Valdivia restored my soul.

Visitng Valdivia felt a lot like going home for a weekend. It all seemed very familiar: the foreboding clouds that unleashed brief but devastating downpours, the verdant islands and hills, the abundance of bodies of water (lakes, rivers, the sea) and the attendant seafaring craft, even the hipster-filled cafes.

I arrived in Valdivia at 4:30 a.m. on Friday in the midst of an utter downpour, and was grateful to my hostel owner for hopping out of bed to let me into my room earlier than expected. After sleeping until 9, I wandered around town. The weather cleared up, and I was able to fully appreciate many of the sights before another mid-afternoon deluge chased me back into bed. Valdivia is located on a bend of the Calle Calle River, and due to rampant German settlement in Chile's history, is awash with German-influenced architecture and culture. There is a buzzing little fish and produce market on the riverbank, where sea lions beg for fish scraps like dogs! The male sea lions resemble old men, with their white whiskers, weathered faces, scarred bodies and volatile temperaments. They also make the most alarming sounds when upset. I watched them for a long time, then walked along the river and back. Crossing the Pedro de Valdivia bridge to Isla Teja, a river island, I hit Parque Saval, where I enjoyed the isolation and increasingly grey weather. The entire morning and all the walking I did was invigorating, but my tummy led me back to town for food.

Valdivia as seen from the Puente Pedro de Valdivia.
Sea lions begging at the market.
Lazy!
A view on my walk to Parque Saval.
Parque Saval, where I enjoyed a brisk walk through the varied foliage, lagoons, and a rusty, abandoned playground.


On the way back from the park, I stopped at the market and bought some smoked salmon and produce for lunch. After a long nap at the hostel, where I tried to fight off a headache, I headed out to La Ultima Frontera cafe, where I consumed falafel, green tea, and a half-liter of beer as I read the paper (in Spanish!) and chatted with my waiter. The place was exactly like something you would find in Seattle--contained in a brightly painted house, the walls covered with the paintings and photography of local artists, crazy mobiles hanging askew from the ceiling, and dirty looking subversives with black-rimmed glasses and unkempt hair. Obvio, I loved it!

Saturday brought my favorite kind of weather--bright blue skies, crisp, clean and cold air--the kind of day that feels distinctly autumnal, where you can roam around without getting hot and cranky. I started out my day with a brisk 20 minute walk, across the bridge to the steps of the Museo Historico y Arqueologico.

Housed in a riverside mansion, the first floor was filled with antique furniture, books, paintings, and decorative trinkets. One wall that particularly interested me was filled with early photographs of Valdivia and the extensive family trees of several German immigrant families that populated the area. The staircases were lined with old, brightly illusrated maps, some as old as the seventeenth century, of the South American continent, Chile, the Carribbean, and even specifically Valdivia. They were colorful and interesting, and took me back to my map-studying days in Dr. Earenfight's Spain in the Age of Expansion class. I love imagining the days of exploration, of confronting the unknown, when explorers really struggled to survive. Sometimes I feel like I am missing out on something key to our existence in never having struggled like that.

Upstairs was perhaps my favorite part of the museum, with its exhibits on the Mapuche. The Mapuche were a group of people, also known as the Araucanias, who originally inhabited Southern Chile. They were so fierce and committed to their freedom that they were never conquered by the Inka Empire, faced down 300 years of the conquistadors and the attendant violence and pillaging, and finally today still skirmish with the Chilean state in a search for reparations for the ancestral lands taken from them. I met a man in San Pedro that called the Mapuche a "very difficult people," which I let go though I found the comment offensive. I am obsessed with Mapuche jewelry, and am looking for some silver reproductions to take home. The museum had extensive displays of Mapuche jewelry, as well as photos of it being worn. The Mapuche photography on display was really interesting, and definitely gave me a sense of their pride, grace, and composure. I would like to learn more about this group of people that carried out the longest and hardest fought indigenous struggle in the Americas.

Museo Historico y Arqueologico.
The only picture inside the museum that turned out, since I couldn't use my flash.
The view of the city from the steps of the museum.
I left the museum and caught a micro (bus) to the town of Niebla, also on Isla Teja. I spent some time exploring the Fuerte Niebla, a fort overlooking the mouth of the Rio Calle Calle as it opens on the Pacific. The best part of the fort was the museum inside one of the buildings, where giant wall panels explained the role of historical figures and the site in the conquest of Chile and the battle for independence from Spain, as well as put the area in context of the greater conquest of the Americas. I think I was so thrilled with this exhibit because it mentioned multiple historical figures that I had recently read about in a fictionalized account of the life of Pedro de Valdivia by Isabel Allende (Ines of my Soul). There was no mention of Ines by name, but one panel displayed a quotation praising Valdivia's character, which was marred by two flaws: his hatred of the nobility and his living with a woman he was not married to. I had to ask a fellow museum-goer to clarify this second piece of information for me, since the panels were in Spanish and the vocabulary unfamiliar, but I thought it referrred to Ines and I was right. It was a shame that the only mention of her in the museum was as a stain on Valdivia's reputable character. Women are always blamed for men's whoring around.

