Farewell South America

(And another unpublished post, from March 22).

We leave in four days.  I never did finish my thoughts on Patagonia, but I can say with certainty that I miss it. Uruguay is lovely, but after four weeks here I can definitely say I am not a beach person. What do people do on the beach all day? A person can only lay in the sand for so many days.  The kids, of course, have loved it.  Lots of swimming in the pool, and in the ocean. But the weather is turning cooler, and they’re finding it too cold to really go in.  I have become more intimately acquainted with changes in the ocean. How some days the waves are so wild, and other days the ocean is completely calm.  Changes in the wind, changes in the height of the waves.  Some days you can walk along the beach, other days it is completely swallowed up.

I am excited to return to Minnesota. Though I am desperately trying not to wish away these final days of vacation.  I am guilty of always wanting to return when I near the end of a vacation instead of enjoying the last bits.  With such a long vacation, that means the end of my vacation is still a week of time. I am trying not to waste it by wishing it away.

The wind here is relentless. Although it is beautiful outside much of the time, the wind can be so intense it makes my eyes water. It makes me want to go inside, which is not really what I want to be doing. I want to be enjoying the end of our nice weather before we return to Minnesota.

Uruguay has been hard for our family, though.  There have been no other kids around.  There has been barely anybody around at all, because it is no longer high season here and everyone has left. It is like being on Cape Cod in September. It’s a little depressing.

My dad and step mom visited for 10 days which was a lovely reprieve. We got to hang out, they watched  the kids a bit so we could have some time by ourselves (a first on this entire trip!).  We ventured to a town called Cabo Polonia, which is completely off the grid.  The only energy source was solar, and supposedly at night they just use candles. To get there we had to take a giant, two story dune buggy a few miles (five, maybe?). We only stayed for the day, but it was an interesting little place.  I think it's where you go if you're hiding from the law, or perhaps if the rest of the world moves too fast for you.

One thing I will not miss about Uruguay: spiders.  Epic numbers of spiders, epic sizes.  One night we mistakenly left a window open (there were no screens and it was hot!) and the house was infested by mosquitos.  The mosquitos were so small, they looked harmless, and you couldn't feel them bite.  But the itch that developed was intense.  Greta's room became infested with mosquitos, and the poor girl got completely covered in bites.  The next day, after we learned our lesson, hubs and I tried to kill all the mosquitos in her room.  I pulled back a curtain and the largest spider I've ever seen in my life crawled out.  Like, maybe the size of both of my hands.  It's probably grown larger in my mind, but I'm not sure.  It was really freaking big.  We had no idea if it was poisonous.  Thankfully, the husband was willing to deal with it.  We covered it with a bowl and put a pizza pan underneath to trap it, then took it outside.  We flooded the bowl with water to drown it.  It was far too large to imagine the crunch that would occur if we squished it.

Based on internet pictures we couldn't quite figure out what kind it was, so we asked an online spider geek, who identified it as a Huntsman spider (also called a giant crab spider because it looks like a crab.)  They don't have webs but just wander around "hunting" at night.  Very reassuring.  Not fatal, but basically flu-like symptoms if you get bit.  Also, in our research, we learned far more about Uruguayan spiders, only adding to our terror.  Among the common spider sitings: the most poisonous spider in the world, the Brazilian Banana Spider.

Although that was our largest spider encounter, it was by far not our only.  One night I woke up about 2 am and went to get water in the kitchen.  The floor of the kitchen was covered in hundreds of very small ants.  We lovingly called these ants "housekeeper ants".  They would come out about the time we were getting ready for bed, then carry away all the minuscule crumbs on the floor.  At first we tried to aggressively sweep to avoid them, but they appeared anyway and found crumbs we didn't know exist.  But they never got into anything else, so we came to appreciate them for helping us tidy. Anyway, on this night there were hundreds of them, more than I had seen any other day, and in one corner was a fairly large huntsman spider, waiting to pounce on them.  It seemed like too large a problem for 2 am, so I went back to bed.  The next morning, there were no signs of any of these insects.  Retreated into the walls, no doubt.

But on the subject of ants, we discovered that there are leaf-cutter ants in Uruguay.  I remember these guys from Costa Rica, years ago, and have always found them fascinating.  They carry bits of leaves, often 5 times their size, down paths to the hole in the ground they live in.  The paths are so well worn you an see them from a distance.  They will carry these bits of leaves long distances, often passing up nearby leaves that look just the same to me.  The kids and I watched some fascinating youtube videos about them, and the kids became a bit obsessed with them (as did I).

There is a small kitten we have been feeding while we've been here.  At first I was conflicted about feeding it, knowing we would be leaving and it would be abandoned.  But it already appeared to be abandoned, with no parent around, so at least, perhaps, we could try to fatten it up a bit until it can more easily fend for itself.  That was my thinking, anyway.  The kids named it Gentleman, after the kitten on the farm they also fell in love with, which it looked so much like.

