October 23
Today was all about Ignacio. Ignacio of Searates, a company that handles shipping out of Chile and Argentina. After sleeping in and making breakfast (yay!), we were ready to start the 30 min walk to his office at 10:15. I checked my email one last time before we left the hotel and, despite asking him three weeks ago if Monday the 23 of October was a good day to plan on visiting in person, Ignacio wrote us an email that he was going to be out of the office from 11-2. Doh. So Ernie and tackled our plans and bookings through Southern Chile. Come 2 pm we walked down to his office and come 3 pm he finally returned from his late lunch. His English and our Spanish were much better in person so we were able to clarify all the details that were getting lost in translation over emails. He said “si, claro, todo es possible, no te preocupes” and he would have a quote to us by tomorrow.
On the way back from his office we hit the grocery store and bought ingredients for tacos. We cooked and ate tacos at gringo hour. Its now 8 pm and Grandma & Grandpa are tired and going to bed.
October 24
After another home cooked breakfast (yay!) we headed off to be tourists. We rode the subway, and both Ernesto and I were amazed at the cleanliness of it all. Even the tracks were clean. Not just of garbage, but it was as if they actually scrub and clean the tracks of grease and oil. We effortlessly switched trains and stations and got off at “Plaza de Armas”, one of Santiago’s many grand plazas. And it was grand. Too big to photograph. Seriously, you can’t get the square and the church and the trees in one picture. We went to Museo de Bellas Artes (one of the art museums) and Cerro de Santa Lucia (this hill and castle and gardens and wow). We watched street performers and giggled at the random things people were selling on the street. We split a traditional Chilean sandwich. The bread, tomatoes, and guacamole were fresh and very good. The meat however, was pink, soft, and salty. Those three adjectives should never be used to describe the same thing, especially not a meat product. It was called an “Italiano”, and neither Ernesto or I could figure out what part of the sandwich was Italian. Maybe the tomatoes? Maybe because mayo, tomatoes, and guac are the same colors of the Italian flag? To cleanse our palates we treated ourselves to helado (ice cream). Tona told us the best kind here is Bravissimo, and in a country that knows its sweets better than anywhere I have traveled, damn they make good helado. Ernesto had some sort of vanilla-butterscotch, and I had helado de agua (a sorbet basically) that was just called “fruta”. How did they get something without any cream to be creamy?
Tona and family finally let us take them to dinner, and they finally let us get ourselves to them instead of having them pick us up. This involved using the subway again, but it was a much different experience at rush hour… (which interestingly, riding at commuter hours costs more than riding mid-day). There are more people waiting on the tracks than there is room on any incoming train, so only a few people manage to get on with each train. Unlike the order and structure that accompanies most of this country, it’s thee who pushes and shoves the hardest that makes it on the next train. We stood, with no pushing or shoving, for seven trains. Actually it was technically only four trains, as three of the trains were a different line. But still, by train two or three we eventually worked our way up to the “front row” and stood by the tracks but those that were sneakier and faster and more aggressive than us got on trains. I guess by train seven we had enough, and we pushed and shoved ourselves into a train. Ernesto used some serious force. It was a level of aggression totally out of character for him yet totally appropriate.
We walked to a restaurant in their neighborhood, which is very young and cool. It had a very Greenwich Village feel. We had some nice wine, some good food, and of course enjoyable and great company. Andres and Tona are so gracious and so generous… if the world was filled with more Andres’ and Tona’s the world would be a much better place.
*spelling corrections: Jeremias (not Jeremiah) y Ana Maria (not Anna Maria). Desculpe!
October 25
We are back on the motos! The Triumph dealership was very good to us and we had a nice visit with the manager, Chrystian, one of the lead mechanics, Andres, and a couple of folks from the marketing team who took our picture out in front of the shop. Check us out at Triumph Santiago Chile Facebook ha ha. I guess they weren’t too mad at us for leaving our stinky boots in their shop...
We were on the road by noon and had an easy but crowded ride to Talca. The road south of Santiago is very nice; the snow capped Andes were to our left, there were rolling green hills to our right, and vineyards or olive farms covered the valley floor. The road is also full of cars and trucks however, and everyone but us was taking advantage of the good pavimento and going well over 100 km per hour. We saw too many road kill perros. After the sophistication of Santiago I wasn’t prepared for them so they made me even more sad than they otherwise would have.
