GO SOUTH, OLD MAN

Some Parting Thoughts

2010-03-11T09:18:00.001-08:00

Unfortunately, Nicaragua seems to be a land of extremes. Some of its people (a very small percentage) are extremely wealthy; an unfortunately very high percentage are extremely poor. The country has a four century tradition of exploitation. It's been exploited by Spain, the U.S., and corrupt politicians. Sometimes by more than one at the same time.
This atmosphere of exploitation carries over into every segment of society. Vendors will try to take advantage of customers at every opportunity. Nicaraguans working outside the country (20% of the people) are frequently exploited by their employers. Employers inside Nicaragua are shameless in their exploitation of the workers who work for them. Sexual harassment is not only not recognized as a violation, it's practiced widely and frequently.
Exploitation even seems to take place in personal relations. There's a disproportionately high number of aging male gringos in the country willing to offer their relatively "rich" status to some attractive female 40 years younger.
Nicaragua is not suffering from a lack of foreign assistance. There are "projects" sponsored by first world countries at every turn in the road. Although these are pursued with the best of intentions, the results are tenuous at best.
Throughout my stay in Nicaragua, I kept finding myself comparing the Nicaraguans to the people of Mexico. Both have similar problems: high unemployment, a large percentage of the population working outside the country, and corrupt governments. But there's a distinct difference between the two. In Mexico, one can feel the sense of optimism the people have for the future. Small business owners have plans to expand; a homeowner has plans to re-model, or paint, or re-roof, or whatever. In Nicaragua, it's my belief that people don't plan beyond the next meal. Everyone has good intentions, but so often they don't work out. As a result, the people come to expect failure. When failure is the norm, even modest hopes appear unrealistic.
On that rather low note, I prepared to leave Nicaragua. I made 3 trips over two days to the office of the shuttle service to reserve a seat on a shuttle to the airport. Each time, the one and only employee was away from the counter, despite the fact that the office was supposed to be open at that time. On the fourth try, she was eating lunch at the counter in the middle of the afternoon and told me to come back in half an hour after she'd finished lunch. I returned and purchased my ticket for 6 p.m. the following day. The next morning at 6 a.m., the shuttle driver knocked at my door.
Oh well. One of these days, Nicaragua will get it right........maybe.

2010-03-11T08:46:00.001-08:00

Credit for Good (?) Behavior

2010-03-05T11:29:00.000-08:00

This next subject I pick up with great hesitation. I know it's going to ruffle some feathers, but here we go anyway.

Poverty in this country is overwhelming. On top of that, nature sometimes dumps on the poor country as well. In this case, there's a drought going on in the northern part of the country with the result that people are literally starving. Somehow, the newspapers found out that domestic consumption of food items has decreased 50% (!) from last year in that part of the country. The government is so corrupt and so inefficient, that they haven't done anything to help. To my knowledge, the Catholic Church hasn't done anything either. The government could make appeals to wealthy countries like the US and Europe to help, but the President of this country is Daniel Ortega, a Sandinista throwback to the 1970's. He might make an appeal to Hugo Chavez, but not to the US or Europe.

Ortega is regrettably very uneducated and makes up for it by being very dumb. This doesn't have to be fatal if he's got good people around him. He doesn't. What he has succeeded in doing is forming a business (ALBA) which imports petroleum from Hugo Chavez' Venezuela at cut rate prices and then sells it at retail prices to the Nicaraguans. The result is that Ortega has become, allegedly, one of the richest men in Nicaragua. A good number of old-time Sandinistas are sufficiently dissatisfied with him that they call themselves Sandinistas, as opposed to the Sandinistas who are Ortega followers, who call themselves Ortegistas. (Have I confused you yet?).
If this isn't bad enough, I read an interesting article in last Sunday's paper. The Catholic Church wants to spend 13.5 million dollars (!) to upgrade the sanctuary of a church in Managua, the capital city. To do this, they are offering donors who make sufficient donations a "plenary indulgence." To those that have forgotten their religious history: for a Catholic, there is heaven and hell, as well as a third place called Purgatory. If you've not sinned, you go to heaven; if you've committed mortal sins, you go to hell. If you've only committed not-so-serious sins, you go to purgatory. During the Dark Ages, in order to raise money, the Church would hand out indulgences of 5, 10, or more years, depending on the size of donation received. These indulgences represented the amount of time that would be knocked off your sentence to Purgatory. The problem with a number of years, is that one never knew how many years' indulgence would be enough. To solve this marketing problem, the Church started handing out "plenary" or full indulgences; that is, to heck with the number of years, you get all your time knocked off. Some critics labeled this "selling" indulgences; among them, Martin Luther who nailed his complaint on a church door; and thus started the Protestant Reformation, etc.

In the states, it's my belief that indulgences have been out of vogue for decades. Of course, I may be completely wrong on this. But one would think that the church would have learned something from the huge break among the faithful that occurred in the 15th century.

What bothers me more is that, instead of trying to use donations to feed hungry people, the church here is more concerned about the opulence of a church interior. Maybe hungry people pray better than full ones? Maybe people pray better in opulent churches than in poor ones?

Bottom line: Poor Nicaragua is not getting helped by the two richest institutions in the country: the government of Daniel Ortega or the Catholic Church. Other countries that might help are Chavez' Venezuela, China, or the U.S. The advantage the first two have is that they haven't waged war on Nicaragua recently.

A Nicaraguan Tale

2010-03-03T12:07:00.000-08:00

Due to the heat and humidity, my clothes, particularly my t-shirts, are wet all the time. Also wet all the time for the same reasons is my leather wrist watch band. It's even damp when I put it on in the morning. Not surprisingly, the small leather loop that holds the little buckle decided to break. I think it just hardened from the salty wet environment, cracked and broke. I resigned myself to buying a new watchband, maybe this time a synthetic one.

There's no "watch store" as such in Granada. There are guys who sell watches, bands, and small watch batteries from little wooden tables set up on the sidewalk near the public market. They even do watch repair.

I walked up to one and showed him the band with the torn leather strip and muttered something like "I think I need a new watchband." He put on his eyepiece with the practiced demeanor of a serious professional at work. He studied the broken leather part intently. He looked up at me like I was crazy and said something to the effect of "Are you crazy? A new watchband will cost you at least two bucks!" He then placed my watch and band in a small vise-like device and waved his hand dismissively at me. He said "Go walk through the market and come back in half an hour."

Now, who was crazy? There was no way I was going to follow that advice, for at least two reasons. First, the "market," as those of you who've visited third world countries know, is this covered (in this case) square block of densely packed stalls, rising up 4 meters on the sides. Every square foot of floor space, wall space, and hanging from the rafters space is packed with every conceivable kind of item: animal, vegetable, and mineral. Added to this, the narrow passageways are teeming with people, jostling, pushing, shoving, and moving by each other squish by squash. It's a pickpocket's paradise. I would compare it to being in the bowels of the New York subway system at rush hour. It truly is something to experience. Having experienced it once, I see no need to be a repeat offender.

Second, how do I know this guy is even going to be there when I return? or that he'll acknowledge he's in possession of my trusted, highly valuable (to me) watch? I should interrupt here and describe this chronometer treasure. Not only does it tell time, but it does so in analog fashion, not digital. For us dinosaurs, this is wonderful! It also tells the date (when traveling, dates can sometimes fall by the wayside). By pushing a button, it will also light up, letting me know what time it is in the middle of the night in the dark. Last, but not least, gloriously it even has an alarm clock built in! This is incredibly helpful when having to get up at 4 a.m. to catch some sort of ridiculous flight that leaves at 6 a.m. This treasure of a timepiece is a Timex and goes for $39.95 retail. I would sooner lose a tooth than that watch.

So I spluttered out something like "I want to watch you at work." He again waved his hand dismissively. He pulled out a small hypodermic containing some type of super glue. He had two metal prods. He dripped some glue on the offending part of the leather band. He pushed the prods around and then blew on the glue. He set it aside for a few minutes to work on another watch. Then he dripped some more glue, prodded, blew on it some more, and let it sit some more. He repeated this cycle about half a dozen times. Half an hour later, he examined it closely through his eyepiece. It seemed to pass muster. He held it out to me. I asked him how much. He paused, sizing me up and down, and then charged me fifty cents. I strongly suspect the same work would not have cost a local more than twenty five cents. Some out there might think I was ripped off.

I mentioned this experience to a Nicaraguan friend. He told me "This is Nicaragua. That repair will probably fall apart in a day or two and you'll have to buy a new watchband anyway." Well, it's been over two weeks and the band is going strong. All in all, I'm delighted to be out fifty cents.

Politics in Sandanista Land.

2010-03-01T14:33:00.000-08:00

Poor Nicaragua. It seems like those two words belong together: as with New and York or North and Carolina. I can't think of Nicaragua without thinking Poor Nicaragua. Just like Mexico, more than 20% of its people live in a different country, earning money to send back to relatives in P.N.
Nicaragua's neighbor, Costa Rica, had the chance to develop small fincas, or ranches, over the centuries. These independent-minded businessmen-ranch owners were able to establish a relatively stable representative government early on. In the long run, this paid off handsomely. Costa Rica has a relatively stable government, a relatively sound economy, and seems to walk a rather narrow road between the excesses of neo-liberalism and socialism.
That was not Poor Nicaragua's fate. For centuries, they had cotton plantations, which, like cotton plantations everywhere, from the American south to the Caribbean, wreaked havoc with the social structure and the economic future of the country. During the mid-20th century, the country was ruled by 3 different members of the Somoza family who bled the country dry. The result was the Sandanista revolution in the late 1970's. Ronald Reagan was not going to stand for that. As a result, the US began waging war, through the straw-men Contras, against the Sandanista socialist regime. Reagan's not-so-secret war was funded by arms sales with Iran. At any rate, the bottom line was that the US government imposed economic sanctions on Nicaragua. The theory is that economic sanctions will cause a government to fall. We've been doing it for over 50 years now in Cuba. At what point do we get the picture that economic sanctions don't work? What they are effective in doing is denying the common people access to basic imported products like toothpaste, etc. For a decade our sanctions further screwed the poor people of Poor Nicaragua.
At this point the government is irremediably corrupt; the infrastructure is a shambles; unemployment is said to run at about 40%; the people are incredibly poor. It will take something pretty close to an economic miracle to revive this poor country. There are lots of volunteer organizations here from the states and Europe trying to help. But the amount of help needed is so great compared to the relief being offered.
There are so many differences between Nicaragua and Mexico, it would take a very long time to begin to list them. However, one thing that stands out for me is that in Mexico, people are making plans for the future. They're adding an addition to their house, or planning on expanding their business in some small fashion. They are relatively optimistic about their good fortunes for next month, next year, etc. Just like in Nicaragua, a significant percentage of Mexicans are working outside of the country. Just like in Nicaragua, there is governmental corruption on a large scale. However, the difference is that here, the people exude a kind of fatalistic resignation to forces they can't control. Their time horizon is tomorrow. If they have food on the table for dinner tonight, then things are okay. They have so little money, they can't make plans for anything past tomorrow. Reading the paper here is an ongoing exercise in trying not to feel depressed.
Alas, Poor Nicaragua.