There is so much more to say, but I will leave it here.  Perhaps I will have more to say in Minnesota.

Farewell Patagonia

( I started this on February 27, but never posted it.  Here's my edited version. )

Alas, tomorrow we leave Patagonia.  This signals 2/3 of our trip done.  A few weeks ago I might have looked forward to the end, but less-so now.  Apart from our our first two stops, we have been in Patagonia our entire time.  About 1.5 months.  I’m guessing that locals have varying definitions of “Patagonia”, just as I’ve noticed  so many towns like to claim “fin del Mundo” (end of the earth.). But, within varying definitions, nearly everywhere we’ve been has been within Patagonia, and we have loved every moment.

Our time in El Calafate has been mostly filled with glaciers, and the Youngs.

Glaciers: I underestimated the intensity of Patagonian glaciers.  I assumed they were tiny little deals, like the persistent snowpack on some volcanoes in the Cascades.  NOPE.  These are real deal, glaciers coming out of the mountain, that have all the characteristics I learned about way back when in Glacial Geomorphology. I found them fascinating to watch.  Because they are giant,  and they are in the calving season.  If you are patient and watch for long enough, you will see a bus size piece of ice (or larger!) fall off and make a noise like a bomb, with a wave to match.  But, even though the chunk may be bus sized, or larger, it will still look minuscule when compared the glacier as a whole.

The blue of these glaciers is a color I didn't know exists in nature.  It's the kind of electric blue I am used to seeing in fabric.  And then the "glacial flour" (ground up rock) that washes out turns the entire lake turquoise.

We drove to Perito Moreno twice, and took a boat trip that took us to Uppsala glacier and Spegazzini glacier (spelling unguaranteed).  Although Uppsala is larger, it is calving so much that you can't actually get close to it.  The iceberg floating away are house sized, or larger, meaning that the amount falling off is prob 30 times that.  So hard to conceptualize these quantities and sizes.

We met up with a family, the Youngs, that we had met in Chile at the farm we were staying at.  They are from Washington State and in the middle of a year-long trip through South America.  Our kids are similar ages to their kids, and their oldest has been facetiming and messaging with MJ.  I think they connect so well because they are experiencing something that nobody back home can relate to.  Something they can't really talk with their friends back home about.

It was so lovely to connect with this family.  I will definitely miss them in our travels.  Easy going, adventurous and loads of fun.  I'm hoping we can connect with them again someday back in the States.

But of all the beauty in El Calafate, one of the kids favorite things has been climbing in and out of the window at the little cabin we're staying at.  It's pretty low to the ground, so they figured out they can easily climb in and out, and have thus been refusing to use the door as a means of transit.  Go figure.  I think this will be what they remember about El Calafate.

We also did a geology nature hike up the base of the nearby mesas.  It was so fun to teach the kids about conglomerates, and geologic timescales.  Also lots of puma and/or fox dens, filled with animal bones, which they were probably more excited by.  It's fascinating that El Calafate is basically a high-desert with a glacier down the road.  It feels incongruous but isn't.  Another great learning opportunity, teaching that it's not how cold it gets, but how warm it gets that determines if a glacier is built.  Cold winters with lots of snow don't build glaciers if the summer is hot.  But a cool summer (which El Calafate has) means that whatever snow accumulates in the winter has a chance to stick around through the summer, thus building a glacier.

I will miss Patagonia.  I will miss El Calafate.  One of the most beautiful places I have ever been.  I will miss the guanacos, the stray dogs, the abundant geology.  

Farewell Chile

20 february

Today we leave Chile.  We take a bus 2.5 hrs to Punta Natales, have a 3 hr layover, then take another bus, 6 hrs, across the Andes, back into Argentina.  We will stay in el Calafate for 8 days.

We were in Punta Arenas for 5 days.  Greta is currently asleep on my lap, half an hour outside Natales.

The wind here is the noticeable theme.  I had heard that, but as soon as we left the airport it sunk in.  We had to hold our papers tight so they didn’t blow away.  This morning we had to take an Uber from the house we’re staying in to the bus station.  We turned our car in yesterday because the rental car agency doesn’t open soon enough to return it today (our bus left at 8:30.). But the Uber is only meant to hold 4 people, and the driver modified it to fit 5, himself plus 4 more  (just barely).  So I walked from the house to the bus station, about 4 km, my eyes burning the entire time from the wind.  It is mid February here, Southern Hemisphere summer, and we are constantly in fleece with tearing eyes from the wind.  All the trees, everywhere you look, grow at an angle to whatever the prominent wind direction is.  

