11. What is the point of Decaf Nescafe? It's just cruel.
12. Dear Cleaning Lady, why are you sweeping the steps/cleaning the bathroom/mopping the floor when it is the middle of the day and there are five hundred people trying to get past you?
13. Thank you for giving me this receipt for my 20 cent bathroom trip. I will really need that when the IRS comes.
September 25, 2008
September 22, 2008
¡Viva Chile!
In a strange combination of events, this past week of Fiestas Patrias in Chile began with a small fiesta for Mexican Independence Day (which is not, as most Unitedstatesians would believe, Cinco de Mayo). Maggie, Helen and I convened at Andres's apartment on Monday night to make guacamole, homemade salsa (the trick is to boil whole tomatoes before blending it up), quesadillas and Mexican flags from tissue paper. Arts and crafts are always so much more fun with a little Mexican tequila.
But that was just the kickoff to a full week of festivities. Tuesday night Maggie and I hopped a TWELVE-hour bus way down South to the Lakes Region. We arrived in Valdivia, a little lakeside city with a huge German influence, Wednesday morning, threw our stuff in our hostel and set off to explore. We hit up the fish market, kicked it in a park and wandered about on a leafy island across the bridge from Valdivia.
Valdivia from the bridge.
Feria Fluvial, the fish market.
Then, settling down in a cafe we ordered a very typical South of Chile lunch: the best hamburger I've ever eaten in my life (granted, that's pulling from a rather limited selection), apricot kuchen (a German pastry similar to a very yogurt-y cake), and crudo. Crudo, if you don't already know, is the Spanish word for raw. But it took us quite a while to make that connection. We had heard it was very typical of this region, and without knowing more than that, we ordered it. When it came out it looked like a peice of white bread covered with a thin layer of bright red tomato sauce and chopped onions. They provide lemon and a mayo/cilantro spread for you to add to taste. And it was really quite delicious. But that good memory was kind of tempered when we looked it up online at the hostel and discovered that what we thought was tomato sauce was actually thin slices of raw meat. Hence crudo. Oops.
Then a lovely nap in the hostel. Sleeping on a bus is never satisfying so we were pretty exhausted--and it's pretty funny that I still feel this strong need to justify spending my time asleep. I'm slowly learning that it's really okay to nap. That sleeping is not a waste of time. That it's not unproductive. I hope I can remember this when I get back to Penn.
Anyway, afterwards we hopped a colectivo (a cab shared by lots of people) up the road to the Cervecería Kuntsmann, a local German microbrewery. We shared a desgustación (a tasting) and discovered the most amazing beer ever--so amazing because it tastes like honey. Not sure they export it, but if anyone ever finds a Kunstmann Miel, DRINK IT. It was so good we even made the trip the next day just to relive the experience--and to buy a few more for the road. Also, that first night there we shared a sampler of German appetizers. When it came out it was literally a huge bowl of various German sausages, beef and chicken covered with a layer of french fries. Which we ate with our beers. Wait, what? Who am I?
We called it a night, played jenga with a Spaniard at the hostel ("losh lagosh shon prethioshos" he told us) and woke the next morning to begin, at last, our celebration of September 18, Chile's independence day. After taking far too many photos of the sea lions that hang out on the docks of Valdivia, we walked across the bridge to Isla Teja and from there all the way back to the Cervecería for the aforementioned Miels.
Sea lions everywhere! Do they really look like fat sausages with fur? Do they really bark like dogs? Do they really live outside of zoos?