The drama with Ignacio continues. He didn’t have the estimate or paperwork ready by yesterday, so we had to leave Santiago without anything official about getting our motos home. Grr. Via email today he gets us a quote (gulp) but we are still confused about some really important details like which ports we are shipping in and out of. He keeps writing things like “Portland or Los Angeles”. Big difference Ignacio!!! Ernesto and I talked at length about it this afternoon, and for sentimental reasons, we would be willing to go as far as we could (logically and economically) to get our babies home. Since it was all fresh in my mind I happened to jokingly complain about the situation at the Triumph dealership this morning and I’m glad I did. Chrystian not only knows a shipper who ships for Europeans, but he also knows the moto dealerships in Punta Arenas. If the shipping ends up being too expensive, it might be a possibility to sell the bikes (for at least a little money) in Punta Arenas. A few of the hurdles we are facing are 1) Ushuaia is not a big commercial port, 2) it is illegal for USAmericans to sell bikes in Argentina and most of Chile (Santiago and Punta Arenas are the two exceptions as they are “free ports”), and 3) if we do ship the bikes they will have to go from Argentina to Chile/Santiago as that is the port for West Coast USA (Europeans and East Coast Americans can stay all within Argentina and go through Buenos Aires), which means two sets of equally daunting and potentially conflicting paperwork. I hate the idea of taking them to the junkyard and hope it doesn’t come to that. I wish we could find a way to get them to two young men in Nicaragua or Colombia.
There is some sort of concert going on right by our hotel. Screaming and pop music. Grr. Grandpa is napping through it and Grandma wants it quiet.
Entonces... Even though we do not yet know what will happen after we arrive, we have planned our final leg to get to Ushuaia in Isla Tierra del Fuego. Our original plan was that, after Santiago, we would ride south to Osorno, cross over the Andes east to San Carlos de Bariloche, then ride through Patagonia to get to the Southern tip of Argentina. However, after riding through the high desert of Argentina, we changed our minds. What we read about the Argentine desert was a different and glorified version from what we experienced. Maybe those people were in cars and didn’t feel the wind. Or maybe they were on motos or bicycles and loved the thrill of riding on one of the most remote roads in the world. Whatever the reason, we did not feel we were doing something epic and grandiose. Besides the homogeneous ecology and ripping winds, the roads get much worse and the towns with gas and hotels get farther apart, There was one day (a fairly famous stretch) where we would have had to ride 500 km east across Argentina, with a section of gravel, leaning right into the wind the entire day. It is so famous everyone we speak with about it mentions it. Ernesto is tough and was fine with that plan. He wasn’t excited to do it but all good with doing it. I would have done it. I could have done it. But I didn’t want to do it. (And Ernesto just admitted he didn’t really want to do it either). It didn’t sound fun or enjoyable. It sounded like something to brag to others about doing, and we are so over that level of motivation. Anyway, after Tona made some recommendations of things to see and do in Chile and Googling about them, not only did we like the looks of Southern Chile, but we stumbled into a ferry website. It spends four days weaving around Southern Chilean waters. Hmm…. desert or ocean? We quickly chose ocean. And we have a cabin with a window! We are so excited. Hopefully we don’t hit too much of the Southern Chilean spring rains… We arrive to Ushuaia in Tierra del Fuego 12 de Noviembre. If we haven’t seen them by then, we hope there will be penguins. Ernesto says he really wants to see pinguinos from the seats of our motos, but it will be what it will be.
October 26
The ride from Talca to Chillan was very boring. It was a nice enough day so we were grateful for the weather, but we lost sight of the Andes and vineyards. It was just flat, freeway pavimento. However, the ride from Chillan to Concepcion was very nice. If it weren’t for the street signs in Spanish I would have thought we were in Canada. Rolling hills and wild flowers. The smell of conifers and replanted clear cuts.
Concepcion is right on the water (Rio Bio Bio), and with the surrounding steep hills, the landscape again had a Canada or Alaska feel. We decided to go to the university district, and walked down to Plaza Peru. It is the place where college kids go for cheap eats and beer, and we enjoyed both. Outside of the old fart faculty members carrying fancy leather briefcases, we were definitely the oldest people in the plaza.