Arenas was such a lovely city.  The history all around us was pronounced.  Most of the buildings downtown are old, 1750 to early 1900 or so.   Beautiful architecture. Many things named after Magellan: streets, buildings, plaques, etc. Many restaurants and stores in tribute to Shackleton, or Darwin, or the Beagle, or even Sir Frances Drake. Hubs and I had to refresh our memories in the various explorers that came through here and their various accomplishments.  We did some history with the kids; turns out MJ didn’t yet know who Columbus was.  Clearly the history being taught has changed since we were kids.  We went to a museum with replicas of the HMS Beagle and the NAO Victoria (the only one of Magellan’s boats to complete the trip around the world.  Only 18 of his crew of 270 made it, and Magellan wasn’t one of them.). Also Shackleton’s modified life raft that he added a sail to and sailed across the Southern Ocean, clearly in desperate circumstances.

We visited a penguin colony (Magellanic penguins- just another of Magellan’s many name sakes.). The sounds they make startled me.  You’ll need to look at Instagram for that.  

We had planned another road trip onto Tierra del Fuego while we were here, but decided it would be miserable with the kids.  Since we have left the farm the level of fighting has gone up and the amount of listening has gone down.  They now have no other outlets than us and each other.   Patagonia with kids is a different ballgame than most of the travelers around us get to experience.  

Instead we did some day trips to nature reserves. The kids have become decent little hikers, walking up to a couple miles easily.  It has emboldened hubs and I that we can start to take them on longer journeys.

Our devotion to “school” has diminished a bit since leaving the farm.  I’m hoping we do better in Uruguay.

Tales

15 February

We arrived in Punta Arenas yesterday.  We had to wake up and leave the farm at about 6 AM, drive an hour to the airport, return the rental car and board a  plane.  We vastly over estimated how long that would take us to accomplish, because Chileans don’t really seem to get moving until about 10 AM. So even being in a big city, and a big airport, things didn’t really open until about 930.  

We have attempted to adapt to the Chilean time schedule, and have done pretty well. The kids now regularly sleep until 830 or 900 am.  We often don’t eat dinner until eight at night. We have even instituted the idea of a “siesta” instead of a “nap”, which the kids embrace fondly.  I suspect this is some language that will follow us home, because a siesta sounds much less threatening than a nap. The reasons for this are unclear to me.

At any rate, the siesta is strong here. Less so than our brief time in Argentina, but still strong. Shops are often closed in the late afternoon and do not open until five or six. Restaurants sometimes don’t open until eight at night for dinner.

Aaron and I have been reading “In Patagonia”.  Our friend loaned us the hard copy before we left, but we didn’t bring it because we just didn’t understand until we got here. So we bought the e-book. We have been going chapter by chapter, and I am enjoying the travel log style. Though it reminds me that there are some smaller taIes I have not yet shared here on this blog.  In no particular order:

1. A couple weeks ago, at the farm, Aaron was really wanting a haircut. One evening we went for dinner at a buffet style restaurant in Ensenada. I think we were actually part of the lunch crowd, because it was about 530, though we considered it dinner. Our server rushed over a little after we were seated, because he was told “there are gringos here”.  He spoke excellent English, so he must have been the go-to.  He apologized, saying he was in the middle of a haircut, because a hair stylist comes once a month from Puerto Varas to give all the staff haircuts. Aaron joked that he needs a haircut, so he understands, and our server suggested he go sit with the hairstylist as well.  So we ended our meal with the kids playing outside, while Aaron got a haircut in the corner. Of course our children ruined some of this by dumping sand in a pool they found outside. Nothing goes that smoothly.  Not to mention the dachshund that tried to bite our kids in he restaurant who th owner SWORE was 20 years old.
2. Our last week at the farm we met a lovely couple from Santiago. They had three children, roughly 11, 8 and 4.  They invited us for dinner twice in the week they were there.  They both spoke good English and endured our attempts at Spanish.  It was so wonderful to just chat with friendly people about this country we’ve spent the last 1.5 months in.  We could ask all our questions about the education system, health care, poverty, etc.  During our conversation, hubs figured out that the nickname he’d chosen for himself in Spanish class back in high school,Mongo, which he has occasionally used here because the locals find his given name difficult to pronounce, is basically a rude word for “slow one” in Spanish.  Gabi and Rodrigo, our Chilean friends, could barely speak they were laughing so hard while they explained this to us.  We also talked at great length about how odd we find each other’s dinner times, and when Rodrigo talked amazedly about a work trip to the US where there was a dinner held at 5:30, I may have blushed when confessing that would be my preferred time to eat, or even earlier.
3. I’m sure there are more small stories.  Such as when we asked MJ what the branches of the military are and she said “the Air Force,  the Army, the Military and the Life Guards.  I will endeavor to keep writing them down.