We flagged down a micro and made our way to Niebla, a neighboring city, without knowing anything more than that it was supposed to be beautiful. So many of our adventures in Chile have happened by chance, and this was no exception. We weren't quite sure where to get off so we just followed the other passengers. We suddenly found ourselves in a small fairgrounds of sorts with stalls offering all sorts of empanadas de mariscos and anticuchos and artesanal ice creams and chocolates and chicha (fermented apple cider in the South and fermented grape juice just short of being wine in the North). Red, white and blue everywhere, barbecue smoke, a guitar on the bandstand--it was almost like July 4th Chile style. Maggie and I sampled some of everything (I swear the food in the South is not to be compared. SO good) before leaving the fair and heading towards the beach, which was literally a 2 minute walk away. How did we end up here? That seems to be the theme of my Chilean stories...Anyway, the beach was stunning and filled with people flying flags and sleeping in the sand (which was more like very small pebbles) and climbing the rocks. The South is supposedly a very rainy region but there was not a cloud in the sky. (Meanwhile it was grey in Santiago--so ironically perfect). It was even more amazing because we were literally the only tourists there in Niebla--a real peek into local life without being categorized as the gringas.
The beach in Niebla. In the corner you can see a Chilean flag kite.
Niebla.
We micro-ed back to Valdivia at around 5 PM and headed straight from the bus to the big fonda (huge party/fair) in celebration of the 18th. There were hundreds of people milling about, flying more flags, playing carnival games, wandering through the artesan market, eating endless meat and empanadas and cotton candy, riding ferris wheels, and dancing up a storm. The traditional dance, the cueca, is a huge part of the Fiestas Patrias, but sadly Maggie and I never got the chance to show off what we had learned the week before. But we enjoyed watching it, nonetheless.
We met up with Andres and Ernesto at our hostel. They drove down from Santiago that day and we only overlapped in Valdivia for one night but we had a great time together. Ernesto had purchased charqui on the drive down and I had to try it. Charqui is jerky. But not just any jerky. Horse jerky. Which rounds my list of crazy Chilean foods out to: llama, raw meat and horse.
We brought Andres and Ernesto back to the fonda and took the opportunity to drag them onto the carnival rides. This is an episode in my life that I'm glad I did but I'm not too eager to repeat. We began with the Pirate Ship--the ride that resembles a boat that swings from side to side. Except we did far more than swing side to side. We ended up literally upside down. The metal bars that were supposed to keep us securely in our seats were hardly secure. And the sound of screeching didn't help. After being on the ride for what seemed like an inordinately long amount of time (my stomach got completely accustomed to the upside-down feeling--which it should never be accustomed to), I was ready to get off. Until the "conductor" hopped on the side of the ship, which was still swinging upside down, and hit the wheel below us WITH HIS HAND to stop the ride. Things are done differently here. The next ride--"Tagada"--was no exception. Not sure why it's so popular in Chile but I've definitely seen this ride three times here already. It looks like a big round thing with seats all around the edges. The idea is that you get on, sit on the benches, and hold on for dear life as the Tagada begins to circle and shake up and down and go crazy. Except for everyone wants to be really cool and stand up and prove how they won't fall. Except they invariably fall. And they fall on everyone else. They fall hard. And so limbs (and full humans) are flailing everywhere and people could easily be vaulted over the edge and there's just no safety anything. Afterwards everything hurt. This would never happen in the States. Fun while it lasted and a good story, but I think I'm done with Chilean carnivals for a while.
At the fonda in Valdivia.
The next morning Maggie and I caught another bus to head three hours further South to Puerto Varas, another lakeside city but this one right next to a volcano covered in snow. Possibly some of the most incredible landscapes I've ever seen. We got in at around mid-day, spent a few hours in a German cafe snacking on ajiaco (a traditional beef-egg soup), a massive empanada and a real coffee (finally!), and then wandered in an artesan market (they are EVERYWHERE) to pick out some handmade chocolates and local liquors. We also found time to go to the local casino (!). We played some slots in Spanish and lost between the two of us a total of two luca (CH 2000), which is the equivalent of $4. But it was worth it since we won't be able to do that in the states for another two years. And slots in Spanish are quite amusing. That night, we bought supplies at the supermarket to throw together a makeshift dinner, which we ate over a lazy game of chess (which Maggie had to reteach me but surprisingly I won!) at the hostel.
