Si'po

Long time no blog.

Where I last left off, I was running out of a bus thinking that my lifeguarding skills would be of use. Let me backtrack to the days before this and then tell my stories up until right now, sitting in this bus terminal waiting to go to the driest place on the planet.

Day 38-40: El Calafate, Argentina.

Having seen a few glaciers already, I wasn’t overly excited to see another one; I was expecting another big chunk of ice coming down a mountain side (not that these other glaciers weren’t cool). I booked my seats on the bus to Perito Moreno and headed outside of the little Patagonian city. On the way, we stopped at an estancia, which was beautiful. They had horses and goats and yellow, baby ducks. After everyone had satisfied their bathroom needs or coffee addictions, the bus started back on its winding course. An hour later, I caught my first sight of the glacier, woah this is huge. We continued forward and were eventually released to do our own exploring. Let me describe it this way: half a football field is turned on its side and is now sticking out of the ground as a moving wall of ice that extends back farther than you can see and creates thunderous booms as chunks break off and fall into the space below. Three hours of exploring later, we piled back into the bus and I took probably the best bus-nap of my life.

The other thing I did in El Calafate was try to go rock climbing – let’s just say I messed up. All of the good rock climbing was in El Chalten, the city I had just left. I ended up hopping on an adventure tour so I went zip lining, rappelling, rock climbing, and cliff-scaling. Good last day in Argentine Patagonia.

Day 41: Cue motorcycle accident (if this doesn’t make sense, I direct you to my previous blogpost).

Day 42: My last day in Patagonia – Punta Arenas, Chile.

What is my Patagonia?

Turquoise blue waters that spark a never ending curiosity.

Mountains that you see in those wild, adventure films.

Shrubs mom nicknamed “blumpity blumps”

Winds that want to blow you over.

A peeling nose that never seems to heal.

Never having enough warms clothes.

Trees bent in the direction of the wind.

Day 43-44: Puerto Montt, Chile.

I flew out of Patagonia into the end (or start, depending how you look at it) of the Lakes Region. I was staying at this lovely hostel with a very protective owner. She quite literally told me I was going to get stabbed and then demonstrated how they would do it with her fingers. Thankfully, no stabbing occurred! This stop was one of the highlights of my trip: I took a tour to see… wait for it…

VOLCANOES!

This city has three volcanoes around it, the last erupting in 2014. We were driven around in a minivan to see beaches and volcanoes, rivers and volcanoes, boat rides and volcanoes, lakes and volcanoes; basically everything that you could see next to a volcano. It was incredible.

Day 45-46: Valdivia, Chile.

After a three hour bus ride, I was slightly farther north in a city with water flowing in from the Pacific. One of my favorite things in the entire world are outdoor markets; I love them. Valdivia has a huge market next to the water so when its closing time, the people selling fresh fish start throwing the scraps into the water. Flocks of birds and sea lions come to purge on the wasted fish. I indulged in fresh blueberry juice (another one of my favorite things) as I watched these creatures emerge in masses.

I spent the next morning in a city on the coast, laying on the beach and relaxing before seeing a friend I had met in Denmark! We drank some Danish beer in a park before I left to head back to warmer beaches.

Day 47-49: Valparaiso and Vina del Mar, Chile.

I call this part of my trip my vacation from my vacation. It is incredibly tiring to constantly be on the move, seeing amazing things every day, and meeting new people everywhere you go. Therefore, I decided to give myself three days to simply lay on the beach and do nothing, apart from a walking tour of Valpo. My last night I got to see yet another friend from Denmark. The night started out with flaming tequila shots, continued with terremotos, and ended with deep conversations and more beer with people at my hostel.

Day 50-51: Santiago, Chile.

Santiago is by far not my favorite city but I decided to give it another chance (I also had a flight out of the city so I had to go anyways). I ended up getting sucked into the largest mall in Latin America, though significantly smaller than the Mall of America. I was only intending to visit H&M but then saw so many brands that I love and gave into my consumerist urges. After pulling myself out from the jaws of capitalism, I headed back into the city to visit Cerro Santa Lucia and an art museum before heading back to hostel.

Day 53: Antofagasta, Chile.

After a 4:30 pick up and a two hour flight, I landed in Northern Chile. The landscape is very contradictory; it is basically a desert next to an ocean, I don’t understand. I quickly got settled then ran to the beach to catch a surfing lesson. If I can put it this way, I will never be a professional surfer. Out of everyone in my class, I was by far the most motivated to learn, constantly paddling in and out of the waves, falling off, trying to regain my balance, laughing out loud at myself, all the works. Apparently there is a phenomenon, called sed in Spanish, were three enormous waves come at once. You aren’t supposed to take the first wave because you will be clobber by the two following. Well… I didn’t know any better so I tried to take the first wave, failed miserably, then turned around only to see a wave beginning to crest over my head. Some instinctual part of me knew to dive through the wave rather than to go over it losing complete control over my body under the force of the water. Repeat the process for the third wave. Both times I came up laughing thinking it was a ton of fun; my instructors were not pleased. Perhaps it was my mom constantly telling me not to panic as I was growing up or my dare devil attitude but I was never once worried for my safety.

A few insights into my mind:

Being outside of the US right now has proved a blessing and a curse. I do not have to deal firsthand with the emotional strain that is Donald Trump. I am tucked away, in my own corner of the world, observing what has been unfolding through social media. In this way, I am protected; I have a tendency to overinvest myself in things and I’m afraid if I was in Minnesota, I would have become obsessed with this political season. On the other hand, from where I am, I am powerless. There is very little I can do to help besides sending positive vibes and taking my opinion to social media. I want to help; I want to be marching with my brothers and sisters from all races and religions. I want to help the resistance… but I can’t. I hate feeling powerless in the face of injustice.

Switching tracks completely, two months of constant motion is starting to take its toll on me. I am always tired and I am starting to get lonely. I am surrounded by people but I see these people for a day or two then have to start over again with a whole new crowd. I am sick of explaining “my name is Amelia, I am from the US, I live in Mendoza – no I study in Mendoza, I did not vote for Donald Trump.” I want someone who already knows these things and I will see for more than 72 hours max.

Besides those two negative things, I am LOVING Chile. The biodiversity of this country is impressive; mountains and sea, Patagonia in the south and the driest desert in the world in the north, and did I mention VOLCANOES? I love it here. Soon I will move onto Peru, where I am sure I will love it equally.