A month in the U.S.: What I miss, what I don’t miss, and what’s the same

May21

After spending so much time in the world’s driest desert, where it sometimes does not rain for decades, and the temperature barely changes from one month to the next, I have found myself absolutely amazed at how quickly the seasons come and go in the U.S. I arrived in mid-April to snow, rain and fog and barely-above-freezing temperatures. Tonight, about a month later, I stepped outside and it felt hotter than any night I ever experienced in South America even at the height of summer. Of course, I have noticed that we are very concerned about weather here in the Midwest (our local news is obsessed) and this is clearly why: it changes dramatically every day. It can also be incredibly dangerous in these parts of the world, as yesterday’s weather-related tragedies in Oklahoma reminded us.

When I was looking through my photos (most taken in the past 2 weeks) to decide what to post, I realized that already the outdoors looks different: the leaves have fully emerged and the tulips are all gone, replaced by fragrant lilacs and lily of the valley. (They’re so different than the cactus or succulent flowers that I grew accustomed to in recent months, which more or less bloom throughout the year in Northern Chile.) There’s a certain frenzy to the flowers here, as they seem to know their days are numbered and they emerge in aggressively showy and fragrant displays.

What have I been doing? Well, I’ve been acclimating to a very different pace of life, in some ways quieter (no live music outside my window at midnight), and in some ways busier (why is it that there’s always something to do, see, watch?)

Someone asked me on Twitter a week ago if I missed the desert. I can say that I do not. The desert did not agree with me, and I like the sounds and color and madness of the endless green land of Michigan (even if it is home to many unpleasant creatures – I got bitten by a tick a few nights ago, a most unpleasant experience).

So, do I miss anything about South America? Well, I actually miss a few things, besides, of course, a few of my friends that I made there and its wine. I was actually surprised that I missed some of these things:

Spanish. This is the bane of my existence in Chile because I am not close to being fluent, but also, I sort of got used to hearing the rhythms of the language every day. When I am in stores here, I am still – even a month later – startled when hearing almost everyone speaking English, which seems harsh and feels odd, like I’m an eavesdropper, because I can understand everything anyone is saying. When I do hear Spanish speakers around town, I actually find the sound soothing. I also wonder if my brain just got so used to tuning into other languages that it misses the mental exercise every day. Now, this will be alleviated when I return to Montreal next week. I believe I am simply used to hearing romance languages and I will definitely be surrounded by French before I know it.
I thought I’d be excited to eat my first donut in nearly a year but the experience was completely unsatisfactory. I blame the absolutely divine Argentinian pastries I had back in January. Argentinian pastries called facturas - sold for less than 50 cents apiece at any corner bakery in Buenos Aires – are basically the best thing ever. They are essentially a light, flaky pastry like a croissant, stuffed with something amazing like cream or fruit or dulce de leche, then cooked in a very hot oven so they are just a little crispy on the outside and very soft inside. Then some of them are sprinkled with sugar or cinnamon sugar. I ate like 3 a day when I was in Buenos Aires. My goal when I return to Montreal is to see if I can find anyone there who sells these things. There are Argentinians in Montreal: my theory is that there must be Argentinian facturas somewhere.
The avocados. They simply have much more flavor and are creamier.
Sitting on the beach listening to too-loud music while drinking a caipriñha. Well, okay. I knew I’d miss that.

There are tons of things I don’t miss, though. On the top of my head, the biggest reliefs about being home in North America are:

Not having to spend 8 hours cooking a meal because so many things are readily available, pre-prepared, and the right kitchen utensils are also available. The ovens are also hotter and more reliable here.
I can speak the language fluently, which means I can always be understood by other people, so yay for that.
Not getting a stomach bug approximately every 14 days. Yeah… the food/water/general environment/etc. definitely sits with me better here.
The joys of online shopping. I mean… the Fedex guy arrives with it right. at. your. door. Like, 2 days later.
Going to the grocery store and it always has everything you need. Not every item was always in stock back in Chile. All of the essentials were, but I’d often have to wait months for my favorite kinds of crackers, pasta sauce or spices like nutmeg, chile powder or even cinnamon to be back in stock.

And then there are some things that are the same no matter where I go, so I can’t miss them:

Insects. I used to complain all of the time about the cockroaches and mosquitos in summer in Chile but then we have ticks and mosquitos here in the spring. Same difference. In fact, I think I prefer the random roach to the random tick.
Grumpy and rude, or sweet and kind people… they can be found all over the world.
Chocolate is delicious no matter where you are.
The Internet is the same everywhere. I love logging on to Twitter in Santiago and then logging on to the same Twitter the next morning after a flight in Dallas. I mean, stop and think about it for a moment…it really is a miracle.

