The 3 of us arrived in Frutillar exhaustedfrom barely sleeping the entire week before and quickly found a place to stay. We then chowed down and enjoyed some great conversation, recreating and reliving our Misiones experiencesfor each other. It felt refreshing to speak English and be able to fully express myself after 10 days of only being able to partially express myself in Spanish. We slept a “rico” sleep that night, fully appreciating the comfort that is a bed after passing out on 1/3 of an air mattress for a week.
The next morning, we took care of some business, like taking a real shower and getting our clothes washed. The rest of the day we spent on a long walk around the town. It was a beautiful day and we had a great time, relishing in the fact that we had already hadsuch amazing experiences on Misiones, yet our journey was just beginning.
Frutillar was heavily immigrated by Germans back in the day, so it is not difficult to feel as if you have just left small town South America and arrived in small town Germany. Hand crafted beers and mouthwatering cobblers called kuchen abound, and there is an evident German look in the people. The toursity part of the town faces the gigantic Lago Llanquihe, which backs up to the majestic Volcán Osorno. Kelsey, Aislinn, and I spent a good part of our day just sitting in front of the sparkling lake reading, journaling, listening to music, writing some post cards, and reveling in the peace and tranquility of the day. We also visited the main attraction of the town—a giant music theater—which houses an annual musical festival that takes over the entire town at the end of each January. That night we said farewell to Frutillar and boarded the bus to our next destination: Castro, Chiloé.
Chiloé: Chile untouched
Everyone I have met in Chile had told me that I would love Chiloé and that “la gente allá es amorosa,” or that the people there are very warm and friendly. I was really excited to experience Chiloé, and it certainly lived up to the hype. Chiloé is a group of islands off the coast of Chile, and was largely isolated from Chile for years.As a result, Chilotes, people who are from Chiloé, have maintained and are very proud of their distinct culture. Walking around Chiloé, you feel as if you have stepped back in time. I can’t exactly explain what it is about Chiloé that makes you feel this way—maybe it’s the groups of fishermen lingering over a lunch break, or the parish-run cafeteria that flanks the mainbasilica, or the fierce pride of the vendors in the town market, but there is definitely something distinct and even timeless about Chiloé.
We spent our first 2 days in Castro, the capitol. The weather in Chiloé is often rainy and foggy, but we lucked out with a crystal clear, sunny blue- sky day. The lady at the tourist office recommended a walking tour that leads up to a beautifuloverlook, so we took our time exploring the island along this “camino.” We started out by visiting San Francisco, which is one of Chiloé’s many UNESCO-declared world heritage sights. The basilica is splendid with its wood crafted interior; one of the most beautiful churches I’ve ever seen—grand in a differentway than the glitzed basilicas of Europe. Afterwards, we checked out the multicolored “palitos,” or houses on stilts, for which Chiloé is also known, and wandered through the Artisan market. The trek up to the “mirador” proved to be much more difficult than we thought, but we lucked out with some gorgeous rustic views along the way—horses, cows, wide- open fields, and the sea as a backdrop.
By the time we had done the whole walk and returned it was around 5 PM and we hadn’t eaten lunch! My eating habits are really becoming more and more Chilean these days. After a wonderful feast we headed back to our hostel and relaxedfor a bit. That night we sat in front of the fire in the cozy hostel lodge and enjoyed licor de oro, a drink only made in Chiloé that we had bought that day. To our amusement, we met an Italian and were astonished to hear how bad his Spanish accent was. Apparently us gringos aren’t the only ones who butcher the beauty of the Spanish tongue. We went to bed full of great conversationand the inexplicable charm of Chiloé.
The next day we set out on another walk in search of another famous Chilote church. Though we carefully followed the map that had been drawn for us, we never found the church. We were not too sad, as we had really enjoyed the sightsand each other’s company during the walk.
That afternoon we arrived to a rainy Ancud, another one of the Chilote islands, and struck gold with a great hostel. The rain did not leave us with many options of things to do, so we decided to find a restaurant in which we could taste curanto, described in our guidebook as asoup and specialty of Ancud. When we got to the restaurant and learned that curanto contains shellfish and meat, it turned out that I was the only one who wanted to try it because Aislinn is allergic to shellfish and Kelsey is a vegetarian. What I was expecting was a bowl of hearty soup, but what I got was a GIGANTIC feast that the 3 of us could’ve split. Maybe I should havebeen clued in when I noticed the sign in the restaurant that said, “CURANTO, ayudando a la gente a tener buen sexo desde 1826 . . .” which translates to, “CURANTO, helping people have good sex since 1826.” After I chowed down as Miss Piggy of the group, the rain had stopped and we wandered around, exploring Ancud.
