do you know why the trees are so enormous in patagonia?

RAIN. And lots of it.

I have somehow managed to hitchhike all the way to Puyuhuapi, some 250km from Coyhaique, in my quest to see this hanging glaciar (ventisquero colgante) that's only 20km from here, but apparently hidden behind this neverending clouds. Que lástima, since I have to be back in Coyhaique tomorrow, but I have hope still.

There's too much to tell in this short time... I've found yet another welcoming group of friends in Coyhaique, thanks to the wonder that is Couchsurfing, with whom I've shared two whole roasted goats, windy sleeping places, fresh cherries off the tree, a rainy ride in the bed of a truck, and a fiesta linda with live music and a screen projected onto trees (what!). Javier, my very friendly host, also received three more couchsurfers my last night there, and what an evening of speaking Spanish with people from Chile, France, Italy, and Spain--with homemade noodles and clam sauce...!

Last week, I took off for Puerto Tranquilo, along perhaps the most beautiful road I've ever been on (waterfalls on every side, this strangely emerald green río flowing in every form, and the enormity of mountains everywhere--plus a magnificent view of Cerro Castillo, snow covered peaks resembling a castle), and encountered CAVES MADE OUT OF MARBLE IN A LAKE. Que ridiculo!! And got to meet two Canadians motorcycling across the world plus three Swiss folks doing the same in South America, who graciously welcomed me into their tents as the hostels were full of Israeli tour groups. I even got to take my first motorcycle ride--through PATAGONIA, for God's sake, can my luck get any better? Under the shadow of a massive glaciar and again next to a beautiful river, incredibly clean and powerful.

Now I'm spending some time with a bunch of Israelis, though I've given up trying to understand Hebrew, and we'll see what happens with this glaciar. Strangely, now that I finally feel like I can be in a large group of Chileans and actually understand most of what is going on, I'm feeling more homesick... I want my groups of friends again, as fabulous as temporary families are.

Also, a lot to think about: 80% of Chile's energy going to mines, the building of 12 dams by Spanish and other international companies, the fact that all the cell phone services and many of the banks are owned by Spain, the changing of culture through tourism, transitory relationships... but I need more time to ruminate, perhaps the rain will grow my thoughts as well.

i think i've reached paradise.

Just when I thought it couldn't get any more beautiful (Chiloé: sheep and cows grazing on incredibly green fields above penguins and the sea!!), Chile astounds once again. Who knew that all it took was a 24-hr bus ride to get to the most gorgeous countryside I've seen. Imagine if someone stretched the idyllic pastureland of Chiloé over impossible expanses of land and then decided to place these massive, snow-topped mountains and cliffs in the background, all beneath the clearest blue sky filled with swiftly moving clouds. what? I can't wait to explore the parks near here.

Here being Coyhaique, where I have just arrived, after a nice final evening in Ancud with Paula and Juan (co-workers at Turismo Cahuel), Carla and Lorena (Ancuditanas), and surprise guest Meg. Ack! This town is not as pretty as Ancud, but what the town lacks I think the surrounding countryside makes up for. Now I must go find a place for my own massive companion, that is, my backpack, and orient myself. I've done it, I've reached Patagonia, I'm heree!! :)

The Terminal

...sin Tom Hanks. Though it'd be cool if he walked in.

I do sort of feel like him, though, as I am passing pretty much my entire day at a bus terminal these days. I took a temporary job working for a tourism company, selling tours and promoting a hostel to the ubiquitous gringo/European/Israeli traveler, almost always carrying a Lonely Planet and a large backpack. There are quite a few, even in little Ancud, coming here for penguins and kuranto, bewildered by the rain and speaking poor Spanish. English really does seem like the international language--I've talked to people from Israel, Germany, France, Holland, and even Santiago in English.

The tourist office is also a confitería, or sweet shop. I remember passing the guy in the kiosk at the 1 station at 116th and wondering how he could possibly stand to be there all day, every day. Apparently, I can do it, too, though it's different with two other young people here and internet access. Plus, yesterday I got a free ride to the penguin beach and on the boat, where I got to practice my fledging translation skills. I'm also getting really good at saying numbers and interpreting the ridiculously rapid mumbles that Chileans use when at a store.

I thought being at a bus terminal would make me restless for travel again, but I actually really enjoy being stationary at the moment. I'm living in a little cabaña next to San Jose Hostel, with my own stove and living space, which has been pretty wonderful. I don't have too much envy of these travelers who have six countries on their list of place to go; I'm excited about going to Argentina next week (San Carlos de Bariloche is my next stop) but equally excited about returning to Chile afterwards.

