I've given in. To Ila's sickness, and my homesickness. But don't give up on the blog because 1. Peter is staying on for another two weeks and I will keep you posted on his travels 2. The wickedly insightful musings you've been enjoying since we left California will continue albeit with fully functioning septic systems and fewer volcano sightings.
It took a lot for me to decide that it was okay to leave. After all the planning and anticipation, two months sounds like such a short time. But it's actually a huge step to admit that, for me, it wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Don't get me wrong, I've had a great time, I've learned a lot, but it wasn't the kind of learning I was hoping for. I think I was naively expecting to have the same feelings and experiences I had when I traveled alone, when I was much younger. And that's just not possible for a worry wart of a mother. Peter, on the other hand, has been having more of a mind-opening experience, which is why he's staying on for a while. I felt badly about dragging him home when he wasn't ready, and he was very torn about letting us go. But we both agree it's best for Ila - who besides her repeated physical illness is sick of being away from friends and family - and it's best for me, since I'm ready, and it's best for him, since he's still having fun. Besides, for a couple that only saw each other weekends, 5 months of 24/7 is a lot, this will give us something to talk about!
So, we'll spend another week in Buenos Aires, and by then Ila will (hopefully) be over her third bout of the traveler's flu. She and I will spend a gloriously long time together on an airplane and then we'll reestablish ourselves in Connecticut for the time being. Peter is headed to Uruguay where he hopes to hit a pretty beach in La Paloma up north.
Once he's back we're planning to look for our next home, and figure out what we're going to do for a living. I must admit I really miss California and now that my brother's living in San Francisco I'm thinking he and I could start the full court press on the rest of the gang. Sure would be easier if we didn't have to move our stuff! What IS all that stuff? I can't imagine.
Right now it's crappy and grey in Buenos Aires. We couldn't get out of here until next Wednesday night and it's agony waiting now that we know we're going. Plus, our apartment smells funny. This whole place smells funny.
I forgot to post pictures of the tiny plane before... here you go...
If it weren't for the smell of dog pee and the fact that I nearly blew us up trying to turn on the oven, the cabana where I woke up yesterday might have been perfect. We were on Chiloe, an archipelago that runs along the coast of Chile from Puerto Montt to Chaiten. From the picture window of our dilapidated cabana I could see the ocean and the bluffs of nearby islands. The sky couldn't make up its mind and I was treated to the sound of rain but a patch of sunlight - at least for a few moments before the weather changed again. When Ila woke up we had breakfast, then walked on the beach below us for an hour before heading to Castro the central city of Chiloe, a fishing village further south. I'd been looking forward to seeing the famous houses on stilts and brightly painted churches. Chiloe's very quaint, but as it turned out, the island had a seedy run-down feel that was somewhat depressing.
Yesterday, on the advice of the woman who runs the cabanas, we took a dirt road through green farmland down to the beach where we found a bunch of enterprising fishermen offering boat tours to the rocks to see penguins, sea lions, otters and cormorants. There were seven passengers on our little boat and despite assurances that the waters were calm we hit some choppy water making the trip that much more of an adventure. We did see all of those animals, though the penguins have mostly migrated so there were just a few hanging around on the rocks. It was a good trip, worth the effort for the blast of fresh ocean air.
Now we're back in Puerto Varas again making plans for the next phase and working through another minor stomach bug with Ila. Again, we took her to the doctor to make sure nothing serious was going on, and again we were told to relax and just monitor her diet. But it's hard, for this anxious mother, to feel comfortable continuing our journey given the impact it seems to be having on little Moo. We'll head up to Buenos Aires shortly, then make our decision from there...
After Bariloche, I finally fell in love with our journey. Bariloche was great, it served our purposes well. But once we landed in the much smaller town of El Bolson, I felt a weight lift. Because we were on a schedule to meet up with Liz and Alex in Chile we only stayed two days, but enjoyed the slower pace. Bolson is described as a hippie town, and certainly showed a few signs - micro breweries, a health food store, dreadlocks, vegetables laden with aphids... but it wasn't overwhelming. We did a little shopping at the famous craft fair, ate out a a few times and ran into folks we'd met on the tourist circuit in Bariloche. Ila played with Dante from Santiago and Sequoia from Cordoba. Bolson is in a small valley with impressive mountains on both sides. Bolson is warmer than Bariloche where the wind blew cold air off the lake and mountains. We took a side trip to Lago Puelo 30 minutes out of town. Once there we walked along the lake despite the loud hum of bees in the trees. Peter was very brave, even after a sign confirmed that we were in a "zona chaquete amarilla." Before long we reached a beach where we met a most incredible family and spent hours visiting while the kids waded in the lake. Jill, Paul and their son Elliot are English but worked in Africa for 12 years as photo safari guides. Now they're traveling around South America for a few YEARS in their Land Rover. They camp everywhere and, as you can see from their rig, they have it pretty well figured out. They made it clear that anything is possible when traveling with a child and while I don't expect to reach their level of cool in my lifetime, I was glad to get the perspective.