Volcán Osorno over Lago Llanquihue
We woke ourselves up at 5:45 AM to watch the sun rise over Volcán Osorno over Lake Llanquihue. We walked out to a bench sitting next to the lake and hugged our mugs of hot chocolate and tea while the mist paled and the outlines of the boats anchored in the distance became just visible.
Back at the hostel, still before anyone else had woken up, I ate the leftover tortellini from the night before and Maggie scrambled some eggs before we crawled back into bed for a few hours. Then breakfast number two with the other guests at the hostel (who happened to be mostly French for some odd reason--don't know how we picked this one but it was definitely interesting trying to make breakfast conversation). Then off to go horseback riding through the farmland overlooking the volcano and the lake. Maggie had never been before so we took it slow (which was so hard for me since I had to restrain myself from galloping through the cattle who slowly rose to their feet as we rode past as if greeting us). The views were spectacular and the day was beautiful so it was a perfect end to a fantastic trip.
Horseback riding outside of Puerto Varas. You can't see it here but we rode up into the mountains to see some ridiculously gorgeous views of the volcano and the lake.
Or it would have been a perfect end had our trip not actually ended with FOURTEEN hours on a bus. We had to make our way back to Valdivia from Puerto Varas and then all the way up to Santiago. We left at 3 PM on Saturday and didn't get home until 8 AM on Sunday. Quite the trip.
I have to say that if I were ever to return to Chile, I'd head South. The food, the views, the architecture, the animals--all of it was just so very rico.
But in the meantime, happy birthday Chile!
But that was just the kickoff to a full week of festivities. Tuesday night Maggie and I hopped a TWELVE-hour bus way down South to the Lakes Region. We arrived in Valdivia, a little lakeside city with a huge German influence, Wednesday morning, threw our stuff in our hostel and set off to explore. We hit up the fish market, kicked it in a park and wandered about on a leafy island across the bridge from Valdivia.
Valdivia from the bridge.
Feria Fluvial, the fish market.Then, settling down in a cafe we ordered a very typical South of Chile lunch: the best hamburger I've ever eaten in my life (granted, that's pulling from a rather limited selection), apricot kuchen (a German pastry similar to a very yogurt-y cake), and crudo. Crudo, if you don't already know, is the Spanish word for raw. But it took us quite a while to make that connection. We had heard it was very typical of this region, and without knowing more than that, we ordered it. When it came out it looked like a peice of white bread covered with a thin layer of bright red tomato sauce and chopped onions. They provide lemon and a mayo/cilantro spread for you to add to taste. And it was really quite delicious. But that good memory was kind of tempered when we looked it up online at the hostel and discovered that what we thought was tomato sauce was actually thin slices of raw meat. Hence crudo. Oops.
Then a lovely nap in the hostel. Sleeping on a bus is never satisfying so we were pretty exhausted--and it's pretty funny that I still feel this strong need to justify spending my time asleep. I'm slowly learning that it's really okay to nap. That sleeping is not a waste of time. That it's not unproductive. I hope I can remember this when I get back to Penn.
Anyway, afterwards we hopped a colectivo (a cab shared by lots of people) up the road to the Cervecería Kuntsmann, a local German microbrewery. We shared a desgustación (a tasting) and discovered the most amazing beer ever--so amazing because it tastes like honey. Not sure they export it, but if anyone ever finds a Kunstmann Miel, DRINK IT. It was so good we even made the trip the next day just to relive the experience--and to buy a few more for the road. Also, that first night there we shared a sampler of German appetizers. When it came out it was literally a huge bowl of various German sausages, beef and chicken covered with a layer of french fries. Which we ate with our beers. Wait, what? Who am I?
We called it a night, played jenga with a Spaniard at the hostel ("losh lagosh shon prethioshos" he told us) and woke the next morning to begin, at last, our celebration of September 18, Chile's independence day. After taking far too many photos of the sea lions that hang out on the docks of Valdivia, we walked across the bridge to Isla Teja and from there all the way back to the Cervecería for the aforementioned Miels.
