CASTRO (CHILOE ISLAND), CHILE - 21 January, 2003
Chiloe is an island off Puerto Montt, 50 km by 200 km, with a distinct culture compared to the rest of Chile. It has undulating green hills, peppered with sheep and cattle and it rains and rains.

The unique thing about Chiloe are the many churches made of wood. In fact, the entire island is dotted with colourful wooden houses. The walls of the houses have what I called 'fish-scales' designs as pieces of wood were laid side by side across the wall and then, another section on top would overlap the bottom section a little... like 'fish-scales'. The traditional industry on this island is, naturally, fishing.

Very charming are the palofitos, which are wooden houses on stilts built along the banks of rivers.

And the locals are wonderfully friendly. Just a few steps from the hospedaje (some locals offer accommodations in their houses) in Castro where I was staying, I was already bouncing 'holas' with nearly everyone I passed. I seemed a curious sight for many did double-takes when they passed me and then, huge smiles emerged.

One comes to Chiloe Island to relax, soak in the charm, appreciate the wooden churches and houses, walk around doing nothing, enjoy the seafood. I call this place a hibernating spot.

I bought a scarf. Why did she buy a scarf now that she had left Patagonia and is heading to the northern desert? Well, it IS a very pretty scarf.

PARQUE NACIONAL CHILOE (CHILOE ISLAND), CHILE - 22 January, 2003
Castro is on the east side of the island, facing the sheltered channels.

I crossed to the west side of Chiloe to Cucao to visit the Parque Nacional Chiloe. There was a path that led one to the beach.

I made my way there, climbed up a sand-dune and my pulse quickened as I anticipated the sight I would see. Yes, my first proper sighting of the Pacific Ocean on this trip. It looked magnificent. It had seven or eight layers of foamy waves crashing towards the empty beach. In the distance on one side, the rocky headlands looked misty and mysterious. On the other side of the beach, I could barely make out what it was for the beach seemed to stretch forever.

Well, I had indeed hauled myself across the world to see this side of the Pacific Ocean. In a way, the Pacific Ocean, although still a third of the world away, seriously meant I was on my way home. This was the last hurdle to cross to get home and complete my year of travelling. Frankly, I did not want to cross it.

I sat on a log at the beach, ate my lunch, observed the oyster-catchers, seagulls and other birds and pondered for a long time.

The next path took me to the interesting forest of the national park - the Tepaul. Because of the humidity here, the forest was absolutely impenetrable. Tree trunks were covered in ferns. Fallen trees criss-crossed the entire forest. The soil was entirely grown with moss. Gosh, all national parks are different. One really could not say, "Oh, I have been to this one. There is no need to go to the other one." No, they are all different. Of course, one couldn't visit ALL the national parks. I just appreciated each and every of them on its own characteristics.

DALCAHUE (CHILOE ISLAND), CHILE - 23 January, 2003
Made my way to another charming little town nearby, Dalcahue. It was a smaller town than Castro and had more of the colourful wooden houses and fishing boats. Facing the town on an island off Dalcahue was another town, Achao, which I was recommended to visit. I took a bus out there but apparently got off at the wrong town for later, when I returned, I saw a sign that read 'Dalcahue' with an arrow to the left and 'Achao' with an arrow to the right. Ooops.

Still, Achao or not, it was fine by me. It also had a simple, tranquil charm. And it was smelly too, for it had a fishing industry as well. I saw bales and bales of fishing nets laid out by the beach. There were scores of black-necked swans bobbing on the sea too. What a pleasant surprise. I last saw them in the ecological reserve in Buenos Aires. They looked so regal.

Then, I saw a sign 'OSTRAS' (Oysters). Back home, oysters were so-called 'luxurious' food items and here, they were rather cheap. Each was the size of half my palm. I gobbled up two.

CASTRO (CHILOE ISLAND) to VILLARRICA, CHILE - 24 January, 2003
The Chile-Argentina guidebook written in Spanish had been terrible. I only used it now and then to improve my vocabulary. I was told restaurants that had been closed for SIX years still appeared in the guidebook.

So, without consulting it anymore (it wouldn't have advised me anyway), I was under the misguided notion that Villarrica which I was heading next was merely 2 hours or so from Puerto Montt which was 4 hours from Castro. Nononono... It was a whooping 12 hours away from Castro. If I had known, I would have taken the night bus.

Hence, I spent the entire day on the bus to Temuco, 10 hours away, before changing to another bus to Villarrica. I also now learnt that Chilean buses, unlike Brazilian buses, did not stop for lunch.

