from 15.04.: Fireland & back in Santiago

15.04.

Punta arenas

bill from "erratic rock" gives me a hostel address in Punta Arenas when I asked. It is located on Magellan Street. And that's where I want to go. I read the book about the discovery of the Magellan Straits. It fascinated me so much that I would have been annoyed if I hadn't driven there.

The bus starts early, I have the ticket and this time I find my way without interruption.

The weather here in Punta Arenas is also great - the temperatures, although already in the Antarctic region, are very pleasant.

After searching for a long time, I find the hostel. Located on an ugly long main street.

Everything here also looks like in the former GDR. I occupy a six-bed room with three bunk beds and find a very helpful supporter of my future plans in the hostel owner. Yes - the next day I will take a boat trip to Fireland along the Magellan Strait. I take advantage of the willingness to provide information of the hostel owner and immediately ask about bus connections back to El Calafate. It turns out that I could go to Natales, but the bus to El Calafate only leaves on Tuesday morning and arrives in El Calafate around noon. She could book the bus for me on Tuesday.

Well - what to do? Take a risk and book the trip to Fireland or play it safe and return tomorrow, spend a night in Natales and then continue with an overnight stay in El Calafate on Monday?
I decide to take the risk. I book Fireland and now have half a day ahead of me.

The ATMs are stressing me out. Everyone tells me - just like at the airport in El Calafate - that the desired amount is invalid. Never mind, even a different amount gives me the same message. Finally, I meet another bank customer and just ask him. We both go through the procedure - with different cards - and then finally the ATM clicks and the money comes out.

How to endure the cold of Antarctica in wooden houses?

German Emigrants

I stroll through the city, go to the water, observe families with their kids, take a lot of photos and make a reassuring discovery:

No sign of Easter Saturday.

16.04. Easter Sunday

the next morning a set breakfast table awaits me! When everyone is still asleep. I don't expect anything, - even hot water in the thermos is waiting for me. Oatmeal and cornflakes! Hard butter, relatively good bread, homemade jam, and plenty of tea bags. Background: the hostel owner is German, he met his wife - the senora - here. He is from Leipzig and has secured his existence here with the hostel. That's why he advertises the breakfast, which also has German qualities.

I am picked up on time. We drive in a sprinter to the pier and have two hours for the crossing. The lounge reminds me of the first-class deck on the ferry from England to Ireland - many years ago. I faked my way in because I helped an elderly woman who was about to get seasick. She traveled first class and I just stayed there as a concerned helper!.

Here everything is also equipped with laminate and carpet, comfortable club chairs and a coffee bar with media lunas. I am outside a lot, observe the snow-covered mountains on the horizon, try to catch some morning sun - the ship adapts to the slightly restless water for my conditions - I doze off, write apps and wait for the day.

The guide is a young Chilean woman and very committed! We are only two who are not Chileans and for whom she gives a Spanish and English description in dialogue form. And that all day long!.

I never thought I would ever come to Fireland - tierra de fuego.

The Selk'nam - a proud people must come to such an end...

I had no idea about it, but only knew that it was called that because in the past the Selk'nam - the native nomads - made their fires everywhere to keep warm and roast the guanacos.

The explorers arriving from the sea saw the numerous fires in the twilight and named this land Tierra del Fuego. On the island, we get back on the sprinter bus and drive to a museum that tells us a lot about the Selk'nam. Here we learn how the natives were exterminated by the colonial rulers - like a holocaust. Rewards were paid to anyone who brought heads, hands, or other body parts. On a large mural, sheep in the shape of a cross are depicted in the middle, driving the Selk'nam into a bloodbath. Above the scene, a large sparkling piece of gold hovers. In the left half of the picture, a man with a top hat can be recognized. Next to him is a half-open sack from which hands, heads, and other limbs of the natives emerge. Across from the top hat sits a shirt-sleeved guy who grins and with the demeanor of a satisfied businessman pays with gold coins.

In the left half of the picture, the procedure of slaughter is depicted.

One of the participants was a certain Menedez, after whom a business institute here in the city is named today!!

He married his daughter to a Jewish merchant at that time and thus founded the Mendenez & Braun dynasty, which is said to have ruled the whole country and which was also responsible for this holocaust.

The only good thing about this is that the museum management devotes extensive attention to this issue and shows tourists the dark side of the past.

Would we do it the same way?

And it continues like this today. Where there are natural resources, people are driven out or exploited, and more...

Afterwards - fittingly - we eat lunch in a very simple-looking dwelling. The food is simply good! Homemade! I have salmon, which is topped with onions, tomatoes, and cheese and seasoned with thyme.

