It was a day yesterday

I think I will remember yesterday (Sunday December 10) for a while. It's not often that you get to observe people celebrating the death of their former dictator.

I spent much of yesterday just enjoying the parks of Santiago, since I didn't have much else that I really wanted to do, and I had an evening flight to Lima. At around 1:30 I was in Parque Bustamante, which is south of Plaza Italia. From there I headed through Plaza Italia to Parque Forestal, which is northwest of the plaza, and near the hostel where I had been staying, and my bag was waiting for me.

Let me wind the time back a bit further. I had also been in the Parque Cerro Santa Lucia earlier, where I had been accosted by students doing fundraising, and trying to raise awareness of the high costs of tuition, and apparently graduation. Small student protests have also been a fairly regular feature of the landscape in Santiago, which has a large number of academic institutions.

Back to Parque Forestal. Around 2:30, I start hearing cars honking in rhythmic ways I have learned to associate with protest or other political activity. I figure the students are at it again. I am sitting 2 modest blocks away from the Plaza Italia.

Around 3:30, I decide to return to the hostel, which is on a quiet street, to have some relative peace before I embark on the travels of the evening. On the way there, I meet (on the street) the girl who's been minding the hostel. She tells me that Pinochet died (2:15 local time, 12:15 for you East Coasters), and a crowd was gathering at the Plaza Italia, and that we should stay away, it could be dangerous.

Crowds, dangerous? Whodathunkit?

We go into the hostel. Local TV coverage is on the scene, reporting on that and other aspects of the event. After I while, I decided (cursing the camera thieves) that I might as well be nearer the scene. I find a safe place to watch, as police with riot gear deploy, mainly to help traffic continue to flow through what is one of Santiago's main traffic intersections. In the hour or so I was there, the crowd grew from a few hundred to well over a thousand. While I could not understand all of the chants, I think they were mostly celebrating Pinochet's death, not his life.

Sidebar: There are very mixed feelings about Pinochet amongst Chilenos. Most will say that his human rights abuses were wrong, but they have been generally supportive of his economic policies (lifted almost straight from the ideas of the recently-deceased Milton Friedman) which made Chile the strongest economy in South America today.

I finally left the proceedings around 5 PM since I did have a date with an airplane. On watching news on arrival at the hotel in Lima, I see that they did eventually break out the water cannon, although CNN's video coverage really doesn't show much good footage.

Coming home tomorrow!


  

Ice cream (or should I say helado)

The ice cream in Chile (and Argentina) is pretty good. While it's not up to the very best that Boston and Italy have to offer, it's pretty close. And the portion size for the price is also pretty good. For about US$1.50 I get a "small" which is about the size of a typical New England small cup -- somewhere between 1 and 1.5 cups of ice cream.

But they have flavors here that we don't see often in staid New England. Lucuma? Papaya? Chirimoya?

It's nice tasting relatively exotic fruit ice creams.

  

Ya know that bad feeling ...

I went to Valparaiso today. While it is a city with a certain charm, I was not as taken by it as some people (like, say, Pablo Neruda) have been. It has a charm similar to that of, say, Venice. It's a place that was once great, but no longer is. There are buildings that predate a 1906 earthquake that are beautiful. The city is full of colorfully-painted, if poorly constructed, houses that are draped up and down the hillsides.

But none of this has to do with that bad feeling in the title.

My guidebook warned that Valparaiso was, shall we say, not entirely safe. So I went with a paranoid mindset.

It didn't help, but the damage was somewhat contained.

My first observation was that through the 6 or so hours I spent there, I felt entirely safe. I had seated myself in a park full of families, children playing with soccer balls and such. I was resting against a palm tree, enjoying the scene. Behind me (behind the tree) were temporary booths used for hawking Christmas goods -- these were the backs of the booths, and there was no way for someone to come up behind me.

Or so I thought. I never saw the guy myself. You see, his pal asked me for the time, and then we had one of those typical hard exchanges where I can't understand what they say. However, the way the guy signed off the conversation left me with the aforementioned bad feeling...

I turned. The bag is missing.

He and his pals are moving away. I can't see my bag in their possession.

I chase. Someone nearby points out that my bag is on the other side of the tree I was sitting at. I give up the chase, retrieve the bag.

The only thing missing is the camera. It is, of the things in the bag, the only thing other than my passport that Really Matters (and I did have to bring it, of course).

However, gone with it are at least 10 days worth of pictures. If the CD made in Pucón is no good, they're all gone.

The moral of the story: keep your bag in sight.


  

South American Buses, again

So yesterday's objective was to get to Santiago from Bariloche. This was accomplished by almost reversing the buses taken to get to Bariloche in the first place.

The first bus, leaving at 9 in the morning, took the same pass over the Andes as the one going the other way, only it left me in Osorno instead of Valdivia.

I can report that Osorno is even more boring than Valdivia was. I was there for 7 hours, and the best they could do for entertainment was a band playing mostly Christmas music (but also some standards, like Brazil) on the plaza.

Then there was the night bus to Santiago. In my previous entry on buses, I alleged that the semi-cama service was pretty good. For some reason, this time the "semi-cama" service was not large seats. It was a bit tighter seating (4 across instead of 3), which made getting comfy for sleeping difficult.

