Sorry Bob & Nathan – but hopefully this and future news will be back to the action-packed thrill-ride updates you’ve obviously grown to expect.

Starting with 12 Aug, when we managed to get up on time to check-out.  Check-out time being 1pm, that shouldn’t be difficult – but I managed to fail on my equivalent day back in March.  Checked out, and put our stuff into storage.  Central Santiago for lunch, and a museum.  Best museum in Chile?  Don’t think so.  More wandering, then some red wine at the hostel.  Tour guide chap tried to talk me into a one week organised bus trip.  And that it is difficult to cross into Argentina down south.  Not many roads, and much snow.  I ignored his advice.  Then – dinner time.  Discovered a Viking-themed restaurant.  Sweet.  And, we were given viking hats to wear.  Pen’s with fake pigtails.  And, the mariachi at another table started playing Crowded House, I’m pretty sure.  Finished dinner, then back to hostel – picked up our stuff, and found our way to the bus station.  Bought some tickets, had a couple of beers, and got onto our Salon Cama class bus.  The most luxurious class – and was actually pretty sweet.  Not particularly good food though – and no free wine or whiskey.  Getting back to Argentina is going to be so sweet.

13 Aug – arrived in Valdivia.  Listened to a tout trying to sell us a room in one of her two hostels.  Ushered us outside, as she’s not allowed to show photos inside the terminal.  Took her pamphlet (with useful city map), and started walking.  Eventually found centre of town, and headed to the tout’s hostel.  The one ages away, not a hundred meters away from bus terminal.  Got there, and got us a room.  Kitchenette consisting of a microwave.  Sweet.  Then, back to town.  Had lunch, and a walk.  Electronic store where the method of purchase for a rather small item seemed overly complicated.  Choose goods.  Go to cashier.  Pay for goods.  Get receipt.  Go to another counter, swap a copy of receipt for goods.  Still – battling unemployment I guess.  Then, found a secondhand clothing store.  Sweet.  No white linen shirts, but found myself a cotton one instead.  Will do until I find the real thing.  With Pen here, the local ladies shouldn’t be getting close enough to touch me very often anyway.

A couple of beers at a pub, then back to bus station.  Via awful big mall.  Found buses heading towards the Andes for tomorrow.  And info on the local brewery.  Kunstmann.  Got a taxi there – but no tours of the brewery, the museum is closed, and no free tasting.  Dumb.  Buy food and cerveza instead.  Bus back to town, buy some mixers at the supermarket (where premade “drunk kits” are available for NZ$5.  700ml bottle of rum with 1.5l mixer in a plastic bag).  Back to hostel, and drink pisco while watching bad television (in ‘negative’).  Find tiny takeaway joint for dinner.  More pisco.

Up on the 14 Aug, and discover that breakfast is included.   Scoff that, then walk to bus station.  Catch next bus to Panguipulli.  Couple of hours later – we’re there.   Like magic.  Have some lunch across the road, then book a ticket to Puerto Fuy.  Where hopefully there is a ferry across a picturesque lake to Argentina.  Or, at least, accommodation.  Supposed to be a very very small settlement.  Cervezas across the road while waiting for bus.  Onto bus.  Very quickly regret the cervezas – as Pen’s inadequate bladder seems to be contagious.  Sleep to forget the pulsating bulging bag of processed beer in my gut.  But, that can’t last.  Get to within 10 minutes of destination, using every trick in the book to prevent pissy-pants, but realise 10 minutes is far too long.  By this stage, however, we’re the only two left on the bus except for one local, and I’ve been reduced to pacing up and down the aisle.  Last chap to get off offers the use of his house toilet (is getting off right outside).  Sold.  Onto Puerto Fuy in considerably more comfort.  Get there – and busman shows us a hostel.  Sweet – village is very very small, but with a few houses doubling as hostels.  Busy season is supposed to be rather busy.