Well, that is all for now! I will be back in two weeks when I am back in Montreal. I am going to continue blogging, but I have some plans to revamp a few things around here, so stay tuned. I can’t wait to feature one of my favorite cities in the world, and at the nicest time of year, too! La belle province in June… à bientôt!

What I’ve “packed up” from my travels

Apr23

Last week was filled with whirlwind travels. My husband and I once again ventured into the El Loa region of Chile to the village of San Pedro de Atacama. There, we explored ruins from a 12th century settlement and rode horseback through cliffs and valleys, enjoying a spectacular sunset over the Andes mountains and several volcanoes towards the end of the ride. I can’t wait to share more about this mini trip with you next week, as soon as I upload some of my photos!

Then, I returned to Antofagasta to pack up months’ worth of things into 2 suitcases under the 50 lb weight restriction imposed by the airlines, and a day later hopped a plane (or three) to the United States.

It was so refreshing to arrive back in my home country, the U.S., after months and months away. I used to get reverse culture shock when I was away from home for too long, but I can’t say it’s really a problem anymore. The only thing I am “out of practice” with is checking out at the grocery store: I am much slower than the other customers and since a lot of my bank cards expired while I was away (I haven’t yet gotten my mail in Canada) I have been using cash, which I guess is just something that’s not done around here anymore judging from the impatient sighs of the people behind me in line when I start counting out my change.

I will continue to blog at least weekly. In a few weeks, I will be returning to Canada and intend on making this a more Montreal-centric blog. However, my travels are far from over so if you are interested in continuing to follow me around to different places, you still will be able to!

Packing up

A week or so ago, as I looked out across the sparkling waters of the Pacific Ocean in Chile, almost completely white and ice-blue in the intense 4pm sunlight, my mind wandered from what to pack in my luggage to return to North America for a few months to what I will really take with me when I leave Latin America. Things that I learned. Things that aren’t so easily purchased, folded, and packed.

Joseph Campbell once said that learning to live is much more important than learning the reason for living. I would say that this is what has happened during my time abroad. I think many people who go abroad are seeking some truth or meaning in life, but I think the most you can hope for is to learn how to function better in life. (Full disclosure: as you know, I am not someone who has spent time in Latin America for this reason; I was pulled out of North America because of my husband’s career, so my reasons coming here were a little different. Perhaps that affected the results of my journey.) If I could tell anyone who wanted to escape their home or country one piece of advice, it’s that moving to another country is not an escape from reality – especially in this day in age where technology means that our worlds follow us wherever we go. So don’t go abroad expecting to “escape it all.” In fact, life will probably be much, much harder abroad than you ever bargained for, for so many reasons. Instead, go and expect to learn how to function better in the world that we all share. That is all.

Anyways, enough being didactic. I decided to make a little list of things I learned during my time in Chile. I wasn’t sure, when starting to writ the list, whether it would end up being funny or serious. Instead, I guess the best way to describe how it turned out was simply practical. It’s a list of things that I learned while here that helped me to be a more practical, pragmatic, grounded person, who survived in a new place, spent most of my time here in relatively good health, and learned a thing or two.

Just to note, I don’t know how many of these things are specific to the town where I lived. They are not necessarily representative of what someone might learn throughout Chile or Latin America. Or maybe they are. I’m not sure. They are just reflective of my experiences.

1. Eat fresh food. My brother, a bit of a foodie, recently asked me to bring him back something that Chileans would eat “every day”. I thought about what this would be: meat, seafood, fresh fruit and some vegetables, potatoes, herbs, white bread. Those are the most Chilean foods I could think of. And of course, none of those things can be packed in a suitcase or will be allowed through customs upon my arrival in the U.S. The lesson here is that the best way to experience a native diet when abroad is to buy the most locally-sourced foods possible: the things that aren’t packaged, wrapped, boxed or otherwise sealed. The most commonly consumed packaged foods in Chile, the things I probably could have taken through customs, were the most basic things we easily find in the U.S. (in fact, some of them even were from the U.S. or the same suppliers to American grocers: canned corn, dry beans and rice, lentils, hearts of palm, canned fruit, black tea, chocolate bars, potato chips, ketchup and mayonnaise.) Of course, there’s always wine I could take back, but unfortunately my luggage was already dangerously close to the weight limit!

2. Always carry a flashlight. One thing that I will always remember about Antofagasta, and all other cities I visited in South America, is how incredibly dark they are at night. Lit by the feeble orange glow of street lights, few and far in between compared to the multitude of bright white street lamps found throughout most urban centres in North America, sidewalks and streets even in the busiest urban centres like Santiago or Buenos Aires can be very, very dim. Add blackouts – not super frequent, but often enough – and I quickly learned that I need to be sure to have a flashlight with me at all times when walking around at night, especially when I am alone. Similarly, I always had a big box of matches and plenty of candles within reach at home because we seemed to lose our electricity on average once every 2-3 weeks or so.