The net result? About 4 hours sleep. Thanks, Tur-Bus.

Tomorrow appears to be a public holiday here in Chile. I'm planning to go see Valparaiso.

Hasta luego!

  

South American buses

South America probably has the best buses in the world. Really.

They have more-or-less perfected the art of long-distance bus travel down here. When I rode the bus from Santiago to Temuco (on Turbus), I took a class of bus called "semi-cama". Imagine for a moment a first-class airline seat -- wide, reclines way back. Add pillows and blankets a la night flights. Add bad, cold, airline food. (I didn't say it was perfect, did I?) In Peru, where theft on the night buses has been a problem in the past, add a variety of security measures, including videoing bag searches and seated passengers prior to departure.

Now, consider instead the traditional cattle-car bus operated by Greyhound or Trailways in the US. These don´t even exist down here. All the longer-haul buses have reclining seats, a foot rest that folds from the seat in front to the base of yours, an attendant who serves snacks every once in a while (he's actually the backup driver), and a bathroom (chemical toilet, not for the faint of stomach, but it´s there).

Oh, and price. That nice bus ride from Santiago to Temuco? About $35 for an 8 hour bus ride. The cattle-car bus I took from Valdivia to Bariloche, Argentina today (a daytime trip that should have taken 6 hours) was about $20.

Tomorrow (Sunday) I go hiking in the parks near here. Next update will be Monday.

Hasta luego!

  

sliding down a volcano

So yesterday I ascended Volcán Villarrica. I went with a group of 4 Aussie lads, 2 Israeli lasses, and a crusty German guide named Klaus (who brought skis). There is a ski area on the volcano, to whose base we were driven. We then took the ski lift (for an extra CLP5000, about $10) to a height of about 1800 meters. From there we began trekking uphill, through snow, in a long, occasionally broken chain of ants.

Did I mention there were about 200 other people on the mountain?

We stopped about once an hour for a break. The edge of the caldera is about 2870 meters, and each hour we covered about 250 meters of altitude, at a fairly slow pace. (It felt slow to my leg muscles, which like to go faster, but about right for my lungs, which usually complain.) Early on, we had a brief lesson in how to use the ice axe we were each given. Given that the mountain (especially at higher altitudes) is cone-shaped, there aren't many features to stop you from falling a Long Way.

The views on the way up, and on the caldera edge, were outstanding. We did not go to the actual summit (which was on the far side of the caldera from where we came up). But we got a really good look partway into the crater, which was deep enough that no lava was visible. But the steam wafting up from the crater did come with its own peculiar, umm, stench, which generally set people coughing.

The descent was a ride. Near the top, conditions were very icy, but once we got a bit further down, we did a series of progressively longer slides on our butts. Imagine you are in something resembling a water slide. Your means of control are (1) your feet, and (2) your ice axe. Both provide some means for controlling speed and direction.

The sliding was most fun higher up on the mountain, where the snow was firmer. As we got lower and lower, the snow got more and more slushy, and we ended up pushing a lot of it down the mountain with our butts.

Total time of ascent: about 3:45. Total time of descent: about 1:45.

Wheee.

Today I caught a bus to Valdivia, which is near the coast a bit further south than Pucón. From here, I plan to go to Bariloche in Argentina, and then on to a smaller place a bit south of there.

Hasta luego!


  

Parque Nacional Huerquehue

Parque Nacional Huerquehue is a smallish national park not far from Pucón (see previous entry). There are three buses a day -- 8, 1, 4. Courtesy of problems in acquiring a tent, I missed the 8 bus, and ended up on the 1, which reached the park about 2:15. There is a campground in the center of the park, a five-plus hour hike from the gate. While I had originally planned to spend two nights there, I opted for discretion and stayed at the campground near the gate.

This turned out to be a Good Thing, for reasons that shall become clear. This campground had wooded sites, and was located near Lago Tinquilco, a smallish lake partly within park boundaries. I had the entire grounds to myself, and enjoyed a beautiful sunset over the lake.

The next day I hiked up into the higher grounds of the park, where there are more small lakes and waterfalls. This was an absolutely beautiful area -- wooded, with native trees abounding. There are several types of trees here that have trunk diameters in excess of 10 feet. I think it makes doing trail work here exciting...

The highlight of the day (and the next day too) was Lago Toro, which is a picture postcard waiting to be sold.
Someone else's picture

Late in the afternoon I arrived at the other campground, at which point I really appreciated my decision to stay in the other one. This one was essentially a hunk of pasture (complete with cow pies, but this has been experienced before...), with little redeeming character. They claim there is a "refugio" here, but all I saw was a very low leanto that on a good night might allow 3 people under it. They also claim to have an outhouse. The sad excuse of an outhouse was in a sad state of neglect, being full of trash, and generally unusable. Fortunately, there was a shovel-head in the camp leavings nearby, which I was able to use for dealing with things normally done in an outhouse.

I spent the evening in conversation with an Italian woman who was spending several days at this godforsaken campground, whose only benefit is its central location, so that she could fully explore the park.

