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.