Get ourselves a room, and given linen.  Make own beds – and go for walk.  Ticket office for ferry seems to be closed, and the attached cafe is closed until November.  Ferry is here though.  Lots of snow about.  Find restaurant for dinner.  They tell us no food.  Dozen or so workmen staying there get served food, while we drink cerveza.  Second restaurant – also no food.  Then I gather that there is food if we wait for an hour.  Sold.  Food and cerveza, and more workmen.  This time – 6 of them, who bring a TV out of their own rooms in order that they can watch a soap opera.  Back to hostel, and talk to an elderly-ish chap staying there.  He and owner inform us the ferry doesn’t run until busy season.  Next ferry is in November.  Sweet.  More chit-chat, and reciprocal teaching of language.  Off to our room, where our beds have been remade.  Our skills not up to scratch.  Or they didn’t like me lumping Pen with heaps of crappy wool blankets while grabbing the sweet plush duvet for myself.

Up on the 15 Aug – and breakfast.  Discover that there is only one bus back to Panguipulli – at 3:30pm.  Seems odd, as there were multiple buses going the other way.  And ferry/travel office had a list of more in window.  But, go for walk – and keep an eye on main road into town for proof that our info is wrong.  Not hard to keep an eye on main road from anywhere in ‘town’.  Wander through snow.  Cheesy photos on lakeside.  Cheesy photos of snowfight.  Classy photo of a pig.  After not long, we have literally walked ‘around’ town.  Check out pricey hotel.  Owner or manager there speaks english, reckons there’s a bus at 1pm.  So, back to hostel to wait, with view of road.  1pm comes and goes.  Given fruit and juice by chap there – and the english-language channels are searched for us.  Pen expresses interest in The Addams Family movie.  So I’m subjected to that.  Girlfriends are a hindrance.  After a while, I go looking for whiskey.  No luck.  Instead we head to a ‘restaurant’ with view of where I’ve discovered a bus waiting.  Have a cerveza – figuring just the one won’t result in yesterdays ‘difficulties’.  4pm, the bus leaves, and I soon discover I’m mistaken about just one cerveza.  But, after 20 minutes or so, we have to change buses – and I take the oppurtunity for a quick colouring-in of snow.  Not sufficient though, as I’m forced to take a similar oppurtunity about an hour later while stopping for passengers.  Eventually arrive in Panguipulli with dry pants.  Only way out of here seems to be to go all the way back to Valdivia.  So – book ticket for that, and fail to find anywhere selling hot food.  Yesterday’s restaurant seems to be closed for a private watching of football.  They close the curtains, and the iron gates across door – soon after I ignore the “Closed” sign by trying the locked door.

Bus to Valdivia – arriving in late evening.  Check out times for buses from here direct to Argentina.  Low risk boring approach.  Early in the morning – but we figure if we’re able to get up in time, will do so.  Then, find relatively pricey hotel very close to bus terminal, and jump at the chance – just so we can get some hot food as soon as possible.  Chinese restaurant next door – hot food.  Sweet.  Then, buy some more mixers, and back to hotel room.  Drink the bottle of pisco which is a miniature Moai.  Was meaning to keep it as a gift for somebody, or drink it on Rapanui.  But, last time in Valdivia, discovered the same bottle on sale in the supermarket for about half what I paid for it at the distillery.

Next update – more excitement.  We get up on time, and get a bus to Argentina.  Fleeing the carnage of the earthquake in Peru about a thousand kilometres away.

The long awaited day of 10 Aug arrives.  Get up, and stall – as I have no ambition or intention of doing anything other than going to airport and picking up the girlfriend.  Check out of my room, and store my stuff.  Nice private double room should be available and ready by the time I(we) return from airport.  Walk slowly towards where I think I can catch bus to airport.  Stop for some food.  A nice normal sandwich, I think – which turns out to be a monster with avocado & mayo oozing out of it.  Then, get on a bus for the airport.  As we get closer, it starts sinking in that Pen will be here within an hour or two.  Get to the airport – and check out the situation.  International arrivals is downstairs, with nobody selling booze nearby.  The bar that I’d arranged as a backup meeting point is nowhere to be seen.  Domestic terminal is a significant distance away, and I’m not sure how to get there.  Figure I’d better be careful to meet Pen as she emerges from the black-box of customs/etc.  So, in order to do that, I find a bar which is in the furtherest point from her arrival point possible.  Have a few beers there.  Then – back downstairs.  Wait, and wait, and then she appears on the television.  I figure out which door she’s heading towards – and get there just in time to call her name, over top of the dozens of taxi drivers which are yelling at her.  Relief seemed to be the main emotion on her face.  Rush her outside, through more overly keen taxi drivers – and finally find some space/peace for a little bit of a hug.