A Day in the Life of......

2010-02-26T11:54:00.000-08:00

I thought I would describe my day. I wake up at about 6 a.m. I've usually spent a restless night. It's quite hot; my guess is that it's in the 90's. I have a floor fan which helps. I also have a mosquito net which regrettably blocks somewhat the air from the fan and frequently fails in keeping the pesky mosquito out. I sleep on top of the sheets. There's no blanket. There's no need for one. Sometimes I wake up in the night because my eyes sting. The sweat has dripped into them. I drink lots of water during the night.
I get up and take a wonderful cold water shower. There's no hot water valve. There's no need for one. I put on sandals and pants and a t-shirt. I walk 50 meters to the little store on the corner and buy the daily newspaper. Breakfast (at my request) is fruit juice, fruit, bread, and coffee. The Nicaraguans eat gallo pinto (rice and beans) with maybe a fried banana and fruit juice. Some days they have a pancake, which looks like a tortilla, only thinner. It has pretty much the same texture as a tortilla. It comes with corn syrup, disguised as maple syrup.
I then spend an hour or so reading the newspaper and jotting down words or phrases I don't know. I then ride my bike off to Spanish conversation class. It's a 15 minute bike ride away. When I arrive, I am dripping sweat. My fresh t-shirt is wet and stuck to me. I spend an hour apiece with two different teachers in front of a floor fan discussing the articles in the newspaper or whatever else happens to dawn on us, with them constantly correcting me. At 11 a.m., I wend my way on my bike through the cobblestone streets between the parked cars and the buses and trucks whizzing past me. Included in the mix are quite a number of one-axled horse drawn carts clippity clopping along leaving the inevitable road hazard behind them. Nicaragua has not yet discovered the bicycle helmet. Oh well.
In reviewing this, I notice my emphasis on the heat and humidity. Please understand: I'm writing this from a California perspective. For folks from Miami or the American south, they might think: it's hot and humid, so what? I can tell you so what. If you haven't been raised in heat and humidity, it can be an incredibly difficult thing to get accustomed to. I've been here for 3 weeks and I'm not accustomed yet. I suspect I could be here 3 years and I still would not be accustomed to the heat.
When I get home, it's time for another wonderful (!) cold shower and a change of t-shirts. Lunch is the main meal of the day. It seems to be almost always chicken, usually in a delicious sauce, with rice or gallo pinto, some veggies, and another glass of delightful fruit juice. Every day at every meal, there seems to be a different kind of fruit juice They're all delicious.
After lunch, I take a 30 minute siesta on top of the bed in front of the fan. Then it's off to the gringo cafe where I can get a frappuchino and get online and catch up on my e-mail. The streets are now empty, deserted. Most Nicaraguans are wisely taking a siesta in the heat of the day. Only the gringos are walking around in the hot sun with cameras clicking away, sweating buckets. In the cafe, I'm in the courtyard right next to the water fountain under the ceiling fan.
At quarter to 3, I start pedaling off to my English class in the poor part of town. The pavement ends and the road turns to dirt and sand. Sometimes I maneuver around goats, chickens, dogs, and the occasional horse. What fun! There are lots of unemployed males hanging around. The unemployment rate, I'm told, is 40%, which seems astronomically high. The average wage is about a dollar an hour.
The school classes are sometimes outside (thank goodness!) where the breeze coming in off Lake Nicaragua is wonderful. Most of the time, though, the class takes place in the classroom. The classroom is about 4 meters square but will hold more than 20 kids. They sit on wooden chairs or crates and there are tables. The ceiling is low. There's no fan. The temperature in the room is probably well over 100. After 5 minutes, I'm sweating buckets. I always bring a full water bottle and drain it in the course of the hour. There's no lighting; but there doesn't need to be. One wall is open to the outside. Regrettably the room is shared with several hundred gnats.
The kids are between 13 and 15. They are delightful. And they seem to be fairly well motivated. For them, the heat, the humidity, the gnats, everything, is simply life as usual and they're oblivious. Not only that, most of them are dry! There I am, red-faced, sweating buckets, and they're cool as cucumbers!
After this class, I ride the bike another 15 minutes to another school where I teach the school teachers English. I've had the wonderful experience, while riding my bike around Granada, of hearing a kid cry out from a block away in English "Hi Teacher!!"
At about 5:30, I head for home. I then peel the sticking t-shirt off and take another wonderful cold shower. I just noticed: ALL cold showers are wonderful! Dinner is at 7 or 8 and is usually something light with another glass of wonderful mysterious-fruit juice. For the Nicaraguans, it's almost always gallo pinto again. At about 9 o'clock, the town seems to come alive. People come out onto the stoop of their houses to catch whatever little breeze might be blowing in off the lake. Little stores open up selling all sorts of snacks and goodies. Street vendors walk around with large baskets balanced on their heads selling fried curly banana strips or some special kind of cheese or some other exotic concoction. Most people stay up chatting away until about 11 or midnight, including the little kids. That's because most of them have had a solid 2 hour siesta. By 9:30, my eyelids are drooping and my brain can no longer form subordinate clauses containing the appropriate form of the subjunctive mood.
Hasta luego!

2010-02-26T11:53:00.001-08:00

2010-02-26T11:52:00.001-08:00

2010-02-26T11:51:00.001-08:00

2010-02-26T11:49:00.001-08:00

Granada 2

2010-02-25T12:18:00.000-08:00

I had a fun weekend in Granada, thanks to my host family.
Saturday, the son of the senora of the house I'm living in, invited me to watch him play soccer in an adult league. He's a very enthusiastic soccer fan and player so it was fun to watch him play.
We walked fifteen minutes to the soccer field. Like most everything in Nicaragua, the soccer field reflected the Nicaraguans' great intentions but lack of resources. The soccer field was a dirt lot at the edge of town. There was literally no grass. The surface was very rough and uneven. In the background were half a dozen horses grazing. There were numerous piles of horse poop on the field itself, together with enough trash and garbage that could fill 2 large plastic bags.
There was no shade whatsoever. Fortunately, the game started at 9 a.m. By 10, it was pretty unbearable. I fled to the one and only shade tree, which still provided a view of the soccer field. The players definitely knew how to pace themselves in the heat. Due to the "conditions" of the field, they also took special care to make sure they didn't fall down. At half time, each of them downed a couple of liters of water.
Also at half time, the little old lady with banana fries showed up and the few spectators deluged her. Also making a big hit was the guy with the block of ice and sweet syrup. He would shave the ice with a metal scraper/scooper thing and pour syrup from large jars onto it, making a snow cone.
Sunday, the whole family and I, together with family friends and other hangers-on, went to one of the over 300 little islands that cluster right offshore from Granada on Lake Nicaragua. All of the islands are privately owned by rich Nicaraguans and gringos. Each island is only an acre or two with a rock mansion on top of it. Very impressive. We went to an island, called Nicar. It doesn't have a mansion on it, but instead it has a restaurant and 2 pools. The pools were small: about ten feet by 20 feet. They're a few feet above the water level of the lake, and the water from the lake is pumped into the pools. The water in the pool is the same color as the lake: brown. It's opaque; that is, you can't see 6 inches into it.
Most Nicaraguans don't know how to swim. So the pool is about 3 to 4 feet deep. Many also don't have swimsuits. So the kids swim in their underpants and the adults in long t-shirts and shorts. They don't "swim" as such, as much as sit in the pool and try to cool off.
I couldn't shake from my mind the fact that only 20% of the houses of Granada have septic systems. All the rest dump their untreated sewage straight into the creek that feeds into the lake. Fortunately, there's a government plan afoot to build a sewage treatment plant one of these years.
So, I decided to pass up the opportunity to go for a swim. I'll wait until this coming weekend when I can return to Laguna de Apoyo, which reputedly is the cleanest lake in Central America, to go for a swim. Instead, I sat at one of the tables with a couple of other Nicaraguans, sipping rum and Coke (the drink of choice here in Nicaragua) and relishing the slight breeze that blew in off the lake.

Granada Nicaragua

2010-02-22T12:20:00.000-08:00

Hola, and greetings from Nicaragua!
Why Nicaragua, you ask? Why not?
The downside to poor Nicaragua is that it is so poor. It's probably the second poorest country in Latin America after Bolivia. However, like Bolivia, the people here seem to be incredibly friendly and also a bit self-conscious of their being the poor man of Central America. Like Bolivia, you see beggars in the streets. However, unlike Bolivia, Nicaragua gladly welcomes any and all tourists. And of course they welcome even more enthusiastically the dollars and euros the tourists bring with them.
I'm in Granada, which is indisputably the major tourist attraction of Nicaragua. It's more than a little off-putting to see signs everywhere in English; e.g., "Kathy's Waffle House," etc. I also discovered that the ATM machine will not spit out cordobas to me, but dollars instead (!?). The people prefer dollars because every week inflation sends the exchange rate a few centavos higher.
I'm slowly, as in SLOWLY, getting used to the weather. Every day offers a high of between 95 and 98 degrees with humidity to match. At night it "cools down" to 93 or so. I suspect only the first class hotels offer air conditioning. In the house I'm staying in, there is a fan in my bedroom, which is wonderful. There is only cold water in the shower, but you wouldn't want to touch a hot water knob. Cold showers 3 times a day are not only necessary but wonderful. Likewise, drinking a gallon or more of water during the day is a must.
Granada is a truly beautiful city. Around the city center, the great majority of the buildings are colonial style, painted wonderfully bright colors. In the central plaza, there are horse-drawn carriages lined up waiting to give tourists a ride. I have some great photos but regrettably I can't seem to get them uploaded onto Photobucket. I'll keep trying.
Today, Sunday morning, there was a whoopee-doo soccer match between two teams of competing 10 year olds. Rather than just everyone showing up at the soccer field to watch the game, the Nicaraguans do it right. About half an hour before the game, the marching band of some 20 or so started the parade. What they lacked in quality, they definitely made up for in volume. Fully 50% of the "musicians" were drummers. They walked from the central plaza to the soccer field. Behind them came several hundred people: the players in their uniforms, the coaches and supporting staff, and all the proud family members and hangers-on. Picking up the rear were the half-embarrassed teen age siblings of the players, taking advantage of the opportunity to flirt with each other.
The Nicas seem to be equally fans of soccer and baseball. It's kind of mind-boggling how those kids can be out there in the hot blazing sun playing ball games. But...a great sales opportunity for all the women on the sidelines selling fresh-squeezed fruit juices in plastic bags with a straw sticking out.
Next time: more about Granada.

Ciao, Chile!!