3. Carry a small package of facial tissues in your purse, along with hand sanitizer, everywhere. This is a pretty basic rule of thumb I think for anyone travelling anywhere outside of North America (or even those travelling within rural North America). Let’s just say toilet paper and soap doesn’t always come standard, even in the relatively better-kept restrooms.

4. Women older than me are entitled to cut in front of me in line. On the other hand, I have also had girls younger than I step aside and let me go in front in line (although this is a relatively rare occurrence.) I found Chile to be a deeply matriarchal society, and also a culture that values those who are older. Combine the two with their – shall we call it, eagerness – to be in the front of a line or at the head of a crowd, waiting in line turned out to be a whole new experience. I never really got used to all of the cutting, though.

5. Personal space. What is personal space? In Chile, the closer to a stranger you are, the better. I felt like people were practically on top of me at all times – in line, on the escalator, picking out a can of beans at the store – at all times when in public. The strangest thing is, it is almost an art form. Even though people get literally right next to me, so close, they almost never end up touching me or brushing my clothes.

6. Classic, feminine fashion always wins. If you are a woman of any age and want to look good in South America, when in doubt, have long (long, long, long), flowing hair, high heeled shoes, and put on a perfectly (if not a bit tight) fitting, classic black outfit. I will never look at fashion the same after this experience: I really appreciate the attitude that clothes should be tidy, neat, clean, classic, and hug you in all of the right places. This goes for the men, too, who (aside from younger men on weekends who wear the standardshorts and a t-shirt), wear classic, crisp white shirts and dark slacks. I have to say I missed trends when I was away (few seemed to make it all the way to northern, rural Chile), but I do have a new appreciation for the classic, feminine standard of beauty that Chilean women – and most other Latin American women I saw in my travels – seemed to subscribe to.

7. The car doesn’t wait for you; you wait for the car. Pretty much self-explanatory. Where I lived, the pedestrians never had the right of way and you had to stay very, very vigilant at all times when walking places.

8. Life improves significantly if you can communicate with the locals. I emerged from South American with far-from-perfect Spanish. However, I am able to communicate with many Spanish speakers with relative ease, and I think that made all of the difference in my experience. I’d never want to spend a long time abroad anywhere unless I knew how to communicate in the native language. It’s like losing one of your senses if you cannot do it. Now that I’m back in the U.S., I’m also happy that Spanish is still such a practical and important skill here, too!

So, those are the main things I have taken away from my stays in Chile. What are some of the things you have learned when living or travelling abroad?

Roadtrip to Mano del desierto

Apr16

Right now I am making my way back to North America, but last week, I fit in a few last-minute tourist trips: the first, a short road trip into the middle of the Atacama, about 75 kilometers from Antofagasta to see a bizarre statue in the middle of nowhere. The second, a weekend in San Pedro de Atacama for relaxation and some immersion in Altiplanic culture for a few days. Now it’s time to hop on a plane and go home to the United States. (But don’t worry… I’m going to keep blogging!)

Last Tuesday a few friends and I drove into the vast desert behind Antofagasta on the historic Pan-American Highway. The highway isn’t exactly well-travelled in these parts. We were one of the few cars on the road; mainly, just a few busses and trucks go up and down these remote desert stretches.

After driving for a while, out of the absolutely empty sandy landscape that looks exactly like Tatooine (sans Stormtroopers and droids), suddenly a human hand rises as if by magic out of the barren desert.

Our traveling companion, a little Westie named Snowy, instantly hopped out of the car to investigate the strange sculpture. We wandered into the blazing heat and took a few pictures before a couple of semi trucks pulled up, spoiling our view.

I also ran out into the desert for a few photos in the vast nothingness, which I later posted on Twitter. A few people mentioned that the desert had shrunk me. It does appear to be something out of a Lewis Carroll novel, doesn’t it?

I have not found much information about the Chilean artist who constructed the statue in 1992, Mario Irarrázabal, other than that he liked to sculpt human figures. I’d like to find out why he chose this location, where so few people can witness it. As it stands, it really is not much more than a vaguely interesting stop for bored truckers and a blank canvas for graffiti. Perhaps, as well, a reminder of how small and isolated we all are in such a vast landscape.

About Quinoa

Apr10

The Altiplano, or highland desert, of Chile

The other day my friend, originally from Arequipa (in the highlands of Peru) cooked quinoa in the way that she remembers eating it when growing up, back when she used to go to the market with her family on weekends and they would scoop out the seed from barrels.

