Two nights ago, I had the chance to do more of what I do at bus stations: people watch and make up stories on their comings and goings as a way to reflect and pass the time.
I encountered a young man and woman whose language and accents sounded francophone West African to me. Given their walk down the bus aisle and the French spoken numerals they mentioned as they reviewed the seat numbers at eye level — “cinqant trois, cinqant cinq” — I assumed they were navigating Spanish as a second (or third) language, as I was. They were limited in their conversation with me, which was okay, and I had to flag for them when their stop, Puerto Varas, had arrived. I found it to be small miracle that I caught the rapid verbal direction of the bus staff steward, who reminded them directly of their upcoming stop, better than they did. At first, they didn’t rise when other passengers disembarking for Puerto Varas were awaiting their luggage underneath my window alongside the bus. When I mentioned this stop as theirs, they looked alarmed, double-checked with the driver, scrambled to gather their belongings, thanked me and headed downstairs to street level before the bus left for its final stop, Puerto Montt. A moment in time where I’m reminded that we are all in this together, humanity is a connective tissue that transcends language barriers.
Llama and alpaca wools spun for sewing in a market en route to Puerto Montt (credit: Lindsay Hower, 2017).
I arrived in Puerto Montt mid-afternoon and felt physically “off” all day. Fatigue, some indigestion and dehydration bundled together with sciatic pain made for a less dreamy day than others. I took a long walk since that’s the usual antidote following a “sitting day,” and I held out hope to find Puerto Montt’s charming “centro” — the main plaza, or a city center of local enterprises and market(s), or a main boulevard of activity — and I did not find it. Located within the maze of fjords and islands of Chilean Patagonia, Puerto Montt had a stunning oceanfront vista but no established part of the city to fully engage and enjoy it (the highway and a major mall ran along the shore with a modest sidewalk along side it). I had heard that Puerto Montt lacks luster in the way of tourist-focused activity with exception of it being a transport hub with an airport and major ferry terminal. I respect those cities who operate solely for its population, and Puerto Montt seemed to be in this category.
I used the remainder of the afternoon to take myself out to dinner and confirm some life logistics. Printing tickets for upcoming travels and activities, catching up on e-mail, closing out some remaining consulting work left on my 2017 books, scheduling work meetings for January. While I was “on sabbatical,” I cherish the space that travel provides to catch up on all things personal, including contact with loved ones and
First glance at Torres del Paine as we arrived into the town of Puerto Natales earlier today (credit: Lindsay Hower, 2017).
professional tasks that require thoughtful tending and follow up. “Tuning out” for me was more like tuning into the people and things most important. Puerto Montt served up a lovely boutique hotel, Tren del Sur, which I recommend, and a moment to catch my breath before meeting my friend, Emily, in Puerto Natales and preparing to launch to Torres del Paine the next day.
