I really did not sleep well through the night. Not only did I have to wake up early to travel, but I would be traveling with people I did not know, on a route I did not know, and possibly through military checkpoints before curfews ended.
I gathered my things and walked with Mateos to the front desk. I let them know that I had my things and that I might be back or might not. They said they completely understood. After, Mateos and I went outside and waited. A non-descript Jeep Cherokee pulled up and asked if either of us were Mateos. After he confirmed who we were, he put our bags in his trunk, and off we went. I made it a personal policy never to get into a car with people I did not know, but given the extenuating circumstances of a period of national civil unrest, I decided the best way to find out if people were trustworthy was to trust them. And I kept several personal safety devices close. We silently sped through the empty avenues of Santiago, past smoldering debris from the previous night’s protests on our way to the airport.
We arrived without trouble. I guess the trust went both ways because it was then the guy asked for payment. Without hesitation, I got out my wallet as did Mateos and we paid our fare. We shook hands and as fast as he arrived, he left back into the uneasy night. I had five hours to kill while Mateos had 13. Since our flights were in different parts of the airport, we said our goodbyes and good lucks.
I checked my bags and got through security with no problem. I found a quiet spot and as the sun slowly began to rise, I finished Midsommar. I finally understood European paganism. A little later, I boarded my flight, found my seat, and immediately went to sleep. I awoke with about three hours left in the flight (it had already been three) and read, ate, and relaxed.
I landed at the very small Punta Arenas airport. I got my bags and headed out. Unfortunately, Uber was not working so I had to hire a taxi. The airport was a little ways away from downtown, but it was a scenic drive to the city. Punta Arenas reminded me of parts of Alaska I had seen. Most buildings were a single story with hotels being no more than two. On a gently sloping hill, I could see all the way to the water on my ride in. It was beautiful and even though it was the middle of summer, there was a chill in the air, which I loved.
The taxi dropped me off at my hostel and I thanked the driver. I knocked on the door and this middle-aged woman opened and asked me my business. I told her I had booked a room for a few days. She invited me in, checked her book, and told me that the room I had requested was not available and if I would be willing to have a single room for the same price. I gleefully agreed. She showed me my room, gave me the key, and left me to my own devices. The walls of the room were tongue and groove pine, giving it a woodsy smell and feel, much like the cabins I stayed in in the Poconos when I was younger. There was a flatscreen TV and fast internet, so I could not want more.
I dropped my things and headed out to find some lunch. There was a grocery store at the end of the street, so I walked there, and got some soup mix and a can of tuna. I came back, made my lunch, and talked with a client before I took a little nap.
Refreshed, I headed out again to explore. I heard a commotion, so I followed my way to what would be the Punta Arenas town hall. Surprise, surprise, there was a protest in full swing, although without the pyrotechnics of Santiago. There were a lot more natives represented in Punta Arenas than had been in Santiago. They were drumming and chanting, which was interesting to watch. I continued walking. I ran into a few cops and asked if there was a curfew. They said that there was, but it was from sunset until sunrise, so not so bad. I found the location where I needed to catch my bus to Ushuaia in a few days. I also found a monument close to the water and discovered that Chile had a claim to Antarctica, less than 1500km away.
Walking around the city some more, they had some very interesting graffiti and murals. They were humanoid figures, some multi-colored, some dichromatic. They had limbs that were outstretched and attached to lanky bodies. One had an oblong-shaped head with no discernable eyes or mouth, while another had a large cylinder horn crossing its brow like a dull Texas steer. I knew these meant something important but had no idea what.
I walked back from whence I came, and I noticed a store that had these figures on display, I walked in and pointed to the display with all these figures and asked what they were. The guy behind the counter told me they were figures from Selk’nam people. I asked him to elucidate. He said the Selk’nam were the natives of Patagonia and their religion was something called Hain. They believed that these spirits controlled the weather, unify the old traditions with new generations, and most importantly, eat misbehaving children. While it was fascinating, I would end up learning much more about the Selk’nam and Hain in Ushuaia.
I walked to the beach and sat on the sand looking out into the gray water thinking that not so far away was the polar end of the Earth. That was very cool. I walked back to the supermarket, bought some supplies for dinner, including a few drinks, and headed back to the hostel. I chatted with a German guy, warning him about going to Santiago which he said was the next leg of his journey. I said my goodnights and with a beer in hand headed to my room. I watched some news with wine and then went to bed.
I woke up the next day for breakfast and then went directly back to sleep. I got up again and headed out. Punta Arenas was a lot bigger than I was expecting. There are large shops selling interesting kitch. I walked in one and bought some penguin toys for my nephews as well as a keychain for myself.
I headed back to my room as I still had some work to do for a client. Some software was not cooperating, so I decided to take a stroll back down to the beach in the late afternoon. I stopped, sat on a log that had washed up on the sand, and had a beer while I looked out on the water. It was a pretty amazing feeling, just sitting there, thinking about all my adventures; how far I had come, and how far I had yet to go.
After happy hour, I headed back up, finished my work as the software started to play nice, then went to bed.
The next day, I repeated the same process of waking up for breakfast and then going back to sleep. I woke up again and decided to explore the south of the city. I walked past a lot of houses, quaint ones like I used to stroll past when I lived in Santa Monica and made my way to a park that had large plaster dinosaurs for some reason. I continued on, passing beached ships, and found a nice lookout. I did not want to be too far away from my base as the sky was turning dark. I walked for a bit when a friendly dog came and started walking beside me. I had been warned that as much as I wanted to pet animals, I shouldn’t due to the possibility of disease or biting. When I didn’t give the dog any affection, it wandered off.
I went to the central market of Punta Arenas which was their version of a shopping mall. They had a lot of little souvenir stores and a food court. One of my friends had just been diagnosed with breast cancer and had already started chemo and lost all her hair. I bought her a penguin hat as it would soon be winter north of the equator as a way to let her know I was thinking about her.
As I was parched, I stopped at a little bar on the main strip and had a local brew. A song I liked came up over the surround sound speakers that I never heard before. I whipped out my phone and with the aid of the lovely little app called SoundHound, I was able to identify the song. It was Tren al Sur by Los Prisoneros. It was like Spanish Depeche Mode, one of my favorite bands.
After the bar, I found my way to the Beagle restaurant. Many, many years before the Panama Canal bisected the New World, ships that needed to get to the Pacific had to pass down through the very South Atlantic. One of these ships was the Beagle with its most famous passenger, Charles Darwin, that needed to pass around the cape to head to the Galapagos Islands on the Pacific side of South America.
The Beagle, while delicious, was ridiculously overpriced as it was $30 for a hamburger. After lunch, I walked around a little, went back and finished up my project for a client, then headed back down to the beach as the weather cleared for a few cans of beer. As I was walking home, I stopped and got some supplies for my bus journey to Ushuaia the next day. I headed back to my room, enjoyed the last bit of cable, and went to sleep.
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