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.