2009-04-05T17:08:00.000-07:00

Some random thoughts on leaving Chile.
TRAVEL
Chile is a difficult country to get around in, especially in the more rural parts of the country. Taking public transport is frequently a challenge. One of the problems is simply finding out which bus leaves for where and when. As in most latin american countries, the bus lines are privatized. If you're lucky, there will only be one or two bus stations in a town. Sometimes each bus line will have its own station or stop. Fortunately, the chilenos are inordinately helpful and will direct you to the right bus station. In the south of Chile, a bus may run only a couple of times a week. It will not timely connect with an ongoing ferry, etc. This means you have to be very flexible in your travel plans. Frequently places you may want to get to are not reachable by bus.
Definitely the best way to visit Chile is with a car. The best way to do this is to rent a car. The downside to this is that it is hugely expensive. Not only do you have to pay for gas, you'll also have to pay tolls on the many toll roads, ferry charges, and insurance. You'll have to travel out of Chile into Argentina and back in again which means you'll have to buy insurance valid in Argentina. Last but not least, when you return the car to the agency, some 2000 miles away from where you started, you'll have to pay a "drop-off fee" which can be way over $1000. My recommendation would be to try to travel with 2 or 3 other people and share the huge expense of that rental car.
There's one other alternative that is more attractive; that's to buy your own car and then sell it at the end of your trip. Unfortunately, this is easier said than done. I'm told that you cannot buy a car in Chile if you're not a resident. You'd have to strike some sort of deal with a resident whereby you "borrow" their car. Even that gets a little risky considering you'll have to cross into Argentina and back again.
In Patagonia and southern Chile, there is very limited bus contact between Chile and Argentina. Traveling back and forth across the border on public transport leaves you with some very limited options. The ferry from Puerto Natales going north only goes all the way (3 days, 4 nights) to Pto. Montt, not to any in-between ports. This is because they want to make money and they charge exorbitant prices for the long trip.
Another option is to fly. Sky Airlines is Chile's equivalent of Southwest. It's relatively cheap and provides great service on short hops throughout Chile. The downside is that you only see the beautiful countryside from 30,000 feet.
LANGUAGE
Like other countries of the "southern cone," chilenos speak a language that is somewhat unique. The Spanish that we may have learned in high school, that we hear on spanish language tv, etc., is referred to by chilenos as "castellano." Because they watch tv, etc., they can understand castellano well. However, frequently, when they talk, it comes out chileno. I would analogize it to learning British English and then stepping off the airplane in south central L.A. and attempting to talk with people who speak ebonics. They may understand you speaking British English, but you may have a very difficult time understanding them.
It's also something of a class thing. The higher the social class the more likely it is that they will be able to modify their language so as to make it understandable by you. Once they determine you're following along, they unconsciously start sliding back into chileno, and it becomes increasingly difficult to follow along.
An example: when I landed in Punta Arenas, I had an interesting conversation with the landlady of my hostal. It was in castellano/chileno but the story can be told equally well in English. She said there was another guest in the house from "Ahlahka." I asked "Where?" She said again "Ahlahka." I said I didn't know where that was. She then pointed with her finger in upward movements: "You know: the United Tate, Canada, and Alahka." "Oh, of cour!" I answered "THAT Ahlahka." The Chilenos frequently do not pronounce the letter "s." Sometimes, the phrasing is sufficiently familiar that you can mentally supply the missing letters; other times not.
We English speakers place great emphasis on the consonants; the vowels sort of come along for the ride. If you hit all the consonants correctly, it doesn't matter too much how badly you mangle the vowels in between. For Spanish speakers, it's just the opposite: the vowels are critical, consonants are those things you don't bother to pronounce, particularly if they're at the end of the word. This habit carries over to when a spanish speaker speaks english. We might hear some one say:
"I ha the chan to ree the boo." (I had the chance to read the book).
Likewise, we gringos frequently misuse vowels. The result is that when trying to say "She did it," it comes out "I do it." All because of a slight change in vowels.
NATIONALISM
Chilenos are very, very proud of their country. If one were to come up with some sort of "patriotism scale," where 0 represents total indifference and 10 represents the ultimate patriot, I would place Europeans generally at about a 4, Americans at about a 6, and chilenos at an 8. This sense of patriotism is strongly supported by the government as well. The country is quite young. It's "founding fathers" are a colorful bunch of genuine characters whose lives make fascinating reading. They have been made consciously into "heroes," by and large. One can definitely understand the government's desire to stimulate a sense of national identity. Keep in mind that the country is almost 3,000 miles long and in places less than 200 miles wide. There are sections (Patagonia and Chiloe come to mind) where many people feel themselves independent of either Chile or Argentina and would like to be viewed so. It doesn't help the cause of national identification that there isn't even a road that connects the north to the south. You have to travel out of Chile into Argentina and then come back in again, or else take a ferry or fly, in order to try to travel the length of the country. One wonders: if, God forbid, there were an incursion by Argentina into Patagonia or Tierra del Fuego, how would the Chilean military be supplied? Remember that one important reason why the US has interstate freeways is that Eisenhower wanted them built for self-defense purposes.
One consequence of this sense of nationalism is that it can be very touchy to express a comment about Chile that could be interpreted as critical.
FRIENDLINESS
The one overriding impression of chile and chilenos that I take away is the incredible friendliness of the people. I have mentioned this several times in my blog but it bears repeating. When asking directions, I've had people insist on driving me to where I was going. I've had people on the street, noticing that I looked lost, ask me if they could help me. Many people initially are quite shy. However, once you strike up a conversation with them (for example, the person sitting next to you on the bus), they open up. There's a heightened sense of what I would call "graciousness." This character trait definitely makes Chile a place where you the visitor feel welcome.

Valparaiso to Los Vilos

2009-04-05T13:38:00.000-07:00

Leaving north out of Valparaiso, I'm reminded of why the capital of Santiago was founded in the first place. (How's that for a somewhat mind-boggling opening sentence?) When Pedro Valdivia back in the 16th century headed south out of Lima, Peru, looking for gold and fame, he spent days and days crossing the Atacama Desert. This is reputed to be the driest spot on earth! It's not a desert in the sense that we might envision Lawrence of Arabia riding a camel across the endless sands of the Sahara. It's a desert as in rock-strewn ground, and high mountains.
Valparaiso is just about the same latitude as Santiago. Immediately north of Valparaiso there are some nice fertile valleys with crops, notably grapes. Then there are a few curves through some mountains, the road goes through a very long tunnel ("de Melon"), and then comes out on the coast. On the western side of the road is the Pacific Ocean, with (today) large waves pounding the shoreline. To the eastern side of the road is scrub brush and cactus, not unlike the high desert around Reno, the Mexican west coast around Baja, or the Sonoran desert of Arizona. What a dramatic change! No wonder Valdivia and his crew were delighted to come upon the fertile valley that would turn into the teeming metropolis of Santiago. And, to tell the whole truth, the fact that there are cacti here and scrub brush means the area this far south is not that harsh. As one travels farther north, it gets drier and drier, becoming the (in)famous Atacama.
Back in the good old, bad old days of pirates and buccaneers (the Spanish word for boat is buque, pronounced 'boo-kay'; a person who sails the boat is a bucanero, and the English attempt at saying it is buccaneer), Francis Drake and his ilk went plundering and pillaging up the western coast of South America. One of his compatriots was allegedly a gentleman by the name of Lord Willow. Local legend has it that Lord Willow left his mark on the shores of Chile, as represented by the spanish attempt at honoring his name: Los Vilos. There are numerous businesses in the town labelled "Lord Willow." The less romantic and therefore less interesting interpretation of the origin of the name is that it's the indigenous word for snakes. Needless to say, you know which interpretation I prefer.
Which is a VERY long way of saying: "Greetings from Los Vilos!"
Well, whether or not there were fanciful English pirates mucking about in Los Vilos in the 16th or 17th century, there was definitely a warship here in the latter part of the 19th century, the famous monitor Huascar which I talked about in Concepcion (below), under the command of the Peruvian Admiral Grau. Today, the battles in Los Vilos only take place between fishermen and their nets.
This nice little town reminds me of one of the beach communities on the central California coast near Morro Bay. It's fall here. The sun is out; it's still shirt-sleeve weather during the day, but there's a nice cooling breeze that blows in off the water.
Unfortunately, throughout the whole day there's a haze that spoils attempts at majestic seashore photographs. It seems the cold water happens to meet the high pressure hot dry desert-like air and the result is a haze that muddies up the air a lot of the time.
Los Vilos has a beautiful long beach. Yesterday when I arrived the waves were quite big and a dozen or so surfers in wet suits were out there taking advantage of them. They were the only ones in the water. The other dozen or so people on the beach were the inveterate beach strollers, out getting their exercise on the beautiful empty beach. Los Vilos offers about a dozen restaurants, one cafe with "real" coffee (!), and a couple of dozen more shops offering kitsch/artesan products.
I had another wonderful "Chile experience" today. At "onces", my coffee break, I asked the waitress in the local chileno version of Starbucks, where there might be a bicycle repair shop in town. She asked why. I said I wanted to rent a bike for the day and thought that might be a good place to start. The other customers then put their heads together and all agreed there was no bike repair place in this village. With that, one of the customers said "You can borrow my bike for the day." So today, I got both exercise and another opportunity to experience Chilean friendliness to strangers.

One side of the road...

2009-04-05T13:21:00.001-07:00

And the other

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Los Vilos

2009-04-05T13:19:00.001-07:00

At the Park on Sunday

2009-04-04T21:05:00.002-07:00

Punch and Judy are alive and well in Valparaiso!
See below

For kids of all ages

2009-04-04T21:05:00.001-07:00

Interactive entertainment

2009-04-04T21:04:00.001-07:00

Valparaiso

2009-03-28T17:12:00.001-07:00

I couldn't resist some more photos of Valparaiso.

Valparaiso

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Sea lion's view

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Valp. from the water

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afternoon siesta

2009-03-28T17:09:00.001-07:00

hello!

2009-03-28T17:08:00.001-07:00

"Little San Francisco"

2009-03-28T16:31:00.000-07:00

Valparaiso has been described as "Little San Francisco." It really is strikingly similar to S.F. There is the bay, the anchored ships, lots of hills, funiculars in place of cable cars, electric streetcars, the same amount of drunks and bums in the streets, lots of wonderful restaurants, and the list goes on. However, Valparaiso is different in a number of ways as well. Many people paint their houses in striking colors. The whole town is poised on hills looking directlhy down onto the water. It's like the whole city of San Francisco found itself perched on top of Russian Hill. The ships in the commercial port are right smack dab in front of your nose. Even the view from the window in my room in my hostal is wonderful! The numerous trucks going to and from the docks go through tunnels so as not to clog up the streets of the picturesque city which has been named a World Heritage Site. Many old men stand around dockside watching cargo being loaded and otherwise "supervising." Of all the places I've been in Chile, Valparaiso is to me the most interesting, and the place that draws me in the most. It has a wonderful cosmopolitan feel to it. If I were to spend some time in Chile, I would choose Valparaiso.

