Stumbling Into Bliss

I thought I´d show you a few photos the piece of art that has been my favorite until this point in the journey. The piece is called, Presencia de America Latina, and is by the artist Jorge Gonzalez Camarena, an artist from Mexico. Neither photo shows the entire mural, but the photo on top is my favorite part of it and the one other one is Cory standing in front of it to show how large it is. I was excited when I learned that there was a Jorge Gonzalez piece in Concepcion, as I was familiar with his work from Mexico City. Anyway...Boring.
In more interesting news, Cory and I caught a ride in a Mercedes Benz from Temuco to Valdivia the other day with the intent of continuing on until we hit Chiloe. Of course, the Benz wasn´t the type with leather seats and a state of the art navigation system, but rather the type that was hauling a few tons of timber down the coast. We hadn´t intended to visit Valdivia, or stop in Valdivia, or spend three days (and counting) in Valdivia, but alas, this place has put a grip on us tighter than Susan Summers and her Thighmaster. Our minds were settled when we read about the German-style brewery, but when we read about the sea lions that play in the river and found that our room at the Hospedaje has a private bath, how could we resist? Plus, as we walked through town, we saw posters advertising the Kuntzmann brewery´s annual ´Bierfest´.
Thus far, our experiences have been superb, and it seems as the Chilean people are on a mission to ensure we are treated well in their country. Yesterday, an older couple refused to let us leave the Hospedaje until they had given us a beer and fed us a huge lunch consisting of fried Hake accompanied by a corn and rice with a cream drizzled on top. Also, Cory had the idea of stopping into a local bar called, "La Bomba," for a drink last night. His nose for a good time is proving to be a valuable asset on this journey. We were the youngest two in the bar by about 25 years, and felt slightly out of place since we had forgotten to wear short sleeve acron button downs or cardigan sweaters, but we were quickly welcomed by a group of the local drunks. Our quiet little table against the wall quickly became the source of the party when a teacher and an engineer asked to join us for a few rounds. Though we had a number of guests at our tab le throughout the evening, the drunke teacher who´s name we never learned became the one constant. If there´s one thing that is more difficult than understanding Chilean Spanish, it´s trying to understand drunken Chilean Spanish. Luckily, a few of the other Chileans there weren´t as drunk, and did their best to translate for us. We walked home laughing about our night of sitting with a group of people that didn´t speak any English, but having a translator turn drunken Chilean into formal Spanish.

Truckin´

"Man's experience is indeed a seamless garment, no part of which can be separated from the rest." -Cleanth Brooks

Well, a bit of time has passed since last I blogged, so I´m going to try touch on a couple of the big things without writing a novella.
We were in La Serena on the 19th of January and knew that we´d need to be in Santiago on the 21st to meet my friend Fred. The yellow line on the map shows the nearly 470 kms of our journey.

And below is how we accomplished a touch over 400 of them.


The Hitchhike - After a few short rides, Cory and I found ourselves near a beachtown 50 kms outside of La Serena, thumbs out, spirits high, and skin getting ever more pink in the afternoon sun. Soon enough, Carlos, a friendly trucker from the North was pulling up beside us and offering a ride all the way to Santiago. NICE!!! Sure, he had a stereotypical ¨Mobil¨trucker cap hanging in his cab, and was adorned with the faded jeans, and a plaid shirt, but Carlos´true calling was most assuredly as a tour guide. For hours we drove along as he pointed out things of interest, and answered our questions about the culture. After asking him about the women on the side of the highway, dressed in white, and carrying baskets while attempting to flag down motorists, he not only informed us that they were selling sweet pastries, but soon enough, pulled over and bought a bag for the three of us to share.
The Hitch - Unfortunately for us, Carlos was only heading to an industrial park 25 kms North of what most would consider Santiago. Thus, Cory and I found ourselves standing on the side of the highway at 11:30 at night in a place that takes on a striking resemblence to Commerce City. To make a long story short, we walked a few miles, realized that we were in a part of the city that falls into the category of ¨God´s blind spot,¨ and found some friendly security gaurds at the local beer distribution center that called us a cab. After about 13 hours of travel, we made it.

Once in Santiago, we met up with a friend of mine, Fred, and his Bolivian romance, Amalia. For those of you who remember an incident involving me and three broken bones, you may also remember Fred. Partly due to the unbearable heat in Santiago, and partly due to our overall laziness, the four of us didn´t do much beyond hitting up a few of the museums and a lot of the local restaurants. But nonetheless, the time we spent was...well...fantástico. As always, it was good to catch up with Fred, and as for Amalia, she quickly became a friend, and someone Cory and I both look forward to meeting up with again when we make our way back to Bolivia.

Fred and Amalia, thanks for the great time!!!

Eye Candy

Sunrise at Laguna Blanca The Adonis twins

Could you resist? Train graveyard outside of Uyuni, Bolivia

Mountain of Seven Colors - View from 15,600 ft.

High in Bolivia!!!

¨He that leaves few things to chance will do few things ill, but will do very few things.¨
-George Helifax

Well, welcome to the Birkenstock Diaries. Who thought I´d ever get around to putting anything on a blog(Thanks to my sister for helping me set it up). Quite frankly, I wouldn´t have, but the past three days have been such an experience that I wanted to share it with all of you back home. We traveled through the high planes of Bolivia by four wheel drive (an ´85 Toyota Land Cruiser to be exact. Oh...love.), venturing across the largest salt flats in the world, viewing flamingo filled lagunas at over 13,000 ft., watching geysers spew steam at sunrise, and crossing a mountain pass that topped out at over 15,600 ft., the highest I´ve ever been. We´ve watched native women spreading quinoa over blankets to dry in the sun, walked through small towns where colorfully decorated llamas roam freely, and seen expanses of desolation that make Kansas look like City Park. In fact, yesterday morning, we drove over bumpy dirt roads all day without seeing a single sign of civilization until we reached our hostel at the shore of Laguna Colorada, and when we set off again this morning, our next view of human creation was a small shack at the Bolivia/Chile border.
I´ve added some pictures here, because words don´t do justice to what we´ve seen. But to put some statistics into the mix, the salt flats are 12,000 square kilometers and the salt finds its end at a depth of 5-6 meters. Someone want to do the math and tell me how many cubic meters of salt that is? Anyway, that´s all very boring if you´re not there.
Well that´s that for now. A small overview, but hopefully, in time, Í´ll learn to blog like all those uber-savvy facebookers. Until Soon.

-Drew.