Things I Have Learned While Walking

1. Protect your feet: they are literally what carries you, and even though it is obvious, it is hard to do. Arches will flatten, blisters might happen, and there will be unspoken pains occurring sporadically and randomly. Listen to your soles, you can't go anywhere without them.
2. The menu de Pelegrinos is rarely worth it: though tempting, the four course meal with wine OR water is rarely satisfying. Spain has impressed me with its neverending creativity involving tuna, and for the weary pelegrino, grease seems to be used as if it has nutritional value.
3. Trust arrows not people: if you have gone more than 2 km without a yellow arrow, turn around. The arrows are there to help you, and if you haven't seen one, you are probably lost and about to end up on an epically frustrating adventure to another somewhere than where you want.
4. Bread is good: I finally understand in full John Muir's praise for bread. The last couple kilometers usually require an extra pick me up; bread is your friend.
5. Bring rain gear: trash bags don't cut it for the days of torrential downpour.
6. The Camino provides: listen to your instinct. if you allow it, your journey will take you where you need to go. Even with devices to plan plan plan, and think about intangible aways, I firmly suggest taking things as they come. You may have to walk further, but at least you know the gods willed you to end up wherever you do.
7. Never sleep on the bunk beds pushed together next to a stranger of the opposite sex. Just don't.
8. If you party, be prepared to walk off the hangover. Literally. Its not always worth it, but you can.
9. Speaking Italian could finally come in handy on the Camino
10. You are strong. Really strong. Stronger than you think you are. There is a point where you should stop and listen to your body. There are a lot of those times actually, but you can and will probably do more than you ever thought possible. Soon, walking 25 km a day is just something you do, and end up craving. After all is said and done, you'll find peace in motion.

Walking is good. Get outside.
**there are more lessons, I'm just not witty enough to think of them right now.

Coffee; Café

It is 9:00. The sun plays with pastels on the smog lined sky. A faint silhouette of the mountains is visible from where I sit, but they are obscured by a veil of city life. I breathe in. My eyes are scratchy from the exhaust fumes and my new found allergy to Lana or wool. I bought some needles and sheep yarn to occupy my hands while I listen to the world around me. This was good for a while. I would listen to the Spanish dancing on the air and converse with my friends while creating. Yet, it is becoming increasingly difficult to breathe. I am allergic to sheep. Too bad I will never give up my poncho... 

The things we choose to keep in our lives insclusive with minor amounts of suffering vary widely from person to person. I, for example, am too stubborn to take allergy medicine, despite being allergic to 67/80 plants of the native vegetation in Santa Cruz. Yet, I will forever be found in the middle of the head high grassy fields. I also will finish the scarf I am knitting while wearing a poncho, and will continue to begin my morning with coffee, even if it means that around 2:00 I will crash. 

My first coffee in Chile was at my 10 hour layover in Santiago. It was decent, but I found myself excusing the mediocre flavor by way of it being an aeropuerto coffee. The presentation was entertaining and I remember the gratitude I felt while sweet caffeine made way through my system. I may have even written about it in my first post. 

Shortly after my first coffee I found myself in the heavenly El Barista Caffé in Puerto Varas. This turned out to be a grand veil of illusion. The coffee was good, the ambience is incredible, yet this is the only place in Chile to date with good coffee. How did I become such a snob? I was jaded by this coffee and expected the stores to be stocked with coffees that we couldn't get in the states because South America is where most of the coffee is produced. When I reached the coffee isle in the store though, I found myself sorely mistaken; Nescafé monopolizes the business in chile. The worst part is that all of their coffee is instant... The majority of my coffees thereafter looked like this.

I would be served hot water in which to mix my instant coffee. Bumbumbum. I respect that Chileans subsist with this form of cafe. Perhaps, they have become accustomed to and enjoy the flavor. I have witnessed many innovative ways to make the perfect cup of instant coffee as well. My personal favorite is made by dumping a package of sugar into the instant coffee and then mixing it viciously with a tiny bit of water. After about 2.76 minutes of vivacious whisking, you add the boiling water and the top becomes a beautiful froth. I see the adaptation to this form of coffee as a mutualism, where Chileans have evolved a specific taste for it allowing it to persist and thrive.