Valparaiso is a photographer's and artist's dream home town. The numerous hills are laced with narrow streets and pathways. Each turn offers a new sight causing me to want to pull out my camera yet again. Pablo Neruda, probably Chile's best known poet, had a house here. It seems like Neruda had houses everywhere. But his house here is really wonderful. It consists of one or two rooms per floor, five stories high, connected by a narrow staircase. Each floor offers a stunning view onto the city. The top floor was his study with his writing table.

My hostal is near the top of a hill called Alegre. Each day I enjoy taking a different route walking down to the downtown. There are lots of other locals walking downhill. It only costs about 50 cents to take the colectivo back up the hill from the flat streets downtown. This means the only people walking UP the steep streets and stair-filled walkways are necking teenagers and tourists.

There are all sorts of kaffee and kuchen cafes and wonderful restaurants with menus of the day. There are a great number of bookstores, even though books here are unfortunately very expensive. As in all of Latin America, there seems to be a high tax on books. However, there are quite a few parks and streets populated with outdoor stalls selling everything under the sun, including used books.

Unfortunately, just like San Francisco, the fog comes in at night, lingers through the morning, and HOPEFULLY, burns off by the afternoon. Fortunately, in two of my three days here, the fog has lifted by the afternoon revealing beautiful views. The view at night from my hostal window is gorgeous: all the lights of the city and their reflection off the water of the bay. Marvelous!

Attached are some photos which I hope can give a little bit of a feeling for the place.

Room with a view

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Pablo Neruda's house

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Touch of color

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On top of the city

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Talk about steep!

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Beats walking

2009-03-28T16:27:00.001-07:00

The Huascar

2009-03-26T12:38:00.000-07:00

Every year, the people of Bolivia bemoan the anniversary of the "War of the Pacific," and the fact that Bolivia is a totally landlocked country. I discussed this earlier in my blog from Bolivia. The anniversary is a national holiday, the workers have the day off, and people line the streets to watch or take part in parades. Bolivian flags are carried high; Chilean flags are burned; and sometimes Pres. Bachellet is hung in effigy. Why is this? Why do the Bolivians get so worked up over this and what is the "War of the Pacific?"

After Simon Bolivar got through running around South America liberating the locals from Spain, the boundaries between Peru, Bolivia, and Chile were quite vague. Theoretically, Bolivia had a coastal shoreline on the Pacific, but the majority of the people there were Chilean, busy making money working the mines in the region. The Bolivian government decided to increase its taxes on the mining operations (unwise); the Chileans called on the Chilean Army for help, which they were poised to do. The Bolivian Army was all but non-existent, under-equipped and underfed. The subsequent land battle between Bolivia and Chile was over faster than you could say Evo Morales. Bolivia became a country without a port.

However, Chile had extended its reach not only into Bolivia but also into what the Peruvians considered part of Peru. Peru had a naval force of its own, not as large as Chile's, but nevertheless fairly effective, particularly because of the power of one ironclad Monitor-type combination sail-steam warship called the Huascar. Huascar was named after an Incan prince and was captained by a great naval strategist named Admiral Grau.

There were several relatively minor naval battles which could be characterized as either draws or Peruvian victories, largely due to the power of the naval vessel Huascar. In one battle, the Huascar rammed the pride of the Chilean fleet, the Esmeralda, sending it to the bottom. During the battle and ramming, the Chilean commander, Adm. Prat, leaped onto the Huascar, shouting brave words, and was promptly killed. Adm. Prat is now Chile's primary naval hero. In all fairness, there are reasons for them to honor him as well. If you had a dollar for every street and monument in Chile named Prat, you'd be a rich person.

Finally, the Chilean navy was able to badly outnumber the Huascar and successfully overcome her. The captured and restored warship is now on display in the harbor near Concepcion. Attached are some photos of the boat. During the tour, there is military music played over loudspeakers throughout the ship, and the naval guide is quick to point out the heroicism of the participants on both sides.

Each year the Bolivian government renews its efforts to strike some sort of deal with the Chilean government whereby Bolivia would get access to the sea. Each year, no agreement is reached. Bolivia is currently suing Chile in the World Court in the Hague, for what that's worth over its "right" to have a seaport. In the news today was an article showing that the Bolivian use of the seaport of Arica, now a part of Chile, has increased considerably over last year. About 69% of the trade going through Arica is Bolivian.

Ironically, Bolivia has a "Navy." It even has one ocean-going boat, at anchor somewhere off Peru. It has admirals and officers and the like. However, they're all stationed at Lake Titicaca, no doubt waiting for the day when their navy can actually be on salt water. In the meantime, Chile has a significant navy of its own, as well as an historical reminder, in the form of the Huascar, as to who has the upper hand.

The Huascar

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2 Sailor-Powered Raft

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Monitor-type Gun Turret

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The Helm

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Hot Time in the Termas

2009-03-21T17:02:00.002-07:00

I rented a car for two days to give myself the chance to go exploring around the Lakes Region of Chile. The setting is pretty ideal. The Andes in the background are in their usual dramatic form, but a bit tamer than what I saw in other parts of South America...at least, at first blush. The scenery reminds me of southern Germany or Switzerland. There's the mountains rising up in the background. However, in the foreground, there are lush green fields, covering gently rolling landscape, looking almost like fairways to golf courses. The signs are even reminiscent of Germany: "Kuchen" "Cabanas" "Gasthaus" "Onces Alemanas."

I explored a little around a nearby lake called Caburgua. After that, what's a hard-working (?) traveler like me to do to relax a little bit? I went to one of the numerous hot springs ("termas")found in the valleys around here. Let's hear it for volcanic activity! At least one nice thing about all this hot stuff under the earth is that it makes for wonderful hot springs! The one I chose to go to (Termas de Huife) was on a paved road not too far from Pucan. It has 3 exterior pools of good size. Because this is the "shoulder season" there were only about a dozen people there. Half were German, the other half were chilenos, and me. Talk about civilized: only steps from the pools was a wonderful restaurant.

The Lakes Region does remind me a little bit of Plumas County. It's the start of fall here. The leaves on some deciduous trees are just beginning to turn color. People are "getting their wood in." There are billboards advertising Husqvarna and Stihl chainsaws. I've been super-lucky with the weather. It's been almost hot here during the day (80 degrees maybe?). It'll cool down considerably at night (in the 50's?). But yesterday was the first day I think in my entire trip that I was able to walk around in a t-shirt. Wonderful!

The second day, today, I went a little more off the beaten path. For the knowledgeable: from Villarrica, I went south to Lican Ray, on the shore of Lago Calafquen; from there over to Panguipulli. This little town struck me as great. It's hard enough to remember a name like that; fortunately, the lake it's on has the same name. Pangawhatsits strikes me as Pucon but nicer. Nicer for me because it's smaller with the same nice wooden architecture; the same beautiful flowers planted in the center islands of the streets; smaller stores with the same junk; just not the heavy-handed tourist destination which is Pucon. Pucon can seat thousands of people for a meal in dozens of restaurants all at once. No so Pangawhosits. Pucon does boast a casino, and and lots of bars and discos that go all night long. So, the choice is easy, depending on your lifestyle. You can guess what mine is. If I were to return to the Lake District, I would spend some time in Panguipulli; there, I got it right.

From there I took country roads; some paved, some not. I came across pigs and cows in the road and best of all, yoked oxen pulling carts. Boy, are they huge! and impressive!

I ended up at the bottom of a dirt road that looked like something you'd find in the Plumas National Forest. You wouldn't think there'd be anything on this pot-holed road. Instead, there was the Conarife hot springs and hotel, looking like the first class accomodation that it is. The outdoor pools were great and the restaurant was every bit as good as the place I went to yesterday...as always, linen tablecloths, waiters in uniforms, the works. The difference today was that there were about 50 people there. One explanation is that today is Saturday and a lot of people may have had the day off. Second, from my observation, everyone there was chileno except me. The price is a bit cheaper than Huife, and it's sufficiently off the beaten path that that may be its attraction. Bottom line: it was great!!

Alpine Landscape

2009-03-21T17:02:00.001-07:00

Second Gear

2009-03-21T17:01:00.003-07:00

Termas de Huife

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Termas de Conarife

2009-03-21T17:00:00.001-07:00

South South Lake Tahoe

2009-03-20T04:33:00.002-07:00

Greetings from Pucon, a charming little town located on the shore of Lake Villarrica in the heart of the "Lake District" of Chile. When Chilenos of sufficient means wish to go to the mountains on vacation, this place, or somewhere near here, may be what they have in mind. The layout of the town, with its wooden street signs, planted flowers, etc., looks like Solvang with a chilean accent instead of a danish one. The wooden houses with steep
-sloping roofs is mindful of Aspen and the surrounding mountains look like south lake tahoe. It seems to be an international resort for the well-to-do.

There are lots of upscale shops and a wonderful variety of restaurants offering international cuisine, even a vegetarian restaurant (!). In addition, there's a great number of discos and bars offering "Happy Hour," 2 pisco sours for the price of one.

There haven't been a lot of Americans in the places I've been so far on this trip. One exception might be Pto. Natales where there were a number of Europeans doing their backpacking thing. I think the reason why there's so few Americans in other parts of Chile is because they're all here in Pucon! The streets are not real crowded....it's the shoulder season. My totally objective super-accurate census of languages on the street runs as follows: about one third Americans, one third Europeans, and one third Latin Americans. My guess is that about 75% of the Latin Americans are chilenos. I'm not good enough to detect accents (usually), but I did meet a couple of Uruguayans and there's the usual passel of Argentinos.

On the horizon above the town is the impressive Villarrica volcano. It looks like the twin of Osorno volcano just a little to the south.

I get the impression that here in Pucon is where the action is in summer (boating on the lake) and winter (skiing). The town looks like it's accustomed to absorbing about 10 times as many tourists as there are here now. There's not much to see in the town itself, but it makes a great base camp for day trips off kayaking, hiking, etc.; and then, of course, party central after dark.

Having said that, I'm off to bed!

Not Erupting Yet

2009-03-20T04:33:00.001-07:00

Bavarian Valdivia

2009-03-20T04:11:00.000-07:00

Here are some extra photos of Valdivia and environs.
Valdivia is famous, among other things, for being the home of Kunstmann beer! Der Herr Kunstmann was born in the Erzgebirge, which in English we call the Hartz Mountains (I think???) which are in south east Germany. They're in what used to be the southern border of the old east Germany. In my mind, I picture low lying hills and fields of barley and hops.
Upon arriving in Chile, Herr Kunstmann found he needed something liquid to wash down his diet of meat, potatoes, hallullas, meat, and potatoes. Diet Coke was not then available. So he opted for, you guessed it, beer. The brewery is right outside Valdivia and offers a museum and a good "German" restaurant. The Chilenos have not gone halfway. There are pictures of Bavarian Alps, there is Bavarian oom-pah music, but for some reason the waiters/waitresses are not dressed in lederhosen and dirndels. Just like Americans, Chilenos equate Germany with Bavaria.
All that notwithstanding, the beer was excellent! They brought out 8 small plastic cups, looking like they were taken from a urologist's supply closet, filled with Kunstmann's finest. (At least, I sure HOPE that's what it was!) For lunch I had pork with sauerkraut and kartoffel pouffe. The sauerkraut and potatoes tasted good, but they did not taste like anything I've eaten in Germany.....on the other hand, maybe they were Bavarian!
Zum wohl!

