It is clean, and beautiful, and clean, and kitchen to only 4 people. Yet, its part of an umbrella building of apts that share the same great outdoor patio, equipped with a bbq, and tables, and lounge chairs. and its clean, and has a shower you can bend over in. And, the police impound, equipped with 24-hour towing, is not on the sidewalk below our balcony. And its essentially the same price! We move in the 16th.
I joined Shay and her program on a day trip to Pomerie, too. The town thrives on crafting anything and everything from the earth of a local mountain. If Peir 1 got a hold of this stuff, you'd be paying hundreds of dollars for handcrafted home-goods from vases to those outdoor fire oven things to masks. Cool pueblo. (pictures!)
The 'real' life element of our time here has set in now, and we are gathering our routines in a place across the world from where we'd call home. I need something purposeful here, yes, something to 'put on my resume' after its all said and done. I'm workin on it. It's quite weird to think we're not even at the halfway point yet, but then again, I know it will go by faster than I can imagine. We have whole new chapters to look forward to, too, like another Mendoza trip, another home in Santiago, Haleys visit!, and Peru (and Bolivia, funds permitting). And tomorrow night we are seeing one of my favorite bands who are touring through Santiago--Placebo.
So we are back to now, all caught up. I put the laundry in during this, too. Y ahora tengo que poner la ropa en la secadora.
Te vaya bien, chow!!
(yes I know it's ciao)
Monday, March 29, 2010
Build up to the Torres
Ok its time. I had coffee this morning, and a grande iced Americano just now. A grande is huge for what you usually get around here café-wise. That’s the most coffee in a day I’ve had in a long while. In summation, I am thoroughly wired, which I’ll need to help me recap the last…3 weeks? 4 weeks? I lost count I suppose. I have to say, I have missed the feeling of satisfaction I get after writing this stuff down, no matter how (not) enlightening or beautiful my prose might be. A little hurdle I face now is where the hell to start; but a little push from my dose of roasted beans….and I’ll jump it. I’ll just start where I last left off. The bus.
Lots of bus. We left off on a Sunday morning before the Trek. At this point in the story, we were fairly comfortable and confident in our plan for Torres Del Paine. It was budget and we still needed a few things, but we were calm enough. We crossed back into Chile later that Sunday, and unfortunately had to ditch some of our cheese and salami. Upon arrival to Punta Arenas, we rushed to the local mall to gather what items we knew we needed. I received kick in the gut of coldness when I got off the bus--an indication that my hip sweatshirt and second hand windbreaker weren’t gonna cut it. So, I got a cheap warm jacket from the ‘Jumbo’--the Chilean kmart/walmart. We made it to our hostel later that night. We gave each other nervous wide eyed looks as we passed the campers out front; they had there shit together--legit tents, little stoves, hiking boots, water proof gear, and it all looked so natural to them, and they (I swear…) gave us a little smirk that said, ‘silly gringos. of course, this is how you do it, how’re you plannin’ on makin’ it?’ This, I think, was the beginning of our swiftly deleting all previous plans and ideas, and the start of our scramble to truly prepare ourselves. The hostel was great, the four of us had a room to ourselves. We owe our re-planning of the Trek to the dueno of the hostel. He gave us the same look as the campers did outside, and promptly, and nicely, informed us of the best way to tackle Torres del Paine. We were to go the opposite direction as we had originally planned. We were to pack food for all meals, because the food at the refugios are fantastically overpriced. He suggested buying a stove. We were to postpone our bus to Puerto Natales, and stay there another night, and bus to the mouth of the Park the morning after the next day. We were to use this time to gather the now-known-to-be-necessary-items. So we got to it. We changed our bus tickets to Puerto Natales that night, and got some food. The next day involved deliberation over what to buy--especially what to do about food--and where to go to get it. (Remember, our packs include living essentials for the following 2 weeks as well, for Buenos Aires etc, so they were quite full. Plus, I had Madison’s sleeping bag, which I swear must be a relic from 4th grade in-house sleepovers....very bulky, heavy, and as I would discover, not warm) Several stores later, after buying much of what we needed, we found the store we should have bought most everything from in the first place, but so it goes. We finally found a tarp to cover our sad tent. The stove idea was replaced with the following plan--use the firepit at the campsite the first night, treat ourselves to a refugio dinner the second, and rent a stove the third night. The bus left for Puerto Natales Monday afternoon, and we arrived there a couple hours later, feeling quite confident once again. The dining that night was memorable--‘Afrigonia’ was the place--a blend of African and Patagonian fare. I had the mint rack of lamb; it was fantastic.
