Escursionista Suprema

Chilean Independence Day, better known as Las Festivas Patrias or 18 de Septiembre are rolling around at an appropriate time this semester, as I’m feeling prepared to take part in a little bit of rich Chilean tradition, while simultaneously enjoying the company of new friends. The plan is to head four hours south of Santiago on Thursday, September 17 to a little town called Pichilemu, known for its massive breakers that attract serious surfers from all over the Southern Cone. I’m tagging along with a big group of around 30 people, yikes! a few of whom I know, and most of whom I don’t. I’m friends with a groups of gals and a few guys from Catalonia, Spain (this the Barcelona region,where the predominant language is Catalán) who are in Santiago studying as well. They organized the whole excursion, and Cate and her friend from her program in Viña del Mar will be coming along as well. We are spending three nights in cabañas in the town, and taking part in all the fun activities that are typical for 18 de Septiembre.

I’ll tell more about that trip once it’s actually happened, but I’ve done some traveling in the past few weeks that’s worth rehashing.

Two weeks ago I went with my friends from Catalonia into the Cajon de Maipo, the river valley in between Santiago and the Andes. The heart of the trip was improvisation, and we just took bus after bus until we made our way as far into the mountains as we could before starting to do some serious climbing. We ended up in a little town that attracted tourists for its thermal baths, Los Boños Morales, they were called. Though spring is starting to arrive in Santiago, this region is still a bit behind. The ground was covered in snow for the most part, or large puddles of mud left over from recent melting. The baths were apparently cold, and were the color of coffee mixed with a little too much cream. Needless to say, no one was terribly disappointed not to have jumped right in.

We spent the day kind of milling around this nothing of a town, eating empanadas on the curbside, renting a sled for a few rides down the hillside, and getting ourselves situated in our rented cabaña. The house had no electricity so when the sun went down, you could imagine the cold inside. We had lots of candles, made playing cards out of paper, drank chalas, talked, laughed, ate sandwiches of bread, cheese and tomato sauce. It was a great night. We were all in bed by 11:30!

The next day we made a hike out of our search for a bus out-of-town. We walked down dirty roads for about three hours, covering about 5 km. We saw a small cascade in the distance and hiked off the road a bit and got to stand really close to it. Bit by bit we made our way back to Santiago, stopping for empanadas, learning the ropes as we went along. It was so much fun traveling with a group of people who head out for an adventure without making plans. There’s always interesting surprises you didn’t expect and the spontaneity always makes for a good and exciting trip. You just have to not be concerned about time, and then you’re golden. The waiting, the searching, the wandering, it all becomes part of the adventure.

Last weekend I went with my abroad group to Valparaíso and Isla Negra, the house of Pablo Neruda. While I’ve been in Valpo before, seeing the landscape surrounding Isla Negra, which is about 30 minutes south of the city, was startlingly similar to a little place I hold close to my heart. The resemblance of this area to Muir Beach blew my mind. The trees, the ocean, the rocks…it’s a curious thing to feel so at home at the opposite end of the earth.

Isla Negra was a beautiful home, one of those places that inspires you to the point that you want to have a house just like it one day. Pablo Neruda worked at the consulates in many different countries all around the world and was Chile’s ambassador to France; this is to say, the man traveled a decent amount. The innumerable artifacts he collected is breathtaking, and each tell their own story about a different place he’d been, and it’s exotic culture. Pablo Neruda was a citizen of the world, and his house profoundly reflected this.