Also, I'm realizing more the reality of living here in Chile... the hostel is run by a family and I work for the father and with the daughter. This is maybe as close to a homestay as I've gotten in Chile, and it's even more interesting because I've been inserted into a familial workplace as well. I'm learning to appreciate my ability to choose a career path (such as one with weekends and mobility) very, very much.

Though it's been nice to meet friendly backpackers, I shared a kuranto and Kuntsman (at the restaurant Kuranton, ah ha!) last night with John from Rhode Island, who farms in Rhode Island on a cool cooperative-type farm situation. I'm slowly building a map for my next U.S. travels, too, though first I have to get myself back into the States... which won't be for a while yet. Looking at tickets for March, we'll see.

holidays

Hello 2010! I am in Chile still!

I've officially been in South America now for over four months. How do I feel about this? I don't think I'll ever be able to answer that question in words.

These past two weeks have been a wonder of travel and friends and food. I went up to Puerto Montt to meet Britain, who had been making her way down from Valparaíso, where we stayed in a beautiful cabaña overlooking the harbor and explored Los Alerces Andinos national park, famous for its preservation of these awesome, gigantic trees with curving roots that split off above ground. We found our way back to Ancud for Christmas, where I felt like I was collecting travelers and friends I have met over time--Margaret from Olmué, Roberto from Valpo, and Meg from New York! all came to celebrate Christmas, and Jerson and his brother Diego showed up the next day, in time for our adventure at the discotheque across the street. Christmas was full of fresh salmon, shellfish, wonderful amounts of homemade desserts, and wine, of course.

Since then, I've been winding through Chiloé, going on a wayward journey to lackluster Chepu which turned out to be not worth the incredible effort it took to get there (though the views were more than spectacular--who knew that one day I'd be walking through the most picturesque farmland ever, complete with baaing sheep...if Jefferson's utopia exists anywhere, it's here), all the way down to Quellon, and now back in Chiloé's capital, Castro, where I am now.

These two weeks have also been full of absurd and unexpected situations. On Christmas eve, I got a phone call from Juan Ignacio saying that the family who lives on the property would be coming to the house for a memorial service. Apparently, a 23-year-old worker at the farm had died that day, and everyone was coming to view the body and comfort the family. It was strange to be planning a festive Christmas with such grief present just two rooms away.

Also, we've had tons of luck hitchhiking to and through the island (with the exception of Chepu, where apparently no one goes, ever.). Riding in the backs of trucks through gorgeous Chilean countryside has got to be one of my favorite things in Chile so far. We've caught rides from all kinds of people, from a family blasting the Beatles all the way back to Puerto Montt, to a truck driver who yelled out the window at an old lady crossing the street in Castro, to sheep farmers transporting sheep who share our space atrás. It's taken a while for me to get used to standing on the side of the road waiting for a ride, but it also seems much more accepted here to take even foreign passengers.

Now I'm heading back to Ancud, having said goodbye to everyone who came down for the holidays (I still find it amazing that this somewhat rash decision to come to South America could have influenced peoples' lives so that they actually get into vehicles and come onto an island to see me), and have to figure out where I'm headed next... south south south or where? Quién sabe, the uncertainty is delicious.

a list!

at last. Yes, this had to come, sooner or later.

things i will no longer take for granted:
::washing machines that do not require hand wringing of clothing
::washing machines that CLEAN
::large, thick, luxurious towels (can you tell what I'm dreaming about)
::SOFAS
::carpet and not wearing shoes indoors
::música... (damn those robbers)
::gin (specifically, gin and tonic; more specifically, gin and tonic in 616)
::friends who speak ENGLISH
::asian american community (and people not calling me "chinita")
::clean bathroom floors
::pianos

In other news, I have gotten quite good at making fires and cooking with a wood stove, probably because in order to eat I have to do both. I have also bought a cell phone (if you are in Chile, call me! (09)7689.2815), finally.

The rain and the wind are beautiful. Walking in mist is wonderful, and hitchhiking into town is even better. I love nice people.

hats

can say a lot. The 60-something taxi driver who drove me the 5km from Ancud to Fundo Lechagua, where I now am, was wearing a hat that said "STONED to the BONE," which I thought was hilarious but which he, I'm sure, didn't understand at all. It probably can from one of the many secondhand shops that sell American and European clothes, which seem to be either rejects from familiar stores or used clothing sent overseas.

