Bouncing Back

Girl on boardwalk at Frutillar

Hostels are so social. I can’t imagine why anyone travelling on their own, lost and alone, and without a plan, would want to stay anywhere else. At breakfast my first morning I am sitting beside a 70 year old Dane who has been to Chile many times. ‘Go to Bariloche,’ he says, ‘Stay in the Hostel Inn. Take the cable car to the top of the hill and then walk for a few hours. Go to Petrohue. See the waterfalls there. Take the ferry to Chaiten. Stop along the way at the hot springs. Visit the island of Chiloe. How long are you going to be here? Do you have plans already?’ I admit that I have no plans and tell him I have to be back at work in September (hoping that this is the truth) and the look in his eyes is a sight to behold. He starts telling me about bigger and better waterfalls in Argentina, worth a three day stay, and a town in Uruguay that I just can’t miss, about the bus through the middle of the Andes, and where the best salt flats are, a ten day hike in Torres del Paine... As he talks and talks I scribble away in my notebook. There is so much to do here. How on earth did I think I had time to go on a boat?

I start of slow. I walk from one end of Puerto Montt, the fish market, where bushels upon bushels of octopus and giant crab and sea-urchin are being cleaned and prepped for the many on-site boutique restaurants full of tourists to the other end, the mall, where there is a food court with a MacDonalds and a KFC filled with locals. 

I do a day trip to Puerto Varas, where it is, admittedly, quite grey, but I walk 3 km along the waterfront boardwalk and then head to the lookout point gorging on handfuls of ripe juicy blackberries. 

Next I head to Frutillar for another waterfront walk where the abundance of food choices boggles the mind; great greasy fast food that always comes, even the hot dogs, with lavish amounts of guacamole and salsa, amazing German tortes just like those from the home-country, slickly packaged ready-to-eat Chilean smoked salmon… I manage to pick a few treats  and pack them in and feel the wind lift my hair and my spirits start to rise. 

I still don't have a plan. At all. But I am in no hurry. I have nothing if not time. The freedom is relaxing, invigorating, intoxicating. It is the total opposite of the stifling claustrophobic anxiety that encases me at home. I am very happy here, now, in this moment. It may not last. Who knows? But for now, for today, all is good.