Upon arrival, still unfed since morning, I was excited to see Volcano Villarrica. I headed out to Lago Villarrica. The entire sky was cloudy. I asked a local where the volcano was and he pointed to the clouds. Right.

VILLARRICA, CHILE - 25 January, 2003
This morning, the sky was still cloudy but everything cleared up by noon. I could see the bottom flattish cone shape of the volcano but the top bit was still immersed in clouds.

I spent this very beautiful summer day, walking around the town, sitting in parks and reading. Finally, ladies here were showing off their figures, whether they should or not, in skimpy, sexy summer tops. Like, NOW I own a scarf?

From the park, I kept an eye out at the top of the volcano and when it peered from the clouds, I headed to the beach to sit by there and enjoy the view. Volcano Villarrica was one of the active volcanoes in Chile. It last erupted in 1984. The crater was still smoking away sinisterly. Tomorrow, I would try and climb it.

Well, to me, food in Chile was rather expensive. I could be an Empanada Girl (empanada: meat, veggie or cheese pastry) or I could cook occasionally.

That evening as I made dinner, an Argentinian woman hovered around the kitchen. Finally, she confessed to trying to learn the finer tips of Chinese cooking from me.

Who?? Me?? Er... before this trip, I DID NOT DO kitchen. I grabbed Coca-Cola from the fridge, I reached for a fruit but I DID NOT DO kitchen.

She then asked me the name of the dish. What?? This thing?? It's called go-to-supermercado-buy-some-veggie-n-sausage-stir-fry-n-pray. I had no soy sauce, no pepper, no sesame oil, no sweet and sour sauce, no chili paste, no corn-starch, no oyster sauce, no curry powder, no BBQ sauce, no salt even, NOTHING. This must be the most bastardized Chinese cooking in the entire world.

She pressed on, asking if I added salt to my rice. No, rice is eaten plain. She started to frown slightly. Not even a LITTLE salt? I think she thinks that I was not being honest with her and that I was trying to keep the finer tips of Chinese cooking from her.

VILLARRICA, CHILE - 26 January, 2003
Today, Volcano Villarrica. It was perfect weather this morning when my travel agency picked me up at 6:30am. The view of pink clouds and orange sky as the sun rose behind the volcano was gorgeous.

Our group was driven to Pucon, a more touristy town nearer to the volcano, and spent some time trying out the jackets and pants. We would be issued water-proof boots if we wanted.

My boots had sprung two leaks so far on this trip. The leather had long withered away. Please last another three months to the end of my trip and then, they would turn eight years old, which in HUMAN years would be... eight years old, and I would write them off. They were so not water-proof and hence, I changed into these chunky ones that the company issued. They were really tough and inflexible. They seriously wanted to protect our ankles. I could hardly walk in them when heading down steps.

At around 9am, we arrived at the base of the volcano. The sky still looked gorgeous. We had congratulated ourselves about our good fortune with the weather but the guides told us the weather was going to turn bad soon. There was a forecast of rain and clouds. Gosh, we would never have guessed.

Juan, one of the guides, explained that we would take the chairlift higher up and then, take about 3 to 4 hours to climb up to the crater. As this was a tourist group, we would go slow and stop every 30 or 45 minutes to drink some water, eat energy bars, apply sun-screen, take photos.

However, the first guide leading the way, Claudio, was marching up at an incredible speed and very soon, the group was split into two. I was at the end of the first group. We zigzagged up the snow without rest. He explained to us that because of the coming foul weather, he would prefer to walk really fast. We would stop after one hour of hiking at a lava section, rest for 10 minutes and then, head off again. At this speed, he explained, we could summit in two hours. Two hours??? Back in town, my hostel lady had said five hours. Then, Juan said three to four hours and now, Claudio expected us to get there in two hours. Those who were slow, he said, should drop back and join Juan's group.

At the first stop after one hour of climbing, we paused for a while to enjoy the view of being above the clouds. The view was tremendously wonderful. We could see a few lakes from up there and right opposite us, another volcano. Some tourists joked that we would climb the other one in the afternoon.

I barely had time for two squares of my chocolate bar before Claudio commanded, "Vamos!" (Let's go!). I waited for the rest of the 'fast' group to go on before walking behind them. Soon, the 'fast' group was also split into two. The rest were way up there but there were four stragglers. One German, middle-aged guy, Uli, told me he would stay with me. He explained, "Rule #1 in Mountaineering: Never walk alone."

