Pucón, Chile November 21, 2010
Pucón. In Chile, it’s famous. Very famous. And apparently in the rest of the world too. That is, this place is full of tourists. The whole local economy is dependent on them. As one of the people I’m staying with told me, “here, every waits for summer to come, but it’s just a couple of months.” They make a living off of the tourism, but they have to make it fast here, in the high season, because I could imagine this place dies in the other months. There’s not any kind of primary industry here, save maybe a couple of sheep. But even the sheep are raised mostly for there wool, which is then sold in the form of jackets and caps and gloves and sweaters to all of the tourists.
Still, this place is beautiful. It’s very different from the north. Everything’s green here, and here it really rains, which is something I experienced maybe twice in two months up north. I’m going to leave tomorrow, but I’ve kept busy. In the immediate area there are two national parks, three volcanos, four major glacial lakes and dozens of smaller ones, countless waterfalls, river, termas or thermal pools, volcanic caves etc. Plus, if it’s your kinda thing, you can shop for all kinds of the best “outdoors” products (all at gringo prices) in a town with impeccable city planning. That is to say, all of the shops in the center, the sign posts, street signs, everything, are all made with the same color wood and in the same style.
But more than anything, Pucón is the volcano. Volcán Villarica. Even though it bears the same name as the neighboring town, Volcán Villarica is closer to Pucón (supposedly) towering over the town. But I couldn’t tell you out of experience. I’ve been here since Thursday, so four days, and I haven’t once seen it. Not even a glimpse. It’s been raining the whole time, and the volcano has been obscured by fog.
But now to put irony aside (it was fun, but not really my style), I actually don’t mind that I haven’t seen the volcano. I’ve had a good time. I hiked and got soaked in la Parque Nacional Huerquehue, and wandered around a bunch through the Mapuche village Curarrehue. But more than anything, both here and in Temuco, I’ve come to realize that everything I’ve heard about the hospitality of southern Chileans, or soreños, is true. In fact, it’s better. When I went to Temuco, I got kinda screwed. I had banked upon the fact that I was traveling in the off-season, so I thought I’d be able to find a place to stay in the center. But every place I asked was full. I found this guy at a hostel who said he would watch my bags for me, and I ended up staying and listening to his stories about traveling in Patagonia, and why he was running a hostel, and watching his skydiving videos. And then, because I had called my host mom, telling her I couldn’t find a place, she called a friend who had a sister who lived in Temuco and long story short, I ended up staying in a house for a night, with this very generous family. And here in Pucón, well, this family (though the names won’t mean anything to you, it’s just for me to remember Tia Rosa, Hugo, Juan Carlos, Cinthya, Cristian, Belén, Carmen), has been very welcoming and generous.
Still, it would be a shame to leave Pucón without even seeing the volcano. But the weather report says that tomorrow will be sunny and the woman at the bus station sold me the bus ticket with the best view. So I’m hoping for a scenic drive through Paso Mamuil Malal to Junín de los Andes in Argentina. Here’s to that.
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