Las Ferias

By far, my favorite thing to do with my Chilean host family is accompany them on their weekly trips to la feria. La feria is the Chilean equivalent of a farmer market. In a typical visit they buy: potatoes, onions, carrots, bell peppers, kiwis, bananas, cilantro, parsley, tomatoes, lettuce, zucchini, zapallo (Chilean winter squash), lemons, apples, oranges, avocados, eggs, aji (Chilean hot peppers), fava beans, pineapple, and seasonal fruits like strawberries, peaches, apricots, pears, or cherimoyas.

.

There are some important differences. First of all, the vendors in la feria do not have to be connected to the production of the goods they are selling. Second there are many other products for sale besides vegetables in la feria. One can buy, pots, pans, kitchen sponges, ladies underwear, chewing gum, copies of keys, hair ornaments, and more. Lastly there is no restriction on who can enter la feria. It is common to see stray dogs and cats walking about and looking for scraps. This kitten at La Vega Central, which I will speak of in a moment, is taking a siesta on a cloth covering a large mountain of potatoes.

Las ferias are organized by every communa of Santiago and occur in multiple locations at different times of the week. The price and quality of the  produce vary depending on the wealth of the communa. My host parents prefer to travel out of Providencia to Santiago Central because the produce there is still high quality but much cheaper than it is in wealthy Providencia. Each communa has a group of vendors that attend their ferias. The vendors buy the produce each morning at Vega Central- a huge whole sale market. They then take it in hand carts, bicycle carts, and trucks to the destination of the day’s feria.

I went to expecting to find a center of trade between farmers or packing houses and vendors. Instead what I found was a giant ferias with vendors carrying the same range of products as those in the street only in larger quantities and at lower prices.

I still haven’t figured out where all the produce and other products come from, but I find it interesting that Chileans, who much more in the habit of buying their produce and other goods at out door markets than Americans, miss the important transfer of ideas and values that happen in farmers’ markets. They do not interact with the people that grow their food. They cannot ask when it was harvested, where it is from, or whether or not it was sprayed with pesticides and petroleum based fertilizers. These questions and the farmer-eater interaction are important mechanisms for promoting healthy agricultural systems.

Interestingly, many Chileans complain that only the worst fruit is left in chile- all the good stuff gets exported. I find this hard to believe since I have found some very high quality produce here- as well as crops like cherimoya and miembro that aren’t eaten in countries that import Chilean crops. However, in the states people who are discontent with the selection of produce in their farmer’s market can ask the farmers directly. Understandably, the geography of chile would make it difficult for farmers to participate in a system like American farmers markets (most agricultural areas are several hours away by car from Santiago). But I hope for Chileans that they will one day get a chance to meet their farmers and have a good long talk about export agriculture.

I do realize that farmers markets are not yet wide spread in the states and that only a small fraction of people have access to them. In this respect, Chile is much more advanced in its food distribution system.

Leave a Comment

Sopapillas and Cheese Empanadas with Dough Recipe

Fried food is something that I just don’t eat much of in California, but here in chile it is a regular part of my diet… Acknowledgement is the first step to recovery.

Two of the most popular fried foods in chile are empanadas and sopaipillas. Sopapillas are fried dough rounds that sometimes include a little bit of pureed zapallo (Chilean winter squash) in the batter. They are often eaten with mustard and/or hot nescafe. When my host mother goes to the effort of making dough and getting her wok of oil set up, she usually makes a lot of dough which she then forms into both sopapillas and empanadas. Empanadas were covered in my earlier post but this week I also learned how to make and form the dough for the empanada skin. Below is the dough recipe along with a list of typical empanada fillings.

The Dough:

This dough recipe will make 16 large empanadas (the size of the empanadas shown in the “traditional empanadas post”). Alternatively you can make more smaller empanadas or fewer with sopapillas. This is a lot of food but sopapillas can easily be reheated in the toaster and empanadas reheat well in the oven or microwave. Or if you really don’t want to eat that many, the recipe is flexible and can easily be halved.