Well, I could cope at Uli's pace as he was very kind to walk moderately and stop occasionally to wait for me. I was not so much winded from the climb. I was just nervous about the snow and physically tired. We pressed on.

Unlike glacier which was compacted snow, normal snow could give way under your weight. And with all the chunkiness on me, I sometimes could not get the momentum to climb up the next steeper step. A few times, I did slip.

I was very inexperienced with snow. I had seen snow, of course, and I had stepped on and off snow twice or so but seriously walking up a snowy slope - first time. Yeah, I had been really deprived, hadn't I? Just my luck to be born and raised in a tropical, sun-drenched island paradise.

Soon, we overtook the other two stragglers - a Dutch guy and a Swiss girl. At least they were still walking together. See Rule #1 in Mountaineering. It got very cold and windy. The wind was not the sudden gusts of surprises at Torres del Paine. It was consistent, relentless, and freezing cold.

I fought against the icy wind and coped with the slippery, unsteady snow as best as I could. We were soon surrounded by clouds. Everything was white. I looked up and we had totally lost sight of the 'fast' group. Many times, I was not even sure which was the trail.

My hands had turned black. I had no idea what the first symptons of frostbite were and I did not wish to find out. It was only when we arrived at some exposed lava that I felt safe enough to stand on it (for, unlike snow, it would not give way easily), set my backpack down and hunt for my gloves.

Another tour group was right behind us and the tour guide told us it was 15 minutes to the crater. This was excellent news! But, down below, Uli saw the Dutch guy and Swiss girl turn back. The slower group with Juan also U-turned. And another tour group whom we had passed by had long disappeared from sight. It was very unnerving to stand unsteadily on a snowy slope, being whipped around by the wind, unsure if you could make it up to the top safely and see little dots of people heading back. And when you looked up, you could see nothing ahead for everything WAS white.

We trailed behind the guide of this group for security and cleared the rest of the steep slope slowly until we detected the smell of sulphur. Officially, I was the LAST person of that day to arrive at the crater.

A Scottish lady told us that yesterday's group had reached the crater at 1:15pm. Our group arrived at 11:10am. It had been a very punishing hike for us all. But the weather yesterday had been great.

Surrounded by clouds, we could see nothing. The crater looked a little smokey but it could just be the moving clouds. I hugged Uli. He was great. Without him, I would not have made it. It was rather dangerous for the group to split up with no person officially taking on the 'last man' role. Uli, with his experience in mountaineering, had installed himself as so, for my sake.

After ONE empanada, Claudio commanded, "Vamos!" again. If I did not eat, how was I to get energy? I guessed he had to hurry for fear of the safety of the group. The weather was really bad now. He was now alone with us. Monica, the third guide, had turned back with Uli's wife before the first hour of climbing. Juan was with the second group. He made an English guy the last man this time, and then he said the slowest one would go first. That sounded like me. I was making my way forward when he called out, "Singapore! Where are you? Come!"

I was a disaster at going down. Is it just me? Say, if you need to take a step down, the other leg would need to bend at the knee but in such a way that the shin is slightly forward, at an angle to the foot, right? But I couldn't get my shin forward at an angle because the chunky boots were tough. I also needed to slam with my heels down first. But, to me, the steps were too low for me to reach it with my heels down first without falling over. I just could not walk down. I was a complete disaster.

My left knee, busted in Torres del Paine, returned to haunt me. My right knee simply froze up. At one point, I slipped down the slope quite a distance. Ice-axe or not, I had no idea how to use it to stop the sliding. Claudio had to come rescue me.

We arrived at one point and Claudio said, "OK, everyone hold the ice-axe this way and slide down the slope! GO!!" We took turns and slid down. We alternated between sliding and walking. During the walking bit, I was literally dragged down the slope by Claudio.

Sliding down was really an incredible experience. Sometimes, it was steep, we flew down effortlessly but barely able to keep in line. The wall next to us at some sections were rather high. Other times, it was not very steep and with the accumulated snow in front of our butts, we could not slide further. Momentum, if my Physics did not fail me, required mass multiplied by speed or something. With a smallish mass, I did not have the momentum to slide down some slope and needed a boost from behind. At one point, the Scottish lady attached herself behind me and together, we flew down at an amazing speed. I had no idea which was the sky, which was the snow.

Claudio was standing at the distance and he yelled, "STOP!!". The Scottish lady skewed to the left. I skidded to the right, only to land mere inches from a STEEP snow cliff! A Danish guy totally flew off the cliff and tumbled way below!