Mercado Fluvial

2009-03-20T04:10:00.003-07:00

My favorite coffee hangout

2009-03-20T04:10:00.001-07:00

Defending Chile

2009-03-20T04:09:00.001-07:00

Viva el anacronismo!

2009-03-20T04:08:00.001-07:00

Spanish Tower: Conquistador's View

2009-03-17T16:38:00.001-07:00

Spanish Tower from the water

2009-03-17T16:37:00.001-07:00

A Fish Gourmand

2009-03-17T16:36:00.003-07:00

A Fishy Business

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Salmon, hake, and sole

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Vegetarian's Side of Things

2009-03-17T16:34:00.001-07:00

Valdivia

2009-03-17T10:37:00.000-07:00

Greetings from Valdivia! This city is on the coast of Chile; actually, it's at the confluence of a couple of rivers very close to the actual coast. Pedro Valdivia was the first great European explorer of Chile in the 16th century. The Europeans came to the east coast of South America and then started working their way down the west coast: Colombia, Ecudador, Peru, and ultimately Chile. As was so frequently the case, their motivation was to find gold. Accompanying Pedro was his mistress Ines Suarez. Her story is every bit as interesting, if not moreso, than Pedro's. It can be found in Isabel Allende's work of historical fiction, Ines of my Soul, which is fascinating.
Pedro and Ines literally fought their way across the Atacama Desert of northern Chile before settling in the valley that is now the metropolis of Santiago. The city of Valdivia was pretty much the southern-most defensive point against the Mapuche Indians. The Mapuches, unlike the majority of other native American groups, fought unrelentingly for over 300 years against the colonizing Europeans.
Today there are only a couple of remnants of the Spanish occupation, notably the "Spanish Towers." Valdivia never turned into much of a port, like Valparaiso. It's a university town and it's refreshing to see newsstands everywhere, lots of bookstores, etc. The fishermen still bring their products to the fish and vegetable market at the foot of the embardacero. The sea lions hang out close nearby, in the hopes that the fish preparers will throw them something edible.
Speaking of which, it's time for lunch! Hasta luego!

Pass the Schnitzel, por favor!

2009-03-16T12:19:00.000-07:00

When we Americans think of Germans in Chile, we think of former Nazis heading that way after WWII. However, the reason some actually went there was because there already was a sizable German presence. It seems like mostly Italians ended up going to Argentina and Uruguay. While some Germans did go to other south american countries, like Argentina, the majority went to Chile. There were also a good number of German-speaking Swiss that went there as well.
One area that they were particularly attracted to is the so-called "Lake District." This part of Chile has four distinct seasons, although it has a little bit milder climate than most of Germany.
I've been on the shores of Lake Llanquihue ("Yahn-kee-way".....I think), a huge lake which sits at the base of a marvelously cone-shaped volcano called Orsono. I've just recently come from the land of jagged-shaped mountain spires (Torres del Paine), where the surrounding landscape was harsh and forbidding. Here, the surrounding landscape under Mt. Osorno consists of green pastures filled with contented cows and small villages selling "kuchen," or German pastry.
In the 19th century, the word got back to Germany and Switzerland that this was the place to come to start up a farm and make a go of it in the new world. I've been to Puerto Varas, Frutillar, and Puerto Octay, all located on the shores of this large lake. In Frutillar, there's even a "German Colonial Museum," with a restored farm, water mill, a German garden, iron works, etc. Because of the similarity in climates, the same plants, trees, and fruits that grow well in Germany also grow well here, so the Germans imported many of them. There's apfelkuchen and strudel everywhere, because there are apple trees everywhere. It's just starting to be the end of summer here and the beginning of fall (mid-March), so there are lots of apples on the ground under lots of trees.
It seems like no matter where you go around the lake, you are always confronted by the wonderful views of Mt. Osorno. This year, there's not a lot of snow on the side of the mountain that faces the sun. The locals say that if all the snow melts, this will bring bad luck.
The mountain looks relatively tame because of its cone shape. You can drive a good way up it, then you have to hike another 5 hours or so to get to the top. They say you should bring ice equipment and always go with a guide because of the number of crevasses. Apparently some tourists have the bad luck to fall into these things.
It seems like Chile and Argentina (Villa Gen. Belgrano)seem to have at least one thing in common: that's their pride in the German-ness of some of their small towns. The towns do it up in a big way as well: the architecture is encouraged, if not required to be, German-looking. German pastry is offered as well as what sounds like German beer ("Kunstmann").
The love of German pastry and beer does not extend to music. I haven't heard any oom-pah bands. The music I do hear, for example on buses and in restaurants, is sort of Latin American Muzak or smooth American oldies. This contrasts sharply with Mexico where, when one enters the bus, it's fiesta time! All of this stuff of course is completely ignored by the under 20 crowd, who are plugged into their I-pods.
Hasta luego!

Puerto Octay

2009-03-16T12:18:00.003-07:00

Heim in Chile

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Osorno Volcano

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Germans are coming

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#4

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#3

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#2

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#1

2009-03-16T12:05:00.001-07:00

Churchin' It in Chiloe

2009-03-16T12:01:00.001-07:00

In the 18th century, the Jesuits arrived on the island of Chiloe. From their point of view they were there to help the locals discover the one true faith. Nowadays, it seems like incredible cultural snobbery to tell people that they should ignore the beliefs that they and their ancestors have practiced for centuries in order to practice something that people believe on the other side of the world. Nevertheless, that's basically what happened.

In order to impress the Chilotes, the Jesuits ordered the construction of a number of very impressive churches. I've attached some photos of them. The churches are all made of wood. Some of them these days have metal siding, but most of them have marvelous wooden beams and wooden walls. Most of them have been worked on by the locals to keep them up over time. The external walls are often shingled with shakes made of larch (alerce), which is supposed to be very impervious to rot. The interior has a central nave and two parallel side ones. The ceilings I saw were barrel-vaulted, looking like a ship upside down. This makes sense when you think that the chilotes had been making boats for ages. These ceilings were painted with stars. The woodwork on the interior was wonderful, with replicas of their fishing boats hanging from the ceiling.

However, the one striking feature to every church is the steeple. The steeple has two or three tiers, rising up directly from the front entrance. The second tier is frequently six-sided. When it was finished, it must have been quite a striking sight to the chilotes. Nowadays, most of the churches are used once a week, if at all, for church services.

I've been in a little town called Chonchi. I'm staying in a hostal which is about 30 feet away from the high water line with a marvelous view of the water and the island of Lemuy about 5 miles away. Today I walked to the ferry landing and took a ferry over to this little island of Lemuy. The island is made up of small farms, a couple of little towns, and 4 wonderful old wooden churches. I went to the little town of Puqueldon and had lunch.

One of the difficulties in visiting these small towns is that there is limited public transportation. On Chiloe, I had the good luck to run into a very nice American couple, Mark and Chrissa, who gave a couple of us pedestrians a ride around the countryside. On the island of Lemuy I was able to hitch rides in the back of pick-up trucks, a relatively common practice in this very rural area, where car traffic is pretty rare. It seemed like the first pick up to come along always stopped. It helped greatly that I was accompanied by two charming young Swiss girls!

Chillin' in Chiloe

2009-03-11T08:18:00.000-07:00

Chiloe (pronounced "chill-oh-way") is a large island in the southern part of Chile off the coast of the town of Puerto Montt. It has a history going back to the 16th century when the Spanish landed here and started settlements. The Jesuits built a church in the town of Castro. The people had a very strong local religion, some of whose beliefs were incorporated into the the local Catholic Church. This of course is common throughout latin america. The practices in the rural churches of Chiapas, Mexico, come to mind. There's one particular character called Trauco. There's even a small sculpture of him in the central park, and sometimes he's even tied up. Apparently, he slips out at night and sneaks into the houses of unsuspecting virgins and deflowers them. This devilish creature therefore explains any surprise pregnancies among unmarried teenage girls. I'm told that to call a person a "trauco" here is like saying you're a jerk. Needless to say, I don't want to find out if this is true. There's also "Pincoya" (and a wonderful restaurant here in Ancud by that name) who is a siren of the ocean and lures unsuspecting fishermen to their demise. When they die, they go on board the "Caleuche", a ghostly ship that sails close to the shore. You never see it but you might hear the echoes of music from it after it passes by!

The chilotes, as they call themselves, were a pretty independent group. They were none too enthused about joining up with Chile against the Spanish crown. One of Chilean war hero Lord Cochrane's few military losses was his attempt to conquer Chiloe. Nevertheless, by 1826, the island had been taken over by Chile. There is still a military fort site here in Ancud, built by the Spanish royalists, prepared to defend against any attacking chilenos. See photo, attached.

Traveling to the island is like taking a step backward in time. There were sea lions by the dozen cavorting around the ferry coming over here. The little town of Ancud could be described as "Quincy by the Sea." It's a small town. It seems like everyone knows everyone. It's a fishing port, where the day's catch finds its way to the market place. Available are: hake, conger eel, octopus, bass, sole, salmon, and shellfish (and probably more). The little town makes me think this is what Monterey might have been like in the 1930's and 40's: sort of sleepy, laid-back, dependent on fishing. The location is beautiful. There's a lovely little bay, and a wharf, wonderful views looking out over the water. The early morning fog burns away and the sun shines brightly and warm. The restaurants serve wonderful fish at incredibly reasonable prices. One local famous dish is called curanto. The theory behind this offering is that if the individual items taste good, they must taste even better all mixed together. It's a stew made of fish, shellfish (lots of mussels), sometimes lamb and sausage, and maybe potatoes, all put into the pot to simmer for a few hours. I'm told it's got a very strong fishy taste. Unfortunately, I'm not a big fan of fish; so far I've had hake and conger eel, both of which were mild and delicious.

I'm staying in a beautiful, huge, very old house. Because we are considerably farther north now than in Patagonia, many of the houses are made of wood, and stand up to the weather. The weather here is positively balmy: t-shirt and shorts in beautiful sunshine. This is far different than the gray cold threatening sky of Patagonia. The husband and wife owners of the house I'm in look to be close to 90. The husband told me his father had the house built 79 years ago. His father, from the capital of Santiago, became enamored with a photo of a small English cottage. He ordered the plans for the cottage, and gave them to a builder here in Ancud. The builder decided that all the numbers were in meters (not feet). The result is a wonderful wooden mansion; but not a summer cottage. The house sits on a small hill with a wonderful view of the wharf and the sea.
The nice old couple spend an hour or so every afternoon sitting on their little bench in front of their house looking out over the water.
More on Chiloe next time!

