Hostal of Doom?!

Castro had ended up a little catastrophic and even when we came to leave it lived up to it´s name. We did not have our passports on us when we went to buy our tickets South and we returned with them later the tickets had all gone. It was clear we had to get out of here so we ended up catching a bus back to the mainland and the transport hub of Puerto Montt.



We had heard of the town´s reputation as a little unsafe so upon arrival we concocted a plan where I would run to buy our onward tickets whilst Blakey waited for the bags to unload, minimising our time in the station with all our luggage. Success! I secured our onward tickets but we were in Puerto Montt for two nights. Now to find something to do with our time.



As we were about to leave we were approached by a very smartly dressed older lady with an offer of accomodation. Trusting these circumstances to fate after all this time we huffed and puffed our way up the nearby super-steep hill to her house, where we were greeted with a cosy looking sitting room and were shown upstairs to an average bedroom with the bonus of super clean looking sheets. As she didn´t have the minimal change we were due she threw in breakfast and we had found our lodgings for the night.



It was well gone lunchtime by this point and Blakey was slipping into an irritable mood induced by lack of blood sugar. We headed for the streets in search of sustenance and despite the hunger, both realised all the excitement had returned with our arrival in a new town. The sun was out and the streets were busy with activity- fruit and vegetable stalls, buskers and many more people than in the sleeping Chiloe island towns. It was not a particualarly pleasant town, in fact it was quite grotty and had a slight edge to it that is difficult to describe, but that is what made it interesting and different. It was like all the headaches of Castro were lifting. However, the grottiness did lead us to reject each cafe we passed and we ended up stocking up in a supermarket instead.



On the way back a quick stop in an internet cafe led to a brief conversation with Blakey´s brother Alex. Not taking how the lack of tone of voice on internet chat can lead to misinterpretation we managed to thoroughly worry him by joking about our lack of phone and money (and for the sake of hyperbole, clothes and food) After reassuring him that it was in fact a joke and describing how Chilean hospitality extends to homemade cakes and biscuits the pessimistic bastard implied that they are probably drug laced in a bid to steal our organs and sell them on the black market. Nice.



The previous comments would not usually have much significance, but upon our return to our hostel were fresh in our minds and you will see how they may have influenced our imagination. We let ourselves in and our hostess was out- we were alone in the house. We headed straight to the kitchen to prepare our long over due lunch. All the lights were off and an eerie shadow was cast by the sheets hanging around the room. It felt naughty helping ourselves to things in her kitchen but she had offered its use so I opened a cupboard in search of a couple of mugs. Right at eye level in the first place I looked, on top of a pile of plates, was a huge chunk of raw meat. A massive lump of flesh and bone. It didn´t look like a regular cut and it was just there, no cover, amongst the crockery. I called Blakey, questioning if Alex was actually right on the money. It was at that moment that our eyes turned to the sink. In a large saucepan, covered in water, was a big sheet of skin. Oh my. And on the cooker, an extremely sharp knife with a dirty blade.



Not feeling quite as comfortable in the kitchen we decided to simplify our planned meal and make sandwiches instead. I headed back to the sitting room and started. Blakey entered and his eye immediately hit a huge spanner in the corner of the room and then a large red stain partially obscured by the rug! On the mantelpiece was a much younger picture of our hostess- maybe taken in the 60s. I know its just because of the era it was taken, but it bought to mind those awful pictures of renouned serial killers with the spooky eyes. All these discoveries were immediately followed by a melodramatic enactment caugt on camera- stupidly we didn´t think to use the camcorder too!



