Olmué, Chile

Sorry it´s been so long. I'm back in Santiago, at Nick's house, having spent a month in  Olmué. I originally planned to spend the last week of March in Los Maitenes, a town a few hours to the south, but the host emailed me saying there wasnt enough room, so I ended up staying in Olmué for the whole month. 

Because I have so much catching up to do, I'll break it up into a few posts. This one will cover Olmué.

I left Santiago on a bus to Valparaiso (on the coast), that passed Olmué on the way. After a couple hours of traveling, I asked the bus driver how close to Olmué we were, and he told
me I had missed the town, it was now a few kilometres behind us. I got off and waited on the side of a desolate road for a bus heading the opposite direction. I feared I would have to wait for hours, but one arrived after about 10 minutes.

I made it to Olmué's central plaza, where Mario´s pizzeria was located. Carlos, the chef, greeted me, and gave me lunch. I spent the day helping him in the kitchen, and eventually met Gloria, Mario's wife, and Paloma, Mario's daughter. The pizzeria closed at 11pm, and Carlos drove me to the farm, a 15 minute drive through winding roads that climbed up into the hills surrounding Olmué. Carlos drove so fast through these turns that I felt nauseous when we arrived at the farm. I met Mario, who showed me to my bed. I talked briefly to Mario about my responsibilities at the farm, and then fell asleep.

Roughin' it.

In the morning I explored the farm, meeting the animals and taking pictures.

Sasha

Piti and Poti. Mario told me he can't tell them apart, so they don't have individual names, they are just collectively Piti and Poti.

Negra. Probably my least favorite. She was HUGE, and I think she was senile with old age. She had a habit of backing her ass up into a bush, and then barking at NOTHING for ten minutes straight.

Sara, my favorite. Definitely the smartest of all the dogs.

The kitten named Pink Floyd. The most un-independent cat of all time. Meowed for attention constantly. Woke me up by walking on my face.

The horses, Breva and Tomate. I gave them hay and water daily, they showed their gratitude by backing away when I tried to give them a friendly pat. 

My amount of work at the farm revolved around whether there was a project to be done. For the first week, I helped Mario build a chicken coop. 

 

When that was finished, there was a lull in the amount of work, and I spent my time taking care of the animals, and helping in the pizzeria. I also worked with Molesto, watering the crops. He was a neighbor who Mario pays to help at the farm three days a week. He spoke rapid, slurred Spanish, and I rarely could understand him. We communicated through hand gestures and a few mutually understood words.

After two weeks, a WWOOFer from France arrived, Vincente. He had studied carpentry, and was the ultimate handyman. He was incredibly productive, capable of fixing anything. I helped him build a greenhouse for Mario, which involved constructing a wooden framework and covering it in plastic. Vincente and I got along fairly well, but my misunderstanding his Spanish definitely got on his nerves, understandably. 

Vincente. This is in the back of a truck, when we hitchhiked into Olmué

 After another week or so, a girl from Germany arrived, Astrid, who spoke English fluently. With the three of us there, there seemed to be a surplus of labor at the farm, with not enough projects assigned to us. We kept the animals fed and painted the terrace.  Vincente managed to install a water pump before he left, so the farm finally had water pressure for a shower, though there was no hot water (after a few freezing showers I didn't mind it so much). We cooked meals with the limited options in the kitchen- rice, pasta, bread, with onions, tomatoes, and potatoes grown at the farm. 

Vincente left, and during my last week at the farm, a couple arrived, Eoin and Hannah, from Ireland and England, respectively. They had been backpacking throughout South America, from Colombia all the way down to southern Patagonia, and were spending the last few weeks of their trip in Olmue. They were incredibly friendly and excellent cooks- stereotypically, Eoin made a delicious dish with potatoes. Before I left, we exchanged books. I gave them One Hundred Years of Solitude, which I had finished, in exchange for The Lacuna. They also gave me the The Lonely Planet guide to backpacking on a budget in South America, which they no longer needed. On one of my last nights at the farm, the power went out, and Eoin, Hannah, Astrid, and I played cards by candlelight. 

Four weeks in Olmué went by fast. I didn't practice my Spanish as much as I would have liked, as I spoke English with my fellow WWOOFers. On Saturday I said goodbye to Mario and caught a bus to Limache, a few towns over, where there is a train to Viña del Mar.

Santiago, Chile

Before my trip I emailed a cousin living in Colombia, asking for tips to stay safe in South America. He warned that buses traveling overnight occasionally are stopped by armed gangs, who board the bus and rob passengers. He said it´s more common in Colombia and Brazil, and that it was very unlikely to happen in Peru. I guess I was just unlucky.

Halfway to Tacna from Lima, around midnight, our bus came to an abrupt stop. I looked out the front window (I was on the second floor of the bus, in the second row), and in the headlights were masked men with guns. They had laid out large rocks across the road, it was impossible to pass. They boarded and I heard a lot of shouting below as they directed the bus off the road. A man came up to the second floor, told us to put our hands on our heads. He was yelling orders, and it was a really stressful time to not understand rapid Spanish (I could understand him saying something like ´´No tengo matar nada´´, meaing ´´I don´t have to kill anyone´´). He came to each passenger and demanded money, and tore through the bags of those who didn´t offer anything. I immediately handed over the $140 dollars in my backpack. They left after about fifteen minutes, and the police arrived shortly after. It was probably the most surreal thing that has ever happened to me.

We drove to a police station and waited there for about two hours while the passengers reported the money they lost. Waiting outside with everyone (pictured below), I made friends with people who spoke some English and tolerated my truly awful Spanish speaking.

We just got robbed!

We arrived in Tacna four hours behind schedule, and took a taxi with Cali (the girl on the right) across the border to Arica, Chile. The bus ride wasn´t all bad though. The bus went through Peruvian mountains, and there were some spectacular views of the valleys:




This picture really doesn´t do it any justice.

I decided I was not up for the 30 hour ride to Santiago, and would fly instead (twice as expensive but worth it). The next flight wasn´t until the next day, so I spent the night in a hostel that Cali recommended. I had heard Chilean people were extremely friendly, and this was confirmed when I asked a man on the street where a good place to eat was. Rather than give me directions, he walked with me several blocks to a restaurant, talking with me even though I could understand maybe half of what he said (the Chilean dialect is really fast).

After staying up drinking with fellow travelers (really diverse, a guy from Chile, two girls from Norway, a girl from Germany, a girl from South Dakota, and a guy from Canada), I woke up this morning hungover, took a taxi to the Arica airport, caught a flight to Santiago, then a taxi to Nick´s house, where I am now. Nick was the college roommate of my mom´s cousin, and has been incredibly welcoming. I just had dinner with him, his wife, and 5 of their 9 children.

I am taking an 8am bus to Olmué tomorrow, my host Mario is meeting me at the town pizzeria at noon. I will blog again as soon as I can.