el paraíso chileno.

Now, glancing back to the coasts of Chiloé from the ferry, I finally understand what Chileans mean when they refer to the island as a the Chilean paradise.

It is a mysterious island, not even having a bridge connecting it to the continent, almost always covered by clouds and inhabited by so far the friendliest people I've met in Chile, and Trauco, a mythological old and ugly man who lives in the woods of Chiloé and seduces women. At least, that's what the women said when the men returned from fishing or work trips and found a couple of lovely brown-eyed children playing in the backyard.

Chiloé is a place of wonders. It is fully different to anything I've seen before. Its capital Castro fully fits to this scene of green hills, ships in bays, the famous palofitos and fishermen walking down the streets.

Until recently Chiloé and Castro was an isolated and poor island with its capital, whose poorest inhabitants built houses on the shore, as they couldn't afford the land, but "the sea belonged to no one". Now the island is as prosperous as its green fields due to the second largest salmon industry in the world after Norway, a tourist must-see destination and a hide-away for those who don't want to hear anything about the noise, stress and air pollution of Santiago.

Seafood really is the thing, judging from the international scandal with Norway a couple of years ago, when a salmon company bought a plant on the island and deliberately introduced a fish flu impossible to get rid of, just to eliminate Chilean competition. Seafood is what still keeps the island going and is actually cheaper than any other type of meat, resulting in me having charged my salmon and seafood reserves for the upcoming year or two.

Paila marina, soup made of seafood, really is made of seafood. Something I'd pay at least EUR 15 in Latvia cost merely 3 over here. And it's a lot of seafood I'm talking about.

It is, however, equalled out by their coffee culture, or, better put, the lack of it. I'm slowly considering switching to tea permanently, just to avoid the disappointment every time I see something like that.

And it was a restaurant where the waiter ensured that the glass of Coke was always full.

I had the luck to visit Miguel, a boy who is about to get to know the country few know about. "Latvia", after all, still is either a type of weed or a city in Russia for those who've heard of it. I used the opportunity to visit his school,  Instituto del Mar Capitan Williams, which is one of the two schools like that in Chile which, apart from teaching Math, History and all the other traditional subjects, actually prepares its students for the life in sea starting from fishing, diving and sailor knots to marital electricity, navigation (including practice lessons on stormy days, "because yo' ain't gonna tell th'  seah to listen to ya' fella") and emergency evacuation sessions from containers burning in open fire.

The presentations about Latvia and speaking of it in general have certainly shaped my perception of home. Encountering the social contrasts makes me realize that Latvia is poor relatively to European standards, and for once Latvia is the positive example of how to deal with political corruption, public education or historical heritage. It was interesting for me to realize that, from the Latin American perspective, we are the natural inhabitants of the land, the aborigines, who now have their own country with their own language, something lost long ago in this continent.

The most impressive moment of the presentation in Instituto del Mar came with two classes of Fishing, about 80 boys, when I, in exchange for the anthem of Latvia, asked them to sing me the Chilean one. The force with which the future sailors sang the song really gave me goose bumps, and made me feel as in those movies when the hair is literally blown backwards.

I'm slowly getting used to being special just by being from Latvia and by being that "tall, blond and blue-eyed" foreigner. I guess it only depends on the point of reference, and I see theirs in the photos.

I was lucky to visit the school on its Día del Alumno, or the Day of Scholars.

Of course, everybody noticed that one poor girl in pink pants and curly hair, even the teachers, who invited me to dance in the centre of the school gym, and surprised me by asking to address the 1000 students on this special day. It was only later when I understood that back at home I'd probably be just like the rest of the girls, shying away from the teachers with afro wigs, asking them to dance in their show.

I keep surprising myself by eating strange things (seafood, remember?), like these erizos, who were killed and prepared in my presence by two veteran fishermen and would've tasted much better if not for having seen them move 5 seconds before.

After I plucked my courage, ate this tiny crab, still alive in my mouth, and spit its crunchy shell, I was declared chilote oficial, for the majority of local women and men would shiver just like I did when thinking of repeating. 

To me, Chiloé is that one spot  still left on this planet that hasn't sold itself to tourism. A car in the opposite direction is a rare sight, countless cabañas (or those tiny summer houses you always see in movies) are like little pearls of white in the interminable green, blue and beautiful.