Ingredients:

1 kg white four without baking powder

1/2 tbsp salt

3 tbsp vegetable shortening, melted (6 tbsp  for baked empanadas)

1 – 1 1/2 cups of hot water

Directions:

In a large bowl, mix salt and flour. Make a well in the flour mixture for shortening. Add boiling water in small increments, stirring in between each addition. When you can no longer stir with a spoon, resort to your hands. The dough should be the same consistency as bread dough. Knead vigorously on a floured surface until smooth and elastic.

When the dough has been well needed, divided it into the same number of small balls as you would like empanadas. Below is a picture demonstrating the approximate size of the balls. The smaller ball is for the cheese empanadas which we made with this dough. The larger ball is the size for the larger empanadas we made a few weeks ago.

For Empanadas: Using a rolling pin, flatten the balls into thin disks about 1/4 inch thick. If well floured, these disks can be stored in a plastic bag in the refrigerator for a few days prior to shaping and cooking the empanadas.If stored, the dough will dry out a little bit and you will need to use water to remoisten the edges when sealing the empanadas (see older post). If used immediately no water is needed and you can proceed with the following instructions.

Create a small mound of filling in the center of the dough disk. Here we are using Queso de Manteca (a yellow/white cheese with a consistency like mozarella but with holes like swiss). My host mom says that she prefers Gouda cheese.

Fold the dough in half over the filling and use a fork or your fingers to mash the edges together.

Fold up the edges in a ruffle pattern.

For Sopapillas: Pat the balls into flat disks slightly thicker than the empanada skins. Using your fingernail create a small hole in the center of the disk (I have seen lots of sopapillas without the center hole, but this is my host mother’s method).

Cooking:

Fill a wok with 4-5 inches of oil and heat over a high flame. Test the temperature of oil by tossing in a tiny piece of dough- if it sizzles and cooks quickly, the oil is ready.

Lower the flame and gently place the empanadas and sopapillas in the wok. In this wok there was room for about 4 empanadas and 1 sopapilla at a time. Cook until the skin is golden brown, flipping once midway through.

Allow to cool in a paper towel lined pan until ready to eat.

Serve with mustard, katsup, hotsauce, or Aji (Chilean peppers).

Alternative Fillings:

  • Traditional: beef, onions, hard boiled egg, raisin, and black olive
  • Caprese: cheese, tomato, and basil
  • Ham and cheese
  • Cheese and Spinach
  • Ham and Spinach
  • Cheese and mushroom
  • Cheese and Zucchini

Leave a Comment

Fashion on the Street

One of the first things that an American woman in Santiago will notice is that, when out on the streets, Chilean men are at their liberty to whistle, honk horns, and call out to her. The less acculturated find this to be some combination of annoying, disrespectful, and and degrading. Others take it as a compliment and feel it boosts their self esteem. Whichever the case may be catcalls emphasize the importance of personal appearance in Santiago. Appearance is always important, but as a foreigner in Santiago, learning the new “do’s” and “don’t’s” of fashion has been something of a challenge.

Here are a few that I have learned so far:

Chilean women never wear shorts: Every now and then you will see a university student or young girl wearing shorts around the city, but most of the time when women in Santiago wear pants, that fall at least below the knee- even while exercising.

Bright colors are “out there”: This observation might be partially due to the fact that I spend most of my time in Providencia which is a wealthy neighborhood with lots of offices and serious professionals, however it seems that most fabrics are dyed in blacks, browns, grays, whites, and earth tones. A major exception to this is a genera of  women’s fashion that is popular among 20 and 30-somethings. This rebellious style includes harem style pants with a fitted top in vibrant colors- more on this later.

Sunglasses are in, hats are out: The hole in the ozone layer is located right above southern chile and (it might be psychological) the sun definitely feels stronger and brighter in central chile than in central California. While my host mother will always encourage me to wear sun glasses and use lots of sunscreen, she can hardly stand the sight of my sun hat with out a smile that says “Dios mío, tu eres una tourista!” And it is true, despite the burning sun, only a handful of street vendors and tourists wear hats in Santiago.

