Our first home in Puerto Montt ...

,,, was Jeremy's summer house on Isla Tenglo, where we stayed for a week, October 10 thru 17. Looking out from the cruisers' office at Club Nautico, you see Isla Tenglo across the channel from the marina. Abrazo's dark brown sail-covered main boom is visible among the yachts, if your sight is good.

We would cross on the "Buffalo" ferry, for 300 pesos apiece (about 60 cents). From the end of the dock across to the beach took about 8 LOUD minutes; then walk about 1000 meters on a dirt trail to Jeremy's gate.
This view is from inside the gate. You can see another islander out there on the trail we walked.

The gate is padlocked. Sometimes three or four island men - Jeremy refers to them as "The Council" - sit on the stone steps of our gate, or a neighbor's, in the afternoon sun, drinking "Santa Rita 120" wine from waxed cartons which they always seem to leave behind when they're done.

Looking back across to the mainland, farther west than the marina, you see one of the ships being built at the yard that cranks out quite a fleet to service salmon farms far and near.

Inside the house, where we had opened the curtains to let in the btu's offered by that sunshine, Richard lit the wood stove (door is open, far right). A glass of red wine helps warm the blood, too.

The kitchen looks out into the back yard ... that's the woodshed/bodega/garden shack at the left, and the big old cypress tree with its TWO bandurria nests in the back right corner.
I know, you can't see the nests. I wish you could hear those birds, though. At first, they irritated me ... such a crotchety-outlandish explosion of noise they make! Soon they sounded hilarious to me, and I began to develop theories about what they discussed with such gusto. Mostly, I think, it's all about monitoring the nests carefully, and maybe, raising the young.

http://www.rutaschile.com/eng/parques/Bandurria.php

A close up of the oncoming blooms outside the kitchen window.
I'll get to my Chilean botanizing one of these days.

Jeremy and his family use the house a lot during the summer, but maybe we could rent it for another week at some point if we had visitors from the North.
You have to be willing to pack a 20 lb bottle of gas to have hot water, tho ... a bit of a challenge.

I'm happy that we found a place "in town." Photos of our current pad coming soon.

Asado in Pto Varas

10/28/2013 Monday
I found a mug at the grocery store today ... good to hold what I consider a real cup of coffee, not the tiny demitasse with which my kitchen was furnished. So many adaptations are required by the new culture.
We had a fine time on Saturday out in Puerto Varas at the home of David & Katta and their 3 yr old son, Simon. David does a lot of mechanical work for the various yachtspersons at Marina Reloncavi, and since some of them are about to depart for other ports, he hosted a pot luck barbecue. Our friend collected Richard and me for the drive out thru the countryside. Capitan Frank and his Belgian crew, Jann, along with Julia, who might crew on another boat, and the Australians, Chris & Margi ... we gathered at David's suburban casa, where the big wood-fired grill burned outside the backdoor under the shelter of the covered patio, and the TWO volcanoes, Calbuco and Osorno, showed their lower slopes in the sunny weather, but maintained their mystery caps of cloud until the very end of the day. Chiri-pan ... a hot pork sausage stuffed into a fat bread roll; flank steak grilled in thin strips and cut into bite-sized pieces; and other steak chunks expertly grilled by Australian Frank ... plus salads, red wine, and Richard and I brought a dessert from the Jumbo bakery: raspberry cake with toasted almond slices and a green tea filling.
Australian Chris worked for many years as a family planning social worker, so we talked education; his wife, Margi, is a psychotherapist who still enjoys, on occasion, taking a job in one country or another. Both have been retired and sailing around the world for some 11 years now. They're heading south from here, but might just spend a good long time island hopping before they ever attempt the Straits of Magellan and the path to Antarctica.
Frank and Jann are heading north to Peru and might hang there for some sightseeing, inland travel, before they venture across the Pacific toward New Zealand.
Julia,  a young-looking grandmother from SW England, is aiming to find a way to Antarctica. She'll try to crew w. someone to Puerto Williams, Chile, and maybe across the Beagle Channel to Ushuaia, Argentina, but then she'll be looking for a ride, or a job, or a berth of some kind to the Antarctic wonderland. She'd been here in Puerto Montt back in March of this year, having answered Faraway John's call for crew. But his boat wasn't ready to go yet; an Argentine boat was leaving for Peru, so she jumped aboard with them and spent the last six months exploring Ecuador, Uruguay, the Amazon and a whole lot of other territory before returning here to find a crewing post.

