Last Chile Post

The below post is the last one I will be doing from Chile. I meant to post it last week, but it didn't work for some reason. If you were not already aware, I have to suddenly leave Chile because my mother has just been diagnosed with some rather serious colon cancer. I learned this Thursday afternoon, and I will be heading home Monday night. She has started blogging about it, at www.mukilteomusings.blogspot.com.

Thanks to all who read and enjoyed my blog.

-Lucas

Two sides of Chile

The Two sides of Chile

When my family visited a couple weeks ago, I had the wonderful opportunity to show them the Chile I know, but also to experience the other richer side. We dined at nice restaurants where a meal cost more than $6 (not something you can find in Melilpilla), and the last two days of their trip, we spent in a luxury hotel in Las Condes, Santiago. We even came across people who could speak English. That, I was truly not used to. I am not going to talk about their trip; you can read it in my mom’s blog at www.mukilteomusings.blogspot.com. Anyway, the last morning in the hotel, I had to leave for Melipilla to go back to work. This was a very depressing time of course. It was pouring rain, and I had to leave this amazing hotel at 6:30am to go back to my cold house and my job. But everything was fine and I quickly got back to the routine. Then just last week, I was reminded of the incredible economic diversity of this country. Carlos came into my house with his usual emphatic “Hey Lucas, ho are jyu?!” Then he yelled, “Vamos a tomar vino!” Well, ok, I couldn’t really say no to that.

So we hopped in his pickup and went to “El bajo”, which is a rural area about 2 minutes from my house, where the people are poor. It was absolutely dumping rain and the streets were flooded—some of them with several inches of muddy water. He took me to his friend’s uncle’s farm. Arturo is an old Chilean cowboy, without any teeth I can see, and who is rather difficult to understand. In fact, most of the time Carlos had to translate to and from toothless old Chilean cowboy Spanish—because Arturo could not understand me either. I assume he had probably never even seen a non native Spanish speaker before. We tromped through his muddy farm into a shack where he had a fire going. We all sat down around the fire and made mulled wine, drank mate, and ate pork sandwiches. It was great. We talked about many things, including Indians, and Carlos kept asking me if there are still Sioux around. I gave my standard speech on North American Indians—how yes they are still alive, and no they do not live in teepees and attack the white people. But trying to elicit sympathy for them is tough, as Carlos’ friends kept on telling me how poor and violent the Mapuche Indians are in Chile. “Why can’t they just better themselves?” is a phrase I have heard more than once here. I usually just nod and try not to say anything, because I am not usually up for trying to explain 500 years of complex history and anthropology in Spanish. As I watched the rain pour and sipped my mate and drank my nice hot spiced wine in this shack with an old cowboy, I suddenly realized how incredibly different this is from Las Condes in Santiago, and even from my own home 3 blocks away. This would be way way out of my mom’s comfort zone, I thought. But it was like camping, and that hot wine sure was good.

A few days later, when the sun and mountains were out, I returned to “El Bajo” on my bike to find some chicha for a birthday barbecue I was going to have. Again, chicha is more or less grape cider. I arrived at one home that had a crude sign saying “Se vende chicha.” I hesitated, not really wanting to just walk into someone’s house, but then someone saw me and I said I wanted to buy some chicha. I’m sure they had never had a gringo on a bicycle before. This ancient woman came out to greet me and took me inside her chicha hut. It was just a dusty shack, but it had posters all over the wall of Che, the Beatles, Bob Dylan, Allende (I think), Jesus, and numerous other liberal figures. I thought that was pretty cool. She poured me nearly 3 liters of chicha into a random plastic pop bottle she had. This cost me a grand total of $2000CP, or about $5 USD. She wondered where I was from and what in god’s name I was doing here. Nice old lady, I thought. I cheerfully took my chicha (or as a friend later called it, “peasant juice”) and then biked on home.

Oh, Latin America.

I don’t think I’ve really described the actual city of Melipilla where I spend about 90% of my time. First of all, Melipilla is REAL Chile. It feels like Latin America here, and is pretty much a different world from cosmopolitan Santiago. The main plaza is usually quite lively, often with Ranchera music blasting from a man who sells the cd’s for “solo mil pesos!” Ranchera would be Latin America’s equivalent of country. It’s pretty much the same music you hear on the am radio stations of the eastern half of the state of Washington. This gives the place a very stereotypical ambiance and is a great reminder that I am far, far away from Mukilteo. Loud diesel busses and enormous semi trucks speed through the one way streets only mere feet from people’s homes—including my own. In the US, trucks would never ever be allowed in quiet residential areas—they would likely have to take a special truck route. Not so in Melipilla, and for the nervous gringo bike rider sans helmet, it can be utterly terrifying. Being passed by a dump truck doing 40 on a city street is not the most pleasant experience.