We missed our bus - they only came every two hours or so - and were invited to tea. Tea, with English people, at a campsite, in Argentina. It was just super. We got back to town late and scrambled to eat dinner, buy bus tickets, pack and prepare for the next day.
The following morning we took a two and a half hour busride to Esquel, then a 30 minute one to Trevelin. Trevelin is a tiny town known for it's Welsh heritage. After Peter dragged our luggage up a steep hill to our lovely hostel Casa Verde, we walked to town accompanied by the hostel dog Tango. We had tea at the most traditional, but very tourist oriented tea house while Tango waited outside, then spent the afternoon walking the main street and playing at the playground. Trevelin felt good, very calm, enough basic services, but nothing like the craziness of Bariloche. We had dinner a little late and Ila fell asleep in my arms on the way to the hostel. In the morning we set out for Chile in a taxi. The ride to the border was about 45 minutes through farmland , towards mountains to two small government buildings separated by a strip of nothing. Our cab wasn't allowed to pass into Chile but our driver asked another traveler if we could catch a ride to Futaleufu with hiim and he obliged. As I mentioned in the last post, he looked familiar to me and I later confirmed with LIz that he was in her documentary about the Futaleufu river. Mario dropped us a few blocks from the plaza and we found our way (Peter dragging our luggage along the dirt roads, as usual) to a wonderful place called Sur Andes. Sur Andes is run by Monica and Maria Jose from Santiago and they make wonderful coffee and delicious food - hard to come by in these parts. Upstairs is a comfortable little apartment where we stayed with Liz that night. Liz met us in the evening and we had dinner at her friends restaurant which was closed in general, but was open for us. We ate good food, drank wine and watched the fire while Ila fell asleep on a comfy couch. The second night in a string of five where Ila would pass out before we got her to a bed.
The town of Futaleufu, in the Futaleufu river valley is a jumping off point for a lot of rafting and fishing expeditions, but despite the presence of North American tour guides and their mostly European clients, the town takes you back in time. Many people still get around on horseback and it's common to see a horse tied outside the hardware store or just munching grass in a vacant lot. The smell of burning wood is ever present because it is how they heat their stoves and do their daily baking. The people are browner, more stout and ruddy than their neighbors in Argentina. The evidence of their lives is in their strong, rough hands - men and women. Being with Liz and Alex, we were lucky enough to be invited into a few homes where we were served tea yet again, but this time with baby chicks under foot and laundry hanging over the stove.
The valley is stunningly beautiful. The rivers change their shades of blue with the weather which seems to be a constant dramatic mix of clouds, sun and rain. Liz and Alex work at a rafting camp about 30 minutes from town and we spent a very fun night there drinking wine around the fire, sleeping on a tent platform over a creek and visiting with the resident sheep. The camp was mostly closed for the season so we weren't able to sample the luxurious hot tub, sauna, yoga classes or the bar, but I think it was better that way. For the two days we were there, we accompanied Liz and Alex as they firmed up some land purchases. That meant hanging out by the side of one beautiful river or another, eating cheese sandwiches and collecting rocks while they visited with Don Moreno, Don Rene or Don Ameche. Then they'd join us, there might be some fishing, some beer drinking, then back to town. Good times except for that moment when we realized that a dog stole Alex's trout from the car. Bad dog. And there was the time that Peter and Ila saw the chicken in a bag... but that's a long story.