These people have a lot more gusto than I do!

The other guest at David & Katta's asado was their neighbor, MariaLina (I think), a dynamic young mother whose two young kids played w. Simon, while her husband grilled the thin steak strips. She is Chilean, of Croatian descent, and studied for several years at the University in Tubingen, Germany. When she asked Richard where he was from, she definitely knew the territory between Seattle and Bellingham. She told him that the wealthy side of her family had moved to Anacortes, WA some time ago ... where they'd changed their name from Bestovich (or close to that)to Best. She spoke some German, spoke Spanish w. Katta, and English with the rest of us, including a fine little dissertation on the slangy, sleazy nature of Chilean spanish. I liked her immensely. While I was cutting the raspberry cake for dessert, she uncorked a bottle of Chilean champagne and poured for all. She gave us the "Chilean toast": Arriba, abajo, a centro, a dentro! After which she took a piece of cake across the yard to the neighbor on the other side of Katta's house, and returned to tell us that that woman is the teacher at the school where MariaLina's daughter goes, so it's important to keep her happy.

We rode back to Puerto Montt in the sunshine of late afternoon,over the Alerce Road, which crosses beautiful farm country, dotted with patches of bluebells and lilac in bloom. The volcano Calbuco held firm to it's cap of cloud, but Osorno bared it's perfect snow-covered cone against the blue sky.
The outer fringes of Puerto Montt, approached from that high plain are poverty-stricken and devastated; concrete-covered lots thick with trash and plastic bags ... I don't know what the story is there ... the destruction that precedes some new creation, maybe? The streets get clean and prosperous, closer to the edge where the road turns down over the ridge to curve on O'Higgins with its lovely view of the water to the next bench down, where our edificio sits.

I'll post some photos soon, I promise. Meanwhile, on Sunday we hiked down to the Mall to watch "Gravedad" ... the kind of movie that blasts your mind with images that echo for days. Hope you get to see it soon.

Chirimoya

October 25, Friday
You know how the avocado has it's momentito of perfection, when the black skin gives just enough to let you know the green flesh inside is ripe ... but not too ripe.

Same with the chirimoya. You let it rest on top of your refrigerator with the bananas, checking it every day to see if the flesh has begun to give. The first one we bought was a green-skinned baseball when we brought it home from the market. After about four days, when we skinned it and ate the tender, white, custard-textured, piña colada-flavored flesh, it was delicious perfection. Mmmmm. We bought another one the next day.
Not such good luck with the second chirimoya. By the time it felt soft enough to open, more than half the inner fruit was dark brown and sour. Ai, so many skills to learn. (P.S. the photo is borrowed from the web)

Our newspaper, El Llanquihue, carried a review of a new, local book called Araña Gris, a collection of stories and essays from over twenty years of a literary journal published in Chacabuco, near here. I'll find it, and read it; but now, how am I supposed to know whether the meaning of "Araña" in this case is spider or chandelier, the translations so generously offered by my dictionary? Richard says, what difference does it make? The spider is the same shape as the chandelier. One wears it's legs down, the other up.

Here's another observation about the newspaper: the other night, when a friend came for dinner, I bragged to him & Richard that I had completely read that first newspaper we'd purchased last week. Including the classified ads. I wanted to talk about the real estate ads I'd seen, since our friend says he's looking for property in this area.
Oh, no! Both capitans asked me at once: Did you read the Otro Servicios ads? Well, yes. I'd read them. They all seemed to be offering, in coded language, sex of one kind or another. I'd interpreted one of these ads to indicate that the women to be provided were at least over the age of 20. "Newly arrived" and "anything allowed" were some of my translations made with the help of el dictionario. Nothing amusing about these ads, as far as I'm concerned; and I shifted the topic immediately to the Ms. magazine article I've been reading (an old issue, Summer 2010) about a new law in New York that attempts to change the story. Instead of arresting 12 yr. old girls for prostitution, the police are supposed to get those girls to services that will help them into a more humane life. Ai! What a world, huh? Richard says that when he first encountered these Otro Servicios ads, he asked his amigo if prostitution was legal in Chile. Not on the streets, he was told.
According to the Ms article, Atlanta, GA tried to pass a similar law but was not successful. Here's the 2010 mayor's effort in Atlanta:

Residential chores

10-23 Wednesday
Sunshine, cold air, puffy clouds moving across the blue sky. Richard had stopped on his way home yesterday at the office of Telefonica Sur to confirm that our internet service is rated by speed, not data delivery. Good to know.