Bright and early the next morning, we were off. The road turned to dirt for the last half hour, and we de-boarded to pay the entrance fee. Then, one more final bus to the first camp.
The great Patagonian gods smiled on us--the weather was beautiful, and remained that way for most of our journey, except for some light rain during the last two nights. I took a lot of pictures, sometimes to the point of Shay giving me the whip to speed up. Of course Shay is always on a serious mission while hiking, with eyes on the prize, and the prize is always ahead. Still, I wish I had taken more. I guess there is value in lacking pictures that might spoil any grand and beautiful memories that I have all to myself.
Lots of bus. We left off on a Sunday morning before the Trek. At this point in the story, we were fairly comfortable and confident in our plan for Torres Del Paine. It was budget and we still needed a few things, but we were calm enough. We crossed back into Chile later that Sunday, and unfortunately had to ditch some of our cheese and salami. Upon arrival to Punta Arenas, we rushed to the local mall to gather what items we knew we needed. I received kick in the gut of coldness when I got off the bus--an indication that my hip sweatshirt and second hand windbreaker weren’t gonna cut it. So, I got a cheap warm jacket from the ‘Jumbo’--the Chilean kmart/walmart. We made it to our hostel later that night. We gave each other nervous wide eyed looks as we passed the campers out front; they had there shit together--legit tents, little stoves, hiking boots, water proof gear, and it all looked so natural to them, and they (I swear…) gave us a little smirk that said, ‘silly gringos. of course, this is how you do it, how’re you plannin’ on makin’ it?’ This, I think, was the beginning of our swiftly deleting all previous plans and ideas, and the start of our scramble to truly prepare ourselves. The hostel was great, the four of us had a room to ourselves. We owe our re-planning of the Trek to the dueno of the hostel. He gave us the same look as the campers did outside, and promptly, and nicely, informed us of the best way to tackle Torres del Paine. We were to go the opposite direction as we had originally planned. We were to pack food for all meals, because the food at the refugios are fantastically overpriced. He suggested buying a stove. We were to postpone our bus to Puerto Natales, and stay there another night, and bus to the mouth of the Park the morning after the next day. We were to use this time to gather the now-known-to-be-necessary-items. So we got to it. We changed our bus tickets to Puerto Natales that night, and got some food. The next day involved deliberation over what to buy--especially what to do about food--and where to go to get it. (Remember, our packs include living essentials for the following 2 weeks as well, for Buenos Aires etc, so they were quite full. Plus, I had Madison’s sleeping bag, which I swear must be a relic from 4th grade in-house sleepovers....very bulky, heavy, and as I would discover, not warm) Several stores later, after buying much of what we needed, we found the store we should have bought most everything from in the first place, but so it goes. We finally found a tarp to cover our sad tent. The stove idea was replaced with the following plan--use the firepit at the campsite the first night, treat ourselves to a refugio dinner the second, and rent a stove the third night. The bus left for Puerto Natales Monday afternoon, and we arrived there a couple hours later, feeling quite confident once again. The dining that night was memorable--‘Afrigonia’ was the place--a blend of African and Patagonian fare. I had the mint rack of lamb; it was fantastic.
Bright and early the next morning, we were off. The road turned to dirt for the last half hour, and we de-boarded to pay the entrance fee. Then, one more final bus to the first camp.
The great Patagonian gods smiled on us--the weather was beautiful, and remained that way for most of our journey, except for some light rain during the last two nights. I took a lot of pictures, sometimes to the point of Shay giving me the whip to speed up. Of course Shay is always on a serious mission while hiking, with eyes on the prize, and the prize is always ahead. Still, I wish I had taken more. I guess there is value in lacking pictures that might spoil any grand and beautiful memories that I have all to myself.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
travel back in time...the bus to puerto montt
we backpedal a few weeks to a Sunday morning before the Trek, I wrote this one on the bus. ...and I'll continue to catch you all up.
