Smarter travelers than the gringos

Feb 23, 1991
Coyhaique, Chile
I think you are in luck. I found a computer place here in Coyhaique which means no handwritten letter. Chile uses Acer computers from Taiwan, and I am attempting to boot up my past history with Tandy and IBM systems to type this to you.
Each day has been an adventure in itself with new and unexpected events making each day something special. for the last two weeks we have been in the lake district of Argentina and Chile, shuffling back and forth between the two. There are hundreds of lakes with dozens of them being "Tahoe" sized. We have left paved roads behind us and as we wend from lake to lake and town to town, we did so in a cloud of dust. It was difficult to see beyond the narrow ribbon of gravel in front of us. Forests, thick with vegetation closed off anything beyond the first five feet of trees. Then, all of a sudden, a little glen with a farmhouse and a goat climbing on a woodpile, a beautiful waterfall, or a crystal clear stream crossing beneath the road would come into view, offering the only hint that life existed beyond. It was like looking through the lens of a camera which opened periodically from its closed position.
Because of our time constraints, we missed out on our chance to climb the volcano which we had hoped to climb. We had to get here to Coyhaique to catch our boat to the glacier. We have been staying in private homes rather than hotels. It is much cheaper, averaging $6 a night per person, and it also gives us the chance to meet many more people than we would otherwise and see how they live. We have made videos in some of the homes which should show South American life better than just words.
Traveling from Chile to Argentina brought lots of changes. The Argentines are a much more excitable people in comparison to the calmness of the Chilenos. It was first manifested crossing the street on foot. Obviously, the significant Italian population in Argentina did not lose their aggressiveness behind the wheel simply because they changed continents.
Whereas Chilenos have meshed their different cultures into a more or less homogeneous population, in Argentina they have remained much more separate. Italians marry Italians and Germans marry Germans. Many Argentines we talked to seemed to feel this was a major problem in the country for it pits one section of the people against another. Each group wants to help their own. I must state right now that these statements are based on limited experience and I am looking forward to spending more time in Argentina and talking to others to bet a better handle on Argentina, but there does seem to be some serious problems in Argentine unity.
They seem to have a genuine admiration for Chile, even thought they are political rivals in South America. Unlike Argentina, Chile has been remarkably stable, both politically and socially, the military takeover in 1973 notwithstanding. Chile has a long history of democracy. They like to compare themselves to the U. S. in that respect. The military held power for 17 years until 1990 when they peacefully and calmly went back to civilian rule and held democratic elections. It is not often that the military voluntarily gives up power.
Argentina, on the other hand, has a long history of instability. Economically, for instance, when we left home the monetary unit called the "Austral" was trading at 5,000 to $1. In the three weeks we have been her in South America, it has shot up to 9,300 to $1. To compensate, prices have doubled but salaries remain the same. Obviously, this causes a lot of unrest, name calling, and genuine panic. Teachers have not been paid for January as yet because the government does not have the money to pay them. People on fixed incomes simply get the shaft. We will spend another month in Argentina and hope to learn a lot more.
We had a wonderful 50 minute flight here. Arriving in Patagonia is really a study in contrasts. We flew over the Andes and to our west was the ocean, and to the east, Patagonia. In the space of 50 miles we went from flat, dusty, windy plains like Wyoming to lush forests, mountains and the Pacific Ocean. We landed in a small town of 500 people named Balmaceda. The airport serves large jets because it is the only flat land in the area. 30 miles away is Coyhaique with 40,000 people, but with mountains all around, there is no place to land jets. It seemed so strange to look down and see this landing strip in the middle of nowhere. When we landed, we discovered the other aspects of this isolated post.
There are no baggage carousels here. Baggage handlers bring in the luggage and everybody shouts for their own bags. After all that was sorted out, we needed to find our transportation to Coyhaique. Everybody was scrambling around outside, but the two dummy gringos were trying to read the guide book to see how to bet from point A to point B. There were two vans which seemed to be getting a lot of attention, and after using our combined IQ's and college educations, it finally occurred to us that maybe all these people might just know what they were doing and that maybe we should ask someone just what the scoop was. It turned out that the two vans were the only transport to Coyhaique and that they were full. But nothing is really ever full here in South America. There is always room for two more. Luggage was rearranged, people squeezed a little closer together and we were off. Since all the rearranging took time, we were the last vehicle to leave. In addition to the other van, there were several private cars picking up friends and relatives. But, not to worry, our driver followed no one. After 10 miles, we passed all the other vehicles. We were all happy. We would get there first, spend less time on the dusty, gravel road, and get out of the heat first. We obviously chose the correct vehicle. As we passed all the other vehicles we all smiled and waved at the occupants of the other vehicles because we were the friendly type, not because we were smug. But the occupants of the other cars only glared back. Those cars were obviously filled with sullen, dour types, not at all friendly.