Defending Ancud

2009-03-11T08:17:00.001-07:00

Cottage turned mansion

2009-03-11T08:16:00.001-07:00

Breakfast room view

2009-03-11T08:15:00.001-07:00

2009-03-09T07:30:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I've been in Patagonia about a week. I am now an expert on patagonian gastronomy. This means I feel absolutely confident that I can speak with great authority on what the senoras of the rooms-for-rent houses offer for breakfast.

For starters, at breakfast there is a choice of tea or coffee. When we speak of coffee, I must make it clear that, as in ALL of Latin America, coffee is synonymous with Nescafe. (I can visualize readers cringing). How ironic that in some of these countries that proudly grow coffee beans, they are harvested almost exclusively for export while the locals drink Nescafe. One often has to go to a special cafe in the inner city catering to gringos to get real coffee.

Instead of offering brewed coffee, in the fancy restaurants, they bring you 3 china bowls, one containing sugar, one milk, and one, containing Nescafe, together with a thermos of hot water. You can then mix to taste. What a disservice to the porcelain! In the restaurants I am more accustomed to, they bring you a jar of Nescafe with a spoon already in it (maybe dry).

The breakfast bread is usually something called hallullas (pronounced (usually) ah-jew-jahs). They look like an oversized english muffin but the interior is more like an American hamburger bun; unless it's a couple of days old, in which case it might have a texture more like a bagel. It's relatively flavor-less, which means it needs a lot of help from what you put on top of it. I get the impression native Chilenos think hallullas are a delight; no doubt for the same reason Mexicanos think bolillos are wonderful. Oh well.

The bottom line is: that's it for breakfast: a hallulla and a cup of Nescafe. Frequently, they don't eat next until the main meal of the day sometime around 2 o'clock. No wonder they break down and eat german pastry ("kuchen", directly from the German) at about 11 in the morning. This has apparently grown into a national habit so one can see signs in front of restaurants offering "11's," (onces), where one can eat pastry and drink another cup of Nescafe. Still no fruit or veggies (unless there's sweetened fruit in the kuchen).

It seems like the locals lean toward ham and cheese. It also seems like the ham and cheese sandwich is to be found absolutely everywhere in south america. I've heard it said that in Venezuela, if they should ever run out of ham and cheese, the country will starve. The ladies of the rooms-for-rent houses know the habits of their clientele. When the gringos arrive, out comes jam for breakfast with the hallullas; when the chilenos or argentinos arrive, out comes the ham and cheese. Most gringos, like me, buy their own fruit in the market, and break it out at breakfast time. It seems to me that meat is real big in Patagonia; not so much the fruit or vegetables. That could very well be because we are quite far away from the tropics and there's no easy road access to anywhere. There are some (very small) pineapples, and few or no bananas. But as in northern climes, there are lots of apples! Also, some goodies like yucca, quinoa, and the ubiquitous potato. There is fruit to be found in the fruit markets, however limited. It's kind of disappointing when you're presented with a small dish of canned fruit cocktail as the dessert in the menu of the day. The menu of the day will include meat and potatoes (french fries or mashed), but probably no other veggies. I must emphasize here I'm speaking of the gastronomic fare in Patagonia alone. Chile is about as long latitudinally, as the US is wide longitudinally (repeat that phrase 3 times rapidly!), which means the food is going to differ dramatically from one end to the next; kind of like comparing Canada with Mexico.

For the main meal, the choice here in Patagonia is usually lamb or fish. I'm talking about restaurants that offer a "menu of the day," or "home style cooking." There's always the upscale restaurant that will offer steak and french fries. I only know about them from the signs out front. Unfortunately, like coffee, many fishermen sell their catch only to foreign (as in German!) export companies that fly it to Europe. Of course, one can always order a ham and cheese sandwich, or the infamous hamburger, hot dog, or pizza.
When the German and Scotch immigrants arrived here one to two hundred years ago to seek their fortune, they opened up estancias, or large cattle/sheep ranches. They needed cowboys (huasos) to herd the animals, so they imported them from the Chilean island of Chiloe (which I hope to travel to shortly!). Many of the working class here in Patagonia are descended from these original mestizo migrant workers from Chiloe who learned to be cowboys. As a result, many of the culinary offerings here have a heavy Chiloe influence. Today I ate (I didn't know it at the time) a soup (it was more like a stew) made of lamb (as always) with seaweed. Yes, you read that correctly....and it was delicious! (sopa de luche). Okay, all you sushi lovers, you can stop laughing at me; but other than wrapped around sushi, I don't think I would go out of my way to eat seaweed. However, the seaweed in this stew was surprisingly mild. At first I thought it was kale, but it was much too mild for kale. Mixed with it were rice, carrots, corn, and potatoes (veggies!), and a large piece of lamb. I think I've eaten more lamb in the last week than I have in the previous 3 years. It's a good thing, in hindsight, that my dictionary didn't offer the chilean word for seaweed or I might not have ordered it. I'm now told that Chiloe offers many interesting cooking surprises! I'm looking forward to finding out. It's always good to order stew since there's a better chance of getting some veggies that way.

One thing definitely needs to be mentioned and that is that chilean beer is outstanding! Even the cheaper supermarket brands are on a par, in my book, with California micro-breweries. I haven't tried the wine yet. Remember, we're still talking Patagonia. As I get farther north and to warmer climes (doesn't that sound funny?), I'm looking forward to sampling chilean wines.

The most popular fish here seems to be hake, which I don't think we have in California. It's relatively mild; therefore to my taste. The locals complain that salmon is hard to get, because the fishermen sell it to the export companies.

Hasta luego, and bon apetit!

Patagonian Architecture 101

2009-03-07T12:44:00.000-08:00

The houses here are small cottages frequently with a roof that slopes in just one direction. They are sided by tin, or some sort of metal, and roofed with corrugated tin. Frequently they're painted nice bright colors, which makes a nice contrast to the gray threatening sky. There are really old houses with wood siding, but those deteriorate relatively rapidly. There are lots of wooden skeletons standing around empty. The older metal sided houses usually have wooden windows. The window frames weather rapidly. The wind blows through them pretty easily. If you're a fresh air fiend like me, it's great. You get lots of fresh air without opening the window.

Because of the weather, the metal sided houses require frequent painting. Sometimes the beaten condition of the house can be a bit off-putting. But the inside can be quite comfortable. The newer houses have aluminum siding and they seem to hold up great. The newer houses also have metal aluminum framed windows, so I'm sure they don't have the sealing problems that the older houses do.

There are usually two sets of front doors. The outer door lets you into a little room, the size of a phone booth, where you can close the outer door before opening the inner one. Sometimes instead of an inner door, there's a heavy curtain. This keeps the wind from blowing through the whole house. The two story houses frequently look like cubic boxes. After you enter the front door, there's a hallway and a staircase. The upstairs rooms are rarely heated, since they're the bedrooms, and, after all, heat rises. These two story houses will frequently boast a raised roof that slopes in two directions (un techo de dos aguas).

The houses are poorly insulated or not at all. When the wind howls, some of the metal siding bangs against the framework. The wind makes weird noises and the curtains next to the drafty windows billow out. As in the mountains of Bolivia and Peru, each bed seems to come equipped with up to 75 lbs. of wool blankets. You pile them at the bottom of the bed and you keep pulling up an extra blanket until you get warm, or can't breathe anymore.

Attached is a photo of the house I stayed in in Puerto Natales. Althought pretty weather beaten on the outside, it was quite nice inside. As in the states, some of the older houses, such as this one, have wooden floors. Others just have linoleum. The wood in the floors and staircases exudes a nice odor reminding me of teak, but I don't know what kind of wood they use, or where they get it from.

All the homes are heated with natural gas, which I'm told is relatively cheap. Usually one stove is left on all the time, either the one in the living room or the kitchen. It can be damped down during the day when the sun is shining and the weather is not too cold, or during the night.

Next time....more on food!
Hasta luego!

My pension

2009-03-07T12:41:00.001-08:00

Older 1 story house

2009-03-07T12:40:00.003-08:00

Newer 2 story house

2009-03-07T12:40:00.001-08:00

Newer 1 story house

2009-03-07T12:39:00.001-08:00

Torres del Paine

2009-03-05T06:56:00.001-08:00

Today was nature day, which is quite an understatement. I took an all-day tour with 4 other people in a van to the national park "Torres del Paine" which means blue towers. I'm told that "paine" is an indigenous word meaning blue. I am somewhat (maybe more than somewhat) color-challenged. I couldn't see any blue in the mountains, but I did see dark and light rocks. These peaks are about 7800 feet high and rise up from almost sea level. This dramatic ascent is so typical of the Andes, absolutely breath-taking. The Andes do the same thing at their northern end near Merida in Venezuela, and in the middle near Machu Pichu. The only difference is that at Machu Pichu, because of the difference in latitude, the steep cliffs are covered with vegetation. Here, they're covered with snow! The Towers are a must-see for chilenos and for people visiting Chile, kind of like seeing Yosemite. Quite a few Europeans come here to go backpacking. It's not quite like what it is in California. One hikes on well-worn paths, and spends the night in a "refugio" where a bed and fire await, much like hiking in the Swiss and Austrian Alps.

This beautiful area has been turned into a national park. There are several trails all around the beautiful mountains. Backpackers are welcome but must camp in only designated places and cannot leave the trail. To do so is called "wild camping." Torres del Paine reminds me of the well-tended Swiss Alps, where one should not walk on the grass. In January and February, which is high summer, I'm told the area is pretty packed with backpackers. So these rather strict rules make sense. The result is that the place is quite clean and orderly. There are certainly many other andean mountains in Chile where one can go "wild camping." This is now the first week in March. Summer vacation is over. School started up again last Monday. The number of visitors has dropped dramatically. Even the weather has decided it must be fall. It was cloudy and threatening all day and began raining about 3 p.m. I'm glad we had as dry a day as we did.

Driving there, we traveled past quite a few "estancias." These are common in both Chile and Argentina; basically, they're large ranches, or country estates, devoted to cattle or sheep raising. Frequently, they offer rooms to tourists, providing meals, horsebackriding, etc. I can easily envision these incredibly independent-minded german and scot pioneers setting up cattle or sheep ranches here and battling the elements in order to build a succesful farming operation. The result is that many of these ranches and ranch homes are well-established and quite beautiful. The independent conservative spirit of these early settlers has no doubt affected the chilean mentality of today.

Enroute we saw half a dozen condors flying high overhead above a large herd of cattle. We came across numerous guanacos. Guanacos are Chile's version of a llama. They're smaller than a llama, but bigger than an alpaca, but share the same camelid heredity. They're protected now. The only predators are mountain lions, of which there are quite a few.