Melipilla’s economy, I believe, is largely supported by what I like to call ‘random shit’ stores. Imagine a world where most people do their shopping at the 99 cent store. Melipilla is completely full of these, and I love it. What do I mean by ‘random shit?’ Well, where in the US (Wal mart excluded) could you go to get an ice tray (not a packet of them, just one), a clothes hook, a wooden spoon, a bucket, a garbage can, a door mat, a cheap plastic dish rack, and maybe a dust pan? I remember in Missoula it took me three weeks to find an ice tray, but here I can get one in ten minutes for like 25 cents and have my choice of 5 or 6 places to do it.

Oh yes, and the babies. This city of almost 100,000 is going to triple in size in the next 50 years I believe. Much like dogs, the city is infested with babies. Yes, I said infested and yes I compared them to dogs. In the US, you just don't see babies that much, and when you do, you notice. They are even cute. It can be an enjoyable experience to see a baby in the states. Not here. I have never seen so many babies in my life and of course whenever you get on a bus or metro there are at least 4 or 5 moms who board with their babies and all of their large bulky baby supplies. They cry too. And the mothers are often younger than I am--I swear half of my students are parents and it's pretty hit or miss if there is a dad in the picture. I do believe it was precisely this scenario that was meant to be prevented when man invented this thing called a condom. Way to go Catholicism.

Just on the edge of town is a large hill—I’m hesitant to call it a mountain, but it’s a good little trek to the top. I of course love hiking so this ‘mountain’ needed to be conquered. One day I rode my bike to the base of it to do some recon. I was trying to find a way to hike up. There is a cemetery that borders the mountain, so I figured I would go through it and find an exit on the other side. With my bike, I was awkwardly maneuvering through this pretentious and over-the-top Catholic cemetery.

Side note: I decided I really do not like Latin American cemeteries. The ‘graves’—well I’ll call them tombs--are enormous expensive shrines. I guess mausoleum is the correct word. If your family has money, congratulations, you can waste it all on an extravagant statement of wealth. The person is dead in case you forgot, and whatever your beliefs on the afterlife are, the truth is, grandma Sanchez is not coming back to admire her new post mortem mansion. Oh yeah and if you’re poor, you get a stick in the ground shaped like a cross and a shabby white fence. Again, way to go Catholicism.

Back to my adventure. So I made my way to the back of the cemetery and saw a door with what I thought was a convenient exit. I opened the door and started pushing my bike through, when I looked up and saw a young girl and her ferocious looking dog staring me down. Instantly the girl started yelling “Mama, mama!” The dog did not look to be accepting of my presence either. I took this terrified cry to mommy as my cue to leave. Fortunately, I found another exit, but when I opened the door I noticed a man defecating on the wall. Not gonna go out this way either. The cemetery is built right next to kind of a big dumping ground that is dirty and smells, and really is more or less a giant outdoor toilet. I decided not to bother this man so I went around and found the road that does go up to the top.

Angie and I decided to go and climb this hill—together-- because frankly it is not located in the best part of town. The trek is not terribly far, but is a nice little day hike. We followed a dirt road that switchbacks to the very pretty radio towers at the top. This would provide excellent views of the Andes, coast range, and maybe even the ocean, however, it was hazy, very very hazy and we couldn’t actually see anything.

