Chile: It's not you, it's me.

I went to Chile for a few reasons.  First, it was a new country for me, and I was in the mood for some box-checking in my travels.  Shallow, perhaps, but sometimes getting a new stamp in your passport trumps all else.  Second, I thought that I'd need a break after what I was predicting to be an exhausting adventure in Bolivia.  I was correct about Bolivia being an adventure, but I was wrong about needing a break.  As I wandered through the humming and beautiful streets of Santiago's Bellavista neighborhood, as I utilized the orderly and well-functioning metro and bus system to reach the coast, as I played amateur photographer with the arresting hillscape and brightly colored buildings of Valparaiso, I was a

Welcome to Valparaiso, the most photogenic city
in the world!

little...bored.  It was shocking.  And it wasn't at all Chile's fault.  I thought I wanted to take it easy and meander through the city streets with a book and no formal plan, but I was wrong.  Turns out, that's not me.  For a weekend, maybe, but for a whole week?  Nope, throw that book into a backpack and strap on some boots.  Instead, I spent a large portion of time wishing I had stayed in Bolivia longer, or gone to Peru with my friends.  I had forgotten what had drawn me to Chile in the first place, and why it had stood out for so long in my mind as a travel destination.  And either through stubbornness, laziness, or misguided patience, I did not change my plans.  So this post is a formal apology to Chile, which doesn't deserve my negativity.  Here are the things I should have done:

1) Torres del Paine
Sure, it was winter time in the southern hemisphere, but that would have meant no crowds!  I should have charged up my iPod, hopped a 24-hour bus from the capital, and gotten sick of all of my music on my way to the tip of the continent.  During the long nights, I would have emerged periodically from the relative warmth of my tent to relieve myself, and I would have stayed outside just a little too long in the freezing cold, captivated by the nearby mountains backlit by the Aurora Australis, before desperately clawing my way back into my waiting sleeping bag in a shivering palsy.  I would have gradually warmed up, my breathing would have slowed, and I would have fallen profoundly back to sleep, nice and toasty, with only my cold, damp nose and the sound of the wind to remind me of where I was while I drifted away.

Torres del Paine in the winter.  Photo credit and article.

2) Skiing Outside of Santiago
I haven't been skiing in years, and why I didn't take advantage of the many slopes close to Santiago, I may never know.  Temporary insanity.  Also some very valid budgeting concerns as I was planning to move to Spain.  But mostly the temporary insanity, I think.

Portillo Ski Resort, 2 hours from Santiago by car.
Info and photo credit.

3) Climbing Volcan Villarica
Regular readers (both of you) probably know that I am a sucker for a good climb.  Make that climb an active, sulfur-scented volcano, and I am nearly helpless.  Aside: I may not have very good survival instincts...

All this at less than 10,000 ft/3,000 m!  Photo credit.

4) Colchagua Wine Tour
Chile's reputation for wine is well-deserved.  I indulged a bit in Santiago and Valparaiso, but as I was standing in the Duty Free shop on my way back to Quito, it occurred to me that I know nothing about wine.  My perception of wine quality and therefore my purchase was guided entirely by the price of the bottle.  A wine tour would have been a good idea in Chile in order to dispel some of this ignorance, but luckily I hear that this is also something I can remedy in Spain.

This vineyard may have been a little more barren, but I hear
the wine cellars are beautiful in July. Photo credit.

My biggest problem, I think, was that I gave neither Bolivia nor Chile enough time this past July.  Really, I should have done one or the other and given it two full weeks.  Or three.  I certainly didn't give Iceland enough time.  After running around Maryland, Delaware, and DC for a few weeks spending some much anticipated and cherished time with family and friends, it was time to make my move to Europe.  I flew from Dulles to Barcelona via Iceland Air, and one of their promotions is that you can extend your layover for no extra cost for as long as you want.  I had to report to work, so I couldn't go nuts, but I managed to sneak in three days around Reykjavik.  A day trip around the golden circle had me in awe of Iceland's waterfalls and geothermic gifts, and a morning in the Penis Museum had me oddly spellbound by the astounding phallic diversity of the animal kingdom.  If you ever want to know what a sperm whale is packing, or a goat, or the 2008 Icelandic National Handball Team for that matter, just pay a visit to the Icelandic Phallological Museum in the heart of Reykjavik.  You may be a lot of things, but you're unlikely to be disappointed.

I was not kidding about the handball team.

Sadly, this is not the Penis Museum, just a
regular church that happens to resemble a penis.

A sperm whale penis, shaped like a church.

Downtown Reykjavik

Gullfoss Waterfall on the Golden Circle tour.

Friends from the tour by a boiling natural spring.

This tourism initiative by Iceland and Iceland Air is really something to consider.  Reykjavik is a down-to-earth city that still has a lot going on, and the surrounding area, tortured as it is by volcanic activity, plate tectonics, and glacial movement, is breathtakingly gorgeous.  And while the Icelandic language is a little tricky to master (try saying "Eyjafjallajökull" five times fast), English is almost universally spoken.  I certainly plan to return.  But for now, it is time to acquaint myself with Barcelona, my new home.  More to come soon.