Que Pasa?

Since my travels ended at the end of February, there has been some other happenings.

Firstly, I had a St. Patrick's Day party over here. People came over here a little later than I had planned, but there was plenty of BBQ (my roommate had just bought a grill) and booze. I also made a play list with a bunch of Irish folk songs. It was a great time, and after most people left, I went to go dance Cumbia with a few friends at one of my favorite clubs, La Fonda Permanente. The next day around 12:30 p.m., I got three consecutive calls from my roommate. I finally woke up and answered despite my excruciating hangover. He said there were some problems. The sink in the kitchen had overflown (not sure how that happened), and the neighbors downstairs were angry that a bunch of beer cans and cigarette butts were in their yard. Of course, as soon as I got off the phone I heard a knock at our door and sure enough, it was our neighbors. The man was clearly not happy and asked if I threw a party last night, I said "Yes." Then he mentioned the mess in his yard. I tried to assure him that I didn't see anyone throwing anything over our balcony to his yard (which was true) and that the wind often takes empty beer cans and cigarette butts that are laid at the edge (also true). However, I couldn't remember the word for "wind" so I made snake-like movements with my arms and made a whistling sound with my mouth. The man looked at me like I was crazy. I apologized for not being able to speak better Spanish. Anyway, I grabbed some empty plastic bags and headed downstairs where his wife was waiting, similarly unhappy. I picked up everything I could and when I came back through their door, I assured the woman that it was accident to which she was incredulous. She practically scolded me and said, "Es una mala costumbre" (It's a bad habit) and "Se falta su educacion" (You lack a good upbringing). Not feeling the greatest, I took it all in the stride. Then I cleaned up my own mess in our apartment. Fun Saturday, not a fun Sunday.

I went to Lollapalooza a couple of weeks ago. This is a festival that started in the mid-90s in the USA. They are known for having a lot of mainstream alternative rock bands. Initially, it was a touring festival, but in more recent years they have elected to just make it a one-off festival in Chicago. Last year, the first Lollapalooza outside of the USA was in Santiago, Chile. Fortunately for me, due to the success of last year's event, they decided to have it again this year!

Around half the bands playing were Chilean while the other half were from United States or UK. I don't mean to come off as ethno-centric, but since I had at least heard of almost all of the US and UK acts, those are the bands that I saw.

On the first day, I went with my friends Andrew, Sina, Franny, and Luke. We met at Andrew and Sina's house (they live with several other people in a very cool Victorian era house literally next door to the location of the festival) and had a couple of beers. Then we trekked to the festival. Surprisingly, the festival was dry (except for the VIP section)! I couldn't believe it! Good for my pocketbook, bad for my thirst. Anyway, we briefly met up with our other friends, Rodrigo, Boris, Mark, and Mark, but quickly lost them when we decided we wanted to see different performances.

I won't go into describing the individual performances of the various bands that I saw, but surely the highlight of Saturday was when Franny and Sina accidentally walked into the VIP section. It was only after they walked in unobstructed did they realize that they were actually inside. They decided to have some free beer and free food. Later on, Luke, Andrew, and I nonchalantly walked in as well (like we owned the place) and the five of us gorged ourselves on free food, Jack & Cokes, and beer.

My favorite act of the weekend was by far the Icelandic vocalist, Bjork. Despite there being thousands of people in attendance for the headliner on Saturday night (Bjork), everyone was practically silent. Well, except my friend Andrew. While enjoying some of Bjork's more minimalist and tranquil material, Andrew was drunkenly yelling/talking in my ear, "I don't know, man. Bjork's just not my thing. It's like what Larry David said, 'Why do I have to like pesto just because everyone likes pesto?' Bjork is my pesto!" I repeatedly told him to shut up, but to no avail.

The next day of the festival, we met up with the whole gang (as seen in the pictures). This included me, Andrew L (from before), Sina, Franny, Luke, Belen, Emily, Boris, Rodrigo, Mark, Leslie, and Andrew C. Unfortunately, this crew didn't last long either, but thus is the way of the music festival! In any case, the music was even better on Sunday and I had a wonderful time.

More recently, I went to Valparaiso last weekend. I haven't had a chance to go back since the New Year's Celebration and see the sites. After none of my friends seemed keen on the idea, I took up the banner myself, and rode to Valparaiso with pride and glory (in my bus). I stayed at a hostel called Casa Valparaiso, which was excellent! I mostly walked around to all of their famous hills. I also went to the Naval Museum and La Sebastiana (the Valparaiso house of Pablo Neruda). I wanted to go to their modern art museum, but I guess it was STILL closed for renovation. La Sebastiana was definitely the highlight. I have visited his house in Santiago as well, La Chascona, which I think I wrote about in a previous entry. Neruda was a very interesting and complex individual, as well as a Nobel Prize-winning poet.

Some highlights from the tour:

- Pablo Neruda loved social gatherings and would often host parties at his house. At these parties he would wear disguises and would change disguises throughout the night.

- He had a real knack for naming things. For example, his comfortable leather chair that overlooked the sea was called "Cloud" and he would often reference in letters when he was abroad. Specifically, how much he missed sitting in it.

- Neruda's houses are filled with tons of paintings, antiques, and other souvenirs. Each has its own story. For example, there is a painting of a woman from 17th century hanging on one of the walls. On the opposite wall is a painting of a man from around the same period. He initially bought the former, but then bought the latter so the woman wouldn't feel lonely.