Some polite chit-chat (“How was your flight?”, etc) – and onto the bus back to town.  Admire the setting of Santiago on the way – snow-covered mountains surrounding it.  More polite chit-chat, but quickly falling into old familiarity.  The good kind.  Off bus, and a short walk to the hostel.  I give a tour-guide talk on the way, and then reach hostel.  Double room is indeed rather nice – but we’re soon off to find some food.  Take Pen to the seafood market for another taste of hundreds of zealous touts.  Lunch, then back to hostel.  Rest, drinks, dinner, and nighttime.  Pen seems to be rather tired, after a little 11 hour plane ride.

11 Aug – much sleeping in.  Pen still tired.  Sook.  Lunch, and checked out a couple of bus terminals regarding buses headed south tomorrow.  Also a market.  My white linen shirt suddenly gained about three large rips/holes within the last week – and Pen seems to think it’s not worthy of keeping.  Girlfriends are such a bore.  If not a downright hindrance.  Of course, travelling without a white linen shirt is out of the question.  Couldn’t find anything though – and therefore the White Linen Shirt is still on top of my shopping list.  Then, the metro back towards hostel – and bought some lemons for some nice healthy gin&lemon hot drinks.  I deviate from my tried and proven method, however – with disastrous results.  Gin&Juice is the drink of the evening instead.  Then – some dinner, and another fairly early night. 

Am drunk in Santiago.  Arrived here stupidly early this morning 09 Aug.  Stalled.  Managed to arrive at hostel, after much slow travelling.  Booked dorm bed for tonight, double room for tomorrow.  Cold in Santiago.  Vans and cars with snow on roof.  Assume they’re rich people from the hills.  Walk, find cafe.  Order tea, get coffee.  Drink, walk more.  Order ham&cheese with tea, get  ham&cheese and bread buns and tea.  Sweet.  Go shopping, then buy some cream liquer and back to hostel.  TV and some “cremisse” – because it’s bloody cold outside.  But a 600ml bottle of milky boozy doesn’t last long.  So, back to store, and a couple of bottles of red wine.  Have been chatting to american.  Am starting to regret it.  Get back, drink my wine.  And start to feel drunk.  Listening to the conversation of young people who are at end of 35 day organised tour may have helped.  I understand organised tours, but don’t understand 20-something people who think they-ve just “rocked” South America after seeing 5 countries in 35 days in a truck.  But, to be fair, on another very similar tour – they ‘lost’ somebody.  Really.  Guy went for a wander from campground, never came back.  Lost.

Anyway, sat on couch, listened to some interesting stuff like people getting lost.  Listened to some awful boring crap, like rumours of people getting lost.  And myself getting drawn into conversations about serious stuff.  Boring.

Managed to follow through with plan, walking to the bus station on 06 Aug, and catching a bus to Elqui Valley.  Originally planned to go to the town of Vicuna, and use that as a base – but lady at bus station convinced me to go further up the valley to tiny village of Pisco Elqui.  Seeing as it is named after the main attraction (Pisco), I figured I’d take the advice.  So – got to Pisco Elqui, had some lunch and a couple of introductory cervezas, then found some accommodation.  Nice germans running the hostel reminded me it is Monday.  Tourism doesn’t go on Monday.  So – pisco distillery closed.  And that’s all there is in town.  Town is one block wide, two blocks long.  But, they suggest a nice walk up the hill, along the hill, and down the hill.  Arriving in an organic wine & maybe pisco place.  Which should be open on Monday.  So, I do this.  I walk up the hill.  Very steep hill.  I walk along the hill, and then down the hill.  Long gentle way down.  And not really sure what to do with the instructions “turn left when you see a line of trees”.  There are lines of trees everywhere in the valley, and none on the hill.  One big line of trees along the border of hill/valley – but this very same line of trees prevents me from turning left.  So – I Stay The Course.  Eventually come on to a track wide enough for vehicles, and continue to Stay The Course until I come across proper road.  Sweet.  Then, continue along the road, looking for this booze place.  Find it, and it’s closed.  Dumb.  Long walk along road back to the village, where I find a cafe to serve me fush&chups and multiple pisco sours.  I keep ordering pisco sours until the nice man brings me the bill, and asks if I’m drunk yet.  Of course not.  But, I take the hint, and leave.  And the fresh air suddenly activates the pisco sours.  Back to hostel, and quickly order a bottle of red wine.  To cancel out the pisco, I assume my reasoning was.  Not entirely sure.  Start to struggle after one glass – but find my second wind, and finish that bottle off before weaving my way over the flat ground to my room.