Another thing that makes Chiloé special is its wooden architecture, something you probably haven't seen before.

Its wooden churches are on the UNESCO World Heritage list, just saying.

I had waited for that moment far too long, and finally seeing my Pacific after more than a year again reminded me of that one colour and scent essential to only Pacific, and awakened that one vibe I thought I had already lost. Chiloé is slightly a NZ déjà vu experience, mainly due to the feeling only an island can have, its green mountains inhabited by sheep and the wind with ocean in it. They even have something similar to Paua shells over here!

Apart from the main island, Chiloé has 45 smaller islands by its shore, 15 of them uninhabited. Even though a bridge is definitely a must-have in this bubbling paradise, using a ferry every time you want to cross the shore is certainly a magic feeling. It is so remote that once, when an emergency ambulance plane wanted to land on the main island during night, the local radio asked for volunteers to illuminate the runway with their car lights, since it doesn't have permanent lighting. I was told this by Margot, Miguel's mum who participated in this and, along with the rest of the 100 drivers, signalled and applauded loudly when the injured guy was brought safely to hospital.

Margot and her family were nice, friendly and awesome enough to show the dearest of their island. Dear American, who I met in Torres del Paine, if you happen to be reading this, you were just so wrong when claiming that it's enough with 4 days for this beauty! I, leaving it behind me, feel that I lack a lot, and a lot has to be discovered.

"You know you'll always have home in Chiloé, and I promise I'll get you a 5l champagne bottle, when you return for your honey moon!" Thanks, Margot! I'm taking this into account. Thanks to all your family for sharing Chiloé with me!

Chiloé is beautiful. It is surprising, breathtaking and tremendously astonishing. I will return, promise!

antarctica and stuff.

Ok, not really. 

Punta Arenas is America's southernmost city. And I was there, on a trip that actually is a trip in a trip in a trip. All of this began as a wish to see Miguel, a guy from the city of Castro who for some inexplicable reason knows where Latvia is and actually wants to go on exchange to my beloved country, later developing in  a plan of seeing Niklas, an AFS-er from Germany currently studying in Valdivia, and checking out AFS Punta Arenas. And right now, approaching Chile's largest island Chiloé, home to the city of Castro and the second leg of my trip, and reminiscing on how I was listening to the 183 kph wind and rain outside in Punta Arenas yesterday, cuddling under my blanket, I can only sigh out of happiness of having seen some of the most spectacular sights around, met some awesome people and actually getting to know the Southern tip of America.

And isn't Punta Arenas an awesome place! To me it still seems that the time stopped some fifty years ago, letting us see how the life was back in the day when no rush, McDonald's or Crocs existed. It enjoys an isolated life ruled by the strong wind and cold sun of Antarctica. Small coloured houses lying on the hills around, surrounded by the interminable pampa, some 19^th century colonial mansions, now fancy hotels or memorial museums, and loads of local stores, dust on the windows and 200 year old butchers inside.

Punta Arenas has got a really interesting cemetery. Hidden behind high walls, it hides in it the history, laughter and sighs of those from Punta Arenas.

Apart from Spanish, the cemetery bears the names of many Germans, French and Croatians (I mean, Croatians?) among other nationalities, as Punta Arenas, a trading city, has always intrigued those abroad.

It is a town where people still gather to listen to music on radio and reciting poems by local authors praising the pampa, the hills and ice cold estrecho de Magallanes. Wandering around the town, never really getting lost, finding so far the best coffee in Chile and seeing the Land of Fire in background all of the time is really a moving sensation.

Apart from being home to Punta Arenas, the region of Magallanes really is the you-just-cannot-get-further-than-that place, mainly dominated by pampa, llamas, flamingos, yellow and brown.

Finally having escaped Santiago with its always protective cordillera looking down to us, or the rush hour metro horror, looking at interminable fields marked by llamas, guanacos, shipwrecks, holiday sheds and sharing the moments with the loveliest people I lived with, high school teacher Claudia and her mother.

They shared with their tiny, yet lovely and warm (for once there's a region in Chile where heating system is present!) house, two poodles, Lalida and Melody, and the guarded secret of every Chilean family - how to make the empanadas, the Chilean alternative for Latvian speķu pīrādziņi or Kiwi pies.

