Beauty and Beatings – A Recall of the Adventures in the Andes – PART 3

What happens after being up partying until 5am on minimum hours of sleep on a plane?  Deep, deep sleep.  I don’t remember the last time I slept that well.  And there were a few other factors that helped.  First off houses in Chile aren’t like the convenience based bubbles of easy living houses in America.  There is no central heating with vents going throughout the house; so the house was nice and cold. In Chile you stay warm with fire, space heaters, clothes, blankets, and hopefully another person.  Second, Rafa’s wife Victoria gave me a goat pelt blanket that was warm and heavy.  The weight of the pelt just pushed me deeper into the mattress and deeper into sleep.  I can’t explain to you how nice it really was. 

I finally emerged from my dark cave of slumber around 4pm and I felt great.  I got an approving smile and laugh from Rafa and Vic as one, they saw that I was alive and two, the smile on my face.  And not to mention their lovely almost two year old daughter gave me an "hola gringo" and a smile.  So did my late start ruin any plans?  Were we late for anything?  Is my itinerary screwed?  Hahaha this is Chile my friend.  I’m on Chilean time now AND I’m on vacation; throw your itineraries out the window of a moving car, I’m letting things happen as they will.  I’ll worry about a schedule when it’s time to fly home.  The evening was spent getting things ready to travel to Las Trancas in the morning and hiking around the hills in the valley in north Santiago leading up to Tres Valles. 

…………..

I elected to take the train to Chillan so I could take in the countryside and of course not be so cramped as would be destined to happen on a bus.  And in reality, I also didn’t want to deal with the higher likelihood of a potential bag theft while at the bus terminal traveling alone with 4 bags.  Yeah theft at bus terminals is quite common in these parts.  I lucked out and got a table seat, sharing the middle table with 3 other people. I was hoping that I’d meet someone interesting and wanted to be outside of my comfort zone.  Not so much in my case.  I shared the table with two 60 plus year old nuns and a young woman that spoke about as much English as I did Spanish, so to say the least, my iPod served as my companion on the 4 ½ hour ride.  I did happen to get a few “looks” as I stuck out with my long curly hair and flat brim black ball cap from those on the train, especially the nuns until I offered to help stow their belongs for them on the upper rack.  The scenery did not disappoint as I saw both beauty and real life represented by vineyard after vineyard in between ghettos, small farming communities, more ghettos and poverty, dirt roads, simplistic life, and small towns located in the beautiful valley with snow covered mountains to the east. 

Arriving in Chillan I knew my plan was to take a taxi a kilometer or two to the bus terminal, wait a couple of hours looking out for schemers trying for an opportunity to steal my computer bag, and then take the hour plus bus ride to the Chil Inn Hostel located in the smack dab middle of Las Trancas where I had reserved a bed for twelve nights.  But not truly having myself stuck to any “real” plan, luck struck.  While I was getting my ski bag out of the front car, I notice a “gringa” waiting behind me in line waiting to get her skis.  I chatted the woman up, Megan a 36 year old Canadian coming from England for a guided ski adventure, speaking Italian hoping for enough cross over with Chilean Spanish, and I offered to grab her bag for her if she wouldn’t mind watching my bags.  One thing I’ve learned, but often times forget in the hustle and bustle of the “American” way, is that the mere simple action of saying hi, being kind, and offering a hand opens up more avenues of opportunity and good fortune than one can foresee at the time.  This one interaction ended up coming back around as boons to me throughout my stay in Las Trancas.  As we walked to the front of the train station while talking about each other’s trip details, the first boon hit.  She had a private transfer waiting to take her to the Nevados de Chillan hotel.  She was the only one in the transfer and that meant there was room for the likes of me, I wouldn’t have to have the stress and worry of any of my gear getting stolen while sitting at the bus station for two hours as dusk was approaching.  I asked the driver how much he’d charge to take me up to the Chil Inn.  He offered a good fare since he was already headed that way and compensated, and my portion would go straight into his pocket.  Perfecto.

As I arrive at the hostel, I’m greeted by Fifa, a tall rasta Frenchman with three foot long dreads.  He’s one of the owners of the fine establishment.  The reception is located in the front room which also houses the restaurant and bar, and there’s reggae playing in the background; I’m starting to think that I really did choose the right place to stay.  Plus there is quite the number of people there consuming what appears to be a delicious spread of food.  My hunger from travelling all day has caught up with me and I quickly dispose of my bags and return for a meal.   


Searching the menu, I knew I was going to need a lot of food; “Menu del Dia” caught my eyes and the decision was made.  I had a glass of house red wine, the enslada chilena, spaghetti bolonesa, and panqueque manjar.  Now I could have had the fog of hunger clouding my judgment but I’m sure I had just made one of the best decisions of the day.  I ignorantly order a dish that contained one of my most despised items, sliced tomatoes.  The ensalada chilena is quite the simplistic salad; sliced and peeled tomatoes, onions, cilantro, and a small dash of sliced jalapeno.  The addition of salt, pepper, olive oil, and balsamic vinegar made this quite the treat.  I then experienced the most delicious, crisp, flavorful tomatoes I’d ever consumed; completely different from the crap we have in America, which if you didn’t know is developed more to serve a visual purpose than a flavoring purpose.  I ended up ordering this salad at least once a day for the rest of the trip.  The spaghetti was in a deep bowl that seemed to take an hour for me to get through.  But even though I felt stuffed to the gills, I was sure to allow myself the room for dessert, panqueque manjar, which is essentially a crepe with a caramel topping, but even better.  You see the word manjar in Chile means caramel or dulche de leche, but is also a slang term that essentially means “top notch”, “the bomb”, “nectar from the Gods”, “cream of the crop”……..well you get the point.  Fat and full I showered and prepared for bed with thoughts and imaginations of what the mountain and skiing would be like, and the adventures I’d have.  Tonight I rest for tomorrow I live, tomorrow I ski.

The awesome fireplace in the front room.