Farewell farm

13 February

We leave the farm tomorrow. Our last week has been somewhat sloth-like.  I think we both feel we have done the things in this area we really want to do, and are trying to enjoy our last days at the farm. The last few days the kids have been sick due to some jugos naturalas they had at a local festival.  We have been very relaxed lately with our consumption of fresh fruits and vegetables. I feel mostly lucky that it took us this long to get hit by anything. The kids had some juice, and the three of them got sick, but Madeline got the sickest. After a high fever and G.I. issues for a day, Aaron gave her an antibiotic. I felt very relieved to have him here and not have to take her to local doc.

I am excited to keep traveling, but the kids have loved it here so much and it has felt so much like home. Greta sobbed when she said goodbye to her friends today. MJ, of course, couldn’t quite understand. They feel things so differently.  

This farm has truly felt like home to us.  The kind of place I look forward to returning to at the end of the day, or even the weekend. Our kids have made wonderful friends here which has allowed us to relax in a  way we haven’t elsewhere. And they’re in a safe place where we can let them roam for most of the day without even knowing where they are.

3 February 

After over two weeks of the amazingness of farm life, we decided to take a brief trip elsewhere. We are in Chiloé, the most populated of Chile’s (something like) 4,000 islands.  We are staying in Ancud, on the north east coast of the island. We drove up Friday morning, took a ferry to the island, then drove to see the penguins. I was absurdly excited to see the penguins. Childlike excitement. They were cute, but it was the middle of the day, they weren’t fishing or doing very much. I was a bit underwhelmed. Aaron, who thought the whole thing sounded ridiculous, thought it was much better than he expected. Just goes to show that your enjoyment has so much to do with your initial expectations.  I guess I was more impressed by the cows on the beach, splashing in the ocean.

Ancud itself feels like many of the cities we have encountered in Chile. Too closely spaced, dirty and gritty.  I want to embrace the local culture, but the cities always feel much more impoverished than the countryside. Every Chilean city we’ve been to, I basically just want to go back to the countryside.  Today, though, we drove to Dalcahue. It was also a small city, but charming and clean. We drove there for an artisanal market. We had heard it was lovely, and it did not disappoint. Our travel book said the town was boring and sleepy, but I beg to differ. It was charming for sure, and didn’t feel impoverished.  I’ve come to find that our guidebooks equate any place that is not a gritty city with “sleepy”.  Makes me suspect that the authors did not have children. I love having them in a place where they’re not going to get hit by a car for stepping off the curb.

In general, though, Chile is so welcoming of small children and families. We have found a local bar near where we’re staying in Ancud, definitely a trendy hipster bar, with a small children’s play area. I am constantly worried our kids are bothering other people, but have had servers on many occasions tell us how charming they find our children.  Reminds me of my feelings on Central America, though the last time I was there was pre-kids, so I can’t really compare the two. I can’t help wondering if Catholic countries in general, a.k.a. anti-abortion countries, are inherently more child and family friendly (those of you who have also travelled with small children.... would be curious to hear your experiences.)

The house we’re staying at is fascinating.  We are high on a hillside overlooking the bay.. We watch the tide come and go, and the sun rise and the moon rise. But to get there, you turn off a super busy city street then go straight up the hill, switch back, for a quarter-mile. You would never know we’re in the middle of the city, we are in the weirdest, remotest, place.

Also, this is Teddy.

Teddy would like to share that he found part of a crab shell.

MJ recently died her hair purple (turned out more pink).  The locals seem to find it a bit perplexing.  They don’t pet her like they did before, but do point and stare.  Colored hair does not seem to be common here.  Or, at any rate, everyone’s hair is dark, so perhaps colored hair is harder to achieve.

Non sequiter:  when we first arrived on the island Aaron took us to an oyster place he had read about.  Unexpectedly, it was VERY fancy (but so accommodating for our young children, as appears to be the Chilean way.). I HATE oysters, but indulged him.  BUT, I LOVED these (fried) oysters.  The old man who owned the place explained the difference between these oysters and the oysters we are used to; I partially understood.  Basically, these were smaller, but very sweet, almost caramelized.

Although our side trip has been lovely, I am so excited to return to the farm tomorrow.  Our kids have been lost without their friends and the space to run.  They are basically cut loose for most of the day on the farm, which is so liberating for both them and us.  Our next stop is a plane ride south, much colder, and we accumulated some woolen goods at the artisanal market today.  

3 February

3 February 

After over two weeks of the amazingness of farm life, we decided to take a brief trip elsewhere. We are in Chiloé, the most populated of Chile’s (something like) 4,000 islands.  We are staying in Ancud, on the north east coast of the island. We drove up Friday morning, took a ferry to the island, then drove to see the penguins. I was absurdly excited to see the penguins. Childlike excitement. They were cute, but it was the middle of the day, they weren’t fishing or doing very much. I was a bit underwhelmed. Aaron, who thought the whole thing sounded ridiculous, thought it was much better than he expected. Just goes to show that your enjoyment has so much to do with your initial expectations.  I guess I was more impressed by the cows on the beach, splashing in the ocean.