First task today: phone Priceline’s Customer Service. They’d responded to R’s detailed email of complaint with a request that he phone. He tried via Skype, but could not use the Skype touchpad to punch in his Priceline Trip # … so he called from his Chilean cell phone. Very frustrating, poor connection, lots of time waiting on hold. He finally got the Priceline human to understand that email is what works for communicating from here. We are holding Priceline responsible for the fact that R had to buy a full price ticket to get to Chile on Oct 1, when United Air refused to let him board, claiming that one leg of his Priceline-booked trip had been cancelled by the airline.

Onward, into the sunshine. Second task was to report to the PDI (Policia De Investigaciones) and let them know R’s new address. A brisk walk up over the hill beyond the Jumbo market, beyond the Deutsche Schule, to the neighborhood house used by the PDI. Posters in the reception area state the rights of the victim and the rights of the accused in both Spanish and English. The officer who took Richard’s information typed it all into a computer with his two index fingers, and that was that. Richard is a “Permanent Resident” now, and has 30 days from making any change in his address to let the PDI know where he’s living.

Next, we wanted to buy a second set of sheets for our bed, so as to have some laundry time between changes. We walked down the hill to El Mall, anchored by the two 5-story towers of Ripley’s and Falabella’s department stores. We’d already searched, one day last week, so we knew that Falabella had the right stuff; and now that we knew the metric measurement of our bed (200 x 200 cm … a super king!), we bought the ones that would fit. Not a lot of choices in your super king.

I spotted a lavanderia on San Martin a few blocks from the Mall; we left the sheets there for laundering. If we’d been able to find a BICE Bank, we could have finished our list with complete success. We did learn that there IS one in Puerto Montt, but it’s in the Sector Alto, up on the second bench above the waterfront. We’ll make our way up there tomorrow. R’s Kindle broke when he accidentally leaned against his backpack at the wrong moment. To get a new one shipped by Amazon’s Chilean office in Santiago, he has to make the payment to Amazon thru BICE Bank. We’ll find out how well the shipment service works.

After a tasty lunch at the Patagonia Café downtown, we hiked back up to our building … a good half mile or so, with a decent challenge in elevation gain. I have to stop at the top of the first slope, where the path levels out and I can gaze across the brush at the “Bikram Yoga of Chile” building. Then I have to stop again just above the deli and fresh vegetables market, where a patch of wild fennel is getting taller every day. Short rests – don’t want to get soft.

We both went out for individual walks again later in the afternoon: R headed to Angelmo to pick up the last laundry from Rodrigo. I walked back downtown to get the new sheets from the other laundry. We’re getting plenty of exercise!

I’ve been reading the Sunday newspaper, dictionary in hand. The crafts and produce markets of Angelmo are threatened with a lengthy shut down because of problems with the electricity. The city claims to have spent a lot of money already trying to improve the situation, but more must be done, and maybe the company that did the electrical overhaul last year is to blame for faulty work. This is my interpretation of the text.
When I ride the bus thru Angelmo, I see the main street lined with shops that are like the booths at a country fair: open-fronted, packed with products on display, roofed with sheets of tin or shingled panels, dirt floors. Puddles the size of ponds cover the road after a downpour; dogs roam freely, wood stoves smoke. Conditions might be too primitive for electricity to function well for any length of time. This is my interpretation of the situation.

In another story, CORFO, an arm of the Chilean government’s Economic Development Plan focused on helping people who have good ideas for a growing business enterprise, has a lot of money to deal out. Check out the CORFO web site for many stories of entrepreneurs who have benefited from this government support.

Manyaña, to the marina, maybe, after our chores are done. Richard has put the For Sale sign up in Abrazo’s rigging. He’s thinking about bidding on a job of rebuilding the masts for a boat called the Blimey Limey. Maybe I’ll get to socialize with Vanya and Mauricio, the Italians who have just returned to their boat after leaving her here in Puerto Montt for the winter while they were back on their island in the Adriatic Sea. Margaret and Chris from Australia are also getting ready to sail south to the Beagle Channel. Faraway John is looking for crew again; I can’t remember which way he means to sail. Lots of sailors varnishing and outfitting in preparation for their spring voyages, whichever way they’re going ... and I’m delighted to be an observer. Today’s internet brought the good news that Dennis and Barb on Landfall have come safely to harbor in New Zealand; they logged 10,000 miles since leaving Puerto Montt in March.

lluvia is rain

Tuesday, October 22

The Cable Guy, Julio, came over yesterday afternoon, so we now have internet in the apartment. Yay! But what does it mean, a 2 GB contract? We're already paranoid - If I read the news will I use up the whole amount in three days? Yikes!