A scarf improves every outfit: this is less true since the weather has been in the 30’s Celsius (high 80’s-90’s Fahrenheit) but even still, scarves are a favorite accessory of Chileans. If you left yours at home there are lots of street vendors that offer a large selection of colors and styles. The excellent example below shows how a worn out olive green waffle henley and dirty jeans can be transformed into a fashion masterpiece with the simple addition of a scarf.

Now about the Harem pants… that might be the wrong word to describe them but basically they are loose pants with drawstrings at the waist and ankles and pockets. Most of the time they are in plain colors but they also come in alarming rainbows of stripes and technicolored checks. Some are sewn from roughly woven cotton and others are done with soft jersey knits. The length and thickness also varies. Below is an example of a woman who nicely stopped for me to take a picture of her (And understood what I was asking her for in Spanish!). I will try to update this post with a few more examples if I can collect them.

My theory with the harem pants is that they are a fun, a little bit rebellious, and  cool (not as cool as a skirt but much cooler than jeans) in an otherwise conservative fashion climate.

Also of interests for anyone interested in Chilean fashion is El Museo de la Moda. Located in a beautiful Frank Loyd Right Inspired home in Los Condes, the collection includes museum works to connect its extensive collection of garments and accessories from around the world to Chile and Chilean fashion past and present.

This post is dedicated to Maricarmen and Annie with many thanks for introducing me to fashion beyond functionality.

Comments (2)

Chilean Thanks Giving Decorations

The short version of this story is that there is no such thing in Chile due simply to the fact that they do not celebrate Thanks Giving here.

The long version is an intensive study of North American handicrafts with a strong focus on the “hand turkey.”

Children in the United States learn how to make the iconic hand turkey as early as preschool or kindergarten. The hand turkey symbolizes the great richness of north American biodiversity, and the conquest of the continent by turkey eating gringos.

Versions of the hand turkey include:

– Profile with Horizontal Stripes: This feather pattern is the most faithful to the actual plumage pattern of a turkey. The colors chosen here are much bolder than the browns and blacks of a real turkey but they speak to the autumn colors that are typical of the Thanks Giving season. The profile body arrangement (using the thumb as the head) is the most traditional arrangement due to its simplicity. The only part of the bird that needs to be drawn freehand in this arrangement is the wing, a part of the anatomy which can easily be overlooked along with the feet and gobble.

– Front View with Vertical Plumage: The front facing hand turkey is slightly less common than the profile body arrangement due to the need to free hand the outline of the head a body. The vertical plumage pattern shown here has no relation to the actual plumage patterns of a turkey and is reminiscent of the psychedelic 1970’s.

Profile with Solid Colored Finger-Feathers: This design is a favorite of young children due to the simplicity of the plumage pattern and opportunity to use colors that are completely unrelated to the actual colors of a turkey.

Profile with Blended Plumage: perfect for those of us who dislike coloring in the lines, this turkey design allows for random swipes of the crayon over the turkey’s body and tail feather area.

Not shown here is the much beloved “Headless Turkey” which consists of a profile body arrangement in which the thumb has been cut off and the area around the base of the thumb colored red. There is no plumage pattern specific to the headless turkey.

Leave a Comment

Exercise in Providencia

In Chile it is easy enough to take public transportation from door to door  and settle into a diet of completos (hot dogs topped avocado and mayonaise), empanadas, sopapillas (fried dough rounds), and alfajores (dulce de leche sandwich cookies).

That being said, there are also lots of fabulous opportunities to exercise. Below are a list of enjoyable exercise opportunities that I have found during my time here.

Walking: The city is very walkable with lots of parks and tree lined streets. I prefer walking to taking the metro for several reasons including the increased opportunity to see Chileans doing daily activities (watering their lawns, walking the dog, grocery shopping, taking their kids to school, etc.) and that the metro is absolutely packed during rush hour.

Gym Equipment in the Park: Several parks have gym equipment available to visitors. These machines to work arms, abs and legs as well as basic pull up bars and benches designed for situps. On weekend afternoons these machines are often occupied by young children who have found clever ways to turn them into swings, and jumping platforms. However most weekdays and mornings they are only lightly used, with plenty of space for drop-in visitors.