07 Aug – remember yet again that I’ve promised myself to not mix drinks.  Yesterday’s combo of cerveza, pisco, and red wine is an excellent reminder.  Free breakfast though – sweet.  Then, pay for my room, and head to the pisco distillery.  A little bit early, so find an internet cafe instead.  Waste time.  Then – back to pisco distillery.  Arrive just in time for a tour.  Given a written english translation of what the tour guide is going to say.  Pretty sure she doesn’t actually say what is on the paper, and indeed the tour itself seems significantly different.  But – see what you’d expect.  Antique equipment.  Room where the original chap used to drink pisco with his buddies and talk to the dead.  Stills.  Tasting of a couple of their piscos.  Video describing the process of creating pisco – narrated from the point of view of the grapes.  Apparently it is quite pleasant being boiled.  Then – to the salesroom with a bit of a pitch about the various bottles for sale.

I don’t quite understand most of the pitch – but suspect that with the “artesanal” bottles, one has to write their name in the book to record who bought it.  And it’s twice the price – so I figure that’s the one for me.  Leaving just enough cash to hopefully get to a town with an ATM.  Turns out, before I get to sign my name, I have to actually pour the bottle myself out of the barrel.  Then – write details (my name, the date, bottle number, barrel number, etc) in the book, and on the label – and label the bottle myself.  So – I paid twice as much for this bottle of pisco, and I had to do all the bloody work myself.  It’d better be good.  Then, we’re given a free pisco sour as well.  So that’s nice.

Outside, and wait for the bus.  Wait for a while, and eventually one arrives.  Make a decision to go to Vicuna – the town I originally planned to visit.  They have a pisco distillery too.  A big one.  So – catch the bus there, and hope that there’s an ATM.  Off the bus, and spot an ATM hidden inside a pharmacy.  Sweet.  Loaded up with cash again – stop at the first restaurant/bar.  Cerveza, a rather good steak by chilean standards, and more cerveza.  And a movie about a policeman and his dog.  Very smart dog, likes to play the electronic version of “Simon”.  Then – onwards to find a place to stay.  First hotel – very expensive, but she reads my face, and suggests “more economical” places.  So, find another place where the chap asks what I’d like to pay.  And we agree on that.  Sweet.  Rather good deal, as I gave my price without expecting private bathroom or breakfast – but get both.  Drop stuff off – and go to find this pisco distillery.  Biggest in the valley.  Find it – and yep, rather large.  Told to wait for a tour.  Girl finishes previous tour – and then takes me.  One guide for only me.  First stop – a video.  With option of english or spanish.  Sweet.  This time, a more clinical description of the pisco creation process.  Missing the personal touch of “a grape’s eye view”, but makes up for that with many many references to “pure translucent water” and “golden sunshine” and “this country with so much to give” and so on and so on.  Then – a quick tour through small displays of antique equipment, old bottle labels, etc.  Rather rushed – which was fair enough.  Only one tourist, and at the end of the day – the nice lady wanted it over and done with as quick as possible.  Then, some tasting.  This time – mostly their range of premixed drinks.  Papaya sour, mango sour, and a coffee-milky type one.  Then, of course, the salesroom.  I have a real problem with buying stuff after free tastings.  Pisco distilleries turn out to be just as bad as wineries.  So – buy some more.  Despite my pack being noticably heavier (and more difficult to close) after the bottle bought in Pisco Elqui.  However, they did have a bottle of pisco in the shape of a moai.  So that was a definite.  And she seemed to expect me to buy something else, so I got a bottle of the premixed papaya sour.  Figured I could drink that straight – tonight or on buses – and get rid of it fairly quickly.