So how did it get this way? Coffee in South America is produced to export. So guess what? Us up there in Lalaland have access to and dominate the coffee imports. While I find myself unbelievably grateful, I also feel a punch of guilt deep down knowing people here don't have the option of the coffee grown so much closer to them. Maybe I am making generalizations, I have only been in Chile and much else is left to be explored. However, this singular product has made me the most aware of how our world is interconnected economically. The products of the land I am currently residing on benefit me 5000+ miles away more than here. 

Now that I have let that off my chest I will go on to dedicate the rest of this blog to the best coffees I have had in the past two months. They are not in order by best to worst, but are partially chronological:

1. Cafe Caleta

 

Here I found myself in Parque Pumalin, amidst the trees and turqouise river only a 5 minute walk from a bakery. I was pleasantly surprised, and was able to complete large quantities of class work while sipping on warm beverages. However, they did not have cafe en grano, so I subjected to tea made in hot milk. The architecture of this cafe is worthy of an entire post, and I highly recommend passing through here!

2. Cowboy Coffee; café de gaucho 

Okay I admit it. I bought a bag of El Barista coffee because I couldn't handle the flavor of Nescafé. The downside of this was that I would find myself without a mirror and a full set of coffee grains hanging out in my mouth that wouldn't be pointed out until a few hours later. However, it was worth it and is a memorable part of my life in the backcountry.

3. Well you already know this café...

El Barista does it again.

4. Café Alemán; Castro, Chiloe

The coffee here is nothing to rave about, but the ambiance and pastries are. This a sweet little German shop, where I had my most memorable breakfast. Heck, I'll include a picture of that too it was so good. 

Who knew blueberries on eggs would ever be a thing ?

4. Cafe Ristretto; Castro, Chiloe

Here was some really decent coffee. After five straight days of rain, this cafe was a refuge for us. Above is Perris mockachino. It is so sweet is debatably caffeinated, but is undeniably delicious. 

Below is Kate's pot of tea and my cappuccino. This was so wonderful, I practiced my best and most patient willpower to sip and savor every moment of this cup. The feelings of this place for me are safe, trendy and warm. It is recommendable.

5. Some Cafe in Cucao Chiloe

This cafe is located in the campground in Cucao at the entrance to the coast. Somehow it is inclusive with wifi and was also the first French press I have seen. The coffee is good and the cafe is gorgeous with an equally beautiful view.

6. Then began Yerba Mate

I am a new member of the mate crew. I'll admit that when I return home to the states you will be finding me with Mate in hand. It is a wonderful ritual, and it slows you down with company before you speed into the day.  However, I somewhat ashamedly drink coffee and mate simultaneously in the morning...

7. 

I have no excuse other than that sometimes coffee deserves a bigger container than breakfast.

8. Barista... Again

9. And only one more time for good measure

  

It was my favorite place. Can you tell??

10. Matematemate

I say it 3 times because that is the minimum amount of rounds necessary before commencing any activity with an Argentine in the morning. In this case, you'll notice the hands are that of a climber and dear friend. After this mate I rode the mate high and crashed before he was ready to climb. We did climb though, and that was magic.

11. Family

It is the sentimentality of this one that earns a spot here. After 15 years without contact, I found Carolina who used to take care of me when I was a child. She has welcomed me into her home, and the coffee above was drunken at her parents house who also remember me from my early years. Nescafé proved a very fitting piece of this encounter, and it was paired with a homemade slice of cake.

Then... And now...

12. Morning

I filtered some leftover barista coffee through paper towels for this cup, and enjoyed a view of the city over avocado and eggs. It was a perfect start to yesterday.

14. Cafe Mosqueto

Niko and i hit the town and splurged on this decadent sugar coated coffee. The ambiance again was a key seller to this cafe. The coffee... Mas o menos.... I do not know if I will be following trip advisor any more, however.