Sea lions everywhere! Do they really look like fat sausages with fur? Do they really bark like dogs? Do they really live outside of zoos? 
The beach in Niebla. In the corner you can see a Chilean flag kite.
Niebla. We micro-ed back to Valdivia at around 5 PM and headed straight from the bus to the big fonda (huge party/fair) in celebration of the 18th. There were hundreds of people milling about, flying more flags, playing carnival games, wandering through the artesan market, eating endless meat and empanadas and cotton candy, riding ferris wheels, and dancing up a storm. The traditional dance, the cueca, is a huge part of the Fiestas Patrias, but sadly Maggie and I never got the chance to show off what we had learned the week before. But we enjoyed watching it, nonetheless.
We met up with Andres and Ernesto at our hostel. They drove down from Santiago that day and we only overlapped in Valdivia for one night but we had a great time together. Ernesto had purchased charqui on the drive down and I had to try it. Charqui is jerky. But not just any jerky. Horse jerky. Which rounds my list of crazy Chilean foods out to: llama, raw meat and horse.
We brought Andres and Ernesto back to the fonda and took the opportunity to drag them onto the carnival rides. This is an episode in my life that I'm glad I did but I'm not too eager to repeat. We began with the Pirate Ship--the ride that resembles a boat that swings from side to side. Except we did far more than swing side to side. We ended up literally upside down. The metal bars that were supposed to keep us securely in our seats were hardly secure. And the sound of screeching didn't help. After being on the ride for what seemed like an inordinately long amount of time (my stomach got completely accustomed to the upside-down feeling--which it should never be accustomed to), I was ready to get off. Until the "conductor" hopped on the side of the ship, which was still swinging upside down, and hit the wheel below us WITH HIS HAND to stop the ride. Things are done differently here. The next ride--"Tagada"--was no exception. Not sure why it's so popular in Chile but I've definitely seen this ride three times here already. It looks like a big round thing with seats all around the edges. The idea is that you get on, sit on the benches, and hold on for dear life as the Tagada begins to circle and shake up and down and go crazy. Except for everyone wants to be really cool and stand up and prove how they won't fall. Except they invariably fall. And they fall on everyone else. They fall hard. And so limbs (and full humans) are flailing everywhere and people could easily be vaulted over the edge and there's just no safety anything. Afterwards everything hurt. This would never happen in the States. Fun while it lasted and a good story, but I think I'm done with Chilean carnivals for a while.
At the fonda in Valdivia.
The next morning Maggie and I caught another bus to head three hours further South to Puerto Varas, another lakeside city but this one right next to a volcano covered in snow. Possibly some of the most incredible landscapes I've ever seen. We got in at around mid-day, spent a few hours in a German cafe snacking on ajiaco (a traditional beef-egg soup), a massive empanada and a real coffee (finally!), and then wandered in an artesan market (they are EVERYWHERE) to pick out some handmade chocolates and local liquors. We also found time to go to the local casino (!). We played some slots in Spanish and lost between the two of us a total of two luca (CH 2000), which is the equivalent of $4. But it was worth it since we won't be able to do that in the states for another two years. And slots in Spanish are quite amusing. That night, we bought supplies at the supermarket to throw together a makeshift dinner, which we ate over a lazy game of chess (which Maggie had to reteach me but surprisingly I won!) at the hostel.
Volcán Osorno over Lago Llanquihue
We woke ourselves up at 5:45 AM to watch the sun rise over Volcán Osorno over Lake Llanquihue. We walked out to a bench sitting next to the lake and hugged our mugs of hot chocolate and tea while the mist paled and the outlines of the boats anchored in the distance became just visible.