Back to town, drop off my booze haul, and then wander around looking for a restaurant.  Finally get hungry and cold enough to choose one – and order myself a portion of kid.  I found the translation for the spanish word into “kid” in the food section of my phrasebook – so am guessing it’s the literal “baby goat” meaning.  Still – I’m happy enough.  Turns out to be a rather generous ‘portion’ – but nothing I can’t handle with the aid of several pisco sours.  Back to the hostel, and try to put a dent in the papaya sour while watching bad TV.  Succeed.

Also figure out my calculation of days left until Pen’s arrival have been rather optimistic – and I have an extra day to kill.  Was going to skip Valparaiso after an unflattering review from the french woman I met so long ago in San Rafael.  However, have since read that there are a couple of neighbourhoods which happen to be an UNESCO World Heritage site.  And the city has very old, rather cool looking, “ascensors” – which are kind of like the miniature trams that some Wellington houses have.  Main drawcard, however, is the UNESCO thing.  Once that kiwi chap who came up with the idea of publishing a book with photos of all of them actually finishes – I’m thinking I’ll buy the book just so I can tick off all the one’s I’ve seen.  There seems to be rather a lot of them around these parts.

UPDATE:  08 Aug – I don’t quite make it to Valparaiso.  Plan was good.  Got up, enjoyed another free breakfast.  Juice this time – lovely sweet juice.  Checked out, got to the bus station on time.  Sign says bus to Valparaiso at 11:45.  Sweet, buy ticket.  Ticket says 13:05.  Oh well, I can deal with that.  So, leave my pack and go for a walk.  A few hours to kill.  Museum – dedicated to the local poet.  Gabriel Mistral.  Nobel Prize, etc, etc.  Entire museum just for her.  And she’s not that interesting.  Plaster molds of her hands though.  Then, more time to waste.  Internet.  And then bus station, regretting not having taken time to eat.  Wait, and wait.  My bus company’s office is closed.  Odd, I think, with a bus due.  And my bag inside.  Nearly 2pm, the man comes back.  Deals with some business, then chats to me.  Asks to look at my ticket.  Points out that he had stamped it with “11:45″ (stamp was blurry, in my defence), and that the 13:05 time is for the departure from La Serena.  D’oh.  But, he then kindly offers to swap it for one that night.  I ask for a ticket straight to Santiago instead, having just wasted a day – and needing to be in Santiago the day before Pen arrives.  He gives me a ticket to Santiago, and doesn’t charge me anything more.  Nice man.  And now, I have much more time to kill.

Find a restaurant, and eat.  And drink.  Then, ponder what to do next.  Stay The Course, I decide.  So, some more cerveza.  After not long, I’m invited to join the table where the barman, bargirl, and a customer are sitting.  I make many friends with an early comment that “cerveza is the language of the world” when discussing language difficulties.  Customer turns out to be on a bender.  Works 10 days on, 10 days off.  Not sure if this is his first or last day off, but either way – he’s making the most of it.  Repeats himself a lot – especially about coming to NZ and us drinking cerveza together.  Or England.  Bar staff reckon he’s fairly rich.  Write down how much he earns a month, possibly with exaggeration.  Not sure if they got it right, or if my mathematics were right, but I figure it to be about half the average NZ wage.  Glad the conversation didn’t turn to asking my income.  Much conversation, then the drunkard finally leaves.  I stay.  (No sniggers, please)  Chat with the bargirl, who cooks me a sandwich for free, and then with another guy who comes in.  There are a few spots of rain – which triggers enough excitement to run outside and touch the spots on the ground to confirm.  Doesn’t rain much here.  Eventually I go to the bus station, and wait in the mucho cold for my bus to leave.  Fall asleep as soon as I sit down.

Well, Ben & Nathan will both be pleased with this update.  As I’ve done practically nothing, Ben will be happy with the boringness.  And as I think I got asked to leave a pub so that I could be beaten up – Nathan will be happy with “playing something we all know.”

