Puerto Montt, Puerto Varas and Frutillar

My bus journey from Pucón took about 5 hours until I finally arrived in Puerto Montt late in the evening in the darkness. Unfortunately, my phone battery was dead and I had to rely on my memory of the directions from Google Maps to find my hostel. Of course, I got lost at first, wandering around with my 30kg backpack and unnecessarily climbing steep streets. I couldn't ask for directions either because there was no one in sight.

Eventually, I found my hostel and asked an German guest in my hostel (classic) in English where I could find a staff member since there seemed to be no reception and I was standing in the middle of a living room. The owner didn't welcome me warmly, she was watching TV in her bedroom and only told me that I had to go to Room Number 5 on the upper floor. I didn't receive any information about payment, breakfast times, Wi-Fi password or anything else. My roommates were more helpful: a Dutch woman, a Canadian, an Argentinean, and the German guy I had already met in the living room.

The next morning, after breakfast, I took a bus to Frutillar, a town founded by German immigrants and still heavily influenced by German culture. However, disappointingly, I couldn't find anyone who spoke German.

In Frutillar, I walked through the streets and shops, bought a traditional apple strudel, and visited the German Colonial Museum. There wasn't much else for me to do there, but I liked that many houses really looked German and restaurants or guesthouses had German names. Frutillar itself is a beautiful, well-kept small town right on the lake, from where you can see the mighty Osorno Volcano.

Later, I took a bus to Puerto Varas, another city on a lake, where there was a German cake festival that day. Live music was played in the central square, hundreds of cakes and other specialties were sold, and people celebrated. I personally find it a bit strange that wherever I go, something German is being celebrated or sold, even though there are no Germans to be seen anywhere. I also heard from friends that a few days earlier, a German beer festival was celebrated in Valdivia.

In Puerto Varas, I walked along the beach and went to a restaurant where I had dry sausage and potatoes. Yes, I have to say, the first few days after Pucón weren't that great for me. Even in Puerto Montt, there seemed to be nothing for me to discover as it appeared to be a very dirty, unattractive city. So, it wasn't difficult for me to leave southern Chile the next morning and continue traveling to Argentina.