Pucón
Another bus journey, another patchy 2 or 3 hours of sleep on a reclining chair. At least this bus played Finding Nemo on the screen. I arrived to the small, touristy town of Pucón at around 9am, which was again too early to check in, but at least the sun was up. At my final hostel, part of a chain called Selina, the lady at reception was kind enough to let me sleep in the little cinema room they had. When I finally did check in, the rooms were absolutely the best of any of the hostels I’d stayed in: comfy beds in individual units, a clean bathroom and a little sink area outside. This hostel wasn’t really sociable at all, but at this point I massively valued a good bed over talking to anyone, so that was fine. Saying this, I did run into 3 people from the Valpo hostel in Pucón, 2 in my hostel and 1 of them even in my room. Apparently, this happens a lot when travelling in the same areas and on the same routes, and it was nice to recognise some people at my (kind of) last stop.
Pucón is a town that feels almost central European, like Germany or Switzerland, with its neat little streets surrounded by dramatic scenery. There are lakes, mountains, and a rather intimidating volcano just chilling behind the restaurants and tour shops (the term for these places is definitely not ‘tour shops’, but I’m drawing a blank as to what it actually is. Where you go in and book tours of the local area. Those places). It’s a tourist town designed to accommodate the people who want to see the natural sights around it, so it’s small and expensive, but also a very relaxing place to end a month of travelling.
I say relaxing: the activities I did there don’t quite fit that description. As much as I don’t really see myself as outdoorsy or an adrenaline junky (I don’t even like being in the front of a car when it’s driving fast), if you don’t do that kind of thing in Pucón, well, you don’t really do very much. Hiking up the volcano (which was billowing smoke while I was there) sounded a little too much for me—a 6 am start, sledging down ice to get back down? I’m alright thanks—so I found a place offering the much calmer option of canopying. This is basically ziplining through a forest, and it was INCREDIBLE. Nervy as I was about the safety and the heights, the sheer fun of whooshing from tree to tree turned out to overwhelm any negative feeling right away.
In fact, I enjoyed this activity so much that, at the end, I asked the operators what else they had on offer the next day, and promptly signed myself up for white water rafting. I slightly regretted this when I got back to the hostel, and spent all evening googling how statistically safe it was, and how likely I would be to fall in the water and die horribly.
I needn’t have worried, obviously. The rafting turned out to be huge fun, safely instructed by the guide who steered our boat, with no falling out and a lot of beautiful views of the river Trancura instead. Even the rapids felt like a ride instead of the end of my life. I have become an adventurer. Of tame experiences with full safety equipment on at all times.
On my last day in Pucón I woke up early to catch the one bus that goes up to the Huerquehue National Park (no, I have no idea how to pronounce it either). This is an area known for beautiful hikes, so that’s exactly what I did. Hiking up to the lakes and lagoons around the mountains and back took around 7 hours, and my God was it beautiful. I realised when I was there that I don’t think I’ve really seen many lakes in my life before, so I didn’t know how still they could be. The first lake I came across felt like a huge mirror, glass reflecting the trees and the blue sky, not a ripple in sight. And the lagoons? Not something we have enough of in the UK, that’s for sure. 10 out of 10, would hike again.
At the end of the hike I came back exhausted and smelly (my profile name on Tinder), so I kicked back in my bed unit thingy one more time, before heading out to a restaurant for some more fish and white wine. What a combo.
Heading Back Home
Now, if you read my initial posts about my trip, you’ll know that I intended to visit Peru as well. Not just intended actually—I booked my flight home to leave from Lima, and had a nice hotel booked there for my final two days. When this became too unknowable an option in early 2023, I had to spend a hefty sum changing this, with Buenos Aires being the best take-off point. So it was back to Argentina once more.
Getting from Pucón to BA is a nifty little journey, involving a one-hour bus to Temuco, and 2 planes, one from there to Santiago, and the next from Santiago to BA. Some quick facts. One: the bus to Temuco does NOT go near the airport, and a wonderfully expensive little taxi ride will be necessary. I had to get out at a petrol station just to have the cash. Two: there is a ‘salmon panini’ available at Temuco Airport. This may be the worst sandwich ever. Three: the airport in Santiago is a testing ground for the long-distance events at the Olympics, such is the amount of bloody walking involved. Four: it seems, or at least it did when I was there, that no nice restaurant in the airport was able to take card. It was very much Macdonald’s or bust.
But eventually, I did arrive back in Buenos Aires, remembering how much hotter it is but determined to get to the nice hotel I’d booked for a rest. I love this idea at the end of any trip: book somewhere luxurious, or at least nice, for the last night or so. It really motivates you while you’re waiting in line for a cold shower in a hostel. I stayed in a room with a double bed wide enough for, I don’t know, a very wide thing, with my own bathroom and internet-connected TV. It was absolute bliss and I don’t care who knows it.
I had one more full day in Buenos Aires before flying home and this was my real, honest, schedule:
-wake up literally whenever
-go and have lunch in a nearby Korean restaurant (it was alright, I had stir-fried braised spicy chicken and dumplings)
-watch Netflix and YouTube in my inexplicably wide bed
-go out and buy a nice cake
-eat said cake whilst watching YouTube
-go out and meet Betina (who I met on my first trip to BA) and her friend Lily in a floral-themed speakeasy cocktail bar, rated one of the top 50 in the world
-go back to wide bed
-sprawl
It was heaven.
The next day, it was time to fly home. None of this particular journey was interesting (hotel to airport, BA to Madrid by plane, Madrid to London by plane, Gatwick to Waterloo by trains, Waterloo to Exeter by yes, more trains) but I will say that downloading a show before flying is a good plan. I watched almost all of the Korean reality show ‘Physical 100’, where a lot of ripped men (and some women) wrestled each other and lifted heavy things. It was surprisingly good, and numbed the wooziness of intense tiredness. Slightly.
Before I knew it, I was back home again, and my trip to South America was past tense. I really did have a great time, seeing new environments, meeting new people, and literally living through a different hemisphere. I became brutally aware of how little Duolingo had prepared my Spanish language skills (but BOY do I know how to say ‘sorry I don’t speak Spanish well’), and also how much you need to juggle in your head when moving between different countries with different cultures, climates and economies.
And what did I take from it? That there’s so much more to see. I already have another trip sketching itself out in my head, slightly closer in distance (Europe) but slightly more epic in scope (maybe…10 countries?). I only hope I can see as many amazing sights as I did in Uruguay, Argentina and Chile, and that the people and culture will be just as inspiring.
I think I’ve confirmed what my favourite ‘place in the Americas’ is guys.
Comments