15. The Coffee Machine

As I have written all of this, I have been sipping in coffee that was made through the coffee machine. What a strange and wonderful phenomenon to be able to sit and type while a partially inanimate object prepares your daily dose of caffeine. As the cars drive by, I catch glimpses of American songs playing too loudly from the speakers. Yet, the city seems calm at his hour, and I am about to embark on a pancake making mission. 

For those of you who wonder what I do at cafés, here is a sketch of Castro from one of my notebooks. I find time in the cafe to be productive when necessary as well as a wonderful time to look friends and strangers in the eyes and talk about the worlds in which we are living.

I also want to thank my family, namely my dad for making this trip possible for me. I am unbelievably grateful, and the coffee is truly the only thing I have to complain about. In two months I have had less than 10 cups of good coffee, but have had a lifetimes worth of incredible experiences.

That being said...

California, I am coming home. See you in two weeks.

Love, Amor, y besitos,

Hannah Osita

Chiloe Island; Sol y Pudu Pudas

After a week of staving off the rain, dread danced along the edge of our physches in the fear of doing a coastal backpacking trip with more storms. The last post I posted was followed by an enjoyable stay in Castro, and an entertaining bus ride. We had reserved 15 tickets in advance, yet some entitled Chileans sat proudly,with no signs of moving, in our seats. We obliged and stuffed ourselves, along with our 17 backpacks on the bus. Yes, there were 15 of us, but we had 17 backpacks. Our instructors´son required a backpack to be carried in, along with an additional bag for all of his ammenities. Squished like sardines, I buckled down next to a very kind Chilean woman and proceeded to try to talk about her job as a dentist, and the rain, and that I study while travelling and have no classroom. 

We landed in the National Park of Cucao, and were treated to a camping site with flush toilets, paved paths, and a cafe with wifi. It was an absurd feeling to be tucked into nature with so much access to the front country. I had no complaints, however, and even treated myself to an empanada sold by one of 3 portly Chilean woman who were blasting music throughout the camp. 

It was a challenge to hear the birds, but we had class anyway and wandered through this camp, stopping at the visitors center to learn about the history. Sunshine slowly stretched her limbs and shyly came into view, filling up the sky with a blue so bright I could barely believe it! The elation that comes from sun after days of a storm is unprecedented and wonderfully exciting. I felt ready for our final hike.

That was topped with the excitement I had for getting into field quarter, which I discovered, via e-mail. 

Morning rattled life back into our bones, and we packed up hurriedly, then threw our too heavy packs on our bodies and got to moving. My legs questioned my intention as I pushed them down a rocky road where cars drove past us, and then they accepted my movement, and fell into a rhythm. We walked down onto the beach where you can see for miles, and set ourselves north for a 25 km. hike. The sand is hard packed, the land is flat, and the walk was incredible. My eyes filled with tears at the sight of the Pacific Ocean. One month is the longest I have gone in my life without seeing the ocean! 

After our lunch break, we reluctantly beganto walk again. Our stomachs complained, but not for long. Perri exclaimed  "look!" and the entire group fell silent and hurried up to the edge. To our complete disbelief, a Pudu Puda, Chiles tiny deer, was swimming towards us. People come from around the world to see this animal, and here we were with a full view. I felt honored to be blessed with the sight of this animal and amazed at the power it held over our group. We have never been that quiet. 

A bowl of coffee with my cup of breakfast.

We ended up in a local persons front yard, where they essentially rent out their lawn to campers, and offer a toilet. It was a bizarre setting, and I felt like an intruder. It was a way for the rural people to make profits, yet I have a feeling that it isn´t their primary choice. Luckily, the next day we jumped up and over a hill to drop down into the Cole Cole National park. Blue skies, green trees, warm wind, pacific ocean; I had reached paradise!

Tents were assembled, and I swiftly stripped down to my bathing suit and ran to the water. OCEAN! EL MAR! OLAS! Ahhh salty water is one of the most essential things in life for me. I imagined my ripples riding the Humboldt Current all the way up to my friends and family who get to see this beautiful body of water every day. Staying here for a week recharged my batteries and got me ready for the final week of the program. I felt enthusiastic to be learning the secrets of this place. Chile is a puzzle, slowly revealing his mysteries to me.