The man who lives here and takes care of the pigs, chickens, and ducks (there are pigs, chickens, and ducks!! I'm still trying to convince the owner of the farm to have an asado with some peking ducks) always wears an orange hard hat. As far as I can tell from my three days here, there is no real danger of falling hard objects in any part of this fundo, since there are no coconut trees or construction equipment and all the birds seem to be very adept at flying. But, cada loco tiene su tema, as they say here in Chile, and as I probably spelled atrociously.

And Juan Ignacio, the owner here at Fundo Lechagua, always wears an old leather cowboy hat, which occasionally falls off into piles of compost while he's driving the tiller-turned-tower and looks like Indiana Jones may have once claimed it. (Though the hat is not as cool as his shoes, which are big fluffy dogs maybe the size of my head, that he wears around the house.)

I'm still looking for the perfect hat for myself. So far I haven't really needed one, but it does actually seem to be colder here, 1300 km south of Valpo, and if I really am going to head farther south I'm going to need some real gear.

In any case, it is beautiful here on Chiloé (yes, I made it!). The bus took a very efficient ferry from the mainland to Chiloé as apparently there are no bridges (as the padre here says, otherwise it wouldn't really be an island, cierto?), and deposited me here. From the hill where the grapevines are, I can see the ocean, and Ancud, not as picturesque but still spread across hills and looking a little bit like my childhood idea of an island pueblo.

Weirdly, I've started feeling nostalgic for things like driving through Germantown during winter break in the cold, seeing bare trees in Maryland, and coming home to my dorm room in 616 in the evenings. ALSO OH MY GOD I ALMOST FORGOT

The NY State Supreme Court has rejected Columbia's attempt to use eminent domain against businesses still operating in its projected expansion area in West Harlem. Oh shitt!! Four years of my life, hundreds of hours and thoughts and pains and frustration, vindicated. Look at that. I know the fight still continues, but finally someone has publicly and officially recognized the blatant hypocrisies and inconsistencies of Columbia's expansion rhetoric and actions. I was shouting with joy when I read the article, but unfortunately could not share my elation with anyone except our three dogs, who did not seem to understand what the fuss was about. This is one moment where I regretted being in the middle of rural Chile instead of New York.

Ahh... the power of the people won't stop!

movimiento

Back in Chile. It is actually comforting to hear Chilean Spanish again, after straining my ears for two days trying to understand the Argentinians who ran the hostel I stayed at in San Martín de Los Andes--the "ll" that becomes a "je" or "che" sound distracted me so much that I found myself only hearing this strange new tone and failing to actually understand what was being said. Also, in my head, I kept hearing Larry's impression of Argentinians, which made me want to laugh, but usually at completely inappropriate times.

In any case, Argentina was pretty similar to Chile, except the food was oh so much better. I met a tall German named Thomas and a crazy Spaniard named Carlos, and last night we shared (a lot of) red wine and Argentinian beef which we cooked over a fire in our hostel. Que bakan! ...which actually means something different in Argentina; in Chile, "bakan" is like the slang word "cool," whereas apparently in Argentina, it means someone who always wins or gets the girl or comes out on top. Also, instead of saying "una luka" for 1mil pesos, they say "un mango," like the fruit. This I like.

Before going to Argentina, I managed to miss an alarm and had to hitchhike to a national park near Pucon since I missed the bus... but which turned out to be maybe the best thing that could have happened, since I was picked up by a school group from Temuco and got to ride up with them all the way to the base of Volcan Villarrica. They called me their "amiga magnifica de los Estados Unidos." Then I spent the afternoon hiking with a guide in the park, walking through paths where lava had run and beneath waterfalls in the misty climate of the volcano. We could see the clouds lifting briefly above the lake from where we were...

The guide also took me to the Ojos of Caburgua, which are incredibly powerful falls, cascading into bluuue water, where we saw some crazy Canadians and United Statesians kayaking over the falls. Caburgua Lake, where the Ojos originate from, is the definition of a lake. I don't think I could dream a more perfect lake. Apparently the Chilean president Bachallet and presidencial candidate Piñera have houses on the lake as well. I would die happy there, I think.

But now I am in Valdivia, where Kuntsman is brewed, and where three rivers come together to form what used to be the southernmost border of the Spanish empire. There is water everywhere, especially since it is also raining and misting at the same time. I guess I should get used to this, seeing how I'll be living on an island for then ext month... though there's something soothing and perhaps even more gorgeous about stormy days over water. One day I'll get these film pictures online! For now you will have to imagine.