Ancud itself feels like many of the cities we have encountered in Chile. Too closely spaced, dirty and gritty.  I want to embrace the local culture, but the cities always feel much more impoverished than the countryside. Every Chilean city we’ve been to, I basically just want to go back to the countryside.  Today, though, we drove to Dalcahue. It was also a small city, but charming and clean. We drove there for an artisanal market. We had heard it was lovely, and it did not disappoint. Our travel book said the town was boring and sleepy, but I beg to differ. It was charming for sure, and didn’t feel impoverished.  I’ve come to find that our guidebooks equate any place that is not a gritty city with “sleepy”.  Makes me suspect that the authors did not have children. I love having them in a place where they’re not going to get hit by a car for stepping off the curb.

In general, though, Chile is so welcoming of small children and families. We have found a local bar near where we’re staying in Ancud, definitely a trendy hipster bar, with a small children’s play area. I am constantly worried our kids are bothering other people, but have had servers on many occasions tell us how charming they find our children.  Reminds me of my feelings on Central America, though the last time I was there was pre-kids, so I can’t really compare the two. I can’t help wondering if Catholic countries in general, a.k.a. anti-abortion countries, are inherently more child and family friendly (those of you who have also travelled with small children.... would be curious to hear your experiences.)

The house we’re staying at is fascinating.  We are high on a hillside overlooking the bay.. We watch the tide come and go, and the sun rise and the moon rise. But to get there, you turn off a super busy city street then go straight up the hill, switch back, for a quarter-mile. You would never know we’re in the middle of the city, we are in the weirdest, remotest, place.

Also, this is Teddy.

Teddy would like to share that he found part of a crab shell.

MJ recently died her hair purple (turned out more pink).  The locals seem to find it a bit perplexing.  They don’t pet her like they did before, but do point and stare.  Colored hair does not seem to be common here.  Or, at any rate, everyone’s hair is dark, so perhaps colored hair is harder to achieve.

Non sequiter:  when we first arrived on the island Aaron took us to an oyster place he had read about.  Unexpectedly, it was VERY fancy (but so accommodating for our young children, as appears to be the Chilean way.). I HATE oysters, but indulged him.  BUT, I LOVED these (fried) oysters.  The old man who owned the place explained the difference between these oysters and the oysters we are used to; I partially understood.  Basically, these were smaller, but very sweet, almost caramelized.

Although our side trip has been lovely, I am so excited to return to the farm tomorrow.  Our kids have been lost without their friends and the space to run.  They are basically cut loose for most of the day on the farm, which is so liberating for both them and us.  Our next stop is a plane ride south, much colder, and we accumulated some woolen goods at the artisanal market today.  

The farm

The farm, January 28th

We arrived on the farm, near Puerto Varas, Chile, 11 days ago. We will be here for a month, total.

First off, it feels lovely to settle in and fully unpack.  We have discouraged our kids from unpacking everything at previous stops so as not to lose things, and to reduce the amount of packing time spent a few days later. (Even so, some very beloved toys have gone missing, likely long gone.)

I think if our kids had their choice they might move here permanently.  We are staying on a working farm; something more than a hobby farm, but possibly a little less serious than a commercial farm because part of their income comes from guests staying in cottages.  So they will, for example, stop their farm work to help guests ride horses. 

We have loved every moment of our stay here.  There is a lot of fruit & vegetable picking (raspberries, plums, cherries, Fava beans), animal interaction (calves, alpacas, kittens, horses, dogs), and a lot of kids (4 that live here full time, 3 additional this week, all of whom speak english).

We just got off the river after a day long rafting trip with the kids.  The first few rapids were real deal, whitewater, class 2 (so they say, though I swear they would call it class 3 in the states.). It was an awesome trip, with a super friendly guide. The only downside was a fly we have been introduced to variously as “Davanos” or   or “colohuacos”.  These things are severe.  They apparently only live for about 2 weeks each January, and first arrived while we were in Villa la Angostura.  We have since read a lot about them because they plague us.  They are basically a large, slow moving horsefly.  If they land on you and you don’t notice within about 10 seconds, they give you a painful bite that itches for a few days. They like to live near water, and are attracted to dark colors. On the water today, we were in a swarm of them for hours. We killed them constantly, and had hundreds of dead flies on the bottom of the boat, but made no dent in their population.

Interestingly (and grossly) the resident kids here have taught our children that if you tear apart the fly there is often a sack of honey inside of them. It involves tearing off the head and wings first, and throughly grosses me out, but our kids love the challenge of trying to catch them with a reward of honey.  This is exactly the sort of “cultural experience” I was hoping for for our kids, it just happens to be a gross one.

