Thanksgiving chicken!!

Pictures:

to come...

and then with a wild gesture, his plate full of food was airborne, and came crashing down, food side first, onto his leg then all over the floor.

Aah, Chiloe. What can we say. Chiloe is a pretty little fishing island off the coast of Chile. It was rated one of the best Islands to visit by National Geographic Traveler. Apparently it is also famous for rainy weather, its shingled houses and churches, and its houses on stilts. As far as we were concerned, anything was better than spending another second in Puerto Montt. Even church watching and two days in the rain. Chiloe sounded magical and quaint.

Our bus took us to the coast, and I woke up when the bus was about half way across the water on a ferry. A little disconcerting at first, but it was a nice ride across the channel. We arrived in Chonchi, and set off down a STEEP hill to our destination, Esmeraldas by the sea (also on the Scott trail). Carlos, the chatty Canadian owner got us settled, and we met another nice Irish/Scottish couple Dave and Claire in the living room. Carlos also insisted that we try SKYPE, and man are we glad that we did! If you don't have it, get it. 2 cents/minute international calls, and they're free if the other person has skype. Yeah, we know we're a little bit slow. . .

It was actually a pretty nice day, so we decided to take a walk along the beach. Carlos warned us that there were some nasty dogs belonging to his neighbor who decided that they liked the taste of gringos, so if we walked to the right, we should arm ourselves with rocks to pelt at the menacing beasts. We chose to walk up the road.

As we climbed, we saw some nice colorful shingled houses, and the road ended at a cemetery over the sea. We walked in. It was apparent that ancestor worship was still in full effect, and some of the monuments and mausoleums, and above ground tombs were pretty impressive. There were a steady stream of visitors to the dearly departed. Many of the graves were decorated in the typical Latin fashion complete with silk plants, bright paint, pictures of Jesus and the virgin, curtains with fringe, and tiny offerings. Some of the plots contained entire families. True to the honoring of women, and demonstrating the influence and importance a wife and mother, the engravings read, Jose Enrique Hernandez Ruiz Soto Gonzalez y (wait for it . .) esposa.

On the walk back, we decided to brave the beach. Loaded down with rocks in our pockets to hurl at what were probably rabid dogs, the only thing we encountered was a man and his son drying out seaweed on the sand. They dry it and sell it to shampoo companies who add it to their products. Interesting. They did warn us about the biting dogs, however.

When we returned to the hostel, we realized that it was Thanksgiving the following day! How time flies!!! We decided to make a feast, and share it with the other guests at the hostel in true Turkey Day fashion. What we neglected to do, however was ask them if they wanted to join us in advance. . .

We had another package to send home, and so we attempted to send it from this fine island. Carlos recommended Chile Express over the National Postal Service, Correo, so out we went with another enormous box in search of a place to lighten our load. We found the office, at the top of an impossibly steep hill, but sadly it was closed. The Correo was nowhere to be found, and finally the lady in the 'everyting' store next door informed us that Chile Express might re open around 3 or 4pm. HMMM. Back down the hill we went with our big box. When 2 tries later, Brian eventually found the Chile Express open, he was informed that he couldn't ship that particular box from Chiloe. Well, it was just one more thing to do before we left Puerto Montt. How hard could it be?

The next morning at the store, cart loaded down with squash, broccoli potatoes, stuffing making materials, and lots of wine, we came up short on the turkey end. A chicken would have to do. We dug through the pile of headless chickens, and settled on the 3.7 kg bird, the whole time crossing our fingers that we wouldn't be the only two at the dinner table. We also hoped that the oven worked at the hostel kitchen come to think of it. . .

Being Canadian, Carlos declined our invitation to gorge on chicken and the fixin's. Luckily Claire and Dave accepted, and the cooking marathon began. Claire entertained us with a story of a lady who attempted to screw them over by misrepresenting a bus company, a dramatic shouting match at the bus station, and ending with them and the lady in a cab chasing down the bus for 45 minutes! Now there's a gal who won't tolerate the Gringo Discount!!!

The drinking of wine also began at that moment. Somehow we managed to cook a chicken perfectly in a tiny oven with no temperature control, and have all of the veggies ready at the same time using the three functioning burners on the stove. Just as dinner was ready, another guest arrived, and was happy for a free meal. We were happy to introduce everyone to the American tradition of gluttony and overindulgence on this third Thursday in November. The wine was definitely flowing because Brian kept trying to convince everyone that Van Morrison was a member of CCR, and then with a wild gesture, his plate full of food was airborne, and came crashing down, food side first, onto his leg then all over the floor. It was hilarious, and he walked around with potato pants for the next week until we got to a laundry. Luckily there was an overabundance of food. So much in fact, that after my last glass of wine, I barely made it out the door and onto the lawn before I hurled all over the place. Luckily I was the only one who noticed (I think). What a fine and entertaining pair of lushes we are! (from what we can remember anyhow. . .)

Our only feat the next morning was to peel ourselves out of bed, repack our bags, hop back onto the bus, make it to the post office to send our package off, and hop onto a plane to glorious Patagonia!! Getting out of bed was a harder prospect than we had imagined, but somehow we managed. I felt pretty good, but Brian looked like he had been hit by a bus and then reversed over a few times.

We made it back to Puerto Montt without incident, and headed down to the post office. We hopped into an impossibly long line, and glancing at our watch hoped that we'd actually be able to get the box off before our flight left.

After detailing exactly what each item in the box was, and how much it had cost in Chilean Pesos (despite the fact that we were sending home water bottles and crusty old jackets), we were finally free of our box, and had an hour and a half to get out of town. After being refused by 2 taxis who said that the airport was too far away, we finally found a man willing to drive the distance, and off we went.

Luckily the lady at the airport check-in desk didn't confiscate our fuel bottle--she even went and washed it out with soap and water for us!! Now that's service. We got a good laugh while we were waiting in line at the airport with a couple from New York who were heading south for a 2 week vacation. They were head butting with the agents about the vast quantity of luggage they were attempting to take. I think it was something like 50kg each or something!!! For 2 weeks!!! We're glad that we don't have to be their porter.