We stumbled upon an awesome display of the history of Chilote wooden churches. As I had mentioned, Chiloé has several UNESCO designated world heritage churches, many of which burned down and have been rebuilt. The display was interesting because it captured the fierce pride and indomitable spirit of the Chilote people. To help build these churches or rebuild the churches that had burned down, they organized mingas, which are community building initiatives in which people volunteer their time to help with a project in exchange for meals. A great idea to build community.
After checking out the display, we went to mass at a beautiful church that backed up to a wonderful vista of Ancud. We were amazed at how packed the Church was, with all of the pews full and many people standing in the aisles. It was a really nice mass, the priest gave a great homily, and we could just sense the community among the parishioners.
That night, we went to a pub for dinner and ended up running into a New Zealander who I know from my rugby league, his wife, and his brother-in-law. We told them we were probably going to a festival the next day and invited them to join us. Exhausted, we turned in early that night.
The next morning I woke up early and went for an incredible run. Our hostel was located right on the water, so I was able to follow the shoreline and run up into the hills of Ancud as well. It was strikingly beautiful and cool to witness the local sights: the smell of the first round of bread baking in a panaderia, the look of fishermen departing for a day’s work, and the barks of the street dogs camping out in small groups.
That morning we took a bus to an Ancudian festival. We had met a fellow American girl named Courtney in our hostel so we invited her to tag along. She was quite the character. She had lived in Santiago for roughly a year teaching English, but still pronounced Santiago, “Santiaaaago,” (read: very gringo accent), and even asked us, “Amigo means friend, right?” We were entertained by her blatant “gringaness” but were happy to have her tag along. The ride to the festival was about an hour all along the hillycoastline of Ancud and was simply breathtaking. We passed peaceful, hidden beaches, herdsmen roaming the streets with cows, and farms of sheep. When we arrived at the festival, we realized it was not at all a tourist event, but more of an all day picnic for the local people with a few craft vendors and occasional entertainment. Realizing there wasn’t all too much to do at the festival and discovering $4 bottles of delicious red wine, we decided we might as well “brindarnos” and “pasar un buen rato.” That we did. The wine kept on flowing most of the afternoon, and we chowed down on some delicious homemade empanadas. The New Zealanders we had ran into the day before met up with us and so we passed a very gringo day, drinking wine and chatting,an island of English speakers amid a sea of Ancudians. That night we boarded a bus/ferry to the Chilean port town of Puerto Varas back on the mainland. We arrived late and struggled a bit to find a hostel, but finally passed out after some great 2-hour long pillowtalk.
Puerto Varas
Aislinn, Kelsey, and I enjoying some drinks in Puerto Varas
The next morning Aislinn and I booked our combo cruise/ bus ride to Bariloche and ran other errands. Finally around 2 or 3 we feasted on a delicious brunch. After eating, the 3 of us set out to explore Puerto Varas, which is a quaint town set on a large lake. The town is becoming a tourist hub, so there is a casino and several nice hotels. However, it still maintains its charm with one central square and a string of restaurants and coffee shops that sell the German-influenced kuchen.
We walked down to the lake and were almost immediately approached by 2 young Chilean men who asked if they could take a picture with us. A little creepy, but we took some photos and chatted a little bit. They had been spending the past week at a friend’s lake house and were heading back home on a bus in a few hours. We said bye to our new friends and continued our lake walk. After about 5 minutes we decided we should enjoy some drinks with our new friends, so we decided to awkwardly go back and invite them. Por supuesto, they loved the idea. We probably had about 3 rounds of drinks with Pepe andJorge and they almost missed their bus because the time went by so fast. It was great to exchange culture and chat in Spanish. It was pretty cool to think that Aislinn and I arrived in South America without knowing a word in Spanish and can now hold 3- hour conversations without breaking a sweat.