The other family currently at this Airbnb is a family of five from Washington state. Our kids love their kids, and we have been visiting with them nightly, and will see them in a few weeks further south.  They leave tomorrow for an adventure south in their camper van.  As much as it has been amazing to meet locals, it is the English speakers from abroad  that we mostly bond with.  Feeling like we are in the same boat with them, and having similar struggles, unites us. This family is traveling around South America for a year, ending this coming June.

There is much more that I am forgetting, but if I don’t post this I will forget to do so.  More to come. Possibly penguins at our next stop.

Villa la Angostura, Argentina

January 16th

Some thoughts

1. If you are lucky enough to find an IPA at a bar, it takes some translation to figure out that the correct pronunciation is “Eepa”, else they have no idea what you’re talking about
2. We still have yet to find any other native English speakers. So much so that, in a restaurant the other day, I had a server ask me, approximately, “what on earth are you doing here? We never get Americans here.”
3. I wish we had travelled internationally in the Obama era.  I feel like we are ambassadors for the US, and can’t bring myself to leave a bad tip for bad service, because I’m convinced it only makes our country look bad.  Anything I can do to convince foreigners that Americans aren’t all bad seems worth doing, even when I feel taken advantage of.
4. Greta has taken to very inappropriate “your face” jokes.  Such as, “do you know why your joke’s not funny? Because your face isn’t funny!” I don’t know where these jokes came from.  But (see above) I feel self conscious that people around us understand these rude jokes and just assume that’s the American way.
5. Have I mentioned I miss having people to talk to? My family is lovely.  But I miss talking to strangers.  Passing pleasantries.  This is the first place I’ve travelled, as a non-native speaker, that is so far off the beaten path that locals are shocked when someone doesn’t speak Spanish.  I’m practicing, but I have so far to go.
6. We leave here tomorrow.  Villa la Angostura, and Argentina in general, has been amazing.  This is possibly the most beautiful place I’ve ever been.  The houses and businesses have a beautiful, almost Swiss, look. Redwood beams with steeply sloped roofs, yards full of roses.  Every direction has snow capped peaks and crystal clear, blue lakes.   The Main Street is paved, but every other road in town is gravel.  A testament to what a remote outpost this is.  (Though one of my unexpected appreciations is paved roads: the dust is endless.)
7. Our Air B&B hosts invited us on their boat today.  I expected a tiny fishing boat with a tiny motor.  Instead, it was a beautiful boat, all hard wood, a restored 1934 yacht.  The kind of boat that tourists take photos of when you pull into port.  They brought along their three kids, ages 16, 15 and 13.  Girl, girl, boy, just like our brood.  We motored to a remote beach and chatted for 4 hours in Spanglish. As per earlier conversations, they asked how on earth we stumbled on this place.  I think they invited us because  they NEVER get Americans here and were curious.    Their kids were lovely, and MJ is completely in love with the teenage girls.  I am so thankful I don’t yet have to deal with teenage girls.  
8. Thong bikinis are all the rage here.  I am thankful I am too old, too motherly, and too foreign to feel the need to indulge the trend.
9. Also: Mate.  It is everywhere.  We have yet to try it.  My understanding is that it is like a highly caffeinated kind of gross tea (other people’s words, not mine).  But the method of drinking it is unique, in a gourd with a silver straw.  Everywhere we go, on the beach, on the street, people are wandering around with a gourd and silver straw.  The grocery store had half an aisle full of Yerba mate, in bags the size of flour bags.  It is a big deal. 
10. Also a big deal: dulce du Leche.  The portion of the grocery store dedicated to this is equivalent to the peanut butter section.  
11. Last thought.  I’m having a tough time adjusting to the local schedule.  Stores and restaurants tend to be open from about 9 or 10 until about noon or 1.  Then they close until about 6 (or sometimes as late as 8).   Restaurants don’t open for dinner until 8.  Because were traveling, we often eat out, but planning for an 8 pm dinner (in a restaurant) has been tricky.  I know this is siesta culture, but it is taking me some getting used to.

Onward to Argentina

January 12

We arrived in villa la angostura, Argentina, today.  The trip took about 6.5 hrs, with 1.5 of that spent crossing the border.  First Chile had to allow us to leave, making sure our rental car was properly sorted.  Then Argentina had to allow us in, with all sorts of documents and stamps at each step (both customs and immigration on each side of the border.)

The drive into the Andes was stunning.  The wilderness was incredibly remote, craggy peaks and giant trees with very few signs of human life.  Almost as soon as we crossed the border and descended on the other side, the landscape changed.  The trees disappeared, the grass turned brown, the vegetation shrank.  Classic rain shadow desert, but the phenomenon never ceases to amaze me.  Such a clear place to put an international border, at the top of a mountain range at the boundary between two ecologies.  (I’m pretty sure I’m not using “ecologies” incorrect.  Apologies to my ecologist readers.)