Back at the hostel, still before anyone else had woken up, I ate the leftover tortellini from the night before and Maggie scrambled some eggs before we crawled back into bed for a few hours. Then breakfast number two with the other guests at the hostel (who happened to be mostly French for some odd reason--don't know how we picked this one but it was definitely interesting trying to make breakfast conversation). Then off to go horseback riding through the farmland overlooking the volcano and the lake. Maggie had never been before so we took it slow (which was so hard for me since I had to restrain myself from galloping through the cattle who slowly rose to their feet as we rode past as if greeting us). The views were spectacular and the day was beautiful so it was a perfect end to a fantastic trip.
Horseback riding outside of Puerto Varas. You can't see it here but we rode up into the mountains to see some ridiculously gorgeous views of the volcano and the lake.
Or it would have been a perfect end had our trip not actually ended with FOURTEEN hours on a bus. We had to make our way back to Valdivia from Puerto Varas and then all the way up to Santiago. We left at 3 PM on Saturday and didn't get home until 8 AM on Sunday. Quite the trip.
I have to say that if I were ever to return to Chile, I'd head South. The food, the views, the architecture, the animals--all of it was just so very rico.
But in the meantime, happy birthday Chile!
September 16, 2008
Guerra de Bolas de Nieve
Short update before I run off down south for Fiestas Patrias until Sunday:
Saturday I went out to Cajon de Maipo, a collection of mountainside Andes towns about two hours south of Santiago. We didn't have plans, we just hopped on a bus and off we went in hopes of finding something to occupy ourselves for the day. But we found so much more than that. On the bus down there, a Chilean sitting in front of us overheard our confused conversation about where to go and offered to help us out. We hopped off that one bus, followed him onto another and then when a third one wasn't coming to cart us off higher into the mountains to Baños Morales--a scenic hiking spot close to El Morado, a national park with a glacier in the mountains--we decided to begin walking our way up from the town. Luckily about 20 minutes in, our new Chilean friend flagged down a passing pickup and we hitched a ride up into the Andes in the bed of the truck. Crazy adventures abound when you're young and traveling.
We got there, did some hiking and when our friend heard that I hadn't been up to the snow in the Andes yet, he swept us out to the peaks of the Andes, the El Morado glacier just in view, and I had my first taste of Chilean snow. Scrambling up the shifty rocks, I passed a group of Chileans potoganning (literally poto-gan, as in tobogan but on your butt or poto) down the snow. On my way back down, a seven-year-old Chilean boy caught me off gaurd when he pounded me in the back with a massive snowball. And there began a quite epic snowball fight in the Andes.
And even though I had snow in my pants at the end of the day, it was well worth it.
Saturday I went out to Cajon de Maipo, a collection of mountainside Andes towns about two hours south of Santiago. We didn't have plans, we just hopped on a bus and off we went in hopes of finding something to occupy ourselves for the day. But we found so much more than that. On the bus down there, a Chilean sitting in front of us overheard our confused conversation about where to go and offered to help us out. We hopped off that one bus, followed him onto another and then when a third one wasn't coming to cart us off higher into the mountains to Baños Morales--a scenic hiking spot close to El Morado, a national park with a glacier in the mountains--we decided to begin walking our way up from the town. Luckily about 20 minutes in, our new Chilean friend flagged down a passing pickup and we hitched a ride up into the Andes in the bed of the truck. Crazy adventures abound when you're young and traveling.
We got there, did some hiking and when our friend heard that I hadn't been up to the snow in the Andes yet, he swept us out to the peaks of the Andes, the El Morado glacier just in view, and I had my first taste of Chilean snow. Scrambling up the shifty rocks, I passed a group of Chileans potoganning (literally poto-gan, as in tobogan but on your butt or poto) down the snow. On my way back down, a seven-year-old Chilean boy caught me off gaurd when he pounded me in the back with a massive snowball. And there began a quite epic snowball fight in the Andes.
And even though I had snow in my pants at the end of the day, it was well worth it.
September 11, 2008
9/11
We stole September 11th. Even in Chile, where universities shut down, people stay indoors all day long, powerlines are cut, tear gas is thrown, protests abound, even here where September 11th is marked as the day of the coup, the day Pinochet took power, even here, our September 11th is still the front page news.