As luck would have it, a mountain lion had taken a guanaco the night before (or so we suspect), not far from our road through the park. Our eagle-eyed tour guide spotted the carcass as well as a fox feeding on it. We all got quite close to it. The fox was not about to give up lunch just because of some curious humans. Obviously, his hunger overcame his fear. In the photo, you can see rheas in the background, apparently oblivious to the fox at lunch. Rheas are like an ostrich or an emu. Enroute we also saw caranchos, which Wikipedia tells me is a "carrion-hawk", and pink flamingos.

Incredibly enough, there are a handful of restaurants up here in the middle of nowhere. The food they offer has to be transported quite a distance. My very nice landlady had warned me that the prices in the restaurants were very expensive (true!), and gave me a sandwich to take with me! It was lamb and cheese, with tomato and avocado paste. Yummy! I sat down at a wonderful picnic table with a view of the beautiful mountains. I had about a square inch of sandwich left. Some fellow passengers were walking toward me, and I turned toward them, and in 3 seconds, about half a dozen little birds stole my sandwich bread! The photo shows me and the remnants of the sandwich. So far, these are the only inhospitable chilenos I've encountered!

torres del paine

2009-03-05T06:40:00.001-08:00

human at lunch

2009-03-05T06:39:00.001-08:00

fox at lunch

2009-03-05T06:38:00.001-08:00

Guanacos

2009-03-05T06:37:00.001-08:00

Puerto Natales

2009-03-04T14:43:00.001-08:00

Greetings from Puerto Natales!

This town is just a 3 hour bus ride north from Punta Arenas, yet it feels like a world away. Windswept Punta Arenas was right on the Magellan Strait, with views looking out over the water. Puerto Natales is also a port, but what a difference! This town is accessible to the ocean but only after winding one's nautical way around a profusion of islands, peninsulas, and other land barriers. The wharf is quiet; the water at the moment is placid. There seems to be one rather lonely looking dock. Around the sound are snow capped mountains with the promise of higher, snowier mountains right behind them. The temperature is probably the same as Punta Arenas but it feels a bit warmer because of the relative lack of wind. I'm walking around in a long sleeved shirt and windbreaker rather than in my alpaca sweater from Bolivia, gloves, and wool cap. The locals proudly claim that Pto. Natales is MUCH warmer than Pta. Arenas. That's kind of like saying Quincy is MUCH warmer than Portola, etc. If you're from Florida, say, both are cold.

The road here reminded me of Hwy. 50 going across Nevada ("the loneliest road in America"). It seemed like we were the only thing moving on the road. There was a wildgrass and sagebrush aspect to the landscape, with occasional groves of chilean oaks, which is what I think they're called here in Spanish but which look to me like cypress. Every once in a while there are nandu's, which are rheas, a kind of small ostrich, walking around, pecking away, doing their thing. There are lots of sheep grazing on the wide open plains. There's not much between the two towns. From the bus, I saw a sign advertising "Cafeteria ahead!" It looked like an oasis. There were 2 pick-up trucks parked in front of it and a llama tied to a hitching post. The local that came out of it is called a "huaso", yet another word in Spanish for cowboy (vaquero, llanero, gaucho, etc.), wearing a very cool black beret.

Just like in Nevada or northeastern California, there is the occasional small house to be seen at the end of a long dirt road off the highway. In the states, it would be a single wide mobile home. Here it's a similarly-sized metal building, made of flat tin on the sides and corrugated tin for the roof. One difference is that the roof only slopes in one direction. They usually are brightly painted so you can't tell it's metal siding until you get up close. In the towns, the houses are built the same. The two story houses look like solid squares. You enter, face a hallway and staircase, with rooms branching off to the sides. The kitchen is in the back where the stove, usually natural gas-fed, is on all the time (just like northern Ireland!).

In Punta Arenas, it seemed to me that gringos were relatively few and far between. There were a number of tourists, obviously, but they tended to be from Chile or Argentina. That is not the case here in Puerto Natales. This is the base camp, if you will, for backpackers to head off into the Patagonian Alps. Backpackers, mountain climbers, river rafters, ice climbers, the works. This means that 85% of the tourists here are gringo males between 18 and 30. There are gringos everywhere! As a result, walking down the street one hears German, French, occasionally Hebrew, and what might be Nordic languages. The Americans are definitely outnumbered. The American economic crisis may have dampened Americans' desire to travel, but not Europeans. Walking here reminds me of walking down, say the downtown of south lake tahoe (if there is such a thing). The stores here offer backpacking gear, the latest most expensive European hiking footwear, high-end brand names of American equipment companies, freeze dried food, dried fruit (I've RARELY seen that before in all of Latin America), ice axes, all the outdoor accoutrements. In between those stores are tour guide companies, restaurants with large advertisements in English, internet cafes, and coffee shops offering wi-fi (pronounced wee-fee, which I always find funny).

There are "backpacker's hostels" all over the place, which means some one converted their house into bedrooms with 4 bunkbeds in each, and with several rooms sharing one bathroom. And, last but not least, there are discos and nightclubs that start at about midnight and go until early morning for those backpackers who don't need to sleep. The town is about the size of Quincy. Imagine Quincy with a thousand or so foreigners in it! That's Pto. Natales.

Once a week, the ferry arrives and takes off again for Puerto Montt, a trip of 3 days and 4 nights, heading north toward more urban climes. I'm sure the ferry ride is fascinating in its own right, wending its way in between islands in an inland passage working its way north. However, it sails through literally all of this beautiful region, known as the Carratera Austral. There are ports that it could dock at enroute, but it doesn't. The rates for this cruise start at around $600 for a backpacker's kind of dorm room, and go up to 3 grand. No thanks. I strongly suspect the reason why the ferries don't make stops enroute is that people would get off! This of course would cut into their revenues.

Unfortunately, there is a large part of these dramatic mountains where no road has been cut yet into this beautiful area. Imagine, if you will, that California was accessible to the rest of the country only be going to Canada or Mexico! This leaves the traveler like me in something of a bind. In a personal car, one can slip over the other side of the Andes to Argentina, drive north a bit and then cross back into Chile. The road may or may not be paved, may or may not be maintained, and is probably absolutely minimally travelled, but it's possible. The public buses don't cooperate in that regard. In all fairness, there may be little demand. However, as I've reported on earlier in this blog, South American countries are like islands. They have minimal commercial traffic between themselves; minimal people exchange; minimal roads going from one to the other, etc. This is based on mutual distrust shared by all south american nationalities, and certainly by chilenos and argentinos. Ironically, there are several economic pacts, etc., among these countries (MERCOSUR comes to mind) but they amount to little. Until this inherent distrust is overcome, transportation and communication between neighboring countries will continue to be minimal.

When I asked the Chileno travel agent here if I could take a public bus through Argentina to get north of here, she said rather disdainfully I would have to go to an Argentine bus travel agency to find out that sort of information. At the Argentine agency, they answered "Of course we can take you to Argentina, but back into Chile again? No way!" They made it sound like no one in their right mind would want to do that. When I was at the hostel in Punta Arenas, one evening, the old lady that ran the place (I think she was a drill sergeant in a former life) was talking with me when an Argentine tourist arrived. For some reason we were talking about different nationalities that stayed in her hostel. She said to me loudly "You just have to watch out for those Argentine tourists to make sure they don't steal stuff from you and that you always get your money from them up front." I began squirming in my chair, knowing that the argentine could certainly hear her. The landlady read my mind and said "I don't care if he hears me!" He apparently expected this sentiment and didn't do anything about it. She is one of those persons that comes on super-strong at first, and probably after the second day, was giving the Argentine guy extra pound cake for breakfast.

Penguins I have known

2009-03-02T06:32:00.001-08:00

One of Punta Arenas' claims to fame is being near nesting grounds for magellanic penguins. These penguins, unlike emperor penguins of movie fame, are sensible enough to go on vacation only to coastal islands off Chile and Argentina, not to some freezing cold place like the Antarctic. Having said that, the islands here are certainly cold and windy enough!! The temperature was not that bad (maybe in the 40's or even 50's), but the wind reached gusts of up to 70 mph! This makes a wind chill factor of very cold indeed. It also makes for white caps, waves, and a bouncy ferry ride to the island. Thank goodness for Bonine!
These poor penguins travel south from warmer climes up near Brazil and Peru in the southern latitude summer to nest. And to think, they pass up the great opportunity to lay over in Tahiti in order to waddle up onto a cold barren island with hellacious winds, in order to burrow into a hole, and lay 2 eggs!
They stand about a foot and a half high. The male comes ashore first and finds a nice burrow. He returns to the island on which he was born. He then starts braying, making a noise much like a donkey. The female recognizes his voice. They are monogamous and mate for life, living about 20 to 30 years. Like in the movie, they each take turns guarding the nest while the other one goes out fishing for small fish, krill, and crustaceans.
I had a chance to take a ferry to the island of Magdalena where they say "130,000 penguins greet you." There were quite a few penguins on the island but I can't verify the number of 130,000.
The number of magellanic penguins is decreasing every year. They say the animal is "almost endangered." No one is exactly sure why, but the common suspicion is global warming. While one parent is out looking for food, the other must wait for the first to return. If the first doesn't return in a timely fashion, the risk is that the second will starve. The thinking is that the penguins have to search farther and farther for food.
The penguins seemed practically oblivious to us humans. I guess they've grown accustomed to the hundred or so humans that come three times a week to walk carefully along roped paths taking photos of them.
It's fun to watch them surfing in the waves, and even funnier to watch them waddle. It's now the time of the year for them to start heading north, as the temperatures begin to drop around here. I think I'll follow their example!
Hasta luego!

2009-03-02T06:31:00.003-08:00

2009-03-02T06:31:00.001-08:00

2009-03-02T06:30:00.001-08:00

2009-03-02T06:29:00.001-08:00

Punta Arenas, Chile

2009-02-28T06:19:00.000-08:00

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.