The meeting with the penguins does not meet my expectations. I have already seen some in Cape Town during my visit with Nora, Tillmann, and Darryn a few years ago - but here I thought I would meet an entire colony. However, there are only about 30 to 40 of them with their furry babies, looking out into the steppe, taking a few dignified steps from time to time, and standing still again. A fox, who thinks he is unnoticed by me, wanders around, gets bored, fights with his fleas, and looks for leftovers.

Then we continue, but it's just driving in a tight minibus. This time we cross over to the mainland at a different location with a car ferry. Is it South American serenity or typical German overorganization? The ferry has been there for a long time, but the waiting line of cars is not allowed to move for an hour. Waiting and waiting... but there is still a beautiful sunset on the ferry.

When it is already dark, we stop again. I'm hungry and hope for dinner, but all the houses on the roadside are pitch dark and appear deserted. What are we doing here? Then our guide tells me that there is an old, stranded, and rusting ship here that the notorious Mendenez built... for what and why? It can only be seen vaguely, but it leaves an impression on the other passengers.

RESEARCH

Finally, we are back in Puenta Arenas.

The Turkish population used Easter Sunday to give Erdogan even more power and to approve the constitutional change!

I am really appalled!! Everyone knows how dictatorships work, whether it's Hitler, Pinochet, or other autocrats.
How can one run headlong into the open knife like that? Now tyranny and autocracy will be able to unfold themselves legally and with a legal background. I read that the influence of the left-wing press was missing because they are all arrested. But they are thinking people who also know history. But when it comes to my bigoted priests saying, it is a religious duty, to, vote for the constitutional change, then actually nothing has changed in the many centuries.

Summary of the day: I was in Fireland - I drove along the Magellan Strait, I was allowed to see penguins, but only from a distance - so everything was not so impressive. The sprinter bus was cramped and there was a lot of driving.

17.04. Easter Monday

The bus back to Puerto Natales doesn't leave until late morning. When I arrive, I have a coffee with my friends from Costa Rica and eat the raspberry media luna. After that, I go to the Erratic Rock and take a walk through the city. The weather is overcast and the only thing that remins of the holiday is that a priest in white robes is reading a mass on the green strip of the wide street liberator bernardo o'higgins.

In the afternoon, hunger overcomes me, and I go to a small restaurant off the tourist crowds. Everything here is very simple too. Also a wooden house through which the now cold wind blows through the cracks. Big TV with soap operas and good food. I eat fish again, listen to the story, and try to practice my Spanish. There are two other guests in the restaurant. The waitress - noticeably underemployed - stands in front of the tables like a teacher and writes apps while grinning. Exactly - that's what I want to experience - not the put-on acting for tourists!

19.04.

Meanwhile, I have arrived back in Santiago, and that is not a matter of course.
The bus driver looks at me with big eyes when I ask him to confirm his arrival time in El Calafate at 14:00. It could be half past two or quarter to three with a stroke of luck, he says. I see myself already looking after the plane in El Calafate... I explain my problem to him, talk about something like 'mas rapido', he laughs, refers to regulations, and declines.
And yet I must have triggered something in him because he wants to make it at 2:00 pm. He asks his colleague as a precaution to put my backpack, which is already stowed away, in a place that allows for immediate removal, and an hour later, at the border crossing, he ensures that no time is wasted. As soon as the formalities are completed for the Chileans, he distributes our group to both available counters. He does the same on the Argentine side when we enter. He comes up to me during that time, thumbs up gesture: 'va todo bien!' (it's going well!). I nod encouragingly at him, also raise my thumb, and I know he is doing everything in his power.
The bus ride is still very nerve-wracking. The road is straight as an arrow to the horizon, no traffic, no potholes, well-built, and the bus drives comfortably at 90 km/h. About two hours before the scheduled arrival, I visit him in his driver's cabin. He is by no means angry that I am crossing prohibitions and talking to him. On the contrary, he proudly announces that he has ordered a taxi that would be waiting for me at the bus station in El Calafate. Just three minutes after our punctual arrival, after a heartfelt farewell with a 100 Argentine peso note, my taxi is already on its way to the airport.

An episode on the side would fit in well with Mr. Beam.
We are still at the border crossing:
I have my entry stamp, quickly visit the restrooms, and meet a South Korean next to me. When he flushes, the water doesn't go down as expected, but at face level - with less pressure than expected - comes out of the faucet. I notice the irregularity out of the corner of my eye and the well-founded reaction of the South Korean. When I realize what the cause is, I burst out laughing. The South Korean, around 30 years old, looks somewhat puzzled and then starts laughing too. Welcome to Argentina!

I almost miss my connecting flight to Santiago in Buenos Aires because I am busy writing and the passengers at gate 17 are still sitting comfortably in their chairs. Then I hear the announcement that has something to do with Santiago, I pay more attention and hear that the gate has been changed. I pack my things, casually go to gate 20, and just barely hear the mangled remains of my name... It's only then that I realize that the boarding has long been over...