My host brother--who calls today a celebration rather than a memorial, who wore a huge Chilean flag on his back to classes to show that he does not support the "comunistas" that were in power during Allende, who is planning a barbecue tonight to toast to Pinochet--told me last night that the only issue he has with Pinochet is that they didn't kill everyone that they should have.
Those deaths, he said, were necessary.
What death is ever necessary?
My host brother--who calls today a celebration rather than a memorial, who wore a huge Chilean flag on his back to classes to show that he does not support the "comunistas" that were in power during Allende, who is planning a barbecue tonight to toast to Pinochet--told me last night that the only issue he has with Pinochet is that they didn't kill everyone that they should have.
Those deaths, he said, were necessary.
What death is ever necessary?
September 4, 2008
Chilenismos # 6-10
6. Why are there five girls brushing their teeth in every public bathroom in the middle of the day?
7. Not just for tourists anymore: Fanny packs are apparently back in style.
8. Leaving leftovers out on the counter and putting them in the fridge two days later means they are still edible.
9. Excuse me sir, you have ONE dreadlock.
10. Salad = celery. beets. tomatoes. frozen peas. shredded carrots. all covered in salt. each vegetable cannot touch any other. hence the five bowls of separate "salads" on the table.
7. Not just for tourists anymore: Fanny packs are apparently back in style.
8. Leaving leftovers out on the counter and putting them in the fridge two days later means they are still edible.
9. Excuse me sir, you have ONE dreadlock.
10. Salad = celery. beets. tomatoes. frozen peas. shredded carrots. all covered in salt. each vegetable cannot touch any other. hence the five bowls of separate "salads" on the table.
September 2, 2008
Empanadas y Llamas
Last Wednesday I spent FIVE hours on the bus and on the metro. Not joking. It was all just so I could come home from campus for the homemade empanadas we were going to have for lunch. FIVE hours. SO WORTH IT.
Then, after stuffing myself on empanadas, I made sushi for the third time (I am now a master sushi chef--not exactly a skill I had anticipated picking up in Chile) at Andres's and Ernesto's apartment and we played Mexican card games and drank cheap wine and took the bus home at 2 AM (which is just as sketchy as it sounds but I have no choice).
I spent Thursday reading and reading and reading. Just for my one Vargas Llosa class I've already read about 900 pages. In Spanish. and it's not even easy Spanish. It's possibly the most difficult literature in Spanish that I've ever tried to read. Vargas Llosa loves being complicated. To give you an idea, his biggest influences are Sartre, Flaubert and Faulker. So imagine a novel written half in narration, half in interior monologue but never announcing which is which. And then you have about eight time periods going on all at once. And in one coversation, what you're actually reading is three conversations that all overlap and invade each other so you have one person in one time period and space seemingly responding to another but not really because the second person is actually having a completely separate conversation in a separate time and space with a third person. But there's nothing marking that change. So it's just a big ol' confusing mess. And everything is very ambiguous on top of that. And characters change names. And there's about a million of them. And it's all in Spanish. So I've been doing a lot of reading. I'm on to my third novel--100 pages in, 630 to go.
Friday afternoon I packed my backpack and headed to the airport to catch a flight up to San Pedro de Atacama, a desert area in the north. CIEE took us for an official program weekend. We arrived Friday night, went out for a stroll around town (which is so touristy it reminded me of Antigua, Guatemala) and split off for dinner. I got quinoa (mom, you will be excited about that. everyone else will probably have no idea what that is) and coca tea. that's right. coca. Oh Evo, you had it right all along haha. But really, it doesn't do much and it tastes a lot like spinach.
The next day we headed off to see the salt fields, stop for a million photo ops with flamingos and llamas, buy some alpaca gloves/hats/socks and climb a sand dune to watch the sunset over the Andes.
Helen and the salt fields. The flamingos live off of shellfish that live in the briny pools.
The two of us in the desert.
Valle de la Luna. So named because it looks like the surface of the moon. NASA even tests here.