Dancing: I haven’t explored the Santiago night scene very much, but dancing (Salsa, Merengue, Reggaeton, etc.)  seems to be an important part of Chilean socializing. There are also free dance classes on the weekends in certain parks in Providencia. These classes are mostly salsa but have a zumba feel to them. More information about locations and times can be found under “servicios” on this website http://www.providencia.cl.

Running: While running on the city streets can be challenging, there are lots of long and skinny parks with trails that occupy the medians of main thoroughfares like O’Higgens. There are also lots of races in Santiago. More information can be found at http://www.corre.cl/ .

Leave a Comment

Stanford V. Oregon at the California Cantina

California Cantina is the only bar in Santiago known to screen American college football. Its walls sport sun pictures of palm trees lined SoCal beaches and its food menu includes hamburgers, sabors de Mexíco, and a warm brownie with ice cream. Most of the waitresses speak English and the door is adorned with an outline of the California grizzly bear.

This Saturday night, it was crammed full of gringos including 16 Stanford students all rooting for their team in what many of the more hard-core fans said was “the most important game of the season.” Several of us prefer label the next games the most important game of the season BEAT CAL! but in terms of national rankings, this one was pretty important. Stanford V. Oregon occupied one of the three TV’s behind the bar. The other two were airing a bloody boxing tournament and the Hooters 15th Annual International Swimsuit Contest. The evening went something like this.

Oregon kicks off.  After a minute of Stanford playing the ball goes back to Oregon.

Boxers weigh in and are looked over by an official wearing latex gloves before entering the ring.

The men in the bar cheer as a sleazy man and sleek blonde welcome everyone to the Hooters Swimsuit Contest.

Ball Back to Stanford, 4 downs end in a punt with no return. Ball back to Oregon on 47 yard line.

Boxers circles the ring galloping sideways on their tiptoes, fists ready.

Dozens of well endowed women in sequin take the stage with the sleazy announcer. By the time he finished making a speech we couldn’t hear their talking their overworked smile muscle must have been aching.

A blonde in a corset style halter top turns to receive a juicy smooch from her boyfriend at the bar.

TOUCHDOWN OREGON! A high-pitched squeal of rage comes from one of the more inebriated Stanford fans who dramatically presses a hand with red-painted fingernails over her eyes.

Kick! Punch! Elbow in the side! Man down with a blow across the face.

The ladies are back in their swimsuits each one only covering the bare minimum. They are all bikinis and most of them include rhinestones, sequins and/or shiny fabric.

The cardinal fights to score before the end of the first quarter but closes with a score of 0-8.

A mountain of cheesy nachos passes by on its way out to the patio.

In a graphic closeup shot, a coach applies pressure with a cotton swab to a gash in his boxers eyelid. Blood gurgles out but the stoic boxer doesn’t flinch. He spits blood out of his unnaturally red moth.

A cheer goes up for a pouting hooters waitress from Florida as she poses at the end of the catwalk in a teal bikini designed to show equal amounts of cleavage on either side of each rectangular top piece. The bottom piece looks like a cross between a thong and a world-class wedgy.

TOUCHDOWN STANFORD! “What does the band do if they don’t make the field goal? Do they just keep playing ‘All Right Now’ or do the let it die down?”

Back in the ring the bloody eyed contender seems to be loosing as blows rain down from his opponent.

The bar tender gets booed out by the men of the bar when he tries to change the hooters channel to a soccer match.

TOUCHDOWN OREGON! Eyebrows furrow as the field goal soars through the posts.

Slow motion replay of the bloody eyed man’s nose and jaw being rattled by a fierce blow from his opponent.

The scene flashes away from the catwalk to one of the contestants jogging along a beach in her minimalist bikini.

A stream of young women with bits of ribbon and party decorations in their hair come through the bar on their way out after a birthday party in a private upstairs room.

Glasses as drained as spirits are boosted by a Stanford field goal.

The coach presses gauze against a fresh wound in the bloody eyed boxers face while another trainer wields another cotton swab against the older wound.