I first heard of quinoa (pronounced keen-wa) a few years ago when my sister-in-law in Canada cooked it for us. Little did I know that a few years later, when visiting the El Loa region of Chile in the Altiplano, or high altitude plains, near the Bolivian border, I would actually drive past a small, very isolated rural farm growing this grain in a field on the side of a sandy, rocky, barren hill.

This is an ancient grain (or, technically speaking, seed) that has been critical to the diets of people living in the Altiplano for millennia. What you have to understand about the Altiplano – a highland region stretching from parts of Southern Peru to parts of Bolivia and a little bit into the Chilean and Argentinian borders – is that very little grows there. Well, actually, let me rephrase that. In fact, a surprising amount grows there considering it is a dry, isolated, virtually rain-free, plant-free region of the world, with poor, sandy soil, extreme temperatures (very cold at night, very hot during the day) and intense sun.

In this highland desert of Chile, people can grow some corn, a few vegetables such as tomatoes, and herbs. They can raise some livestock (based on my observations mainly just chickens and llamas), and, at higher altitudes, they cultivate quinoa.

As you may know, quinoa has become a trendy food in North America because of its “superfood” status. It appeals to vegans or gluten free cooks because of it is a one-stop-shop for plenty nutrients. This is precisely the reason it has been such a staple food item in the Altiplano for so long: because the people living in this harsh land must have gotten a lot of their nutrients primarily from quinoa. Many people in the region still depend on it in their diet; after all, even with modern technology, it continues to be difficult to transport a wide variety of fresh, nutritious food hundreds of miles, high into a relatively isolated desert land.

Driving past a farm that cultivates quinoa, in the highlands of northern Chile

Driving past a small farm that cultivates quinoa, isolated in the vast highlands of northern Chile

Outside of the Altiplano region, quinoa doesn’t seem to be that well-known, at least in Chile. Chileans down at sea level here in Antofagasta, a mere 300 or so miles away, generally don’t know about it unless they have come across it on a vacation to the Altiplano region or in Peru.

I have been wary of quinoa ever since coming across articles about a year ago mentioning how quinoa might be responsible for an unfortunate shift in the Altiplano diet: as growers export all of their quinoa to North America, prices have reportedly been on the rise for the domestic supply and it has been said that local populations have begun to supplement their diet with cheaper, less-nutrient rich, imported options such as corn or wheat products (source). On the other hand, I have also read that the quinoa boom has been advantageous to Altiplano farmers, who are now making a lot of money off these exports, with which they can improve their quality of life (source). I’ve asked a few people who are familiar with these regions if they know what is really happening, but I haven’t found any real answers.

I suspect that the truth probably lies in a mixture of these two scenarios. I imagine local populations who are not involved in or have not benefitted from the quinoa export industry in any way may have a harder time affording quinoa for their families than they did before, and their diets must undoubtedly suffer. On the other hand, the farmers who do receive a fair price for the grain may in fact have more opportunities now to help improve their quality of life and the quality of their business. I believe the key is to somehow make sure farmers and local populations are receiving a fair price for the grain. In my opinion, it’s up to all of us to be aware consumers and sensitive to this need.

Quinoa (this was grown in Chile)

I’ve had two, presumably traditional Altiplanean, quinoa dishes. The first was in San Pedro de Atacama, Chile. The quinoa was fixed like risotto: creamy with plenty of freshly ground black pepper, basil and some local herbs, mushrooms and served with a sweet tomato jelly. Bread in San Pedro is sometimes made with quinoa. I’ve even heard that sweet cakes can also be made with the grain. I’ve also been told quinoa can be stirred into soups and stews (but use less than you think you will need: it expands dramatically in liquid).

The second time I had a traditional dish was the other day with my Peruvian friend. Again, it was cooked similar to risotto. It is first cooked in water, then milk and cheese is added. She said that when she was growing up, her family used to use this as a side dish for chicken or served with stew (instead of rice).

A few days ago I tweeted that I had tried this more traditional Altiplanic dish from the very region the grain is grown, and got a few requests for a recipe on Twitter. That inspired this post. My friend does not go by a recipe; she just remembers her family’s traditional way of making it. She roughly described it to me, and then I reproduced it on my own. All of my measurements are approximate, too. It’s worth noting that I am not duplicating her recipe exactly. However, I believe this gives the sense of how quinoa is fixed in this part of the world and I am very satisfied with the results. I like this warm, creamy, risotto-style approach to quinoa and will definitely be fixing it as a light lunch or side dish in the future.

Now, here’s the recipe! Be sure to see my notes below.