Ricks of hay were being stacked, oxen-drawn carts brought the hay in from the fields, cows ran loose and were chased down by gauchos on horseback, and streams criss-crossed the landscape as we worked our way through the gap in the Southern Andes. The area was once forested with fir and pine, but they were cut down by the ranchers for more room to graze their cattle herds. They were left to decay in the southern sun and the landscape looks like some abandoned game of giant pick-up sticks with dead tree trunks scattered whichever way they fell. The windshields of all the cars looked like homes to families of spiders, or the result of gang warfare in L.A. They were pock-marked everywhere with streaks of cracks streaming out like spider webs. Since all roads at this end of the world are gravel all windshields look like this.
We are making good time and we are a happy lot. The only negative notes expressed are by our driver when a loud "Thwack" rings out as we pass an occasional car going in the opposite direction and the windshield takes another direct hit and his vision is reduced even more.
We were 12 miles from our destination when the van gave a shudder, a noise like a cuisinart running amok, arose from the back left of the van and we literally ground to a halt. 12 miles from your destination is 12 miles from nowhere. The main springs had broken from the constant strain. We all got out and then had to watch as all the cars we had previously passed now came whizzing by us. But something had happened to the occupants of those cars. All those stony glares from before had been transformed. They smiled happily at us as they slowed down to check out the problem, determined that it was not life-threatening, and continued on their way. Finally, the other van came by, and after some hard bargaining, it was decided that he would return to pick us up. It is like a wolf pack returning for orphaned cubs. Nobody is abandoned, no one is left behind. It is just another day in Patagonia.
Our trip to the glacier began at 3:00 p.m. when we were told to be there to board the ship. Then it Was decided that we would board ship at 6:30 and leave at 8:00. We actually boarded at 7:00 and left at 9:00. Time is a relative factor here. The boat carries 370 passengers, 350 of whom have reclining seats to sleep on as opposed to beds. Actually, they sort of tip back as opposed to recline, but that is how the shipping company advertises them. The sleeping area is a little like a 747 cut across the middle and the two halves laid on top of one another.
Again we are lucky. We have three seats for the two of us on a side aisle since the extra seat is unoccupied. Small problems exist since whoever designed the seats, did not work for Lazy boy. They anchored the arm rests in place so they cannot be raised out of the way and the lever which adjusts the seat backs sticks up abut 8 inches above the seat between the chairs. this prevents us from stretching out horizontally.
Chilenos do not eat early. The first of five seatings for dinner begins at 9:30 and the last one starts at 11:30. After the last passenger has been bed, there is a fiesta on board and South Americans can give new meaning to the phrase "Party Hearty." Things seemed to slow down around 2 a.m. except that by now the little kids, who are still up of course are really wired. The fiesta, accompanied by much singing, whistling, stomping of feet, and shouting didn't seem like it would ever end. Thank god they turned the lights out at 1:30.
We finally realized why we saw so many people carrying foam mattresses and sleeping bags on board. They spread them out everywhere on the floor. It looked like pictures from the Shiloh battlefield. There were bodies everywhere on the floor. To pee in the middle of the night was a real adventure.
After much experimentation, at 3 a.m. we rigged up a makeshift bed on the floor for Carol and I assumed a modified fetal position around the arm rests and levers. The partyers returned about 3:30, filled with pisco sour, the national drink.
Now, with everybody settled in for the night, the snorers have a captive audience. This is obviously the time they have been waiting for. There are two main ones near us. One female and one male. They respond to each other like frogs across the pond on a still night. at 6:30 it all ends and everybody is stirring because breakfast is starting. Don't these people ever sleep?
Such is life in South America for Carol and Jim. We wouldn't have it any other way and are having the time of our lives.