I went to summit this again yesterday. This time I went by myself and attempted a different route. I crossed the large outdoor toilet, saying “hola” to the owner of the dump. He lives in a shack and I hoped he would not mind me crossing his land, since I did see spent shotgun shells on the ground. I tried to go straight up the mountain more or less bushwhacking. I started following what looked like a trail, but was actually a dirt bike track. I startled some birds coming around a bend and they really freaked out. They started squawking and then circling me. I watched this, confused, until one of them started into a dive bomb towards my face. “Oh my god,” I thought. “I am being attacked by birds.” I started running back down the mountain, all the while I heard the man in the shack (the same one who was defecating the previous time) laughing at me. Luckily, the birds left and I was able to continue up the mountain, but not without shame. I figured I should carry a weapon in case of bird or dog attack, since the only tracks I saw were from dogs. Any dogs that lived out here were surely tough and probably not used to trespassers. I found a nice pointy skull piercing rock. This made me feel better. I was not attacked on the way up, which was good. Sadly, the view was not much better this time. Still pretty hazy. On my way back down I could see three guys at the bottom who were so obviously drunk. “Oh no”, I thought, “They are going to try to talk to me. Hopefully they are too drunk to rob me.” When I got down to the bottom, sure enough they were there nearly passed out in the 11:30am sun. I said a cheerful “hola” but that of course was not good enough. They beckoned me to come “oye, gringo!” But I ignored them and kept going. Thankfully they were too drunk to harass me. When I got down I felt like I had been in a video game. To go up this mountain, one has to avoid obstacles. The defecating man, little girl and her dog, crazy birds, theoretical rabid wild dogs, outdoor toilet, and the three drunk men were all no match for me. Satisfied, I dropped my weapon at the edge of the cemetery where I can easily find it for the next time.

I have less than two months left...

It has been quite some time since I last gave an update about what is going on here in Melipilla. Well the short answer is not much. I haven't really met anybody, and Gino, our first friend here kind of turned out to be a weirdo. His friends were awesome, but we haven't really had the chance to do anything with them, plus they are just not my age. I went out with Carlos' niece and her friend one night, which was cool, but we did the clubbing thing which I really don't enjoy all that much. They were super nice, but I haven't heard from them in a few weeks. A couple weeks ago I hung out with this other girl Angie and I met at the beginning of our stay in Melipilla. She is really very nice, and I'll probably hang out with her friends again, even though I turned down a chance to do that last night, because I just was not up to it.

I think after living more or less alone in France two years ago, and then living alone here, I have really become used to it and I think it is somewhat my fault that I haven't met very many people. Plus I am constantly thinking towards the future and the fact that I am leaving in a couple months almost makes me not want to try. It kind of bothers me that I am so used to it, that spending Friday night watching TV and reading is perfectly satisfactory for me and often preferable to going out. I miss Magali too, and I guess this is a good thing, but every time I hang out with someone, I just keep wishing Magali were there, because it would just be better. I don't smoke, I don't like clubs, can't dance, and my Spanish is mediocre, which makes me not the most social being in Chile.

It's also hard because I can't understand everything, even though I assume that I should. Oh my Spanish is much improved, but I now realize how bad it was when I arrived. If I don't go to Santiago on the weekend (to hang out with my English speaking friends), I will spend pretty much most of the time alone. Thankfully Carlos has often invited me to eat with his family, but it's not the same as meeting people my own age.

But I really do like living in Melipilla. It's pleasant, and certainly different and interesting. I am looking forward to going home, but I hate to just sort of give up now and wait for the end. We'll see, things can change pretty quickly!

Some pictures of my southern adventure.

This is Chile. A truck, a flag, and a stray dog.

That is the Cordillera Darwin, with peaks over 2500m. On the other side is a bit of ocean and then Antarctica

Me at Torres Del Paine

This is in Puerto Natales

This is Punta Arenas, the most southerly 'city of size' in the world. The water is the Strait of Magellan, and Tierra Del Fuego on the other side.

Some pictures of my southern adventure.

This is Chile. A truck, a flag, and a stray dog

Cordillera Darwin, over 2500mts. high. On the other side of that is some ocean and then antarctica

Me in Torres del Paine

This is in Puerto Natales.

And this is Punta Arenas, the most southerly 'city of size' in the world. It sits on the Strait of Magellan.