Quinoa cooked with milk and cheese

Quinoa Inspired by a recipe from Arequipa, Peru

Ingredients

1 cup quinoa
2 cups water
2 garlic cloves
3/4 cup of evaporated milk**
1/2 to 3/4 cup of shredded or cubed white cheese of your choice****
Optional: flat leaf parsley, Peruvian aji amarillo powder, or a pinch of cayenne.

Directions:

Add quinoa, water, and garlic cloves to a saucepan. Bring the water to a gentle boil then simmer the quinoa in the water with the garlic cloves until cooked. (About 15 minutes.)
Take off the heat and stir in the evaporated milk. Let sit for 5 minutes, covered.
Remove the garlic cloves and stir in the cheese until melted.
Serve immediately.

Note: in “nouveau Peruvian” cuisine, more flavour is added through the addition of fresh aji amarillo (a traditional hot/sweet orange pepper used extensively in Peruvian cuisine). A sort of pesto sauce made from fresh flat leaf parsley could also be stirred in. A pinch of cayenne powder might substitute for the aji if you cannot find it.

Notes:

* The off-white variety of quinoa, which is also the most commonly found in this region and elsewhere, is the only variety my friend knew of growing up in Peru (as opposed to the red, black or other novelty varieties found on the market in North America). You may need to rinse the quinoa before cooking it; check instructions on the package.

** We cannot get fresh milk in these regions, and the irradiated milk we do get cooks strangely, which is why I suspect canned evaporated milk is used. I imagine you could use fresh half and half or whole milk instead.

*** Shredded romano or parmesan cheese would be best. A soft, bland white cheese would also work well; I used cubes of mantecoso, which is my favourite type of white cheese in Chile with a flavor similar to monterey jack.

Enjoy!

(Note: please do not reproduce this recipe elsewhere without written permission or linking directly to this post. Thanks!)

Autumn wanderings in northern Chile

Apr2

Autumn has descended in northern Chile… which really doesn’t mean much in a place that, for all intents and purposes, has no real seasons, other than the sun is setting earlier and the nights are cooler and more likely to be overcast.

I hope you all had a wonderful weekend. Sunday was yet another holiday spent away from home, but until a teleportation device is invented that would transfer me effortlessly between various countries on the continent, we made the best of it on our own.

Chile is by and large a Catholic country, like most of the rest of Latin America, although there are many other religions and denominations represented within the borders. Nonetheless, Friday was a holiday, and earlier in the week I went to the cathedral in the city center to see an Easter orchestra and choir performance.

Lately my adventures have been mainly relegated between the pages of books; still working away at my master’s program. This has left very little time free for explorations and side trips. I did manage to visit a Peruvian restaurant a few weeks ago, and had some fantastic fried fish (corvina, a light white fish native to the waters off the coast of Peru and Chile). It was fried in a very light batter and topped with a simple tomato, onion and cilantro salsa, served on a bed of sautéed potatoes. How can you ever go wrong with a version of fish and chips?

And, as always, I’m still enjoying the scenery.

March: when summer slips into “autumn”

Mar6

The packed public beach in February

I’ve enjoyed writing about my trip to Buenos Aires in January so much that I have completely neglected to write about Chile over the past few weeks. Now that we are in March, it’s already nearly the end of summer and the start of another school year for Chileans (and my husband, a university professor). Of course, since we are more or less on the Tropic of Capricorn, I find “summer” to be a loose term. In this area of Chile, the weather never dips below 50F (15 C) any time of year, and if you ask me, winter is characterized by “slightly less intense sun” vs. the “deadly intense sun” of summer. Needless to say, I certainly do not feel in the mood to start sipping hot cocoa or wearing suede boots and tights around town now that we have reached the Southern Hemisphere equivalent of September in the north, as the shift into fall is virtually unnoticeable save for a few more clouds at night that have me grabbing for a light sweater after 9pm.

Public beach, Antofagasta, on the weekend before back-to-school

So how was my summer vacation? I can hardly say. Buenos Aires seems like a long time ago now, although that truly did feel like summer to go away and enjoy a change of scenery for the week. As for the weeks after, I have to admit that I have been busy and focused enough with schoolwork for my master’s program back in Canada that it almost doesn’t matter that I am physically located Chile.

Almost … but not quite. I am still appreciating Chile’s long, endless stretches of rocky coastline that provide great viewing, Instagram material, and space to focus on while daydreaming (or in my case, procrastinating).

I think many people back home have the impression that I go to the beach to hang out there a lot, but it’s worth noting that most of the coastline here is very rocky and impossible to actually “go to” save for a few public beach areas once cleared by the city and filled in with sand, which are overcrowded with people, stray dogs and food vendors all day long throughout the summer. Also, let’s just say that the photos I post online of the beach don’t have the ability to capture smells… if they did, I’m afraid most viewers back home would understand another reason why I don’t go to the beach too often.