We drove through the desert for about 2 hrs on the Argentina side before heading back into the Andes, on winding mountain roads to this village.  If I understand the exchange rate correctly (a true if, since we have so little internet access) it is much cheaper than in Chile.  I bought a huge bag of fruit here for $8, which would have cost twice that in Chile.  Beer seems markedly cheaper (maybe 30% less?). Perhaps that’s how I calculate money, based on beer and fruit.  We figured out this morning that gas in Chile is about $4.50 a gallon; not yet sure on this side.

We nearly left Chile one day too early.  We were almost all packed up; we saw our Air B&B host drive by (their house was directly next to ours) and said goodbye, and she asked why we were leaving early.  After checking our itinerary, we realized our mistake.  We spent the extra day in Pucon napping and fighting with our kids, approximately in that order.  I love my husband and his need for constant activity.  Back home it’s okay, because it can never last more than a few days before he has to go back to works Here, it is wearing me out a bit, because he just wants to DO so much and sometimes I just want to sit and stare at the trees.  A day to veg was lovely.

For the first time today I’m feeling a bit homesick.  We have now been here for 2 weeks.  We arrived at our 4th location.  I just want to settle in a bit.  Stop moving around.  I’d like to focus on school for the kids a bit more.  We are doing 1-2 hrs a day, and I just don’t know if that’s enough.  We’ve been trying to incorporate lessons into more of what we do, but MJ, in particular, is resistant, unless we call it formal school.   Her lack of desire to learn things is troubling to me.  I dare say she has always had this.  Though she is deeply interested in geography and history.  For example, I had a very long conversation with her attempting to explain Russia’s relationship with the US.    It’s like a more mature form of gossip, which is certainly part of her interest; wanting to understand the adult world.  

I miss my sewing machine.  I miss reliable internet.  I miss being able to talk easily with strangers.  We have encountered almost NO one who is a native English speaker; the only two were at our first stop.  We have encountered maybe 5 people, in our whole trip, who hear us speaking English and engage us in conversation.  Everywhere we are surrounded by Spanish.  Most of the time I love it, and I love being in this new and foreign place.  But sometimes I long for the comfort of our own language. 

Pucon

January 7

We have now been in Pucón for a few days.  We are staying in a beautiful house with vaulted ceilings and floor to ceiling windows in the middle of the woods.  The house is halfway up volcan villarica, which, I did not realize until we hiked it, is the most active volcano in South America.  It last erupted in 2015 but currently shows no signs of activity.  The area is just beautiful, with a snow capped peak we couldn’t even see  the top of until our 3rd day here, when the clouds finally cleared.  At the bottom of the mountain sits Pucón along the shores of a cold, clear lake.

We “hiked” around the volcano (as much as one can hike with an 8, 5 and 4 yr old).  They actually did well and we got some good exploring in, then we went to a lava tube which they loved.  Trying to understand geology in Spanish was interesting, and I think our guide did pretty well, other than claiming that the friction of one tectonic plate subducting beneath another is what causes melting, and thus, volcanoes.  I don’t have the Spanish to clarify that.  It was also unclear to me why there was pahoehoe lava.  

Yesterday we went on a “family float” with a local river tour group.  Hubs and I have done a fair amount of canoeing and rafting, but this was the first time we brought the whole crew along.  Going with a guide was so lovely and relaxing, we had no responsibilities for  arranging the shuttle, inflating the raft (a lengthy ordeal) or anything else.  We just had to keep an eye on our kids, a full time endeavor, and not add to that stress with river planning.

Today we visited a hot spring.  MJ was very concerned it  would be a “naked hot spring, like Oregon” and was relieved to find it was not.   Reminiscent of Oregon hot springs, if they were slightly more organized and commercialized (I say this not in a bad way, because it means restrooms and a parking lot, in exchange for a marginal fee.). I think the name was something like Parcival... which I know isn’t correct because that’s the name from Ready Player One.

All in all, Pucon is not like the other places we’ve visited. It doesn’t feel like “real” Chile.  I think any place with a Marmot store cannot be “real”.  It’s hip and trendy, which is kind of fun, but our efforts to find “kid friendly” activities are met with blank stares.  We have encountered a few people who speak English, which is certainly helpful, and everyone is very friendly to our kids, but this is definitely a 20-something Aspen-ish type place.

Mostly, our kids want to hang out at the house and play with the Air B&B host’s dogs and daughter.   Not a bad life, certainly.  