My goodness... it was really dangerous. Finally, at long last, we made it to the chairlift. Another Danish guy, this one with Juan's group, was being strapped up there. He had twisted his ankle while trying to slow down at one of the slopes. He used his ankle against the wall of the snow. Nope, guess that was not the way.

We all lived to tell. I, barely. But all of us agreed, it was an extremely amazing experience but a little dangerous too.

VILLARRICA, CHILE - 27 January, 2003
My ninth month anniversary today. Battered, busted and bruised from nine months of travelling and especially yesterday's tortuous climb, what should I treat myself to today? A thermal, relaxing pool in this volcanic region of Chile sounded like a splendid idea.

The problem was the thermal pools were all out of the way, a huge distance from the main highways and hidden amidst the woods. One needed one's own transportation. In the end, the only option open to me was to take a bus to Pucon, another bus towards Curarrehue, hop off at Catripulli and walk 2 km to Termas San Luis.

I would not really recommend Termas San Luis for it was a like a luxurious resort and the pools were those proper swimming pool-sort. I would have preferred to bathe in a natural pool. But I had no choice.

I got my money's worth by submerging as long as possible in the warm mineral waters. They did promise something about rejuvenation of muscles and eternal youth or something, didn't they? Sulphates, chlorides, nitrates, magnesium... HEAL.

Soon, I got to chatting with two Chilean families, one from Vina del Mar and the other from Valdivia, who were very curious about me, delighted that I spoke some Spanish and made many inquiries... and no, I do not know kung fu.

The pool was rather small. At one point, I noticed, half the people at the swimming pool were chuckling and nodding away at the same time as these two families and realised nearly everyone was listening in. Sheesh...

The Vina del Mar family gave me their contact just in case I decided to hop by Vina del Mar. The Valdivia family offered to give me a lift back to Pucon. Even standing at the gate, waiting for the Valdivia family, a few fellow pool-sharers came up to me to wish me all the best for the rest of my trip! They were so great.

LICAN RAY, VILLARICA to SANTIAGO DE CHILE, CHILE - 28 January, 2003
I headed to another town south of Villarrica today, Lican Ray. This town, although lacking a volcano view in front, had a great black sand beach, in front of Lago Calafquen.

I had just sat down for two minutes before spotting the Vina del Mar family amongst the hundreds of Chilean bathers at the beach. What a coincidence!

I spent the rest of the afternoon with them. They were granny Adriana, daddy Enrique, wife Fabiola, daughter Kathya, son Sebastian and sister of Enrique, Jessica. They were fantastic. Tremendously friendly and kind.

They struggled with my name 'Trisha' for in Spanish, except for 'h' behind 'c' which forms a separate alphabet 'ch', 'h' is always silent. They twisted and tripped their tongues over it. But they had no problems with my Chinese name, Wei Xin, and they pronounced it merrily with the right intonation and everything too.

They kept telling me they would put me up at their house when I go to Vina del Mar. OK, as I was going to Santiago tonight to settle some business, I would indeed make the detour to Vina del Mar for a visit. Gosh, Chileans are wonderful. Everyone had been great to me.

SANTIAGO DE CHILE, CHILE - 29 January, 2003
I originally had an air-ticket flying from Buenos Aires to Cancun. But apparently, during my intended time of travel later in March, Mexicana would have cancelled the route. My travel agent had advised me to go to the nearest Mexicana office to get a re-routed ticket.

That was why I headed to Santiago, which was originally not my intention. I guess that was why people made plans... so that we would have something to change from.

I awoke just as the bus passed by tiny houses with a small-town feel and entered a bus terminal. I remained seated, thinking that this was perhaps a small town before Santiago. Then, I noticed everyone was getting off. OK, joke's over. Now take me to the REAL Santiago.

Well, apparently, this was it. As I stumbled off with a confused look, I was accosted by a few taxi drivers. Fine, in a city with no map and a vague idea of which hostel I would go to, and still very sleepy, I guess taxi would be the solution.

The driver suggested two hostels near the centre and he was very kind to radio back to the head office to give them a call. Full, full. He drove to another hostel and knocked on the door. Full too. I proffered the telephone number of the hostel I had. Full again! Finally, after a tour de Santiago, we arrived at La Casa Roja and it was NOT full. Great, the cost of my taxi ride was nearly the cost of my hostel. But the driver was very nice.

You can take a girl out of a city but you can't take the city out of a girl. Give her a couple of metro lines and 'todo bien' (everything OK)... until she came upon her first turnstile and could not locate the hole to put her ticket through. She then wondered if she had been 'naturised'.