My southward journey part 2

As I could not go to Puerto Williams or Ushuaia, my third option was Puerto Natales where I would do the touristy thing and try to visit Torres Del Paine national park. I bought my bus ticket, which was cheaper than normal because everything had just closed for the season and headed out to Puerto Natales on Friday afternoon. It was an awesome bus ride, and I truly got to appreciate how remote and empty Patagonia is. More remote than Montana, even more so than much of Wyoming—it really felt like northern Alaska. I imagine the Brooks Range looks like Patagonia. On one of the highway distance signs, one town it was noted was like 2250 kilometers away. It was a 3 hour bus ride between Punta Arenas and Puerto Natales and we passed one town of MAYBE 100 people, and 2 or three villages with I’d say no more than 15 people each. This is the main highway between two of the biggest population centers of the region, and the road was largely empty. The empty space between is mostly private land. Every now and then we would pass an “Estancia” which is more or less a ranch. I guess the population density of this region is about .5 people/sq. km. The landscape as I said before is pretty much treeless. It looks a lot like southern Idaho—it’s flat and deserty but with large mountains in the distance. Upon arriving in Puerto Natales, I found a hostel for half the price of the one I had actually reserved. So I cancelled and stayed at this nice woman’s house. The atmosphere was great and I again met some pretty cool people. I really wanted to get up in the park and go hiking, but most things were closed and I was alone, so my only reasonable option was to take a tour. I did so, and I was a bit worried when a woman with a little kid got in the van—this was going to be a photo safari. However, it was not a bunch of old people going to snap pictures, the crowd was young and in the same situation I was. They wanted to do some hiking, but this time of year, it’s just hard to arrange. Again, I met some cool people including a South African banker, a German married to a Chilean, an English couple who has been traveling the world for over a year, and a group of 4 young Basques. I could not for the life of me figure out what language they were speaking—because I could recognize some of the words that sounded pretty Spanish, but I could in no way understand what they were saying. After some time, someone asked them and they said they were Basque. I didn’t know Basque was still spoken on a day to day basis among young people, but there was the proof. They said it’s their mother tongue and they think in Basque, not Spanish. I also ran into a French/Moroccan couple I met at the hostel back in Punta Arenas. They were super nice and were in Brest at the same time I was studying in Rennes. We exchanged e-mails, and since it’s such a small world, I ran into them at just about every next stop in my trip, including the airport.

Our first stop on the tour was the Milodon cave—which is just a cave, but also the ancient home of this weird bear like creature called a Milodon that existed during the last ice age. Looks like a bear with a camel head. Then we headed into the park. You know when you see a picture of Patagonia, and you see these rock spires and glaciers—well that is Torres del Paine. It’s where everyone goes, and where everyone backpacks, and they think they are badass because of it. I originally did not want to come here just because of its popularity—the same reason I don’t have a huge desire to go to Yosemite. But it was off season, so there was really no one in the park except us, and of course the scenery was spectacular. We saw glaciers and lakes and huge spiring peaks—it really is an amazing place. I can see why backpacking there would be really incredible, but in the high season it is crowded. In addition to the scenery, the animals were out and about. Much like the elk in Yellowstone, this park seems to be overrun with guanacos—which are in the dromedary family—so they are like a llama camel thing, but more the size of a deer or large antelope. Like the Yellowstone elk everyone was amazed at them as we entered the park, but then there were so many of them, that by the end I was sick of looking at the guanaco. We also saw this type of deer that apparently is extremely rare and only about 400 of them exist. They looked a little fatter and shorter than most North American deer. Hmmm, what else did we see? A fox that was disgustingly tame—it pretty much came up to us begging for food. And we also saw lots of eagles. So it was more or less a photo safari, but we did get to walk out to a viewpoint that was maybe a 30 minute walk. Oh and the wind—at one point the wind was so strong it nearly knocked me down. So, I would not have enjoyed backpacking in that. Wind I think is even worse than rain.

After we got back, and the next day, I had the chance to explore Puerto Natales. It is a quaint quaint town. I’d call it the Moab of Patagonia—pretty much the same vibe. In fact, I decided that I could live in Patagonia. As I am very attached to the Northwest US, there are few places that I think I really could enjoy living for a long time. Patagonia is one of them. It just felt so familiar. The atmosphere, the people, the weather all reminded me of the kind of place where I truly am happy. For instance, I felt not the least bit nervous walking around alone at night, whereas in Santiago or Melipilla that is something that is simply not done. It’s a rough and tumble kind of place where the dirty pickup truck is the standard vehicle. Ok, so Melpilla is great for a few months, but being in Patagonia kind of made me shudder when I thought of Melipilla. It is soo different. I loved the cold drizzly weather in Patagonia, but whenever it’s cloudy and cool in Melipilla, for some reason it’s kind of depressing.

I headed back to Punta Arenas for one day to conclude my trip. I walked to a viewpoint just above downtown and met two overly friendly Mormons. I knew they were there on their mission, I could spot them a mile away. I wished them well and headed to the airport. It was a great trip overall. If I had organized it better and earlier, I could have fit in a couple more solid days of doing stuff. This was a chill trip and when it comes down to it, I really only had two productive days the whole time. But it was worth it just being there and soaking up the culture at this far desolate corner of the world.