The next day (which would be today!) I made a brief early-morning excursion to a small lake nearby, and then hightailed it back the way I came, more-or-less, to eventually return to Pucón.

Tomorrow I climb a volcano.

Hasta luego!

  

Pucón, a nicer version of Lincoln NH

After wandering the city of Santiago yesterday (including a very nice visit to the summit of Cerro Santa Lucía, and also to Parque Quinta Normal, two of the nicer parks in this city of parks), I made my way to one of Santiago's four bus terminals (go figure), and took a night bus to Temuco, a roughly 8-hour drive. Temuco was just a bus-changing point for me on the highway -- about 20 minutes after arriving around 6 AM I was on a bus to Pucón. (That's "poo-kon'" to you.)

The countryside here reminds me of rural upstate New York. Finger Lakes, say. But they have a somewhat distinctive architectural style here. Lots of wood and stone. Think, oh, Adirondack meets Swiss chalet. It works pretty well, and they seem to flog the style in the stores here, just like in the Adirondacks.

Pucón is a small town, completely dedicated to outdoor fun. The main town is fairly compact (can be walked in less than 10 minutes), but is full of an array of restaurants, shops, and outdoor activity operators. The hot item these days seems to be going on ropes through tree canopies, judging by what's being flogged. Also available: white-water rafting and kayaking, lake tours, park tours (more on that later), and volcano climbing.
 

Volcano climbing. Uh huh.

This is in what is known as the Lakes region of Chile. Pucón is on the shores of Lake Villarrica. Looming overhead is 2980+ meter Volcán Villarrica, one of Chile's more active volcanos. As I sit here typing, it occasionally puffs steam.

And you can climb it. With guides. Just about every day. And see the lava bubbling in the crater.

OK, there are a few issues here. One, I've never been on a volcano. That close. Two, I've never done ice axe and crampons. The touts say this is a non-technical climb, don't worry.

So I'm not. That's Patience's job anyway.

Before I go (or try to, conditions permitting), I will be spending a few days in Parque Nacional Huerquehue (whose name is impossible to pronounce correctly) camping. It has lakes and views and camping, oh my.

I'll next check in on Wednesday. Hasta luego!

  

Santiago, the first time around

Santiago is a large, fairly cosmopolitan city. It reminds me a lot of large European cities -- mostly clean, rough spots here and there, a nice downtown (with pedestrian zone and the obligatory Plaza de Armas),
 
tony neighborhoods (Providencia), and a clean, apparently-well-working subway.

I spent yesterday mostly walking around the city some, but also fussing about travel arrangements, since I had to book a night bus (part of the way) to my next destination. Tonight's target is Temuco, in the lakes area south of here. But it is only the transit hub en route to Pucón, a smaller town near unto the lakes and mountains.

But I digress.

I also went into one of the local history museums, and discovered how much Spanish I now seem to be capable of reading. It's amazing what limited English contact will do, even if I sometimes make the TV work against that. The museum had a reasonably nice presentation of Chilean history, from the earliest native settlements until about the turn of the 20th century. (The 20th century galleries were undergoing revision, err, renovation.)

Near the center of Santiago is a small mount that has been turned into a very pretty city park, full of follies and 19th-century charm.
   
  

Happy trails!

  

Missed connections strike again

So my plan for today had been to catch a bus to the mountain town of Putre. The lady at the tourist office told me it left at 7. I get up early, I'm there shortly before 7. Bus has been gone for a while.

Qué?

Turns out it left at 6:30. Arrgh. I am not spending another day in Arica. It's nice, but I feel like I've explored it well enough, thanks.

So I grab a cab to the airport. A few too many dollars later (not to mention sitting in the airport for a few hours) I'm on a plane bound for Santiago. I get to sit next to two older Aussie ladies, the first native English I've heard in almost 4 days. We trade reading material -- one Asimov's SF mag for a murder mystery set in Baxter Park Maine. It's a page turner -- three hour flight, 3/4 finished.

My consolation is that when a similar thing (missed bus) happened to me in Spain, I didn't have any really good alternatives lined up. I must be learning something.

I'm staying near the University of Chile in a small area known as Paris-Londres. It was developed in the 19th century as a sort of "Paris, small streets" area. Very pretty on the outside. The interior decor of this hotel is more cheap-70s wood panel, though. One place that was booked full had a really nice old-hotel look to it. I may try to stay there on my way back...

Time for dinner! Hasta luego!

  

When one isn't feeling well

The best thing I've found to do when not feeling well is to check into a better hotel. It takes the sting out of being sick. I decided I was unwell enough that I delayed going to Putre (up in the Andes from Arica) an extra day.

The traveler's malady struck again, this time with enough force to convince me it was time for the Serious Medication (i.e. antibiotics). I've also been having cold symptoms, which may or may not be related. The antibiotics seem to have had a fairly good effect on the tummy rumblings, but I'm still running sweaty and coughing. Maybe a return to altitude will help.

Arica is a nice place, but there's not much to do, even if I'm spending most of my time in the room.

There's some sort of traditional dance/music festival in Putre this weekend -- I may try to hang around for it.

Hasta luego!