Funding

I would simply like to thank my family (parental units, godmother, grannie, brother,... ) for deciding to deposit this year's birthday present straight into my travelfund bankaccount!!! It is VERY much appreciated :-) I promise to make good use of it by throwing myself onto more volcanoes and glaciers, thereby potentially limiting my lifespan and the requirement for your future donations ;-) Love and miss you all LOADS!!!

PS: In case the picture above is not obvious enough... it is THANK YOU, written in fisheyes (click image to enlarge).

26 years and 12 months old.

- My Birthday Candle -

I turned 26 and 12 months yesterday. To celebrate the fact that I managed to stay alive this long, I tried to blow out the biggest birthday candle ever (see picture above) and ended up having one of the best celebrations I have ever had.

Rather than spending my birthday with a post-celebration hangover, I ended up renting a set of skis, strapped them to my backpack and hiked up a 2800-meter volcano. Thankfully, I was accompanied by my Scottish, Norwegian and Spanish Single Serving Friends, because the 6-hour hike was rather strenous and a VERY good sense of humour was needed to make it all the way up the volcano-edge.


The nearer the top, the steeper the cone became, at times exceeding the 45 degree inclination. I was rather grateful for having brought an iceaxe as I am not the most elegant of individuals and tend to have enough trouble coordinating my left and right foot without having to take into account height differentiations.

The views from the volcano-flank were absolutely spectacular: while climbing one volcano, we could take in the view of three others: Osorno, Lanin and Puyehue.

When we finally made it to the crater edge, some 6 hours and a lot of sweat later, I was too out of breath and too stunned to speak. The crater was absolutely humongous. The now familiar sulphur smells were suffocating as ever and the boiling lava in the centre of the crater sounded like a thunderstorm hooked up to a thousand amplifiers.

Just to make sure you understand the size of this thing... a little pointer:

While we managed to get close enough to watch the lava, I haven't got any pictures to show for it and this for two (highly valid) reasons: One, I am a scaredity-tufft who suffers from massive vertigo, so instead of cooly standing up near the very edge, I was stretched out on my tum with my head hanging over the ledge to ensure proper balance. And Two, the sulphur fumes were simply too poignant to expose my camera to them.

We had lunch for an hour near the crater before making our way back down on skis. Needless to say I was absolutely knackered. I bruised a few ribs in the whole process, but... at the ripe ole age of 26 and 12 months, I supose that is just normal wear and tear.




Anyway, I had better leave the internet cafe, as one of the computers just caught fire! Seriously.

- "hell, if the volacono's smoking, so can we" -

Everything bites today

I seem to have acquired a little something nasty during my stay here...

PS: A very happy birthday to MJ, Camilo, Melissa, Ed, CJ, Satbir, Richard, Tina, Stefan, Elizabeth and Helmut... all of whom have birthdays just about now ;-)

Huddled around the fire.

The meeting went well and I´ve been hired for the job. At 180 squids a month (270 euros), the pay is ridiculously low from a European perspective and it remains to be seen whether the 48-hour-a-week workload is exciting enough to justify dropping down to Chilean standards. At any rate, I´ve decided to go for it. When push comes to shove (probably in a week or two), I can just quit, pack up and continue onward to Argentina as was originally planned.

I´m being taken on a rafting introduction tomorrow, so I can "get acquainted with the company´s products". I´ve been told to partake in as many rafting and volcano expeditions as possible to learn all about them. If anything, I think it´s a good idea to sit out this initial training period before getting myself fired. I´m not the kind of girl to say "no" to free volcano trips and free spanish practice ;)

I needed some quiet time this evening to contemplate the latest events, so despite the arctic temperatures, I wrapped up warm and took my mp3-player and last spliff out to the hostel garden. I simply sat there for an hour listening to Mylo whilst watching the red glow of the lava burst out from the top of the volcano´s cone. After a few tokes, it dawned on me: I was huddled around the Earth´s little furnace, watching its embers light up the Pucon skyline. I don´t think I´ve ever felt more at peace in my life.

When one door closes...

After 4 weeks, I felt so at home in Santiago that it was difficult to leave it all behind again. But I know from experience that everything good that´s ever happened to me, only had a chance to occur because I closed a few other doors behind me. So, when it was time for me to get on the nightbus to Pucon, I decided to pull the switch and prep myself for whatever was about to happen next.

As the bus pulled into Pucon Station at 7 a.m. yesterday morning, I realised how much more confident I´ve become these last three months on the road. The very thought of having to navigate my way through a deserted muddy road in an unfamiliar environment at the crack of dawn to find myself some accomodation, would previously have scared me beyond measure. But as I was walking along the road, the only thing going through my mind was: "Bloody hell, look at that volcano!!"

I found my accomodation with the help of a local streetdog. For reasons unbeknownst to me, it decided to walked alongside me that morning and it only left my side to scope out the view around the corners, as if to make sure the path was safe enough for me to walk along. After about 15 minutes, the dog ran up ahead and came to a halt next to some sort of fence. When I caught up with it, it appeared to have led me straight to a hostel-entrance.

