Merry Christmas one and all!
Yes, I know. I’m sorry. But it wasn’t my fault, honest. I blame the Jewish raspberry. Or rather the young man from Israel who was on crutches in my hostel in Puerto Varas.
I think the last time I managed to post to my blog was when I was in El Calafate seeing the glacier - blimey, that seems a long time ago. I’m sure you all enjoyed the wonderful photography and witty commentary, and I was actually really enjoying doing it. But then said raspberry interrupted my flow.
Before I get to that though, I need to bring you all up to speed with what happened post-glacier. After Perito Merino I made my way down to Puerto Natales with a few new-found friends to catch a ferry called the Navimag (dubbed the Navishag among a certain class of traveller - not me obviously).
The Navimag is a real ferry in the mould of the cross-Channel ferries of our youth - all vinyl floors, terrible food and grumpy staff. But the attraction for me was that it would get me from Chilean Patagonia up to the Chilean Lake District without the requirement of another flipping bus. As comfortable as the buses in Argentina are, I could not face another 50 hours of films in Spanish, Bingo and the smell of other people’s feet and it was a great chance to see Patagonia from the sea in, rather from the land out as I’d been doing before.
When young Albert, Simone and I got to Puerto Natales it was blowing a gale - so much so that the boat couldn’t actually dock. Simone’s booking had fallen through so she decided to head down to my favourite place in all Patagonia, Ushuaia, instead and me and the intrepid Albert headed for the ship.
It’s so weird this travelling thing, how often people reappear in your life when you think you’re never going to see them again. One of the hard things about this lifestyle is saying goodbye to people you’re just making a connection with, but for reasons of circumstance cannot stay in touch with.
On my buus journey down from Puerto Madryn to Rio Gallegos, on the east coast of Argentinian Patagonia a young English guy called James sat down next to me on the bus. We shared a few travellers tips, chewed the breeze, and then he got off and went his own way. A nice guy who I’m sure I’d have become friends with if we’d had more than 10 hours together. Shit happens, on to the next place.
But then who was sat in the check-in room of the Navishag a month or so later? James, of course.
He, Albert, myself and half a dozen other “young” independent travellers all fell quickly in together, including an Aussie guy called Rob who I’d sat next to at dinner two months before in Buenos Aires and not seen since. It truly is the gringo trail in this part of the world.
Anyway, the Navimag was a bit of a let down in terms of scenery and luxury after the cruise around Cape Horn. But that’s not to belittle it - it was a working ferry that happened to go through the Chilean fjords and the company had rightly identified that there was a market among travellers for a bit of sight-seeing. But there were no excursions to speak of, except Puerto Eden, which, in the early morning light was very picturesque.
The rest of the time on the Navimag was spent playing the eternal traveller/student favourite game Shithead, drinking cheap wine, and playing Truth or Dare. For me, the Navimag was actually more about the people - Sinead, Ciara, Kim, Rhona, James, Albert, Rob, Ruben, Charlotte, Nicci and Gerrit. Lovely people one and all. We had a wonderful time and it was one of those rare times when you’re on the road when you can actually make real friends.
We arrived in the Chilean port of Puerto Montt at some ungodly hour and James and I headed half an hour up the road to a town called Puerto Varas and met up with another girl from the Navimag called Amy. Despite my crippling hangover from the last night party on the ship we decided the best cure would be a white-water rafting expedition.
It was actually great fun and far more involved than the last time I’d done it down the Rogue River in Oregon. Well, I paddled this time, so that was progress. But we also stopped to leap into the river off rocks on the way and even swam over one set of rapids. I wish I’d had my camera as the river was dominated by the local volcano and the scenery was typically stunning.
Puerto Varas is a truly lovely place, despite the heavily evidenced Germanic influences - we had sausages, mash and sauerkraut for dinner one evening - and it is somewhere I would love to return to. The landscape is distinctly European in terms of the gentle rolling hills, trees and temperate climate, but the whole place is dominated by a chain of volcanoes that remind you thoroughly that you’re no longer in Kansas. Wonderful.
The only blot on the Chilean landscape was the raspberry who decided that the best place to drip dry his swimming shorts was on a step directly above the place on the floor where I’d decided to recharge my laptop. You can imagine the effect on both the laptop and my temper.
I knew that at some point my little laptop would come a cropper, but it really pissed me off that it had happened in such a stupid and unthinking way. I was not happy. But as someone once said, it’s not what happens, it’s how you deal with it that defines you. So, of course, I went into a day-long sulk. Very mature.
I was genuinely pissed off though, not only because I’d lost the laptop, but because it meant I had to use public internet and that just doesn’t work for the blog. Believe it or not uploading the pics and typing all this drivel out actually takes a long time. Three, four or five hours sometimes. Not that I begrudge it, I actually enjoy it, but if I’m going to do it I want to do it properly. And this dickhead’s stupid behaviour had deprived me of what is effectively my diary as well as a means of communicating with you guys.
Nevermind, it’s done now.
After Puerto Varas, I headed up to Santiago to a hostel called La Casa Roja. And it is no exaggeration to say that it puts any number of four and five star hotels I’ve stayed at to shame. OK, I was sleeping in a dorm, but the architecture of the building, the Jacuzzi, pool bar and, bizarrely, cricket net meant I never wanted to leave the place.
I spent a couple of half days with Ruben and James pottering around Santiago, but spent the rest of the time relaxing by the pool, meeting new people and playing some cricket.
The cricket net was just weird. Apparently it is the only “official” one in the country and the Chilean national cricket team practice there. You couldn’t make this shit up.
Santiago is a lovely place, but the smog and the hostel meant that I didn‘t venture out as much perhaps as I should have done. And after a couple of months in south America, I was tired and ready to move on. New places and people to see and meet.
On my last night in Santiago I met a bunch of Geordie lasses who were going to be on the same flight to Auckland with me.
Sorry for the lack of pics in this entry, but all will become clear…