Instead of going to the beach, I simply have gazed at it a lot over the past few weeks. And that’s nothing to complain about.

In February, most Chileans had at least a week or two off of work, many even longer, and students enjoyed their summer holidays. Chileans reserve the month for quality time with family. Many flock out of Chile’s industrial, mining and business cities like Antofagasta to the more picturesque oceanside escapes in other parts of the country to rest on more tranquil beaches and enjoy endless asados, or barbecues, with extended family.

This week was the first week back to school for students and most families have now returned home and to work, refreshed and relaxed after the restful month.

Families walking (and riding 4-wheeled multi-rider bikes of sorts) along the coastline

It’s such an ingrained part of the culture for young and old to take a stretch of time off in February that Chilean acquaintances I have seen this week seem absolutely devastated when I tell them that my husband and I didn’t leave the city at all in February and haven’t seen friends and family during this almost sacred time. I can’t emphasize how sad the look that they give me is. Of course, they don’t understand that unlike them, I have absolutely no cultural way of connecting of “February” with “vacation”. Not to mention, North Americans never take a whole month off of work in the summer to see friends and family. The Canada Day weekend or 4th of July weekend is the closest we can relate to this tradition, but those are usually just 2-3 day holidays for families, not month-long vacations. Still, the looks of devastation that flash across their faces when I tell them we took no time off to leave the city in February and see family give me pause. Why am I so nonchalant about never having had weeks at a time off in the summer to spend with my family 24/7, and they seem to think that that would be the end of the world to go without such a time?

Clouds at night herald in “autumn”

En route: Talca to Santiago

Jan8

In early December, I returned on a bus from Talca, Chile in the agricultural heartland of the country, to Santiago, where I caught my plane to Antofagasta. The three hour bus ride was perhaps one of the most memorable parts of my trip to the central valley of Chile. For a while, I have been convinced that the colours in the southern hemisphere are infinitely more vibrant than in the north, and this bus ride was no exception to my suspicion.

Almost-dry rivers, early summer farms and vineyards, the low coastal mountains and the breathtaking Andes, horses grazing in fields, lumberyards, and then the outskirts of Santiago: these photos, presented in order of the journey from Talca north to Santiago, hopefully capture a little taste of what I saw on my trip.

12 photos (and a few thoughts) from 2012

Dec31

January 2012: the Laurentians, Quebec

2012 was once again a year for me to cover two hemispheres, thousands of miles and plenty of airports and flights, and saw many dear family and friends (new and old) in between.

February: Montreal

I spent at least 24 hours in 14 different towns and cities throughout the year, spanning four different countries. I tred the interiors of 10 different airports, and took off and landed on approximately 20 separate flight legs.

March: Chicago

But I didn’t count up any of this – not until now at least. To me, travel is a part of my life. I don’t do it with the goal of keeping track or “collecting” destinations. I do it because I must, and also, a little bit because I can.

April: San Pedro de Atacama

One thing that I have gotten out of all of this is that nothing is perfect, and I wouldn’t wish a life that is so “up in the air” on anyone. I also can’t imagine who I would be as a person without it, because I have been so absolutely, irrevocably changed by it.

May: Buenos Aires

There is one key thing that I have learned from my travels this year, and it will change how I travel forever: this is that the most wonderful memories don’t come from following a guidebook list of sites to visit in a new city, or from taking a sightseeing tour or from running between the most famous landmarks of a city upon arrival. At least in my experience, the most vivid memories I take with me back home after traveling are those that come from the little, unexpected moments…

June: Montreal

When you unexpectedly connect with a stranger. When you stumble upon a charming artisan workshop off of the busy main streets. When you can finally order dinner in that language you’ve been trying to master. When you see or sense something that imprints itself permanently in your mind: the vivid colours of a flower stand on a busy street corner, a cardboard collector driving a horse and buggy in the veil of a dark night, a man dressed in a suit, tie, hat, reading a book while waiting for the light to change, the distinct dim orange lights of a South American city at night – so much darker than the bright white lights of our American cities, an invitation to a library in the top floor of a museum hidden from most of the public, the warm smell of a eucalyptus forest when boarding a plane on a runway in the early morning before the sun has risen.

July: Nova Scotia

I cannot convey everything I have seen and experienced on this blog. I also refuse to. Some things simply cannot be recorded and presented to the world in this manner. Some things you have to see or experience for yourself, otherwise, they lose their value when they are merely retold.