It's a good day for contemplating such things - pouring rain and cold. Many mornings this last week have been grey and foggy, in connection with the tides flooding, according to El Capitan. When the tides start to ebb, and the ocean cold is no longer flowing on shore, the afternoons become sunny and warm. Not today!

Maybe I'll switch to reading the paper newspaper with my dictionary at hand, working out meaning of the verbos y palabras. And soon, I promise, I'll figure out how to load a photo or two to this site.

orienting

10-18 Friday, our second morning in the chicitito apartment we rented from Don Carlos Mesa of Sociedad Departamentos Del Sur Limitada. Fourth floor, southern exposure, on the quiet side of el edificio Los Almendros. I haven't learned to recognize any almond trees yet, but there must be some around.

We're up on the first of two benches above the beach. You know how Richard is about tsunamis. The city hospital is in the next block, ICAP, which we believe to be a university, has a campus across the street, and we pass by a lively Catholic elementary school on the short hike to the super mercado Jumbo.

Yesterday I marched down the hill to the Costanera with an almost empty back pack for my first solo trip on the city bus out to Club Nautico Reloncavi, the marina where Abrazo is moored. I have been traveling back and forth every day with Richard this past week, but today he headed out early. We're moving off the boat a back pack at a time. Maybe today my roller bag will be lightened enough that I can manage it on the bus.
Along my way, I met Paulina, the young woman who'd shown us an unfurnished apartment with a fine view of the water. She's a "realtor," with a story about her upcoming trip to Miami ... her Cuban husband ... something about having been married for three years ... or was it separated for four years? One or the other of them will get a green card to live in the U.S. ...
If only I could understand quicker, or hear faster, or somehow get my Ipad to give me the subtitles to this story, I could appreciate better all the flashing eyes , smiles, sighs and other emotional gestures with which Paulina adorned her story!
When we met on the street, however, I was able to let her know we'd decided to rent the furnished apartment, shown to us by the elegant Yvon. Paulina gave me a momentary frown; then "No problema," she smiled. "Cuidarse!" ... Which I took to mean a casual, "Take care of yourself" ... rather than the more ominous, "Beware!"

R and I both complain about how fast these Chilenos talk, how they slur the words and sling the slang. I remind myself my English is just as sloppy. I would never say: Did you get your groceries? Instead, I would say: Djagityer gross-rees?

Before finding the right bus, I walked as far as the Lavanderia in Angelmo. We'd stayed our first week in a summer house on Isla Tenglo, a ferry ride away from the marina. This house had the most comfortable bed I have ever slept in. Part of the rent included getting the sheets cleaned when we were through with them, so we'd left those sheets at the laundry on Wednesday. Rodrigo gave me a sheepish look, when I arrived, a little after 11 in the morning this Thursday. He held up the five fingers of one hand. The sheets would not be ready till five. He's probably been distracted with futbol talk, as he is very excited, along with everyone in Puerto Montt, about Chile's victory over Ecuador, and their chance at beating Brasil to get to the World Cup. LAUNDRY no es importante in esta situacion!

Tonight, Friday night, the total eclipse of the moon is probably over by now at 8:30 pm. Judith told me about it early this afternoon while I was using the marina Internet. She flew in last week from Maine to crew with Faraway John, but I don't think it's going to work out. She tells me her version of the story while I struggle to read my email and do my online banking chores. Ten minutes after she leaves Club Nautico's computer, John himself comes up to use the Internet. He's searching for a new crew, and wants to tell HIS version of the difficulties.

I'm reminded of my high school yearbook, when the junior class made predictions for the seniors' careers. Knowing that I thought I wanted to become a doctor of medicine, they predicted that I would be the Dear Abby of Johns Hopkins Medical School. I think they got the Dear Abby part correcto.

Missed the lunar eclipse, but sunset violets and deep pinks are just now fading beyond the silhouetted hill outside my living room window. One chain of street lights curves up the hill, with sporadic lights on the crest, below the cell towers. Puerto Montt seems a much quieter city than Santiago or Concepcion.

Tomorrow, I'd like to just stay home for the day ... a break from packing baggage ... Tho maybe a walk downtown to contract for internet in the apartment will work out.

May your own plans bloom into reality as you wish ...