Sunset on the dune.
The sun hitting the geysers was spectacular. Especially for my poor toes.
The tiny llama farm in the desert.
Eating llama while wearing llama and seeing llama.
LLAMA!
A full day of traveling home and then back to the real world. Or sort of. Since I am still in Chile.
Yesterday I began my salsa class and the best compliment I received was that afterwards a kid from El Salvador came up to me, introduced himself and asked "Where are you from in Latin America?"
Santiago. Obvio, po.
There must have been about a hundred empanadas. This is the raw batch.
And this is the finished product. Which didn't last long. Because I ate them all.
Then, after stuffing myself on empanadas, I made sushi for the third time (I am now a master sushi chef--not exactly a skill I had anticipated picking up in Chile) at Andres's and Ernesto's apartment and we played Mexican card games and drank cheap wine and took the bus home at 2 AM (which is just as sketchy as it sounds but I have no choice).
I spent Thursday reading and reading and reading. Just for my one Vargas Llosa class I've already read about 900 pages. In Spanish. and it's not even easy Spanish. It's possibly the most difficult literature in Spanish that I've ever tried to read. Vargas Llosa loves being complicated. To give you an idea, his biggest influences are Sartre, Flaubert and Faulker. So imagine a novel written half in narration, half in interior monologue but never announcing which is which. And then you have about eight time periods going on all at once. And in one coversation, what you're actually reading is three conversations that all overlap and invade each other so you have one person in one time period and space seemingly responding to another but not really because the second person is actually having a completely separate conversation in a separate time and space with a third person. But there's nothing marking that change. So it's just a big ol' confusing mess. And everything is very ambiguous on top of that. And characters change names. And there's about a million of them. And it's all in Spanish. So I've been doing a lot of reading. I'm on to my third novel--100 pages in, 630 to go.
Friday afternoon I packed my backpack and headed to the airport to catch a flight up to San Pedro de Atacama, a desert area in the north. CIEE took us for an official program weekend. We arrived Friday night, went out for a stroll around town (which is so touristy it reminded me of Antigua, Guatemala) and split off for dinner. I got quinoa (mom, you will be excited about that. everyone else will probably have no idea what that is) and coca tea. that's right. coca. Oh Evo, you had it right all along haha. But really, it doesn't do much and it tastes a lot like spinach.
The next day we headed off to see the salt fields, stop for a million photo ops with flamingos and llamas, buy some alpaca gloves/hats/socks and climb a sand dune to watch the sunset over the Andes.
Helen and the salt fields. The flamingos live off of shellfish that live in the briny pools.
The two of us in the desert.
Valle de la Luna. So named because it looks like the surface of the moon. NASA even tests here.
Sunset on the dune.
Early to bed because we had to get up at 4 AM the next morning to make it up to see natural geysers at 4300 m above sea level. FREEZING. 14 degrees C below zero. but at around 7, the sun finally peeked over the mountains, illuminating the mist rising from the ground and warming our nearly frostbitten toes. Then we peeled off our newly-purchased llama gloves/hats/socks and jumped into a natural hot spring in the mountains. Fully refreshed, we bussed down the bumpy desert road, past the vicuñas grazing on dry grass, and made our way to a tiny village with a llama farm and anticuchos (the Chilean version of kebobs). So while traipsing through the llamas, I ate one of their friends. Llama, let me tell you, is delicious.
Me and a geyser. All bundled up in my new llama hat and gloves. It was so misty before the sun came up that you could barely see ten feet in front of you.
The sun hitting the geysers was spectacular. Especially for my poor toes.
The tiny llama farm in the desert.
Eating llama while wearing llama and seeing llama.
LLAMA!
A full day of traveling home and then back to the real world. Or sort of. Since I am still in Chile.
Yesterday I began my salsa class and the best compliment I received was that afterwards a kid from El Salvador came up to me, introduced himself and asked "Where are you from in Latin America?"
Santiago. Obvio, po.
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