Today was all about Ignacio. Ignacio of Searates, a company that handles shipping out of Chile and Argentina. After sleeping in and making breakfast (yay!), we were ready to start the 30 min walk to his office at 10:15. I checked my email one last time before we left the hotel and, despite asking him three weeks ago if Monday the 23 of October was a good day to plan on visiting in person, Ignacio wrote us an email that he was going to be out of the office from 11-2. Doh. So Ernie and tackled our plans and bookings through Southern Chile. Come 2 pm we walked down to his office and come 3 pm he finally returned from his late lunch. His English and our Spanish were much better in person so we were able to clarify all the details that were getting lost in translation over emails. He said “si, claro, todo es possible, no te preocupes” and he would have a quote to us by tomorrow.
On the way back from his office we hit the grocery store and bought ingredients for tacos. We cooked and ate tacos at gringo hour. Its now 8 pm and Grandma & Grandpa are tired and going to bed.
October 24
After another home cooked breakfast (yay!) we headed off to be tourists. We rode the subway, and both Ernesto and I were amazed at the cleanliness of it all. Even the tracks were clean. Not just of garbage, but it was as if they actually scrub and clean the tracks of grease and oil. We effortlessly switched trains and stations and got off at “Plaza de Armas”, one of Santiago’s many grand plazas. And it was grand. Too big to photograph. Seriously, you can’t get the square and the church and the trees in one picture. We went to Museo de Bellas Artes (one of the art museums) and Cerro de Santa Lucia (this hill and castle and gardens and wow). We watched street performers and giggled at the random things people were selling on the street. We split a traditional Chilean sandwich. The bread, tomatoes, and guacamole were fresh and very good. The meat however, was pink, soft, and salty. Those three adjectives should never be used to describe the same thing, especially not a meat product. It was called an “Italiano”, and neither Ernesto or I could figure out what part of the sandwich was Italian. Maybe the tomatoes? Maybe because mayo, tomatoes, and guac are the same colors of the Italian flag? To cleanse our palates we treated ourselves to helado (ice cream). Tona told us the best kind here is Bravissimo, and in a country that knows its sweets better than anywhere I have traveled, damn they make good helado. Ernesto had some sort of vanilla-butterscotch, and I had helado de agua (a sorbet basically) that was just called “fruta”. How did they get something without any cream to be creamy?
Tona and family finally let us take them to dinner, and they finally let us get ourselves to them instead of having them pick us up. This involved using the subway again, but it was a much different experience at rush hour… (which interestingly, riding at commuter hours costs more than riding mid-day). There are more people waiting on the tracks than there is room on any incoming train, so only a few people manage to get on with each train. Unlike the order and structure that accompanies most of this country, it’s thee who pushes and shoves the hardest that makes it on the next train. We stood, with no pushing or shoving, for seven trains. Actually it was technically only four trains, as three of the trains were a different line. But still, by train two or three we eventually worked our way up to the “front row” and stood by the tracks but those that were sneakier and faster and more aggressive than us got on trains. I guess by train seven we had enough, and we pushed and shoved ourselves into a train. Ernesto used some serious force. It was a level of aggression totally out of character for him yet totally appropriate.
We walked to a restaurant in their neighborhood, which is very young and cool. It had a very Greenwich Village feel. We had some nice wine, some good food, and of course enjoyable and great company. Andres and Tona are so gracious and so generous… if the world was filled with more Andres’ and Tona’s the world would be a much better place.
*spelling corrections: Jeremias (not Jeremiah) y Ana Maria (not Anna Maria). Desculpe!
October 25
We are back on the motos! The Triumph dealership was very good to us and we had a nice visit with the manager, Chrystian, one of the lead mechanics, Andres, and a couple of folks from the marketing team who took our picture out in front of the shop. Check us out at Triumph Santiago Chile Facebook ha ha. I guess they weren’t too mad at us for leaving our stinky boots in their shop...
We were on the road by noon and had an easy but crowded ride to Talca. The road south of Santiago is very nice; the snow capped Andes were to our left, there were rolling green hills to our right, and vineyards or olive farms covered the valley floor. The road is also full of cars and trucks however, and everyone but us was taking advantage of the good pavimento and going well over 100 km per hour. We saw too many road kill perros. After the sophistication of Santiago I wasn’t prepared for them so they made me even more sad than they otherwise would have.