August: Antofagasta

What I do hope I have done is given you a taste of the world: a taste of the world outside your borders, outside of your familiar social circles, to places you may never have considered visiting. I know I have not done full justice to everything that Chile, Argentina, Canada, etc. and their people have to offer. One person, on one blog that publishes one post a week, cannot do it. However, I do hope that if you visit some of the places I’ve visited about this past year, you will find at least a few of my insights and a few of my experiences helpful.

September: Antofagasta

I also want to mention that my opinions do (and have) evolve and change over time. If I had to do this year – and this blog – over again, I wouldn’t have necessarily written about the same things, or posted the same images. But time marches on, and this blog is a time capsule of what I saw and what I was thinking at the time, and so it remains here, an archive of a year of experiences.

October: Alta Gracia, Argentina

There is one thing that I am certain of: my daily life has been enriched by your visits, comments, emails, feedback, and suggestions. I am truly humbled by your visits – especially from those of you who are from Chile and Argentina to see what I am writing – and am very aware of your presence when crafting my posts. I think of your comments often – truly. Thank you so much for taking time this year to stop by.

November: Antofagasta

I wish you and your loved ones a wonderful 2013.

December: near Santiago

Visiting a Vineyard in the Curicó Valley

Dec18

Grapes (in progress!)

During my visit to central Chile, I had in mind a possible visit to a vineyard. This goal was certainly reinforced when I rode the bus from Santiago to Talca: for most of the 3 hour journey, we passed picturesque vineyards resting in between the foothills of the Cordillera (low coastal mountains) on one side and the magnificent Andes on the other.

Chilean wine country… as viewed from the Pan-American highway

Although this region has a “wine route,” it is not a particularly straightforward task to explore as a visitor. After some research, we realized that unless you opt for a pricey tour (which does not necessarily guarantee a visit to all of the vineyards of your choice), visiting vineyards and wineries was going to take some effort. We discovered that (at least this time of year – early summer -) many vineyards or wineries were not open to visitors, and of those that were, many required appointments. Many did not seem to be set up for tourists: most websites were in Spanish only (if a website even existed) and therefore it would be difficult for English speakers to make the necessary arrangements. If you are dreaming of a Chilean wine tour, some locals recommended an annual wine and harvest festival, which is held every March in Curicó. This festival mainly celebrates the wine harvest, and wine producers from all over the region converge and offer wine tastings and a wine market. It sounds to me like this would be the ideal way to experience the wine culture of the region!

Miguel Torres winery

We finally settled on a visit to the Miguel Torres vineyard just outside of the town of Curicó, which I had seen from the bus window on the way to Talca. This particular vineyard was Miguel Torres’ first in Chile, acquired in 1979 by the Spanish family. We arrived at the visitors’ centre, located just off the Pan-American highway, on a warm and sunny Saturday morning. The centre was pristine and charming: wood buildings built in a traditional Chilean architecture mingled with very modern facilities. A chicken coop housed some beautiful feathered specimens, which were vigorously pecking away on the grass and in between the vines. (This served a functional purpose: they kept down the population of insects!)

Why did the chicken cross the road? Why, to eat bugs!

We had scheduled a tour for noon, and our tour guide walked us through the facilities where the grapes are brought from their vineyards throughout Chile after harvest and the process of winemaking begins. We also stepped into the wonderfully scented cellar, where the red wines and Chardonnays are aged in hundreds of French wood barrels. We also learned a bit about the bottling process and how the different lines of wines are marketed to the various parts of the world.

The tour was not complete without a tasting!

After, we had a tasting of some of the estate’s Santa Digna line. My travelling companion and I selected the Gewürztraminer and Carmenière to try. We were also given a small taste of the estate’s Manso de Velasco, which is hands down the nicest red wine I have ever sipped. But more on that in a moment.

I think that Chilean white wines are the best white wines in the world. I am a huge fan of the Sauvignon Blanc – and the Santa Digna is certainly a nice one. But at the tasting, I tried the Santa Digna Gewürztraminer, which quickly became one of my favourite white wines I’ve tried in Chile. Fruity, floral, perfumed… it was the perfect wine for the hot early summer Saturday afternoon! When we ate at the Miguel Torres restaurant after the tasting, I ordered another glass of this to go along with my elegant fish lunch.

Carmenière vines

Next, we tried the Santa Digna Carmenière. Carmenière is essentially Chile’s trademark red wine; one of the world’s oldest grapes, the type of grape was thought to be extinct in the late 19th century when a plague hit it in Europe. Little did anyone know, it had been confused for the Merlot grape and was already widely planted in Chile. It was then “re-discovered” in Chile and has been recognized as a distinct variety since the late 1990s. Chile now grows more of this variety than anyone else in the world. The Santa Digna Carmenière was very pleasant, with flavours of berry and a light vanilla/oak taste from the ageing process.