Now, sometimes I'm that silly I'd rather have one ear cut than continue being silly. Due to some spontaneous perfectionist desire I wanted to arrange the photos, which turned into a way greater mess than before and over 100 deleted photos, including most of my lovely empanadas. The only thing I can say in my defense that I do have a video of the instructions (sounding like a pro) in Latvian.

Another thing I deleted some really beautiful photos of, was a local fundraising event or peña, organized by the parents of Franz, a boy who is going to Norway, which was basically an underground (both literally and metaphorically) gathering in a pub, having the family members and guests sharing with the music of Magallanes, art of the great Spanish poets and immense joy. When I learn how to upload videos here, I'll share with some.

The trip, however, didn't end in Punta Arenas. Claudia and her mum were awesome enough to take me to Fuerte Bulnes, now a national park at the very tip of the continent.

The Land of Fire, the Strait of Magellan, rocky shores, skewed trees, rough wind and the colours of autumn, all of it add to the splendour of the wooden reproduction of the original castle, built by the pioneers of this part of America in mid-1800's, and the marvellous lookouts to the Pacific guarded by it.

However, it was slightly confusing to find Santa Ana, claiming to be the southern tip of the continent, if not only Google maps, but my own eyesight (especially given how bad it is) could clearly distinguish something beyond. The reserve further south, lacking any roads or human settlements, remains an area of mystery, once again proving that we humans are only a tiny fraction of everything this world has got and not all summits should be reached.

That awkward moment when you're that close to Antarctica you're afraid of falling off the map.

Slightly up north from Punta Arenas a different Chile can be encountered. Torres del Paine, one of the most breathtaking sights I've ever experienced, is a mountain range with four spectacular cliffs reaching straight up in the sky. The experience was additionally enhanced by the horrible rain and wind in the morning, all of it clearing out exactly at the moment of reaching the site. It really was like magic or a Harry Potter movie - mist and clouds suddenly motioning in immense speed revealing more hills, llamas, guanacos, deep valleys and waterfalls, all of it overlooked by the impossibly amazing grandeur of the snow covered mountains. Another moment destined for eternal remembrance occurred, as due to the clouds and my poor photographer skills I was unable to take a shot of the four cliffs, uncovered by the clouds for a moment just short enough to take my breath away.

The whole trip was amazing. I lack the words the words to describe the beauty, so there you go.

It was also nice to meet Eduardo from Chile, Ricardo from Italy, Guillermo from Argentina and his friend from Israel whose name I never got round to learning. Eventually we formed a group of five and stayed together for the rest of the trip, apart from that one hour when Eduardo wandered away in the hills, slightly lost his way back and forced us to wait for him and pose to photographs despite the just-begun rain and wind.

That's us. We all loved Eduardo, and not only because of his interminable chocolate and whiskey resources.

I wasn't only travelling around, the idea was to visit AFS Punta Arenas and help them out with whatever was on their minds. Eventually I had the opportunity to present my beautiful Latvia to them, and, believe it or not, all of them were interested to hear more about something they probably hadn't heard of a week ago. The fun part comes at the end, when I offer to sing the anthem of Latvia to justify us being "the country that sings" in exchange for the Chilean one.

Another video needed here.

I fully enjoyed meeting them and am sure that I won't forget them that soon, also because now I have 94 new friends on Facebook.

Here's some from Colegio Juan Bautista.

And some more from Liceo Nobelius.

I even got to take a photo with the headmistress. It pays off to be the local celebrity by coming from a country no one knows about!

I also plucked up my courage and asked if I could participate in one of the classes (just like in good old school days), ending up in History. The teacher did know how to explain the history of Rome in an interesting manner. I, who hasn't shown interests in plebes and Coliseum for at least 6 years now, was truly impressed by how they lived back in the day. The culture shock, however, came at the revelation that the teacher had to spent at least two thirds of her energy and time to "shhhhhh" them, ask to open the notebooks (and actually check upon that) and argue with students of whether or not the mobile phones should be switched off. I began questioning myself, was it the Liceo Nobelius or IB at pirmā (my dungeon for the last 6 years) or both, that created that sharp contrast between the classroom I'm used to and the one I saw yesterday.

South is amazing. It contrasts to everything I've seen before. And even if I lack the English to describe the beauty I got to see (and I am sure of it, having re-read the post), I've been blessed to be down there and imagine Antarctica just across the shore.

Chiloé, what have you prepared for me?