After Pepe and Jorge left we went to the bust station to buy Kelsey’s bus ticket back to Santiago. On the walk, we stumbled upon a beautiful grotto nestled along a relatively busy street and spent a few peaceful moments in silence in front of the grotto. I cannot be by a grotto without thinking of Notre Dame. It was a nice moment to think of Notre Dame and ACE and how they have done so much for me personally and have brought me all the way to this port town in Chile.
That night the three of us enjoyed a delicious pizza dinner and relived some of our highlights of the week with Kelsey, who would be leaving us the next day.
The view of the Andes on the last leg of our boat/bus tour and Ais and I bearing the rain at Petrohue.
Instead of taking a bus to Bariloche, Argentina, Ais and I decided to go the more expensive option: a combo bus/boat ride that offers some remarkable sights. The tour started early in the morning at around 8 AM and at first we had some heavy rain. Our first stop on the tour was Petrohue, where we stopped and visited a beautiful river with water a stark aqua blue, unlike the color of any water I’d seen before. Our stop here was quick because of the rain but we got some great photos.
After riding a bit longer, we arrived at Lago Todos los Santos and boarded a boat that crossed the lake in about a one- hour trip. Normally, you can see some pretty beautiful volcanoes on this leg of the trip. However, because of the rain, we were not able to. About halfway into the boat trip, the rain started letting up and Aislinn and I ventured outside with our raingear. The aftermath of the rain left us with a different kind of scenic view than one might hope for, but a gorgeous view all the same. It was spectacular to see the fog and mist clearing to reveal towering mountains, but still hanging in the sky and almost providing a canopy for the mountains. We hung out outside on the upper deck of the ship the rest of the trip and enjoyed the fact that mostly everyone else on the trip was turned off by the weather, leaving us with the boat deck almost entirely to ourselves.
Next stop was a fancy hotel where the cruise company tries to pinch pennies out of you by making you eat lunch at the hotel’s classy restaurant. Thrifty, on-a-budget Aislinn and I brought our own packed lunch but were extremely embarrassed when a lady who works there told us we could not eat our own food in thecafeteria, which was the second-cheapest option to the fancy hotel dining rom. Woops! After finishing our lunch and enjoying a café, we boarded another bus and drove along a country road led us past some rustic views and across the border to Argentina. We then took a quick 10 minute boat ride, a 20 minute bus ride, and arrived at our final boat ride. This was definitely my favorite. As we neared Bariloche and gazed at the incredible “cordillera” or mountain range that surrounded us, I couldn’t help but think of how blessed I was to be surrounded by such majesty.
Bariloche
The beauty of the trip to Bariloche was just a warm-up to the beauty that is the town of San Carlos de Bariloche. Nestled in Argentina’s lake district, Bariloche has become a tourist hub. Its main attraction is its wonderful skiing in the winter, but now it is overflowing with people year-round. The town is set on enormous and beautiful lakes, which are framed by the Andes Mountains. It is bustling with wonderful restaurants, various stores, and of course, thousands of chocolate shops!
Aislinn and I spent a good deal of our first day in Bariloche wandering through the town and making ourselves sick by visiting every chocolate store in town and pretending we wanted to buy some chocolate so that we could get some free samples. My personal favorite was the tiramisu flavored chocolate, which was the bomb. That night, we made some Argentinian friends in our hostel with whom we drank the Argentinian drink “fernet.”
The next day we took a day trip up north to a nearby town, San Martín de Los Andes. To get to San Martín, we took a bus along a small, windy road through the enormous Nahuel Huapi Argentinian National Park, which includes Los Siete Lagos, seven gorgeous lakes. We arrived around 1 PM, had a delicious lunch on an outdoor picnic table and then went and sat on the shore of the lake that is the hub of the quite town of San Martín, enjoying the radiant sun. Later, we took a short hour hike where we got some different views of the city, and capped off the day with a café helado, our new favorite coffee treat that unfortunately has not made its way to the U.S.
We returned home to meet Garrett in our hostel. We were super pumped to see him, since we hadn’t seen each other in about three weeks. The next day Aislinn, Garrett, and I feasted on Argentinean steak, which really does live up to its reputation, and went for a nice walk around the town. That night, I went for one of the top runs of my life along the cerulean lake the spans the length of Bariloche. The view, the endorphins, and the clear mountain air gave me an amazing high. I could’ve run forever. The three of us made some sandwiches for dinner and had some really intense yet truly meaningful conversations over two bottles of Argentinean wine. It was a great night—quiet, with good friends and conversation, in a beautiful place.