The real standout wine we sampled was the Manso de Velasco, named after a former governor of Chile. Made from Cabernet Sauvignon, this had such a deep, rich flavour, I suppose reminiscent of “jam” (as described on its website; of course, I am not used to reviewing wines so I lack a bit of the proper vocabulary). It had an incredible aftertaste, very fruity and refreshing in a way that many red wines don’t have.

Miguel Torres cellars

Visiting this vineyard was probably my favourite experience of my week in the region. I learned a lot and it was an excellent way to pay hommage to Chilean wines.

*Note: I visited the Miguel Torres winery independently; I am not affiliated in any way with the winery or the wines described here. This is my own, independent review & opinion of a pleasant Saturday afternoon visit!

In which I see rain, green: Talca, Chile

Dec11

In Talca’s central square

Last week I was in Central Chile visiting the wine-producing region of the Maule Valley. Now, this isn’t exactly a place that is on the radar of many tourists, although I think it must see a fair stream of visitors thanks to all of the agricultural industry in the region (including the local headquarters of many American-owned companies, such as Dole). From Santiago, many tourists head west to the seaside cities of Valparaiso or Viña del Mar, not south to the agricultural towns. But I am not one to follow most tourist itineraries.

Blossoming bougainvillaea “tree” Talca’s central square

In all fairness, I also went to Talca to visit someone I know. Above all, welcomed the opportunity to finally explore a different part of Chile than the north and Atacama desert. And also – to see rain! Although the region seemed relatively dry this time of year (we passed a number of nearly-dry riverbeds between Santiago and Talca), I experienced rain for the first time since I was in Canada a few months ago one morning. It was so refreshing to finally hear raindrops and smell the ground after a fresh rainfall. (Of course, it was also nice that the rain cleared up by noon and the sun promptly emerged!)

Talca

Talca was a pleasant place to stay for a few days. I enjoyed wandering around, especially through the pretty central square. I read that Talca was once known for its hats and leather goods, and although I didn’t see any fancy hats, there were still some leather goods and shoe stores. I also saw a lot of beautiful hand-knitted clothing – some just sold by vendors right on the street – and stores with beautiful yarns, many made of Chilean wool and natural dyes, that made me (almost) wish I knew how to knit.

A wall with a colourful mural.

Of course, this was an agricultural town, so I have to mention the fruits and vegetables. The summer fruits were in full swing, and many sidewalk vendors were selling blueberries, strawberries (one vendor even sold chocolate-dipped strawberries!), cherries and creamy, to-die-for avocados fresh from the farm. I also found lovely apricots and peaches at the grocery store. A rustic market was located in the center of town also selling fresh produce, honey and beeswax, beautiful carved wooden objects (I picked up a few hand-carved wooden spoons made from a Chilean wood for about $1 each), wool, flowers and even live chickens and turkeys! Needless to say, someone could eat a very fresh meal in this city.

More street art

What is noticeable around Talca is a lack of buildings that are very old. Most of the beautiful old Spanish colonial buildings seemed to have been damaged by the earthquakes that the region experiences. The 2010 earthquake (its epicentre was in the same general region) has certainly left its mark on the city landscape. I walked past many beautiful old Gothic cathedrals that were all closed because of the severe earthquake damage they sustained. Similarly, an old market building and several other homes and buildings throughout the city were shut down, abandoned, or have not yet been repaired. Therefore, the city seemed to be filled with stark contrasts: crumbling, abandoned old buildings, lots and houses next to brand new condo high rises or newly renovated office buildings.

Cathedral that was damaged in 2010 and is still closed

Near the central square, I visited an artists’ co-op, with little shops selling fashions, shoes, paintings and weavings, most made in the region. I lingered in one shop in particular, where a woman told me all about the weavings she sells, most made from wool and natural dyes following traditional techniques.

Where the locals (and pigeons) eat lunch. Stands selling “completos”: hot dogs with mayo and avocado.

Many locals told us there are a number of scenic drives around the area, but without a car our hands were a little tied. There are also some interesting festivals later in the summer: a wine festival in nearby Curico, as well as a festival in the nearby hills on the Argentina/Chile border. Again, this is not a tourist town (the one museum I saw was closed every time I walked past) but if I ever happen to be on a road trip through central Chile I would definitely stop there again.

View of the city and “cordillera” (low mountains that run along most of the Chilean coast; the Andes were visible in the other direction)

And, because I am sure you must be wondering, yes, this was wine country, and yes I visited a winery. That will most certainly be the topic of my next post!

Just after sunset

Postcards from Amanda

A chronicle of travels in Chile, Canada and beyond | www.postcardsfromamanda.com

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