 |
| Valdivia, Chile |
 |
| Vina Del Mare, Chile |
As much as I loved Chile,
as much as I felt a bit out of place. When the first feeling you have when you get to a new destination (after the excitement) is the feeling that you got ripped off by the taxi driver, it's not all that much what I call a good start. We did our research and after an argument in really poor Spanish we managed to pay almost what we thought to be the right amount.
Nonetheless, we arrived at the hostel with nothing but smiles on our faces and no plans as to what to do with our time there. John sat in the lobby as I was going through pamphlets. One of them caught my eye. Roughly, it was a 10 day trip either north or south and although we had to pay for the expenses and amenities, the guide was responsible to find and reserve the hostels and activities. Since we didn't have much time there (the trip cut short because of John's change of plan), no knowledge of the country and strongly emphasized by the fact that we didn't speak the language either, we opted for that option. When I called to get on the bus which was going south, it had already left and was staying overnight in Pichilemu. I asked them if there was any way we could be picked up somewhere and offered to travel to Chillàn, their next stop, before they made it there. They agreed. With a plan in mind we went for drinks with 2 other fellow adventurers met at Andes hostel and shared wine near the plaza de Armas.
With no cellphones, nothing but a time and a place, we left early the next morning for the bus terminal and managed to get to Chilliàn. Miraculously, once there, the Pachamama bus found us and that's where our adventure really began.
We were 9 of us if I recall correctly. Though I don't remember all the names, some of them stuck with me like Rodriguo, our guide, and Jill, a girl from California who I wish I was still talking to today.
The memories are vague. I remember Pucòn and Villarica, the volcano that we climbed, the drinks on top of a building after that exhausting day, the BBQ at the hostel where there was only one knife for 20 of us. I remember the cheap wine, the stray dogs and the smells, Valdivia and the sea lions, Puerto Moutt and the alpaca sweaters when it was 20 degrees outside. The little restaurant where we ate, all squeezed together on a pic nic table, and where a man sang for us. The cascades saltos Del Laja, the cold water, the rocks and the laughs, the hot springs. Frutillar and the German architecture, Balduzzi vineyard where I had way too much wine, Santiago when Rodriguo took us to his own home for a night. Vina del Mare... The Ocean.
I got my camera stolen somewhere between the time we left la casa Roja Hostel and Rodriguo's place, on the train. A real shame that someone would take away something that means nothing to them and everything to the victim. It left a bitter taste in the mouth, I still managed to take a few pictures with my phone afterwards, which is better than nothing.
It was a great experience but... next time I'll go I'll make sure I speaking Spanish.