Con Amor,

Hannah

Aprendemos Espanol

I thought it would be easier to keep a blog with this new addition of an iPhone in my life, but I suppose I didn't take into account the fact that the majority of my studies are in the backcountry of a foreign country. Alas, here I am, nearly two weeks later with a short update. After my last post we boarded an overnight ferry to a place called Amarillo Valley. People were sprawled out all over the floors, desperately trying to find a place to sleep. I abandoned my hopes of shut eye and found some Chileans to talk with. Through broken Spanish we discovered some places to visit while in the small town of Chaiten. A small, spry man named Nicolas who was made of earth music and magic picked us up and guided us up a Volcano. It was a strenuous hike with steps made for giants, but the volcano was brilliant and I felt honored to be so near the center of the earth. It is beautiful that the earth opens herself when the pressure inside is too great. 

After running down the mountain and driving for two hours down a bumpy road with a van that bottomed out nearly every time we reached our resting place. It was a little taste of paradise and for 5 days we frolicked around and learned about plants and birds. I felt the curious child in me yearning to know the place that was so new. One morning I was lucky enough to watch the sun paint the mountains red.

We also hiked the a glacier.

After some hot springs and traveling and re supply in a town with one Small market I have landed in a place called Pillan. The locals are welcoming and there is a crew of girls who I talk with to learn Spanish. Yesterday we cooked a lamb that I helped to slaughter, and we danced late into the night with the people of this place.

Everyone is connected to this land, the cycles of life and death, and each other. The farm is not big, but everyone interacts and works together. In the mornings we help with various tasks like moving rocks and harvesting honey, then we have class, and then I go play futbol. I'm no good but they still let me play. 

Today the little girls invited me to make cake and bread with them and together we created delicious food and friendship. I cannot believe how much I am learning about this place, another culture, and myself. I have more to say, but I must return to my required readings. Balancing work and play is a delicate act, but I am getting by and my heart is full. 

Muchos Amor! 

Human Conditions

The ability of humans to adapt is unbelievable. To move away from everything one knows into a place of the complete unknown is a unique opportunity available to us by way of planes trains and automobiles. Humans can survive. And here, surrounded by new sights smells people and language, I find myself accepting it all and working my way through. It has instilled a sense of being a child again. There are so many things that need to be explained for me to understand, and curiosity is rampant. 

After arriving last night we spent some time with introductory games and then were let loose to roam the city. The town is quaint, and falls gracefully over the sloping and folding hills. This is the Lake District and across the local lake loom two distinct volcanoes. Their white caps seem to be floating in the sky. I am enchanted by this place. The buildings seem to be giggling and gossiping about us Americans as we stumble over the rolling r's and language gap. There is no uniformity to their architecture, and they are as colorful as the environment around them. It all feels alive.

Last night we cooked a family dinner with wine that I purchased! Though sleep sung strongly through our bodies, the wine sung sweetly through our conversations and we began to get to know each other. Although we are all new friends, something about the isolation facilitates a necessary bond. We are here on this journey together and can find comfort in the familiarity of people from our own place. 

Sleep was long and deep. I arose before the others, as usual, and began to cook an American breakfast on my Chilean hostel stove. After a hearty combination of eggs, potatoes, and bacon, we set off on a hike to learn the local botany and see a city park. The canopy was dense and felt somewhat Mediterranean. The highlights of the walk were hearing a mysterious hummingbird sing a beautiful and loud song, and a plant called Nulca or "poor mans umbrella" that has a design that funnels water to its roots. I have yet to find the hummingbird and perhaps with get a chance to use the plant when it rains.

Currently I am sitting in our hostel with my fellow amateur-biologists drinking Pisco sours, gathering together the food we bought today and playing Tetris with our packs. As the day slips on to 9 PM with the sun still in the sky, it is time for dinner and I must sign off for now.

Thank you for spending time reading this and I hope to hug you again soon.

Con Amor,

Hannah