So – left San Pedro.  Fairly lengthy bus ride to La Serena – arriving the morning of 04 Aug.  Off bus, and a few touts pushing their hostels.  Tell one lady to wait until I get my bag.  She follows, still jabbering away, and eventually gives me her card.  I start walking – hopefully towards town.  Turns out yes.  Try to find cheapest hostel in guide book – closed or shut down.  Go to hostel of the lady tout.  Sweet – big double bed, very comfy, huge room, television, stereo, a populated bookshelf, and french doors onto courtyard.  Also – free internet, decent hot shower, and tour info.  Go for a walk, find a cafe with tables on street.  Eat lunch, drink cerveza, listen to a jazz band set up on the street nearby.  All good.  Find the museum – closed.  Walk towards shore, with a cerveza break halfway.  Actually toilet break – but figure I should buy something at the restaurant to be polite.  Watch the guy with the job of guiding cars in and out of carparks.  Amusing and frustrating to watch.  Seeing as this guy is forced to do this as a living, for tips – I’m guessing he’s never had the money to own a car.  And probably has never actually driven a car before in his life.  And it’s fairly obvious.

Get to the beach.  No swimming allowed.  A fake castle – which is listed as a tourist attraction on my map.  Doesn’t bode well for the rest of them.  Back to town, and find my first “local’s bar” in quite some time.  Small, with old men drinking nothing but cerveza.  All good.  One chap speaks fairly good english, and we chat for a while.  Watch what I originally think is one old man pretending to give his friend a big kiss.  Later, realise that he was actually biting his cheek – leaving two decent cuts.  Talking to another old man, hear that the two are workmates, have been for 15 years – and that there is going to be some biffo tomorrow.  This old man himself is talking about how he’s going to fight the biter.  My english-speaking friend eventually leaves, leaving me to drink alone – fitting in with the others doing the same.  A fairly young guy comes in, and asks me which state I’m from.  I tell him I’m not american.  Dodgy looking chap, we talk for a while.  Then – I think he tells me to leave.  Or asks me to go outside?  Maybe so he and friends can fight the gringo?  Maybe he was just inviting me to another bar – not entirely sure.  Either way – I decline the offer.  He leaves, and I force myself into another cerveza – to delay leaving.  Eventually leave, get back to hostel – realise I’m a little too ‘tipsy’ to go out for dinner, or to book the tour of the nearby valley I wanted.  Luckily, discover pro-wrestling on the television instead.  Then – a fair bit of time on the free internet, hearing about Ben’s criminal family stealing kaimoana.

05 Aug – get up and go to book my tour with the nice blonde girl at the tour agency.  But it’s closed.  Realise it’s Sunday – and very little is open.  Go to the handicraft market, which has heaps of restaurants specialising in seafood on the 2nd floor.  Breakfast – isn’t seafood.  Then – back to the museum, which is open – and free entry on Sundays.  Sweet.  Same stuff as other museums.  More pre-Columbian pottery/art – again very very reminiscent of Maori equivalent.  And then – the prize of the museum – a moai.  Big bloody rock head.  Pretty cool.  Ben & Pen – we can cancel the trip to Rapanui now as well.  Seen a moai.

Then – to some markets.  Rather similar to Hong Kong – right down to a Pirates of the Caribbean costume set with awful awful english translation, and probably unauthorised use of the cast members on the packaging.  Back to the restaurants over the other market – and this time get myself some kaimoana.  Stuff I didn’t recognise – and eating it all raw (except for marinating) was probably not the best way to introduce myself to new types of shellfish.  But, manage to finish it off, with the aid of a few pisco sours.

Back to hostel.  On the way, a guy stopped me on the street, and gave me money.  Took me aback a little, as I was preparing to say “no” for when he would ask me for money.  He turned the tables.  Odd – possibly a guy I gave a cigarette to last night?  (Yes family, am smoking at the moment – as it aids in befriending the locals.  Almost certain to stop when Pen arrives though.)  Free internet for a while – managed to upload a few more photos.  Playing kiwi music through the stereo – pretty sweet.  Then, find a cafe which is open – and have some dinner & cerveza.  Go back to the “local’s bar” on the way back to hostel – to check on status of yesterdays biting incident – but it’s closed.  Back to hostel, and decide to skip the organised tour (been doing too many of those recently – a sign of my travel weariness?) – and to instead catch a bus tomorrow morning straight to the valley myself, and do it independently.

And that was La Serena.  Managed to write a fair bit about having done absolutely nothing.  Was going to fill it in with a rant, but no need to, I guess.  I have an excellent rant about snakes brewing in my head.  I bloody hate snakes.