Cheese, blueberries, and beer.

I took an overnight bus from Santiago to Valdivia. They only had seats left in the Classico (economy) price level and it was less comfortable than the other bus rides I have had recently, but somehow, I managed to dream for the first time on a bus! Tommy Lee was there and so was Francesca Fenner. We were hanging out. It was awesome. I woke up feeling less tired than I expected and was happy to see mist rising off the rivers and lakes we passed by in the early morning light. I was thrilled at the sight of trees and bodies of water...I had finally beat the desert.

I set off to find my hostel in Valdivia, a town largely influenced by its history of German settlement. So influenced I would learn after finding my hostel, that I had arrived on the first night of the Chilean interpretation of Germany`s Octoberfest. Kunstmann Bierfest. Philly Beer Week, take that!

The hostel I am staying at is really homey feeling and the people who are running it are really friendly, helpful, and welcoming, qualities that are surprisingly hard to come by at many hostels I have stayed at.

I wandered around yesterday though the laid back town, got lost (purposefully and happily) and then found my way eventually to the main square and to the local market along the river side. There I found men and women selling all kinds of fresh, local goods. I stopped for quite a while next to a man cutting fish that was probably scooped out of the river that morning. A shopper picked out their chosen fish and then this man cleaned it, chopped it, and did whatever else it is that you do to a fish before wrapping it in newspaper and passing it to a woman who completed the transaction. At the end of all this, the man lifted a handful of fish `waste` and tossed it over his shoulder to the birds and sealions patiently waiting.

I wandered down through the market which sold all kinds of seafood on one side and fresh fruits and veggies on the other. I bought some nectarines, chard, onions, and a lot of carrots since the woman would only sell me one kilo and no less. Then I spotted the cheese. Real cheese, made by real hands. I was so happy. I asked the man selling it to taste a piece and he happily obliged. Though the cheese was nothing spectacular I still bought it because it was better than the shit I had been eating from the grocery stores. I was pretty happy with my purchases and then I saw the blueberry lady. Perfect plump blueberries. They were expensive but looked too good to resist. After passing over my 500 pesos for no more than a handful I began walking back toward my hostel, sampling a blueberry along the way. My goodness, it was the juiciest, sweetest, most delicious blueberry I think I have ever had it my life. Kim Wing, you would have pissed your pants in pleasure. It tasted like the muffin was in the blueberry. Wow.

I returned to the hostel and made some carrot/chard curry with the veggies I bought and added in some crushed peanuts (peanut butter is outragously priced), cilantro, and dried coconut since I couldn`t find coconut milk. I ladled this over some rice seasoned with garlic and clove and had myself a dinner envied by all.

After my breakfast of whole wheat toast and blueberries tossed with nectarines and cereal I began dealing with some current stress in my life. To get to my next farm I have to take a ferry that only runs every once in a while from the town of Quellon (located on an island that also requires taking a ferry to reach) to Raul Marin Balmaceda which is a 12-18 hour ride depending on weather. My contact at the farm contacted me and let me know that there was a ferry running on February 3rd or February 5th and that it would not be possible to arrive any earlier because they were completely full with a group of whale researchers. She said I must get a ticket on that ferry soon because they frequently sell out and provided me with the phone numbers.

I went to an internet cafe and used Skype to make a call to the ferry company to try to buy my ticket. My Spanish is pretty good as far as completing daily tasks but communicating in Spanish by phone is a completely different story. I asked for my ticket and the quick speaking man on the other end of the line told me something I did not understand. Eventually I gathered that he wanted me to purchase my ticket online since I was in a town where they did not have an office. Great, I thought. I can read Spanish better than I can speak it, this will be easy. Too bad the website said that they didn`t have any tickets available for the 3rd and the next ferry wasn`t until the 10th!

Frustrated I returned to the hostel. As I mentioned earlier there was a beer festival going on. I decided to drown my troubles away instead. I had met several friendly travelers the night before and starting talking to a few of them again today, making plans to go to the beer fest, but also relaying my frustrating experience with the ferry company. One of the people I was talking to, Jocelyn had been living in Peru for 3 years as a Peace Corps volunteer, the other was a guy from Quebec who spent his winters leading dog sled wilderness expeditions. I recruited Jocelyn to help me contact these ferry people as she was fluent in Spanish. On our way to the beer fest we stopped to make the call but there was no answer, we figured they were on lunch break and continued on.

The beer fest was taking place across the bridge in another part of town and took a decent 30 minute walk to reach. Upon arrival we were told that the festival didn`t actually start until 8pm. It was only 3pm. We decided to walk to the brewery instead. We had beer on our brains and nothing was going to stop us. We crossed another bridge (Valdivia is located at the crossing of three rivers) and walked another 45 minutes or so, picking fresh blackberries from the side of the road until we reached the brewery. We walked through a small beer museum where they had old beer bottles from different brewing regions around the world. The examples from the US were embarrasing, Bud, Coors, Miller.... After the museum we ordered a Columna of Torobayo Ale, which amounted to 2.5 liters of beer served out of a large tube with it`s own tap attached. The taste of real beer, compared to the carbonated piss they have in the rest of South America was long overdue.

We took a bus back from the brewery and stopped once again at a call center to try to reach the ferry company. This time they actually answered but were diconnected twice before we got any information. Finally, we were told that we should buy our ticket online! We explained that online showed no availability and asked if there were many seats left. He said that there were, which was good enough for me, so, we returned to the hostel to wait until 8pm for the beer to begin.

Tomorrow I will take a bus and head straight to the town with the ferry office and get my ticket. Hopefully. Tonight I will drink beer and hope to quelch this headache that has now been chasing me for days.