TOUCHDOWN OREGON- calls for fresh pitcher of beer at the bar.

TOUCHDOWN STANFORD- foam slops over the edge of raised glasses.

A foxy Chilean woman tips her head back and blows a plume of cigarette smoke straight up into the already smoky air.

The bloody eyed boxer seems to be making a comeback  and deals his opponent a matching wound.

A single hooters contestant presents a swimsuit selection that looks closer to Macy’s underwear than Victoria’s Secret langiere.

TOUCHDOWN OREGON- “If you aren’t rooting for Stanford you don’t exist to me right now.” says the most die-hard, inebriated Stanford fan to a man cheering for Oregon.

The camera zooms in on the straining leg muscles of the boxers locked in combat.

The hooters contestants are now doing group interviews wearing their tight work uniforms.

TOUCHDOWN OREGON- a small group of Stanford fans leaves, unwilling to watch their team lose.

A man who has just finished watching the Notre Dame game tries to explain that the reason we are such unenthusiastic fans is that our team is loosing and smart kids don’t have experience facing adversity.

A trainer wipes the sheen of sweat and blood from his boxer’s heaving chest.

TOUCHDOWN STANFORD! 23-36, a comeback is possible.

Now in matching blue sparkle bikinis the contestants are getting ready to hear the judge’s remarks.

TOUCHDOWN OREGON- our second wind is dampened.

Back in the bar a glass shatters but attracts little attention from the noisy clientel.

TOUCHDOWN STANFORD! A few fans in the doorway return to their seats.

Too bloodied now to be told apart the boxers are rolling on the floor with one’s legs wrapped around the others’ waist.

The contestants all maintain forced smiles and applaud while the finalists are called forward by the sleazy announcer.

The boxers are separated by a referee and to those of us only half watching, it is unclear whether or not there was a winner.

TOUCHDOWN OREGON! Game over but it is too close to the end to leave now.

The die-hard Stanford fan gets in a shouting match with a Chilean who doesn’t care much about the game but choose to root for Oregon. Shouting turns to shoving and she leaves crying escorted by the rest of the disappointed and now embarrassed group.

Comments (2)

Traditional Chilean Empanadas


The first meal I ate upon arriving in Chile was an empanada from the chain bakery Castaño. In the 6 weeks since that first lunch, I have eaten more of them than I can count. They come in all shapes and sizes with different fillings including ham and cheese, ham and corn, chicken and vegetable, caprese, spinach, and several other variations. This week, I had the opportunity to learn how to make empanadas with my host mother who is an excellent cook. We made a baked and a fried version with a traditional filling of beef, onions, hard boiled egg, olive and raisin. Below is a step by step guide of how we did it.

Ingredients

The Meat: My host mother strongly emphasized the importance of cooking the meat for an empanada filling the day before you plan to make the actual empanadas. This allows the flavors to blend and strengthen. In a large sauce pan, we sauteed beef brisket in 1 cm cubes with garlic, oil and paprika. Then we added finely chopped onion in a ratio of about 3-1 with the meat. We continued to saute the mixture until the onions were limp and slightly caramelized. We covered the pan an left it in the refrigerator overnight.

The dough: This is the one part I didn’t help with as it is a rather time consuming process which my host mother completed while I was at school. From what I gather the dough is rather similar to unleavened bread dough with a ratio of about 2.2 pounds of flour to 1/4 pound of shortening. Water and salt make up the rest. My host mother used a machine to roll to dough into perfect rounds which she stored stacked in a plastic bag in the refrigerator until we were ready to use them.

Other ingredients: Right before we assembled the empanadas, my host mother hard boiled three eggs. She peeled and sliced them and set them out with a bowl of unpitted black olives and golden raises.

Assembly

Once all the ingredients were laid out, we set up our assembly station with a large flat plate and a mug of water.

Next we placed a single round of dough on the plate and spooned 1/2 a cup of the meat and onion mixture into the center.

On top of the meat mixture we added 1 slice of egg, 1 olive, and a single golden raisin.