But give her another hour and the chameleon adapted faultlessly. Stony looks, no eye contacts, brisk pace of walking among the suits, a need to dodge traffic (human and vehicular), no saying 'hola' to strangers if you did not want them to look at you with suspicion, massive breathing in of smog. Instead of settling for a cheapie-looking cafe that sold, yet again, pizza, empanada or hamburger, she scrunched up her face and sniffed, "I want to eat sushi." The girl was back in town!

I sorted out my air-ticket stuff and wandered along the main avenue back to the centre, passing Cerro San Cristobal and Cerro Santa Lucia. Boy, it was blazing hot, more than 35°Celcius. Like, NOW I own a scarf?

Wonderful about Santiago were the water dispensers available on the streets. A great thing in this summer heat. People were queuing to take sips. Some people even took to turning on taps in drains and drinking from there or splashing their faces. Children were playing in the fountain as if it was a swimming pool.

There were people playing chess (with time-clocks too, how exciting) at the Plaza de Armas, under a pavilion. This place must have the highest level of brain activity ever recorded at this temperature. An old man was sitting alone at his table and gave me a quizzical look to ask if I wanted to spar with him. Err... no, I cannot play Chess, I can only spell C-H-E-S-S.

Before coming to Santiago, loads of people down south, including the Vina del Mar family, had warned me about robberies and told me to be careful. I guess the faint STUPID sign on my forehead was still lingering. Indeed, even some locals were walking with their bags in front.

As I did not sleep well on the bus last night, at one point, I sat on a bench on Paseo Ahumada and inadvertently dozed for 40 minutes. Talk about warning me about robberies!

SANTIAGO DE CHILE to VINA DEL MAR, CHILE - 30 January, 2003
With the heat, one tended to be lethargic. I sat in the shade in Plaza de Armas and turned to stone for an hour or so.

Visited the very good Museo del Arte Precolombiano. So far in Chile, I had not really been exposed to the cultural bit of the country. This was a good change and allowed me to revisit the potteries, sculptures, statues, jars, masks, etc... of Mexico and Peru.

I arrived in Vina del Mar at around 7:30pm. I was so lucky for they had just arrived home from their vacation merely half an hour earlier.

They had asked me if I missed my parents and how often I called home. They were scandalised when I said four times in nine months.

I had mentioned tomorrow was Chinese New Year's Eve. They made me promise to call home for this special occasion and even calculated the best time to do so (9am for 8pm in Singapore) so that everyone would be at home.

VALPARAISO, VINA DEL MAR, CHILE - 31 January, 2003
Despite their multiple reminders last night, I still overslept and in the end, at 10am, Adriana had to wake me up and make me call home.

Kathya took me to Valparaiso for a quick walk around the old port town which had lost its importance after the Panama Canal was built. The town had steeper hills and 'ascensors' which were antique rickety funiculars to reach the top of the hills. Colourful houses built on stilts could be found at the sides of the hills. Gorgeous and charming.

Adriana, Kathya and I later took a stroll along the beach area of Vina del Mar to watch the fantastically orange sunset across the cloudless sky. Vina del Mar was so much easier to tolerate than Santiago because of the fresh sea breeze.

Vina del Mar is a modern sea-side resort town and tourism is a rather huge industry. I later learnt that because of the Argentinian economic crisis, hardly any Argentinians made their way across the Andes to Vina this year. And also because of the same crisis, the Chileans were making their way across the Andes to Argentina for their summer holidays. Vina del Mar is apparently quieter this year.

But what was great was to stay with a family up on one of those residential hills in the outskirts of town and experience a little of their lifestyles. It was also weird to hear the family call my Chinese name for I had not heard it in a long time... and in Chile too. Very soon, I was known as 'La Wei Xin'.

VINA DEL MAR, CHILE - 1 February, 2003
I soon realised Adriana has the kindest heart in the world.

Pretending to be making casual conversation, Adriana had asked me how would I cook rice. Usually plain, I had replied (as I had told that Argentinian woman who had refused to believe me).

The next thing I know, plain rice was served with some delicious pork for lunch the next day.

Then, she had asked me last evening if we Chinese eat chicken. Of course we do. And... I was served chicken today.

Because of the summer heat, the family did not usually take dinner. But again, through 'casual' conversation, she had learnt that dinner was the most important meal in our Chinese cultures and so, because of me, they made sure I was fed before bed-time.

I am SUPER touched by their gestures! I did not deserve these kind acts.

Questions?
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