I’m at that part of my vacation where I’m totally tired of living out of my backpack, wearing the same old socks that are embedded with Patagonian sand (sink-washing with a squeeze of the complimentary hotel soap isn’t doing the trick). Not to mention my mauve yoga pants, which are in a state if shavasana…dead for the rest of the trip, and my hiking pants blotched with empanada grease, my celebratory meal after surviving Laguna de Los Tres.
But now I’m in Castro, a picturesque town on the island of Chiloe, Chile, but I’m out of pictures and inspiration, the only thing catching my eye is an abandoned toilet in the middle if nowhere.
Why are there always abandoned toilets in the middle of nowhere? Peru, China. Thailand, you name the country, there’s a porcelain throne in the most unexpected of places.
I ended up in Chiloe due to the recommendation of a friend who visited this quaint area two life times ago. Even though it’s dotted with colorful stilted houses and swirls of sea birds, the traffic on Chiloe Island is as horrendous as the sunrises are stunning.
After not moving for 45 minutes on a local bus, I abandoned my hopes of going to the Parque National Chiloe for a day of birding, hopped off the bus and meandered back to town, exploring the city square and yarn shops.
Castro, the town where I am staying, smells of seaweed, scruffy dog, frothy ale, and dirty socks. Maybe the dirty socks is me. This is no a new scent for a Glade Plug-in.
So istead of eating an empanada for lunch at my own risk, I foraged in a second-hand clothes store and purchased a pair of pantalones for five bucks. Lesson learned? Celebrate with ice cream, it doesn’t stain.
I feel renewed, almost as pulled together as the only other guest in my hotel, who is not on holiday washing her delicates in the sink, but on a business trip with an expense account for laundry service. Her hair is perfectly blown dry, her eyeliner not crooked, and her footwear are heels, not dusty hiking boots.
My hotel is right out of a kids book, owned by an eccentric architect who likes to collect bottles and chotchkees, wooden birds, and art of Marilyn Monroe. There is something eye-catching in every corner, from a chipped porcelain figure to old cookie jars,
The hotel building survived the Great Chiloe Earthquake of 1960 (every Chilean city has endured a great earthquake). The hotel manager showed me several photos. The hotel is on the hill. It’s in better shape now.
Tomorrow I board another bus headed to Temuco, a city that had it’s ten seconds of fame in the movie Motorcycle Diaries. I don’t have much planned there except to wash my clothes. Hopefully , the town will be as colorful.
I like that last picture