The drama with Ignacio continues. He didn’t have the estimate or paperwork ready by yesterday, so we had to leave Santiago without anything official about getting our motos home. Grr. Via email today he gets us a quote (gulp) but we are still confused about some really important details like which ports we are shipping in and out of. He keeps writing things like “Portland or Los Angeles”. Big difference Ignacio!!! Ernesto and I talked at length about it this afternoon, and for sentimental reasons, we would be willing to go as far as we could (logically and economically) to get our babies home. Since it was all fresh in my mind I happened to jokingly complain about the situation at the Triumph dealership this morning and I’m glad I did. Chrystian not only knows a shipper who ships for Europeans, but he also knows the moto dealerships in Punta Arenas. If the shipping ends up being too expensive, it might be a possibility to sell the bikes (for at least a little money) in Punta Arenas. A few of the hurdles we are facing are 1) Ushuaia is not a big commercial port, 2) it is illegal for USAmericans to sell bikes in Argentina and most of Chile (Santiago and Punta Arenas are the two exceptions as they are “free ports”), and 3) if we do ship the bikes they will have to go from Argentina to Chile/Santiago as that is the port for West Coast USA (Europeans and East Coast Americans can stay all within Argentina and go through Buenos Aires), which means two sets of equally daunting and potentially conflicting paperwork. I hate the idea of taking them to the junkyard and hope it doesn’t come to that. I wish we could find a way to get them to two young men in Nicaragua or Colombia.
There is some sort of concert going on right by our hotel. Screaming and pop music. Grr. Grandpa is napping through it and Grandma wants it quiet.
Entonces... Even though we do not yet know what will happen after we arrive, we have planned our final leg to get to Ushuaia in Isla Tierra del Fuego. Our original plan was that, after Santiago, we would ride south to Osorno, cross over the Andes east to San Carlos de Bariloche, then ride through Patagonia to get to the Southern tip of Argentina. However, after riding through the high desert of Argentina, we changed our minds. What we read about the Argentine desert was a different and glorified version from what we experienced. Maybe those people were in cars and didn’t feel the wind. Or maybe they were on motos or bicycles and loved the thrill of riding on one of the most remote roads in the world. Whatever the reason, we did not feel we were doing something epic and grandiose. Besides the homogeneous ecology and ripping winds, the roads get much worse and the towns with gas and hotels get farther apart, There was one day (a fairly famous stretch) where we would have had to ride 500 km east across Argentina, with a section of gravel, leaning right into the wind the entire day. It is so famous everyone we speak with about it mentions it. Ernesto is tough and was fine with that plan. He wasn’t excited to do it but all good with doing it. I would have done it. I could have done it. But I didn’t want to do it. (And Ernesto just admitted he didn’t really want to do it either). It didn’t sound fun or enjoyable. It sounded like something to brag to others about doing, and we are so over that level of motivation. Anyway, after Tona made some recommendations of things to see and do in Chile and Googling about them, not only did we like the looks of Southern Chile, but we stumbled into a ferry website. It spends four days weaving around Southern Chilean waters. Hmm…. desert or ocean? We quickly chose ocean. And we have a cabin with a window! We are so excited. Hopefully we don’t hit too much of the Southern Chilean spring rains… We arrive to Ushuaia in Tierra del Fuego 12 de Noviembre. If we haven’t seen them by then, we hope there will be penguins. Ernesto says he really wants to see pinguinos from the seats of our motos, but it will be what it will be.
October 26
The ride from Talca to Chillan was very boring. It was a nice enough day so we were grateful for the weather, but we lost sight of the Andes and vineyards. It was just flat, freeway pavimento. However, the ride from Chillan to Concepcion was very nice. If it weren’t for the street signs in Spanish I would have thought we were in Canada. Rolling hills and wild flowers. The smell of conifers and replanted clear cuts.
Concepcion is right on the water (Rio Bio Bio), and with the surrounding steep hills, the landscape again had a Canada or Alaska feel. We decided to go to the university district, and walked down to Plaza Peru. It is the place where college kids go for cheap eats and beer, and we enjoyed both. Outside of the old fart faculty members carrying fancy leather briefcases, we were definitely the oldest people in the plaza.