People are beginning to wake up now. An old lady with a spray bottle of air freshener, toothbrush, toothpaste, and some beauty product sways in the aisle beside me, waiting to use the bathroom; she hollers at someone down the aisle. I cringe, it’s not the hour for hollering yet, and I feel protective of Shay as she tries to sleep beside me. It’s flat as far as the eye and I can see, just cold dirt with scattered dry brush. Late last night I peeked out the window and followed a dainty power line, just taller than this bus, as far I as could before it turned a hard left--we drove on. When I woke the sun poked through the closed blinds, which I liked because it was pretty and warm. Now, after a stretch of clouds, it hits my face again. But it passes, and the clouds stretch on, a single plane reaching the horizon. They look flat on the bottom, but I’m sure they billow on top. That lady just sprayed her air freshener generously in and around the bathroom, I can smell it seven rows up. I can feel that my eyes are bloodshot, but it’s not from the spray. This is our second straight morning on a bus, we’ve been on about 38 hours now, except for a three hour break in Porto Montt, and a few short leg-stretchers. We are deep into the Argentinean side of Patagonia, I think. We are on route to Punta Arenas, where we will stay the night in a real bed. Our bus takes us through Argentina because there is no other way; there are no Chilean roads that connect Porto Montt to Punta Arenas. Not bus worthy, anyway. Despite the bloodless tingly toes, the dry eyes, and mild claustrophobia, I would choose this bus trip over a flight in a heartbeat. We’ve seen truly beautiful landscape through these tall, albeit a bit dirty, panes of glass. It was stretches of vineyards at first, which gave way to verdant pastureland, dotted with magnificent wooden homes, and --less magnificent-- farm shacks. Regardless which home it was, happy cows come from Chile (….not California). The pasture led us to Porto Montt. Beyond Porto Montt, we dove headlong into Patagonia; the windy road threaded us between rivers and waterfalls, which threaded themselves through lush dense jungle forest. Behind a stretch of heavy grass, a sheer rock cliff towered, directly out of which grew deep green trees and vines; they covered the cliff face, so only in patches could we see its steel grey color. We crossed the Chile/Argentina border around 6 last night, and drove on. We have even enjoyed a few onboard picnics, the most recent one comprised of salami, gruyere, and a bottle of Concho y Toro’s red blends. It helped us sleep. Its about 8:20 am now, on Sunday, and we arrive around 20:00. We will have a good nights rest in Porto Arenas, and gather last minute items, like warmer clothes, and a tarp if we can find one. Yes, these should not be last minute items, but this is a budget trek full of ‘I forgot this at home!’ and ‘shit, I should have brought that!’. From Punta Arenas, we bus north to Puerto Natales. We had to bus further south than we are going--its just the only way. From Puerto Natales, there is a regular connecting bus north to the mouth of Torres del Paine. Then, we start our trek. We have a twenty dollar tent from ‘Jumbo’ (a Chilean k-mart), and again, we hope to find a tarp we can throw over it if it rains--we’re not confident that the tent is waterproof. We brought the warmest clothes we have. I forgot my old ski jacket shell and layers (…full of ‘shit, I should have brought that!’s) so I picked up a used waterproof layer for ten bucks at a second hand store. I have a sweatshirt, but like I said, we’ll get some last minute warm-me-uppers. The girls bought hiking boots; Greg has his leather Timbaland boots, but they’re the kind built for fashion over function. I have my trusty tennis shoes, from my city college tennis days. This is one of the most beautiful places in the world, and National Geographic says so. No crappy tent, tennis shoes, skinny wallet, or 3 day bus trip will stop us. The glaciers might though.
