Among the several charming towns that dot the southern coast of Chile, my trip to Castro (located in the center of the island Chiloé in the Lagos Region) left a lasting imprint. Rickety palafitos surround Chile's third oldest city, and several smaller islands in the archipelago are only a quick bus/ferry ride away.
Chiloéan Palafitos
After a surprisingly corto bus ride from Ancud (located on the north end of the island), our bus pulled into the central station and the driver unloaded our luggage in a hurry, pressed to keep up with the tight but punctual schedule for the day. Having no real plan as to where we would lodge that night, my mom and I went strolling through town to put our negotiating skills to use, leaving my father behind at the station to guard the bags. Needless to say, we stumbled upon an extremely pleasant surprise. A hidden treasure tucked behind the tired, sea-worn buildings along the water lured us into the Hostería de Castro to inquire about the price of a room. After poking our heads into a couple of other guest houses prior, it felt as though we had just walked into an upscale ski lodge in Aspen. Now considering the lack of great options, I put my Spanish to use on the recepcionista, and was feeling quite confident in my abilities after our 2 months of traveling...haggling and showing my best uninterested face while trying to get the best deal available.....then......booked! The rooms felt like a mirage considering the surrounding architecture, and I instantly felt like I was in heaven when I opened the door to a linda vista of the bahía. Paradise!
Hostería de Castro
I wanted to spend all day and all night in the hotel, indulging in yummy room service, with an occasional trip downstairs to the state of the art gym/indoor pool. The large windows on every floor reminded me of how frigid the weather was at this time of the year, with a strong gale blowing constantly....I'm talking bone chilling, right-through-your-thick-winter-coat wind. In turn, much time had to be spent indoors, and the degree of pampering we received at this lodge felt like nirvana after being beaten up on the roads of Chile for so long.
A day later, with our exhaustion partially subsided, my mom suggested we endure the hurricane and explore the vicinity for a restaurant serving authentic Chiloéan food. Within one block, our faces had turned a mixture of pale/bright red from the wind lashing against our cheeks, and we swiftly ducked into a hole in the wall diner-type restaurant. As we took our seats, and the waitress came over to take our order, protocol went as such: my father would glance at the menu and attempt to order in English, only to find out that hardly a word of English is spoken by the waitress, and would proceed to look at me in desperation, as I would complete the order for him in Spanish. Then would come my mom, who would attempt broken Spanglish, and I would often fill in the gaps. Then would come my order, and in general it came fairly effortlessly. However, this time, after I spat off orders left and right, I waived the waitress back to the table and confidently asked: "puede traerme un bombero, por favor?" The waitress just looked at me and grinned, asking me to please repeat what I had just asked for because she did not understand. Now it hadn't even crossed my mind that maybe, just maybe I'm saying something incorrect, because I had been speaking so much! *ahem* "dije puede traerme un bombero?".....suddenly reverting my statement into a question. "Un bombero? Quiere decir un b-o-m-b-i-l-l-a?" She asked me, smiling widely. I felt my face heating up to the color of a tomato, and I anxiously agreed, realizing that I had just asked her to bring me not a straw, but a fireman....yes, a fireman. Needless to say, that was the last time I acted like I owned the room with my linguist abilities.
As we finished our dinner and scurried back to the hotel, I began to ponder language barriers, and why I wasn't perfectly native in Spanish yet. After all, I expect perfection with everything I do....from petty tasks to the people I surround myself with. Maybe this is why language appeals to us, because it is an area that one can never attain perfection. Making mistakes is part of the fun, even if it does entail a fireman in my agua.
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