Punta Arenas, Chile

Greetings from (almost!) the bottom of South America. I'm in Punta Arenas, a shipping port on the Strait of Magellan, and the farthest most southern city/town in Chile. The southern end of South America turns into a bunch of islands, with a boundary line (of sorts) running between them marking the boundaries of Argentina and Chile. Fortunately, when I arrived it wasn't raining. The sky is blue with scudding clouds and an amazingly fierce wind. At first, I found the wind absolutely off-putting. In the couple of hours that I spent strolling around the town, I can understand however, how a person can simply grow accustomed to it. Some of the gusts were so strong they almost blew me over. San Francisco can be very windy. Think of the same sort of weather conditions: blue sky, scudding clouds, but the wind about twice the force. San Francisco has hills leading down to the water. Pta. Arenas is pretty flat, as is the surrounding landscape. The few blades of grass and bent-over trees bear witness to the efforts to survive in the wind. I have since learned from a Chilean pilot here that the wind gusts last week were consistently at 120 km./hr. I think this translates to about 70 mph. It means at night the whole house shakes, the windows rattle, the corrugated metal roofs rattle, and cold air enters through every nook and cranny. All but the newer houses are not insulated, relying on the plentiful natural gas under the ground to heat individual rooms. The sala is warm; the bedroom is freezing cold...memories of Germany way back when.
I flew in here on Sky Airlines, a Chilean low price airline. Unlike the Mexican imitations of Southwest (Volaris, Click, Alma), Sky has nothing in common with Southwest. They have assigned seats, are super-friendly, and offered 2 good meals in about 5 hours of travelling!
Coming into Punta Arenas with its howling winds was quite a roller coaster ride. We were in a 200 series 737, and it definitely rocked and rolled. I would characterize it as VERY turbulent. As I was clenching the armrests with both hands, hoping my lunch would stay put, I remembered that the 3 letter airport code for Punta Arenas is PUQ.
Magellan must have had a heck of a time of it trying to navigate his way in between islands and through the strait, combating hellacious winds and bad weather.
Flying from Santiago to Pta. Arenas is quite a distance: about 2,000 miles. On the first leg to Puerto Montt, one can see the "lake district" off the left side of the plane: numerous beautiful lakes tucked into the dramatic Andes. From Pto. Montt to Balmaceda it was more beautiful Andes, the smoking Chaiten volcano, and then the rolling ranch lands (I guess?) of the eastern slope of the Andes. From Balmaceda to Punta Arenas, looking east into Argentina, it reminded me of flying over Nevada: several small lakes, some blue some brown; several rivers: some blue, some brown. The mountains disappear behind and the land runs flat to the sea.
Punta Arenas is small; bigger than Quincy but not as big as Chico. The houses are small cottages with clapboard sides and tin roofs. Some of them have seen better days and some are painted bright cheery colors. The downtown has a pretty green plaza. It seems impossible to wear a hat because the wind will blow it away. The sun is piercingly bright and in the northern part of the sky (!). However, some of the old men wear either a beret or the flat topped cap and they look pretty cool. I don't know what their secret is to keeping it on. Well, I came here with a head cold. The wind has dried up my sinuses in no time!
I find myself comparing the Chileans I've met so far with the Mexicanos in Nayarit. They strike me as just as friendly as mexicanos but in a different way. Chilenos are definitely more reserved; maybe downright shy? They certainly don't immediately open up as so many mexicanos do. However, once they've made contact, they seem willing to go to great lengths to be helpful to the bumbling tourist!
I have great plans to introduce myself to some penguins this afternoon. I'll keep you posted.