People are beginning to wake up now. An old lady with a spray bottle of air freshener, toothbrush, toothpaste, and some beauty product sways in the aisle beside me, waiting to use the bathroom; she hollers at someone down the aisle. I cringe, it’s not the hour for hollering yet, and I feel protective of Shay as she tries to sleep beside me. It’s flat as far as the eye and I can see, just cold dirt with scattered dry brush. Late last night I peeked out the window and followed a dainty power line, just taller than this bus, as far I as could before it turned a hard left--we drove on. When I woke the sun poked through the closed blinds, which I liked because it was pretty and warm. Now, after a stretch of clouds, it hits my face again. But it passes, and the clouds stretch on, a single plane reaching the horizon. They look flat on the bottom, but I’m sure they billow on top. That lady just sprayed her air freshener generously in and around the bathroom, I can smell it seven rows up. I can feel that my eyes are bloodshot, but it’s not from the spray. This is our second straight morning on a bus, we’ve been on about 38 hours now, except for a three hour break in Porto Montt, and a few short leg-stretchers. We are deep into the Argentinean side of Patagonia, I think. We are on route to Punta Arenas, where we will stay the night in a real bed. Our bus takes us through Argentina because there is no other way; there are no Chilean roads that connect Porto Montt to Punta Arenas. Not bus worthy, anyway. Despite the bloodless tingly toes, the dry eyes, and mild claustrophobia, I would choose this bus trip over a flight in a heartbeat. We’ve seen truly beautiful landscape through these tall, albeit a bit dirty, panes of glass. It was stretches of vineyards at first, which gave way to verdant pastureland, dotted with magnificent wooden homes, and --less magnificent-- farm shacks. Regardless which home it was, happy cows come from Chile (….not California). The pasture led us to Porto Montt. Beyond Porto Montt, we dove headlong into Patagonia; the windy road threaded us between rivers and waterfalls, which threaded themselves through lush dense jungle forest. Behind a stretch of heavy grass, a sheer rock cliff towered, directly out of which grew deep green trees and vines; they covered the cliff face, so only in patches could we see its steel grey color. We crossed the Chile/Argentina border around 6 last night, and drove on. We have even enjoyed a few onboard picnics, the most recent one comprised of salami, gruyere, and a bottle of Concho y Toro’s red blends. It helped us sleep. Its about 8:20 am now, on Sunday, and we arrive around 20:00. We will have a good nights rest in Porto Arenas, and gather last minute items, like warmer clothes, and a tarp if we can find one. Yes, these should not be last minute items, but this is a budget trek full of ‘I forgot this at home!’ and ‘shit, I should have brought that!’. From Punta Arenas, we bus north to Puerto Natales. We had to bus further south than we are going--its just the only way. From Puerto Natales, there is a regular connecting bus north to the mouth of Torres del Paine. Then, we start our trek. We have a twenty dollar tent from ‘Jumbo’ (a Chilean k-mart), and again, we hope to find a tarp we can throw over it if it rains--we’re not confident that the tent is waterproof. We brought the warmest clothes we have. I forgot my old ski jacket shell and layers (…full of ‘shit, I should have brought that!’s) so I picked up a used waterproof layer for ten bucks at a second hand store. I have a sweatshirt, but like I said, we’ll get some last minute warm-me-uppers. The girls bought hiking boots; Greg has his leather Timbaland boots, but they’re the kind built for fashion over function. I have my trusty tennis shoes, from my city college tennis days. This is one of the most beautiful places in the world, and National Geographic says so. No crappy tent, tennis shoes, skinny wallet, or 3 day bus trip will stop us. The glaciers might though.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
from surfin a couch, to my own bed
I'm sitting comfortably now in a bean bag chair, in the upstairs den of our new home. The double doors are open behind me, to the small balcony; the slightly cooler air comes in. There are two modern couches in front of me facing the tv, an orange one, and one of black leather, without armrests. Our 'matrimonial sweet' (as they call it) is steps away, and it's door and window too are open to the same balcony. Canvassed romantic pictures of Santiago adorn the walls, along with a dartboard, and in the corner sits a fake Charlie Brown sized Christmas tree (?), ornaments and all. The window across from me, above the black leather couch, reveals the open space that is the center of the home, and spans both floors. A wooden staircase spirals squarely along its walls from the first to second floor, around and above the kitchen, which sits on a black and white checkered floor. It floods with orange light in the morning. A big fluffy Alaskan looking dog strolls the first floor--unfortunately he has to leave next month.
We'll be here until mid-July, as you know. It's pretty damn exciting.
I have a couple stories to relay to you, so I'll get to it. I couch-surfed on Thursday night! While I was at the hostel, I received a few unexpected emails from fellow couchsurfers in Santiago, so I emailed them back, and said I'd be down do hang out, and if they have a couch, I'd sleep on it. On Wednesdayish I got a call from one of them named Rod. He invited me over to hang out, and I accepted and asked if it was cool that I stay, and he said of course. (Remember this is all in Spanish! well, maybe spanglish sometimes) I met him at his--nice--apartment in the center of the city, just below Bellavista, the heart of the Santiago club scene. He was absolutely and wholeheartedly welcoming. We talked and he was patient with my Spanish, and truly interested in creating a friendship--one where we learn about eachothers culture, life, etc. So there I was, about 18 floors above Santiago, with Rod and his friends. Oh, and he had a tiny kitten he had rescued from the streets (strays everywhere, remember?), pretty damn cute.