My first encounter with the hostelcrowd was rather embarrassing, as I had to greet the girl that opened the door with: "Disculpe señorita, pero, créo qué yo he rompado su timbre!" (Sorry, but I think I just broke your doorbell). My next line was: "Quiero una cama en su dormitorio más barrato. Pero, digame, hay arañas de rincon aqui cerca?" (I would like a bed in your cheapest dorm. But, tell me, are there any Chilean Recluse spiders around here?). She burst out laughing, which puzzled me, as I am never more serious than when enquiring about the whereabouts of poisonous spiders.

At any rate, I settled in very quickly and by 6pm, I had been offered a job at one of the local outdoor companies for the duration of the season. I gave it some thought and have decided that if the boss is willing to give me three weeks off in January to travel with my mum, I will accept the joboffer and stay in Pucon for three months. I have a meeting with the boss in about an hour to discuss it all. The way I see it, working for a company that specialises in volcano-treks, rafting and canopy-trips, would be a very fun little set-up. I´d have to speak spanish on a daily basis and while the pay is low, I would get to parttake in all the company activities for free, on my days off. I shall keep you posted on how the discussion turns out.

I´ve yet to take pictures of the town and the volcano myself, but I´ve attached some pics I´ve found on the web. Villarica is the second most active volcano in South America. At night, you can see a red glow above the volcano crater from most places in town.

I spent the night hanging out with the hostel-crowd: 5 Chileans, 1 Brit, 3 Ozzies and 2 French-Belgians. In a strange twist, we all communicated with eachother in Spanish instead of English and the conversation got increasingly funny as the weed I´d scored in Santiago got passed around the group. Exsqueeze the blurriness and general low-quality of the pictures. It was very hard to keep a steady hand by that point ;)

Thwarted Architecture

A blatant example of what happens when architectural design preceeds the economic growth of a country: airconditioners thwarting the earlier architectural design. Personally, I think they hugely improve the 70's style concrete monstrosities ;)

- Pics taken in Santiago City 10/11/06 -

The Aliens and The Night Bus

Since my arrival in Santiago four weeks ago, I have gone from "utterly lost in a country whose language I don't speak" to "integrated in a fully functional local social network"... and I'm strangely proud of that achievement. I am the only gringa in this social group and while I still speak to my new friends in Spanglish, I am now fully capable of understanding any conversation held within the group. The drunker I get, the more fluent my Spanish becomes. I guess my biggest issue is merely my inhibition to speak it.

I met MJ three weeks ago, when she was on her first night-shift at the hostel. MJ fascinates me beyond measure. She makes a point of using my name at the end of her sentences when addressing me, a habit I've always liked in people. She wears pink fanny-packs, silver-coloured, full-body leotards with bright yellow skirts and has oil-painted a cloudy sky on her converse trainers. A visual artist by day and receptionist by night, she reads George Bataille in vintage paperback & listens to electropop when the hostel tucks in for the night.
We are like fire & water and yet we've everything in common. In terms of aestethics, she hates what I love. What she loves, I simply deem fit for a restraining jacket. Yet we discuss Foucault & Butler, the golden number, strange attractors, indigo children and libido for hours on end, without ever leaving common ground. My fascination has nothing to do with attraction and in some weird way, I believe that makes perfect sense.

When MJ invited me over to her house for a quiet party, I was too intrigued to decline. As I walked through the cast-iron gate of her front door, I tumbled straight into the most delightful mess. The flat was littered with oil-palettes, terpentine bottles, canvasses with works in progress, old vinyls and inflatable animals in the most vivid of colours. The wooden beams in her flat decorated with stencils of a choatic subset of artists. And I suddenly very much wanted to be part of it all.

Sometimes, what appears to us as our most extreme opposite, is really nothing more than an alternate version of ourselves. We're forever geared to focussing on a mere few aspects of ourselves. Maybe it takes a confrontation like this to makes us realise that in fact, the things we haven't been, is perhaps also part of who we are. Maybe that is why I felt so at home on her sofa. At any rate, a merger of some of her friends with some of my earlier SSFs, has materialised into my local group of friends and my days and nights have been more fascinating ever since.

I've learned how to bribe the nightbus driver, so that he lets on six of you for the price of two. In true corruption style, the busdrivers look like they've stepped straight out of a Colombian drugwar. They plaster the ceilings of their busses with blacklights and a psychedelic collection of glowstick aliens and stars. The first time I fetched a ride, I simply couldn't stop laughing. I learned to shout ahead of my stop and jump off the bus when it reaches its slowest acceleration, for it never actually comes to a halt. I discovered it's best not to wear flip flops when doing so.