A few thoughts on Chile so far.  It is about the same prices as the US, all in all.  Food, lodging and supplies are about the same.  Services, a term I use loosely, tend to be cheaper.  Such things as horse back riding, rafting, etc, are maybe 25% - 50% the price of the US.  Many places accept only cash, and we have a hard time finding an ATM without an $8 fee, so that obviously adds up.  

They LOVE mayonnaise here.  Any sauce is likely heavily mayo based.  Hotdogs are ubiquitous. The bread is delicious, even that which you find at a gas station.  There is a particular kind of cheese, I’m not sure what it’s called, though it’s widespread, that tastes like fondue. It makes my tummy happy.  Avocados are cheap but tortilla chips are VERY hard to find, which seems like a great societal tragedy.  The ones I have found are not very good, and I’m tempted to find the ingredients to make my own.  Unlikely I will follow through, though.  

Although I haven’t experienced this as much, in Pucon, I experienced extensive unease our first few stops.  Everywhere we went it seemed people were staring at us.  Once you hear our poor Spanish it’s pretty clear why people are staring, but it was happening everywhere, regardless of whether we spoke.  I came to realize it was because our kids are so blond, and no one around us is.  Our whole family stands out, physically, from the locals, especially the kids.  Especially MJ (Though the grandmas seem particularly drawn to Teddy.)  MJ has had her head patted a few times (much better than the hair pulling I experienced in Korea at 5.). She could not understand what was going on until we chatted about it.  We’ll see if the head patting returns at our next stop (Argentina!!)

January 4 update

January 4

(We currently have no internet wher we are staying, so posts will have some lag time between writing and posting.)

We have arrived at our third stop.  After Santa Cruz (wine country), we hit up Salto de Lajo, the “Niagara Falls of Chile”, then on to Pucón, our current locale.  

We finished our stay in Santa Cruz with another round of stomach illness (minor, mine).  We also spent half our trip negotiating furnace repairs from afar, for one of our two rentals.  With a low in the neighborhood of -20, we were frantically trying to get SOMEONE to respond on New Years Eve weekend.  Took two days of international negotiation to finally get it repaired.

We spent our last morning visiting a fascinating museum in Santa Cruz about the Colchagua.  I can’t say the kids absorbed a ton, other than, as Greta put it “you mean there were creatures here before people lived here?”  Yes, dear Greta.  Though I guess you learned that earlier than many people do.

We drove 4 hours south, with lots of back seat fighting, to Salto del Laja.  Our tourist book played down this location, but I honestly loved it.  It was kitschy and charming, and genuinely a Chilean tourist destination.  Understanding the place you visit seems like it necessitates a trip to where that place vacations.  A visit to the Wisconsin Dells, for example, gives you some pretty good insight into Wisconsin and surrounding areas.  I mention the Dells because this place truly felt like a version of it.  Far less intense, but in the same vein.  Lots of kitschy souvenirs, many of them locally carved (I nearly bought Teddy a locally made ninja sword, but logic prevailed.). There was a lovely waterfall, and a short boat trip up a ravine that reminded me of Robert Tremain state park in New York (for those of you reading from that locale).  

There were abundant campgrounds, horse back riding, zip lines, etc.  we only stayed two nights, but did go horse back riding, and I thought MJs head would explode with joy.  It was a brief trip, and the staff led the horses, but regardless it was mj’s dream come true.  

Both nights at the campground were interrupted, somewhere in the 1 am range, with hours of a barking dog.  Shockingly, while I conjured the most evil treatment for the poor dog in my half sleep, the kids slept soundly through both nights.  I think the dog was keeping foxes at bay, or something similar, likely hunting the abundant chickens roaming around.   But it  was awful to try to sleep through.  It seems like the campground hosts should have put the chickens in a coop at night, for the sake of everyone’s sleep, but clearly I know little about  chickens.

Anyway.  We drove another 4 hours today, mostly down the Pan American highway (as with the other days).  The terrain has changed so drastically.  Santa Cruz was hot, with highs in the upper 80s (Fahrenheit).  We swam often just to cool off.  The fields were dry unless they were irrigated, and overall it reminded me of wine country in Northern California.  Salto del Laja was heavily forested and nearly 20 degrees cooler; we needed to bust out sweaters and comforters at night.  Here, in Pucón, it is probably another 15 degrees cooler, and we have the wood stove going.  Granted, we are in the mountains above Pucón, which explains some of the chill.

Today hubs realized he threw out his tourist card, given to him as we passed through immigration.  Inexplicably, we apparently need it in order to leave the country, which we plan to do next week when we cross into Argentina.  We all received one, and I held onto the kids and mine, though more so because I tend to not get rid of things than because I knew we needed it.  They just look like receipts, nothing worth holding onto (though I have a vague memory of being warned, time and again in Russia, that if I didn’t have the card given to me when I entered the country I could NOT leave; I think that memory guided my hand).  

More soon.