We drove with his friends into Bellavista, where we were gonna meet up with Shay and Corrie and Madison (remember I met Madison at the hostel...and now he's living with us!). I spotted them as we drove through the main drag, and we exchanged waives and yells that were probably awkward to everybody around, and caused a small traffic back up, lol. I went with Rod and friends, but Rod then insisited we go get my friends. He got them into the club with us, so we all danced together. Shay and friends left, and later Rod and I and friends did too. We went back to his house, where he had a mattress and blanket set up for me in the living room--a few hours ago I was a complete stranger; now I have a mattress and blanket in his living room. I slept well, and Rod and I plan to help eachother with language while I'm here, I'll see him again this week.
I have more stories, but right now I gotta get those pictures up. So until next time....chow!
We'll be here until mid-July, as you know. It's pretty damn exciting.
I have a couple stories to relay to you, so I'll get to it. I couch-surfed on Thursday night! While I was at the hostel, I received a few unexpected emails from fellow couchsurfers in Santiago, so I emailed them back, and said I'd be down do hang out, and if they have a couch, I'd sleep on it. On Wednesdayish I got a call from one of them named Rod. He invited me over to hang out, and I accepted and asked if it was cool that I stay, and he said of course. (Remember this is all in Spanish! well, maybe spanglish sometimes) I met him at his--nice--apartment in the center of the city, just below Bellavista, the heart of the Santiago club scene. He was absolutely and wholeheartedly welcoming. We talked and he was patient with my Spanish, and truly interested in creating a friendship--one where we learn about eachothers culture, life, etc. So there I was, about 18 floors above Santiago, with Rod and his friends. Oh, and he had a tiny kitten he had rescued from the streets (strays everywhere, remember?), pretty damn cute.
We drove with his friends into Bellavista, where we were gonna meet up with Shay and Corrie and Madison (remember I met Madison at the hostel...and now he's living with us!). I spotted them as we drove through the main drag, and we exchanged waives and yells that were probably awkward to everybody around, and caused a small traffic back up, lol. I went with Rod and friends, but Rod then insisited we go get my friends. He got them into the club with us, so we all danced together. Shay and friends left, and later Rod and I and friends did too. We went back to his house, where he had a mattress and blanket set up for me in the living room--a few hours ago I was a complete stranger; now I have a mattress and blanket in his living room. I slept well, and Rod and I plan to help eachother with language while I'm here, I'll see him again this week.
I have more stories, but right now I gotta get those pictures up. So until next time....chow!
Friday, February 5, 2010
....and here is where we're gonna live!
Tonight I move into our new place. Its a house of 20 people, all Spanish, all the time. We're headed back into a co-op, but this time its Chilean! Actually, there are international students there too, like any good co-op, but again, we're all gonna speak Spanish. All the time. See why I started a new blog entry, totally outside the comfortable one? The idea is that I come back speaking Spanish, no?
The owner of the place was more than welcoming, as were the other two people living there now. (The others will come back when school starts.) The room is still very comfy, with a big bed, and a little balcony; and the house has a cool feel to it, with art everywhere and an awesome staircase winding up and above the kitchen to our floor.
So now, I gotta wake up a buddy named Madison who Shay and I have met here at the hostel, because he's gonna live there too(I think)! He is studying here too, like Shayla.
Sorry about the pictures, I've been busy! I'll get 'em up asap.
Tonight I move into our new place. Its a house of 20 people, all Spanish, all the time. We're headed back into a co-op, but this time its Chilean! Actually, there are international students there too, like any good co-op, but again, we're all gonna speak Spanish. All the time. See why I started a new blog entry, totally outside the comfortable one? The idea is that I come back speaking Spanish, no?
The owner of the place was more than welcoming, as were the other two people living there now. (The others will come back when school starts.) The room is still very comfy, with a big bed, and a little balcony; and the house has a cool feel to it, with art everywhere and an awesome staircase winding up and above the kitchen to our floor.
So now, I gotta wake up a buddy named Madison who Shay and I have met here at the hostel, because he's gonna live there too(I think)! He is studying here too, like Shayla.
Sorry about the pictures, I've been busy! I'll get 'em up asap.
pretend with me, for a second, that this is my comfort zone, this particular little blog entry. In this comfort zone is a cozy little apartment on a cobblestone street. It has a private bathroom, and double glass door that open to a quiet patio with a mini pool (well, actually, its more like a giant kiddy pool). Two other Americans live here, along with an Italian, and only one speaks Spanish. A comfortable and beautiful place. Maybe too comfortable.
let's step outside this zone.....
let's step outside this zone.....
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