I woke up the following morning entirely sapped of any and all desire to do anything spectacular. After deciding that staying in bed all day might be looked upon with some disdain from everyone around me (including myself), I wandered to the lake at the far side of the town. The shore was bounded by a black sort of pumice stone, which I noticed primarily because of the many girls eager to point out its manifold epidermic virtues. After a short while of invading some random people's privacy without them knowing, I decided to meet up with the Brazilians for a trip to a nearby national park.
The "public" bus seemed a little too private, and we ended up driving to some pretty remote locals dropping off what were probably various members of the bus driver's family. By the time we actually got to the park we didn't have a lot of time, so our hiking options were pretty limited. We ended up sort of reopening what appeared to be a pretty abandoned hiking trail, and for our valorous efforts to uncover the woe-begotten path, we were rewarded with numerous bushes of wild raspberries and blackberries growing along the way.
Combining the raspberries, blackberries, and tubes of "Fibra de Cacao" cookies from the groceries provided me with the perfect infusion of fiber that I needed to get me back on the regularity train... And with that, I promise to terminate any further references to bowel movements for the remainder of this blog, however implicit or indirect.The excursion was a relaxing, though time consuming, respite from the adventure activities we had done for the previous two days. I especially enjoyed getting laughed at by a group of Chileans while we were waiting for the bus ride back for exchanging "la dura"'s with Nayara (the lighter-haired Brazilian), and then laughing with them when their friend moved away from me to an empty seat, which I explained to them was because I smelled bad. I think they really enjoy hearing gringos speak Spanish, regardless of what is said.
I continued the trend of time-slowing relaxation activities back at the hostel where we built a fire, drank some red wine, and watched "Memoirs of a Geisha" (I actually missed about the first hour because I was busy unsuccessfully trying to build a fire using wet wood and was too determined to give up. I finally managed to get it going, but I missed most of the movie in the process... C'est la vie).
Easter Sunday, I joined Menelik for a service at a Catholic church near the lake. The place was absolutely packed, so we just stood in the back. I think the Pastor (Priest, Arch-Bishop, whatever) must have seen me with my camera-bag or something because he spoke incredibly slowly, and was super-easy to understand. The service was surprisingly low on ritualistic chants and the like, and I actually rather enjoyed it. I spread around a little Kevin loving with some handshakes and kissing of cheeks to some of my brothers and sisters in Christ and then headed out, feeling that the sun was a little brighter and the air a little warmer than it had been when I went into Church just an hour before.
From there, we all joined up for a round of some amazing (and amazingly cheap) pasta and a decadent serving of gelatto ice cream. Once lethargic and unresponsive from the amount of food in our stomachs, we all decided to swing violently from tree to tree on a Canopy tour. I'm not sure what was the bigger accomplishment, completing the course without swinging into a branch and hurting ourselves, or keeping the gnochi and dulce de leche milkshake in my stomach down. Regardless, the canopy tour fit very well into the theme of the weekend: it was fun, overpriced, and over before we knew it.
With the rest of the gringo gang preparing a farewell tour, we sought a cheap meal to end off the weekend. What more appropriate place to eat, thought we, than a restaurant with a sign out front that said "Tipical Chilean Food" (sic)? Well, the place was indeed typical of Chile in that 1) most of what was on the menu wasn't actually available, 2) the waiter (an 11 year old relative of one of the owners, no doubt) didn't really have a clue what was going on, and 3) the last meal didn't come out until well after everyone else was done eating. My favorite part was definitely when the waiter, inquiring about what a Pitcher was, even as we were pointing to the word "PITCHER" on the menu, asked "Does it come with the beer?" We chuckled and explained to him, "It IS the beer."
Tiger didn't win the masters, the beer was warm and flat, and the chef had to run across the street to buy avocados for our meal. Convinced we had done enough damage in the joint, we paid our cuenta and left.
I said my goodbyes to the rest of the crew, and went back to the hostel to hang out with my new British friends that we met on the canopy tour. I followed around Katy for a spout. We met up with her friend, Katy. And then we met up with some people at a campsite back toward the bus station, Kat, Chris, and John (so that was Katy, Katy, Kat, Chris, Kevin... and John). I spent the entire rest of the night listening to expressions like "bullocks," "naughty," and "I really fahncy banahnas," and was able to avoid making a complete ass of myself by imitating their delightful accents only through a heroic exertion of willpower.
I left the Brits at the bar a little early, hoping to get enough rest to complete the hike that the hostel owner had recommended to me earlier that day. When I woke up the next morning, though, I was at once relieved and dismayed to hear the steady drumming of raindrops splashing onto the roof of the hostel. Relieved because I knew I wouldn't be able to do the 8-hour hike that I had planned, and my knees would get the rest that they had long been begging me for. Dismayed that I now had about 16 hours of free time with literally NOTHING to do, as the entire town of Pucon is centered around outdoor activities.
So I partnered up with Harrison (which is what I named my new little spare tire, who's time in office will hopefully be as equally short lived as his name-sake, the late William Henry) on a voyage to eat food, kill time, and stay dry. We did the first two pretty well, but the third objective was pretty much a lost cause. After taking my sweet time getting ready, I managed to hold off on eating anything until about noon. I took the scenic route around town to the casino only to find that the card room wouldn't open for another couple of hours. I then sat down to read and write a bit in the hotel lobby, and then made my way back to the hostel. Before I could make it there, though, I stopped off at a little cafe where a nice man looking sort of like a combination of Bob Marley and Steven Segal recommended that I check out the Mapuche Museum about a 20 minute bus ride away. I feigned interest, assured him that I would go, and when he left, I sat and talked with the owner of the cafe for about an hour and a half. From there, I went back to the hostel and read in a swinging hammock chair by the fire for a couple of hours.
A group of cute Canadian girls came back and tried to watch a movie, but instead settled on mindless MTV shows and Seinfeld, which provided me with ample distraction to elongate my progress through the Spanish translation of Anthem that I was reading. At about 4, I decided to try my luck at the Casino, and dragged Jess, one of the Canadians girls, along for the trip. She watched me for a little bit, quickly lost interest, and went down into the hotel lobby to read. Meanwhile, I turned my CH$10,000 into CH$18,000 (and it would have been more if I hadn't been tipping to keep up the good karma) before I finally returned downstairs to walk Jess back to the hostel. We reunited with her friends, and with them I had one more amazing meal at Chef Pato's, packed my bags, and then got about 2 hours of fitful sleep on the bus ride back to Santiago.
And so ended my weekend in Pucon. As a disclaimer, I want to let you all know that I promise to up the entertainment factor of my next few posts, as I am realizing that my recounting of every detail from the weekends of my travels is just a little less entertaining than eating cardboard. Nevertheless, I wanted to make these entries before I forgot them all in the swirling abyss of halfway coherent Spanish, various random holdover theorems from my days studying calculus, and a host of other garbage that seems to come and go through the revolving door of my brain daily.
Hasta luego, se me hecho la yegua.
I hope to return rested, reinvigorated, and ready to go in my next posts, so check back soon... I will do my best not to disappoint.
No comments:
Post a Comment