Chacala

2009-02-15T16:06:00.001-08:00

I've had the wonderful opportunity to spend several weeks in a wonderful little town on the west coast of Mexico in the state of Nayarit called Chacala. Chacala is a fascinating place. It is a full two hours north of Puerto Vallarta and, for that reason, is outside the "sphere of influence", if you will, of the high rise hotels, condos, Costcos, and all the big-city civilized trappings of the metropolis known as Puerto Vallarta. Chacala today is similar to what Puerto Vallarta was in the movie Night of the Iguana.
The powers that be in the state of Nayarit, the governor and his administration, have decided that the entire coast of the state of Nayarit, basically from Puerto Vallarta north to Mazatlan, should be turned into a mirror image of Cancun. Bigger is better, higher is holier, and the widely held belief, valid or not, is that the whole area must be made as Americanized as possible in order to attract gringo dollars. This means turning tranquil little beach hamlets into high rise condos, marinas, time shares, gated communities, the works, offering franchise fast food, Starbucks, etc. Chacala was (and at the time of this writing, is) a marvelous backwater, regrettably only two hours away from growing Gringolandia.
Chacala boasts a small beach, maybe half a mile in length. Half of the beach fronts restaurants and the dozen or so shops on a dirt road that constitute the "downtown". The other half of the beach was fronted by a grove of palm trees. In the past, gringos and mexicanos would come in their RV's and tents, camp in the palm grove, walk to the beach, and patronize the local restaurants and grocery stores. About 6 months ago, the state government erected a cyclone fence barring people from entering the palm grove. The government did so with no notice. They did so without indicating that this was a state action, causing the locals to wonder "Who did this?" In other words, they acted in typical mexican government fashion. They then paid a couple of "vigilantes" to guard the fence and make sure no one breaches it. The owners of the palm grove do indeed have plans to develop this area. This governmntal action effectively eliminates any subsequent actions by locals claiming they've acquired a right to adverse use or possession.
The developers plan to turn the large area into a gated community (mexicanos love gates; even gated communities INSIDE gated communities!), complete with condos, restaurants, a marina, hotels, etc. In short they want to make a mini-Puerto Vallarta out of this otherwise undeveloped little bay. It seems to be an accepted fact that the governor of the state and other governmental authorities have been handsomely paid off by the developers. From the mexican point of view, this is not something to be angry at; this is a lucky job perk that comes with political office.
The locals seem to have mixed feelings. About half of them naively believe that this development will bring more income their way. This of course will not be the case. I point to Puerto Aventuras as proof. The other half are opposed, but absolutely all are resigned to the fact that it makes no difference what they think or how they feel. The decision will be made by the state-level politicians and their decision will be decided by how much money the developers will be able to put into the politicians pockets.
Chacala of course is not unique. I think, however, it's analagous to the canary in the coal mine. As goes Chacala, so goes the rest of rural Mexico with a beach.
So....bottom line: if you want to go to the beach south of the border and still be in Mexico, now is the time to enjoy this little hamlet! The development may have been delayed by the sad state of the US economy. Those that wish to enjoy rural Mexican life at the beach(the rural lifestyle is the heart of Mexico) may still be able to do so for a few more years.

2009-02-15T16:05:00.001-08:00

Happy Holidays!

2009-02-05T17:05:00.000-08:00

If there's one thing Mexico has a lot of it's holidays! Last Monday was a holiday. I didn't discover this to be the case until I took the little colectivo to Las Varas to do some shopping and noticed the bank was closed, as were the schools, any government offices and about half the businesses. What day was it I asked. I was told cheerfully "the 5th of February, which we celebrate on Monday, Feb. 2d, so as to make it a 3 day weekend."
I was undiplomatically persistent. What's the 5th of February? I got blank looks, stares off into space, etc. A couple of people told me it was a combined holiday: Feb. 5th as well as the religious holiday of "Candelaria."
That only made matters worse. What was Candelaria? Now I got a warmer response. The Virgin of Candelaria! Okay, I said, the Virgin of Guadeloupe I understand, but the Virgin of Candelaria. What is that? I got blank looks again.
The colectivo driver told me authoritatively that the 5th of February celebrated the Mexican Army's victory (there are precious few of them) over the French at the battle of Puebla. That rang a bell. Wait a minute, I said, that's Cinco de Mayo! Oh, yeah, said the driver, you're right. He continued "I don't know what Cinco de Febrero is!"
Every one I talked to did dismiss the holiday as meaningless; that it was just yet another holiday which politicians put into place to attempt to win votes at election time.
After researching the issue on the internet, I discovered that Feb. 5th in Mexico is the "Day of the Constitution." So much for the Constitution. It obviously does not get high marks in terms of national recognition. The knowledgeable few may also ask: which constitution? the one of 1859 that practically made dictators out of the landed aristocracy and the Church; or the one of 1917, which ultimately made the PRI the effective dictator of Mexico for almost a century? Which exploitation of the Mexican people are we supposed to celebrate? The answer is......both! Mexico is an equal opportunity celebrator.
What about Candelaria? The Virgin of Candelaria comes from the Canary Islands and pre-dates the Spanish arrival in Mexico. When the Spanish priests first arrived here, they discovered the locals had a practice of hiding a kernel of corn in a cooked item. Then, whoever found it by biting into it, had to make tamales for everyone about a month later. It was part of a fertility ritual among the pre-Hispanics. Just like Quinceanera and the Posadas, the Church took over this Aztec or Mayan custom and made it part of their religious practices, so that most Mexicans today think these customs are Catholic in origin. Irony, irony. So today, Mexicans make bread with a toy inside that's eaten on the Epiphany (3 Kings Day). Whoever bites into the little toy makes tamales on the day that turns out to be a month later, or the Virgin of Candelaria day.
Alas, poor reader, you now know more about Feb 5th in Mexico than probably 3/4 of Mexicanos. It looks like we gringos have yet again something in common with the mexicanos. How many Californians can tell us when and what Admission Day is? How about what holiday is March 31st? (Cesar Chavez Day). What day is Martin Luther King Day? Well, you get the picture. And, who knows. By the time this makes its way onto the web, the Mexican federal government may have invented yet another holiday! Vive la fiesta! Have a beer! Just bite carefully into the bread!

Kitchen Mastery

2009-02-01T09:45:00.000-08:00

To blend or not to blend.
More than once in a Mexican household, I've noticed that the oven of the stove is used to store pots and pans. Otherwise, the oven is not used. How do they make flan? I don't know. But, my guess is that the huge majority of Mexican women (the sexist remark is used deliberately; after all, this IS Mexico, where 99.9% of domestic engineers are women) don't use the oven at all.
If you wanted to completely disrupt Mexican society and bring the entire country to it's culinary knees, all you would have to do is eliminate all blenders. That's right, you heard me correctly, blenders; or Osterizers, or Mixmasters, or whatever; the things we had before Cuisinart. In most of the Hispanic world they're called licuadoras.
I have this sneaky suspicion that when a Mexican woman goes to prepare a meal, she automatically thinks "What can I put in the blender?" You use a blender to make mole, to make some kinds of salsa, and other things. There's always margaritas for the gringos. When I have gone looking for places to stay that offer some sort of kitchen, there may not be a refrigerator, there is definitely no oven, but there is absolutely, postiviely, a blender! Most important of all, the blender is used to make those fantastic fruit drinks.
For starters, there is cebada, which is this magical chocolate concoction. It's made with just a light amount of chocolate, a hint of cinnamon, and then blended with water and ice so that it's not heavy. On a hot day, it is remarkably refreshing. It's like chomping into a Snickers, but with a fraction of the calories and being refreshing as well.
Then there's the fruit!! I wish I could remember all the exotic fruits. At one buffet restaurant, they had a bank of fruit juices in big serving dispensers. I went sampling one after the other. Heavenly! Guayaba, tamarind, pineapple, watermelon, strawberry, orange, papaya, and the list goes on and on.
In parts of South America, they will offer batidos, or licuados. Here they're often called simply aguas. And they're probably a lot healthier than diet Coke.
When traveling, I can't walk past one of those fruit juice stores without stopping. Yesterday, in Compostela, I ordered a "mixed fruit" drink. Into the blender went freshly squeezed orange juice, some strawberries, and some other exotic fruit I didn't recognize, together with ice (after all, I'm a gringo). It all ended up getting poured into a plastic bag, about 6 inches wide by 12 inches tall. Then the straw went in, and then she tied the top of the bag in a knot, and voila!, I was good to go.
In my humble opinion, this makes a great breakfast. It gives you a good natural sugar high to start the day, and is quite filling.
Hasta luego!

proud and shy

2009-01-30T19:31:00.001-08:00

2009-01-30T19:30:00.003-08:00

bead people

2009-01-30T19:30:00.001-08:00

Weaver with finished bag

2009-01-30T19:29:00.001-08:00

Tale of Two Cities

2009-01-30T19:17:00.000-08:00

The longest river in Mexico, called Rio Grande de Santiago, starts from Lake Chappala. This lake is found outside of Guadalajara. The site is supposed to be beautiful and the weather ideal. Probably for that reason the area is said to be home to some 60,000 American citizen residents. The river moves through several Mexican states in a northwesterly direction for almost 250 miles. It gets dammed a couple of times along the way, most notably at Aguamilpa east of Santiago Izcuintla. Despite the dam, the river overflows regularly leaving a number of residents of Santiago with wet feet. From there it continues to flow slowly downhill to the sea above San Blas.
Santiago and the area around it has over 80,000 people in it, at least so says the guidebook. Yet surprisingly, I've seen only two other gringos here. Santiago Izcuintla is off the tourist track. It also has the feeling of a pueblo. There's not much to the place. However, it's a good jumping off point for Mexcaltitan, which I've reported on. It has an interesting market. It also has a "cultural center" for the Huichol people, an indigenous group. I went there and watched a woman weaving one of those large cloth bags carried by both men and women with wonderful designs on them. I also watched a man and a woman applying TINY beads to two different masks. They apply wax to the masks and then apply the beads, an incredibly laborious process. Attached are some photos of the Huicholes doing their thing.

The next city I went to is Tepic. Tepic is the capital of Nayarit and is a righteous big city. It has all the noise and heavy traffic to prove it. It also boasts a large two story shopping mall, complete with a huge Sears, Liverpool, Sam's Club, Sanborns, Radio Shack, multiplex theatre, Starbucks, Burger King, Subway, Kentucky Fried Chicken, Chili's, all the trappings of advanced civilization. However, there were way more empty parking places in the parking lot than occupied ones, and the mall was definitely not crowded. Signs of trickle down from American economic woes??? I don't know. I, of course, went to the mall by public bus. When I came out, it must have been change of shift time, because all the other passengers waiting at the bus stop were salespeople that worked in the mall. I thought it was kind of ironic. The men wore spiffy suits and ties; the women equally well-dressed. The customers in the mall, who had arrived in their late model cars or taxis, were dressed like me: in t-shirts and pants.
Despite the heavy congestion, Tepic is at about 3,000 feet elevation, so the sky is clear and blue, and there seems to be little or no pollution. How refreshing for Mexico! The main plaza is very pretty, with lots of shade trees and park benches and nice views of the Presidential palace (state government building) on one end and the cathedral at the other. I was also very surprised to find out, wonder of wonders, Tepic boasts a vegetarian restaurant! Not only that, the food was great; and not only that, there were lots of customers and I was the only gringo in there! For a minute, it felt like I wasn't in Mexico!

I must confess I am rather biased AGAINST cities as opposed to small towns. Even though there might be some nice restaurants, etc., the traffic noise, traffic cops blowing whistles, loudspeaker trucks, loud music from all directions. I'm writing this in the evening in my hotel room and the background noise is remarkably loud. I'll take crowing roosters anytime!

All that notwithstanding, there remains one constant throughout: the friendliness of the people. It is truly remarkable.

The street's still dry!

2009-01-29T18:55:00.001-08:00

"Open the door and...."

2009-01-29T18:54:00.001-08:00