Cannons at Fuerte Niebla, circa 1645.
Umm am I in Washington?
Looking down at the fort grounds, where the awesome museum was housed.
After poking around the fort's grounds, I walked about 15 minutes back to the town of Niebla and hopped on a cute little boat to the island you can see pictured above behind the fort. The island or the town (I could never figure out which) is called Corral, and there was another fort over there that I ended up being really happy I visited, since it felt much more like what I expected the remains of a fort to feel like. Everything was crumbling and going to pot, and in the midst of all the ruin, little flowers and ivy and other greenery was growing out of the cracks. I love the images of time exacting its toll on a structure as stalwart as a fort. It withstood battles with Spaniards, but the ivy is going to do it in. I wandered around in isolation for about an hour, enjoying the heavy weight of history on my heart. Also, can I please mention that the structures of the town are built right up to the edge of the fort grounds? Growing up, my backyard had a swing set and a sand box, not a freakin' fort! After I barely got over that fact, I got back on a boat to Niebla, and despite the wind chill, stayed out on the deck for the duration--about a half hour.

I was really proud of myself for the completion of my Saturday outing, since I had managed to avoid paying thirty-some dollars for a boat tour to the sites, which would have been far more convenient. But for roughly six dollars in transportation costs, I got to see the whole spread at my own pace, complete with feelings of independence and self-satisfaction. I'll pay six bucks for that any day! I celebrated by hopping off the colectivo a few kilometers from town and visiting the Kunstmann beer factory. Chile has pretty crappy beer, but its one saving grace is Kunstmann, a German beer that is proof of the influence of German settlement in the South. I drank the amber Toro Bayo and ate crudo, a strange German delicacy of raw beef "cooked" in lemon juice. Unfortunately, it still had the consistency of raw beef, and while I love raw fish and even the near-raw pile of beef Bethie and I get for Ethiopian food, the texture sort of weirded me out. But I will try anything once!

A view on my walk from the fort to the boat launch.
The little settlement on Corral where my boat landed.
The grounds at Castillo de Corral.
These gun banks are from 1764-1767.





On the boat from Corral to Niebla, for Mom and Dad. It is the only picture of me on this trip, because if there is one thing I hate, it is hassling people to take my picture when I am traveling alone.

After a failed attempt at a nap, I cobbled together a dinner in the hostel, where I fell into conversation with a character from New Zealand. Minutes into our conversation, I discovered he is a new volunteer with the Ministry and has lived in Osorno for about two weeks. He had a lot of questions and concerns, and it was really fun to talk to him with a bit of authority as a volunteer with some experience behind her! I ended up inviting him out to La Ultima Frontera where we split a bottle of wine and had a chat. He, like just about everyone I meet, knows a lot about American politics. He thinks 9-11 was a government conspiracy and that our two-party system is crap. I learned that New Zealand has a female prime minister and was the first country in the world to award women the right to vote. I had never met a New Zealander before! I asked him his opinion on Americans, American culture, all of it, and he said that he loves a lot of things about our culture, and that because it is a culture of excess and power, it has a wealth of innovation in art and music, but that our government is seriously screwed up and that Americans in general don't seem to care much about the rest of the world or what our policies do to it, and that most of us seem content to live in blissful ignorance. This is one reason why I love to travel...the exchange of ideas and learning about other people's points of view and ways of life.

Another reason I love to travel can be summed up by Carmela Soprano when she visits Paris in season six of The Sopranos. I can't remember the exact quote, but she says something like, "The amazing thing about traveling is it makes places real to you. It's like none of this ever existed until we came here and saw it." That is exactly how I feel when I visit a new place, as if it failed to exist until I became a witness to its existence, which will now endure forever as a part of me. Now, Valdivia, and the other parts of Chile I have seen, are real, whereas before, they existed for me only theoretically.

Another thought: Learning Spanish is the best decision I have ever made. The world just got twice as big for me.

I spent Sunday in relative isolation, indulging in a decadent hot chocolate (Valdivia is known for its chocolate--again, thank you, German settlement!), wandering the city and walking along the river, devouring sea bass, and seeing a movie. This weekend was exactly what I needed. We have family staying with us in Chillan right now, and it is next to impossible to find a moment to myself, especially in the midst of a curious ten year old Chilean raised in America and his friendly grandmother. Every so often, I get the feeling that part of my soul is dying, which sounds dramatic but there is no other way I can explain it. At these moments, I know I need to retreat from the people I know and love and my daily routines and just be by myself, think things over, try something new, and most importantly, not interact with people who know me. That way, I don't have to voice what is on my mind or feel pressured to focus on other people's problems, which sounds selfish but I can assure you it is quite healthy. Plus, there is something so rewarding about striking out on my own, and knowing that I can survive, find my way around a new place, find food, make acquaintances using another language. At these moments, I am reminded that my most valuable possession is my independence. So thank you, Valdivia. I needed that.

Some cool church, right across the street from my favorite Valdivian pub, probably so you can close down the bar and walk across the street to atone for the night's sins, all in one fluid motion.
Valdivia is the first city I have visited that just has, like, parts of castles lying around town. It is a new phenomenon for me; I guess I need to go to Europe. This is the Turreon de los Canelos, from the 17th century. Yep. Right in the middle of power lines and cars. A freaking turret!