Naturally we went to the station in Puerto Montt and a rather surprised ticket master in her booth stared at us as if we had dunked our chocolate bourbons in her morning cuppa. ´´No trains till next week!´´ A beautiful new station and no trains to put in it... Railtrack you have competition! We turn the taxi man around and head for the Bus-station. Rather remarkably 20 miles out of PM and the sun came out, birds chirruped in the trees and small rabbits skipped in a world with no Coronation Street. Had we entered Toon-town or was PM just a sufficient distance behind us for the world to start spinning the other way? Good riddance PM. The land was transformed to lush, fertile rolling hills with verdant valleys running to the Pacific, westwards.
Arriving in the beauty of Pucon after the hell-hole of the-place-that-shall-not-be-named was an ethereal delight for your two venturing heroes! We checked into Ecole! a vegetarian hostel, all dreamcatchers and sandals, that made Marks face turn inside out for a bit but he grew to love and appreciate it after a couple of days. We had the tiniest cabana to share, our lumpy beds covered in hand crocheted blankies and Mark was close enough for me to whack him in the night with a vegetarian leg of ham. His snoring even woke the german vegans next door through the hardboard wall and mutterings of ´sheise englander´ didn´t disturb sleeping beauty you will pleased to hear....are vegans allowed to swear?
Pucon is to the southern end of Lake Villarica, very lush, mountains to its foot and the crater of Volcano Villarica to the north, a stunning backdrop. And it is smokin´! Luckily Pucon is a spiritual community, we even had a white witch in the bar at Ecole (ola Asmi...only the eighth white witch I have met in person, one other being Lucy...Ola Lucy!!) and this helped dissipate all murderous thoughts I had been closeting since PM. We spent our Easter weekend there and needless to say we didn´t go to church or touch one iota of chocolate - instead we treated ourselves to Reike sessions, thermal spas, reflexology and full body massages! - oh, and a little choccy fondue! The only thing vaguely cardiovascular was an inappropriate mountain bike ride up to a waterfall - Salto Claro - so high we never reached it - and inappropriate for a girl of my stature and inbalance who hasn´t ridden a bike since Eastbourne 1980. You can imagine the toll it took on the parts other beers cannot reach - never to be repeated. Nada, niet, nein.
Nevertheless Pucon was an oasis in our Chilean desert, we have high hopes that Arica where we head next, will also prove the saving grace of a country that has great and varied landscapes but awful coffee and the customer service skills of Basil Fawlty. Dampier himself had a similar opinion as his ship moored to the south of Arica to sack the town...but he himself refused to get off! Nuff said......
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