16.03.23

After a wonderful rain shower and the remaining pasta from yesterday, I am heading back to the bus station. It's off to Punta Arenas, only 2 hours away and offering much cheaper flights to Santiago.

The distance to the bus station is definitely not "ocho minutos" as the friendly bearded gnome at the hostel assured me. Sprinting with fully loaded backpacks in the front and back is a challenging experience.

Punta Arenas is much bigger than Puerto Natales; there is even a university. Some free-roaming horses graze in the middle of the green strip on the main road, completely undisturbed by the surrounding traffic chaos.

Upon arrival, I stroll through the wide, windy streets. Elegant old buildings in European style, built by colonizers, testify to a golden era when Punta Arenas, with its strategic location on the Strait of Magellan, was one of the most important trade hubs in South America. That was until the Panama Canal opened.

The city is even ridiculously expensive by Chilean standards.

In the Backpacker's Paradise Hostel, a bunch of Germans and French people are waiting for me, not surprisingly. This time there are also Swiss and British people. Patricio, the host, puts a large bottle of Pisco (a highly popular Chilean brandy) on the table for the guests. In the evening, his nephew and his buddy come by to "look after" the hostel. They have plenty of bubatz and beer with them, and we drink heavily together with the Swiss person.