After the Pisco Sour incident, I've now been initiated into the habit of drinking Piscola and Roncola, which I suspect is nothing more than a cheap knockoff of Rum. People do raid eachothers fridge at their heart's content, without being reprimanded. And the 80's electropop style dancing is in full retro-swing. DJs play inovative Latina bands as well as Vive-la-Fete. Mullets are all the rage and they make it look sexy. I've learned not to leave the dancefloor when people start chanting "baila Pew, baila Pew, baila baila" as it's just a ritual that targets any one individual on any given night and is meant to encourage people to perform a solo dance while others stand around clapping in encouragement. I've taken to the physicality of their dancing like a fish to water, and will miss it when I go home.

I've been shown how to take it easy during the day. To pace myself. To sit and have a coffee without thinking about the next thing. To try and look up close and beyond, rather than just at. That things become a lot easier when people stop defining who or what they are. To go with what I feel at any given time. To listen during discussions, rather than to state my points of view. To just do, rather than to contemplate. And to simply take things as they come.

I have two days left before I leave Santiago and I will sorely miss it when I do. It just comes to show that even four weeks can make a world of difference. Besitos to MJ, Joseline, Yoyo, Camilo and Henrique for such fun times and a home away from home.

More Than Intimate Strangers

The more people find their way to your blog, the harder it becomes to write. It's not as much performance anxiety as it is that my style of writing tends to be quite rooted in my reality. It is very easy to spew your opinions, daily grievances and dallyings, when you know you are entirely anonymous and will, at worst, only be held accountable for your writings by an intimate stranger. When the people that are entertwined with your life find their way to your writings, you suddenly become very vulnerable. While I am perfectly forthright in my person-to-person contacts... I find it a struggle to keep true to my blogstyle, under an ever thinning coat of anonimity. I suspect that too, is a reason why my posts have been more sporadic and less coherent of late.

I have exchanged blog-addresses with several Single Serving Friends, some seem to have found their way to my blog on their own and friends&family from back home check in regularly to see how I'm doing. I think the reason any of us write, is quite simply, to be read. The fact that my posts start reaching more people, is actually a good thing then. I guess I simply have to come to terms with the fact that I need to be prepared to take full responsibility for what I write. And try not to write less because of it.

Losing my cool

I don't often loose my cool to the point where I am screaming at someone. As such, I am not used to dealing with the aftermath of a big fall-out and I guess that is why I am now hiding in one of those dodgy internet cafes until the person I screamed at has left my hostel.

The guy who handles the hostel during the day, seems to have taken an unnecessary liking to me. While I can normally handle situations like that, it is now very quickly spiralling out of control. It all started off as a big joke, with him serenading me every time I passed by. Then, he started doing so when I was mid-conversation with other people. At first, it was difficult to gauge the line between him acting according to cultural differences or him simply being inappropriate by general standards. I tried to explain that Europeans generally value their personal space, and that such actions are considered uncomfortable, to say the least. He then proceeded to throw insults at me, suposedly in jest, in the presence of other people, on a daily basis.

"Oh is HE your new boyfriend then, is he?", "Someone should call ALL your boyfriends back home and tell them what you've been up to here", "You're a bad girl, you misbehave.", "You never cook for me, when will you cook for me"... etc etc...

Last night, a few of us had organised a little party in the hostel lounge and it was all very amicable and fun, until he decided to join in. After about an hour it reached a point where he was physically grabbing stuff out of my hands to get my attention and he'd interupted several conversations. I managed to keep my cool thanks to the presence of a few mates and tried to shove it to the back of my mind. But it'd reached a point where I could no longer be in the hostel without him bothering me and I constantly tried to be elsewhere.

This afternoon, however, I just completely blew my lid. I was actually screaming when I said: "Just back off and leave me the fuck alone, you're SERIOUSLY starting to annoy me now".

I wasn't quite prepared for how shocked he'd be and before he could even start to appologize I slammed the door and walked out. He's thankfully not on shift this weekend and I am going round a friend's house tonight, but I dread having to go back in to grab my stuff and face him.

Why is it, that when I'm harassed and (rightfully) lay into the offender, I am the one that is left feeling guilty?! Sorry. Just seriously in need of a good rant. Hasta Luego Guapos! ;)

A Plan at Last

After almost 4 weeks of intensive Spanish classes in Santiago, I am just about ready to move on. Despite weeks of deliberate procrastination, a rough idea for a route has materialised, et le voila. If you fancy a closer look, simply click the image for a larger version. I expect to finish the South American leg of my trip in Lima by the start of February.

I doubt my funds will last me beyond that date, so if anyone has any tips as to how to get my hands on one of those precious canadian work-permits, do drop me a line ;-)

At any rate, I am leaving Santiago on Monday-evening, catching a 10-hour ride on the nightbus to Pucon, where I will spend a few days in the vincinity of no less than 7 active volcanoes. Expect pictures, displays of sheer geek-excitement and the return of normal blog-style before too long now ;-)

red route: Pew goes solo
blue route: Pew teams up with Mama Pew for 17-days

Santiago, city of lovers.

"Romance imbues this city like a fog,
sifting down into quiet tables in tiny cafes,
shaded courtyards in plazas
and silent corners of radiant parques"