I need to make a point to read more of his work!

Another highlight from walking around in Valparaiso was the star-filled and full-mooned view from one of the hills. I love looking at the stars. I also love looking at city lights from a high vantage point. It never makes me feel "small" as someone people say they feel. Rather, it always gives me an undeniable sense of wonder. I think to myself, "Where is life going to take me next?" Slightly trite, I know, but it's the truth!

I also thought about how moments like this are often deemed romantic, and I started thinking why that may be. I thought that a lot of it might have to do with the way in which romantic movies and T.V. shows have constructed a hyper-real narrative dictating to us what "romance" and "relationships" should be.

I also thought that maybe it's just the fact that you're with someone else is that you're sharing in a mutual sort of "wonder" about life and all it has to give and offer.

My cynical self would probably choose the former, but another part of me says it's probably a combination of the two. In any case, most people would probably say I think too much about everything.

In my hostel, I met a few German girls (including a girl who works there*), a New Zealand girl, and an Argentinian guy. The group of us went out together both nights. In actuality, the second night included everyone else from our hostel (probably at least 20 people). Unfortunately, that group consisted of some very stuffy and obnoxious English guys. Now, I know that I harsh judge of character when I first meet people, but my judgements were soon confirmed by the German girls and the Argentinian guy who didn't have many good things to say about them. Thankfully, we didn't have to deal with them as we got separated when we arrived at the monstrous club named El Huevo ("The Egg"). It has five stories plus a rooftop patio. Each story has a different style of music being played: Salsa and Cumbia, 80s, Rock, etc. Drinks were cheap, and clients were happy. Apparently, my group LOVED my dancing, so I danced until almost 5:00 a.m. both nights.

Lastly, one of my good friends, Jeff, left Santiago this last Tuesday. We went out for his "despedida" (going away party) on Tuesday to my favorite Chilean dive bar: La Piojera. In Jeff's case, I think he got sick of all the financial instability that comes with being an English teacher here (students canceling class, privates being flaky, etc.)

*The German girl who worked the hostel was very sweet. She was all but 19 years old, but had the maturity level of someone much older. The fact that she was about 6'2" certainly helped the assumption that she was older. She was on her "off year" which a lot of Europeans do: basically you take a year off between high school and college to go work and travel abroad. Not everyone can afford it, of course, but I feel as though it allows one to experience what living on one's own is like before arriving to the madness of university life. Also, you get valuable insight into another culture, and thus expand your world view. Furthermore, it allows you to take a fresh breath before you decide what to do for the rest of your life (i.e. choosing an area of study). I wish this was common practice in the US, because even if the youngsters of the middle-class and high class are the only ones who could afford it, at least it would broaden their horizons a bit.

Vacaciones en Verano: Isla de Chiloe

My last stop on my vacation was Isla de Chiloe. This little island just off the coast of Chile purportedly has some mythical qualities to it. Adding to this characteristic is the expansive folklore surrounding it's history. Of these mythological stories and creatures, my favorite is the story of Trauco. He is an evil forest gnome with great powers that allow him to easily seduce versions. Thus, in older days, Trauco was often blamed if young, single maids were suddenly found to be pregnant. Of course, there was no man to share the blame in the unwanted pregnancy, because IT WAS TRAUCO!!!

My first stop on Isla de Chiloe was on the northern tip in a town called Ancud. Our bus ferried across the strait and, by happen chance, my hostel was right next door to the bus station. The hostel was called 13 Lunas and it was probably the best hostel I've ever stayed at in terms of cleanliness and the condition of the physical building. I felt like the staff could be a little more friendly, but that place was sure was immaculate.

During my first (and only full day) in Ancud, I simply walked around the coast of the island, visiting an old fortress, went to a museum detailing some of the history of the island, and finally went to gorge on some curanto.

Now, let me tell you about curanto. If there were ever a more meat and potatoes dish, I've never heard of or seen it. Of course, curanto can vary restaurant to restaurant, but what I got at the particular restaurant I went to was three kinds of potatoes, chicken, pork, beef, and about 30-40 shellfish and mussels with a side of broth (which was probably from the same pot they cooked the shellfish and mussels in). I prepared myself by not eating that much all day long, and I ended up eating ALL of it! After living mostly on nuts, raisins, and fruit the previous week and a half, that was some much needed nourishment.

The next morning I took a bus to the very center of Chiloe, Castro, and then I took another bus to Nacional Parque Chiloe (Chiloe National Park). I camped there for three nights. Retrospectively, I really only needed two or so days there as there weren't sufficient enough trails or sites of interest to last more than that. It's well known that it rains all the time on Chiloe, so luckily, it only rained on me a little bit while I was camping. There was some interesting fauna and some great, scenic views, but beyond that, Nacional Parque Chiloe didn't have as much to offer as I would have hoped. They also had some trails that led to their seemingly never-ending beach on the Pacific Ocean side (pictured above).

One other thing I want to mention about my travels is that I had a few "it's a small world after all" experiences. I met a guy from the United States on a bus from Pucon to Valdivia. When I was hiking in the Chiloe National Park, who did I happen to cross paths with? The same guy! We talked for a little while about what we had done since last seeing each other. There were also times where I saw Chileans and foreigners alike in one town, and then saw them in another town. I think most people follow a similar path to the South, so it's not incredibly surprising.

After my time in the Park, I took a bus back to Castro, then a bus back to Puerto Varas, and finally an overnight bus to Santiago. Home again!