On the bike tour!
The next day we ventured on a bike tour. I somehow had the idea that I would be cruising along a flat little “paisaje,” taking insome scenery while ringing my bike bell and storing my picnic lunch in the Mary Poppins basket that would inevitably be attached to my bike. Unfortunately, this was not the case. We biked some serious hills that my running and spinning classes definitely have not equipped me for. Thankfully, Garrett has a lot of experience bike riding and was able to coach Aislinn and I through gear usage, bike problems, etc. Though it was tough, I always love a good physical challenge and got such a high out of chugging along up those hills and arriving at a peak only to gaze at the Andes. Along our ride we stopped and had a picnic lunch on hidden little beach.
After the tour we went to mass in the town’s main cathedral, feasted on some delicious burgers and beer, and headed to bed exhausted. The next morning we woke up early to head out for an overnight trek. After packing my bag and eating my breakfast, I felt simply terrible. I tried to shake off my nausea, but ended up vomiting in the hostel bathroom. At that point, I sent Aislinn and Garrett on their merry way and spent a good part of the day sleeping and recuperating.
Having to stay behind by myself ended up being a blessing, because the next day, I was lucky enough to have what Janet O’Leary would call a “bonus, 10 beach day.” I basically sat outside on the hostel’s outdoor deck “tomando sol” in front of the Nahuel Huapi Lake. At one point, I took a nice little swim in the lake’s ice cold mountain-fresh water, which was so refreshing.
Aislinn and Garrett returned that afternoon and Garrett discovered that some Dutch friends he had made while traveling in Valdivia happened to be staying in our hostel as well. We ate dinner with Loren and Miriam, both about 19 and from Holland, and had some really interesting conversations. In Holland, everyone is required to take a year off in between high school and the university to travel. I was so impressed with how mature Loren and Miriam were, what meaningful and interested questions they asked us, and how they could travel so independently at such a young age. We probably talked to them for about 3 hours, exchanging culture. It was fascinating to hear about how their university system works, what all of their friends are doing in between high school and university, and their perspectives on the United States.
I think it’s wonderful that people in other countries are so very open to the effects that traveling and seeing the world can have on one’s worldview. Loren and Miriam were two people among many that I met on my travels that really made me question why traveling for months at a time is not a part of American culture. I believe that the more one travels, the more one discovers how much there is to see and know and how similar we all are and yet how different we all are. Further, one learns to view his/her culture and customs from an outsider’s eye, and to see the nuances of his/her culture. Traveling in the way I have been fortunate to travel has made me really appreciate American culture, but has also made me see our lifestyle as one of many ways of living, and not necessarily as the best way of living. I think that we can often forget this, being the world power that we are.
Later on that night, another American, an Israeli, and 3 Argentines joined us. Aislinn and Garrett turned in early, tired from their hike, but I stayed up socializing a bit more. The Argentines, who had been staying at our hostel all week, were part of a band on tour. One of them busted out his guitar and the band played some music for us on the beach with a bright moon as our light. It was another one of those surreal moments where I thought to myself, “Wow, I am halfway across the world, hanging out with 3 Argentines and an Israeli, listening to some beautiful Spanish songs on a beach. How the heck did I get here, and isn’t it awesome!”
I purposely slept about 4 hours that nightin hopes that I would pass out on the next day’s 29-hour-bus-ride. My trick worked and I was basically narcoleptic for most of day one of our bus ride. I won’t bore you with too many of the details of our bus ride, which was surprisingly painless, but I will leave you with this little chuckle. The bus stopped for about 20 minutes along the Atlantic Ocean. Aislinn and Garrett decided it would be a good idea to feel the water, which they did successfully by crouching down on a ledge and waiting for the water to splash up onto their hands. I followed suite, but got more than I bargained for and basically swam in the ocean with a gigantic splash. After being thoroughly laughed at, I returned to the bus a little disgruntled that I would now have to sit in damp clothes for the next 12 or so hours. And so I close part 1 of my travels. My next stop is the far South of Chile, but I leave that for another day. Hope you enjoyed my friends!
Enjoying some delicious Bariloche chocolate