We drove from Futaleufu to Chaiten on the Pacific. About a three hour dirt road drive through what is essentially temperate rain forest, mountains that are sometimes covered with blue glaciers, waterfalls, azure rivers. Nothing that great. Chaiten is a lonely little outpost that is also the government hub of the district. So it feels like a nothing little town at the end of the world, but it's for residents of the region, it's where you come to register your car, confirm your land deals etc. It's also where you catch a boat or a plane to get the heck out of the cold and we'll be flying in a tiny little one tomorrow to get to Puerto Montt.
Looks like we might go to Peru and hit a sweet little beach up north near the equator. Any suggestions?
A long silence indicates we're either miserably bored or too busy having fun. This time it's the latter by a long shot. After leaving Bariloche we've been to several wonderful small towns, each prettier and smaller than the last: El Bolson, Trevelin and Futaleufu. We took a cab today from Trevelin in Argentina to the border with Chile where we caught a ride with a sad looking man in a blue pickup truck. I thought he looked familiar and turns out he was in Liz's documentary about the Futaleufu river several years ago. Unbelievable.
Once I have some time to record our great last few days, I'll be sure to post an update. I've managed to add some good pictures from the last days in Bariloche, and here are a few good movies to keep you busy while you wait for more on our latest adventures,
We have yet to spend a week without at least one of us being ill. We've been fighting colds, stomach viruses, the flu... now it's my turn and I'm so very annoyed. We've delayed our departure from Bariloche until Monday giving us time to recover again and maybe for someone else to get sick. So Monday we'll head a few hours south to El Bolson, then to Trevelin - a Welsh town famous for tea time - then across to the Futalefu river to visit with Liz.
We all had our last days of school Friday and celebrated with a late night out bowling with our classmates. It was a lot of fun for us to be out with other people, drinking beer, visiting... Ila had fun too. There were tiny bowling balls and plenty of people to charm. I forgot to wear socks and was faced with the choice of being barefoot in rental shoes or barefoot on beer dampened carpet. I chose the latter. We paid for our good time the next day when Ila woke bright and early at her usual 7:30 despite a midnight bedtime. I spent the day feeling grumpy and hungover.
Last day at Panda Jardin!
Saturday night we watched a lunar eclipse from our patio. It was spectacular. A very clear night. It became visible when the moon was nearly eclipsed so we mostly got to watch the shadow recede. Very cool. I felt the world get very small and very large all at once. Being so far from home, but such a tiny point in the universe.... totally groovy man.
Sunday we took another chair lift to a very pretty spot that offered a wonderful view of the surrounding lakes and, as usual, a confeteria with sandwiches, empanadas and cakes. We strolled around, had some lunch and met some nice folks from Manchester at the bus stop. After a late afternoon nap, we had a big adventure and went to the circus! Basically, cirque de soleil with no budget. The tent was up above town on a dirt road. Peter had been there earlier in the week to buy tickets and "splurged" on VIP seats for the early show. Nobody was in the ticket booth so Peter had wandered into the tent to find some help. One of two stage hands drinking beer off to the side ran off to fetch an authority. The tall toothy man in gymnast shoes who eventually appeared, turned out to be the lead performer and Peter was tickled when during an intermission he broke character to ask we were having a good time. Ila was spellbound and saw right past the aging acrobats, the threadbare costumes and the dirt floor. She also didn't notice that we were one of only three families in the VIP section.
Three days ago I got hit with this flu and spend days in bed while Peter and Ila made more friends at the playground and Peter finally scored a much talked about, much coveted YPF cap. After Liz turned us on the the fact that YPF - a gas station - had coffee to go, Peter stopped by there a couple of times a week, much to the amusement of our teachers at school who don't understand at all why one would get a coffee to walk around with. YPF used to be nationally owned but is now owned by Spain and, according to a lefty I know here, is a typical example of what's gone wrong in this country and how the politicos have spoiled everything. There's more oil here in Argentina than the population needs, but they have to buy it from a foreign company. Peter, having just finished reading a very sad book entitled "The Open Veins of Latin America" by Eduardo Galleano (the leftist bible according to my lefty friend) had some mixed feelings I think, but chose to think of the old YPF that belonged to the people. After all, he had spent weeks trying to get his hands on one of these hats that for some reason were not for sale. In the end, using a much practiced negotiating speech, he traded a Boca Juniors (soccer team) cap for the hat off one of the station employees, and made a few more friends in the process. Go Pete!
So now we're busy tying up loose ends, making transportation arrangements, doing a little shopping and mailing home. Miss "home" lots, but onward we go!