It was starting to get quite late in the afternoon now. We had arranged a chat with Blakey´s mum on the internet so we headed back to town to talk with her and managed to catch up with a few other friends before returning to the hostel of doom! However, this time our hostess was in, the kitchen had been cleaned, the sheets removed and the cosy lights were on as she watched TV over the kitchen table with a cup of tea and a comforting heater in use next to the chairs. In reality, with her in the house, it was wonderfully comfortable and welcoming. We prepared our meal and ate at the table with her, where we spent the rest of the evening. She was an expert communicator, never making it obvious if she was struggling to understand and reassuring when she did with plenty of nods and smiles. She chatted away using simple, accessible Spanish and reacting to the TV in a way that made even the fast paced chatter of the characters easier to comprehend. All this was interspersed with the humour created by the other member of the household, her excitable sausage dog Gypsy. As Gupsy wriggled his ridiculously extended bum and yapped away she affectionately repeated "Gypsy! No!" with absolutely no effect at all. It was clear she doted on him.



When we creapt under our covers that evening, our bellies full of all the cups of tea she had provided and bodies warmed by the wonderful heating stove, we reflected on how one character like that can spark all the excitement in travelling again. She provided a little home space for us all this way across the world and had shared her evening with us. Wonderfully cosy, we slept happily and well.



After breakfast with Graciela and Gypsy we planned a visit to a nearby National Park, but a quick internet check quickly changed these plans. Thankfully this time it was nothing to do with the dreaded wedding, but my application to do a Masters degree had received an invitation to interview and the distance procedings required a 500 word essay, notes on my response to a picture of a muddy puddle and a three minute video. Blakey was more than happy to spend an afternoon playing with Gypsy and attempting Sudoku puzzles (he has graduated to advanced now!) whilst I whipped out my best vocabulary and tried and tested devising processes. By the end of the afternoon responses had been emailed, along with a link to my uploaded YouTube video, and fingers were firmly crossed.



By the time that had finished Graciela returned to the house with a Japanese tourist in tow. The poor guy had neglected to pack a jumper for Chile and was pretty shocked by the cold weather. He was suffering with a sore throat and she soon plonked him down atthe kitchen table to get him hot drinks, blankets and the stove was put to good use again. I added the rest of the pack of spaghetti to trhe dinner I was cooking in an attempt to cater for everyone- a decision that led to me serving some embarrassingly stodgy pasta but that everyone else managed to have seconds of, so it can´t have been too bad.



The rest of the evening was spent with the four of us chatting in a mixture of Spanish and English with grammar thrown out the window. the Japanese guy was extremely friendly and to Blakey´s delight interested in all sorts of music. The iPod was whipped out with various things sampled and he gigglingly translated the names of Japanese tracks acquired from our travels there to much amusement.



When we went to bed that night we were sad to be leaving so soon the next morning. Admittedly we had not explored the geography of Puerto Montt, but the company we had found made it worth the journey. We felt thoroughly relaxed and revived.



After breakfast, photgraphs and goodbyes the next morning we heaved our bags on our backs and were grateful to be travelling down the hill this time. We arrived at the station in plenty of time and treated ourselves to the delicious smelling warm caramel nuts that are on sale at many street corners here. Eventually the bus arrived and we settled into our comfy seats ready for the 20 hour journey ahead. Finally we were going to hit the spectacular Southern Patagonia.



But Puerto Montt had one more challenge for us. 10 minutes before our departure as we reached for our iPods (in case of loud fellow passengers) Blakey suddenly realised that the DS was still charging in Graciela´s sitting room! Oh poo- Sudoku has been fantastic and wihtou the DS how would i ever attempt Professor Layton´s futre puzzles?! A quick decision had to be made- Blakey was going to attempt to sprint up the hill and retrieve the treasure whilst I waited on the bus with the bags and did what was necessary to ensure we did not depart without my most treasured travelling possession- my man! As the time ticked by I started to panic- I got off and explained to the driver "My boyfriend, gone, back soon!" My friendly driver comforted me "We have time, and if he doesn´t get back, I´ll be your boyfriend!" He wasn´t quite what I was use to but I was prepared to settle until I saw a sweaty panting blonde boy run past. As I called out Blake turned and smiled. Mission accomplished, and a few minutes to catch his breath before we left Puerto Montt.