Then we dipped our fingers into the mug of water and wet half of the outer perimeter of the round of dough. The round was then folded in half and firmly pressed so that the wet edge formed a tight seal with the dry edge.

Cooking

For the baked version, we wet the edge of the assembled semicircle empanada and then folded over again with a deeper fold closer to the flat edge of the semicircle than the arc. This created a trapezoid shape. In the picture below are two examples made by my host mother (left) and one done by me (right). As you can see from my example, the exact shape of the empanada is not important and need not satisfy the trapezoid tradition. The finished empanadas were placed on a greased pan and brushed with egg. These were then baked in the oven until the crust was golden brown.

For the fried version, the edge of the semicircle was pinched into a wave like ruffle.

To fry the empanadas, my host mother heated a large wok with a deep pool of vegetable oil. She fried the empanadas two at a time turning them once when the bottom side was golden brown.

When evenly brown, she fished them out with a sieve and allowed them to rest on a paper towel before serving.

Enjoy!








Comments (2)

From the Heights of Villarrica

When we arrived in Pucón after the 10-hour overnight bus ride from Santiago, a fleet of fluffy spring clouds was drifting through, obscuring our view of the taller mountains surrounding the village.  Among these unseen mountains was one of Chile’s most active volcanoes, Villarrica, which I had signed up to climb the next day.  Even if I had seen the snowy summit upon arrival that morning, I might not have thought twice about ascending it. From Pucón, the slope up to the crater looks gradual and quite manageable for a 20 year old who counts hiking among her favorite activities.

That evening, I, with most of the other Stanford students who I was traveling with met 2 guides in a room full of recreational equipment in an outbuilding of the hostel we were staying at. The guides were muscular and dressed in the laidback athletic clothing that I associate with hikers and ski-bums. They opened the meeting by warning us that weather conditions and the amount of noxious gases spewing from Villarrica would determine whether or not we could attempt the summit and, if we reached the crater, how long we would be able to stay up there. They asked if we were all in good physical condition before having us try on the heavy snow boots that we would be wearing. The snow boots and racks of parkas and waterproof pants in the equipment room were my first indication that this was going to be the most difficult and technical hike I had ever attempted.

At 6am the next morning we woke and dressed in our warmest clothes before going downstairs to don thick socks, waterproof pants, snow boots, gaiters, and parkas. The guides had prepared packs for us that were each filled with a pair of ice cleats, heavy gloves, a plastic helmet, a plastic sled, and a square canvas with buckles and straps sewn around the edges. At the sight of the ice cleats, the first inkling of concern crept into the back of my mind.

We boarded 2 minibuses and headed up to the lava fields at the base of the volcano. The morning was clear and a thin column of white vapor was rising from the crater of Villarrica. We arrived at a large wooden building with a tin roof and rustic deck much like one finds at a ski resort. Sure enough, I later learned that during the winter a ski resort operates on the northern slope of Villarrica. In the parking lot of the lodge the guides passed out ice picks.  They didn’t give much explanation as to how they were to be used, so most of us held them like props and assumed that we had them just in case of an emergency. The guides were anxious to start the trek so we started trudging up the snow-covered lava fields towards the volcano.

We passed several other tour groups led by guides who greeted our guides with hugs and inside jokes.  Some of the groups were wearing matching parkas, others already had on their plastic helmets.  We formed lines like small trains all heading toward the same lofty goal.

Loaded down with too many layers and the provided equipment I soon became exceedingly warm despite the cold air and gentle slope of the terrain.  The snow boots were perfect for the icy snow but soon became hot and heavy.  As the angle of the slope increased and the distance to the crater came into perspective, I began to question my ability to reach the top. In this state, it is needless to say I was delighted when the guides announced that we would soon be reaching a chairlift that we could take for a fee of 6000 pesos (about 12USD). The chairlift would be about a 7-minute ride and would cover ground that we would otherwise need an hour or more to hike. In normal circumstances I would have prided myself in choosing to walk rather than ride- most mornings I walk to school rather than take the metro and at home I choose to bike rather than drive as often as possible- but winded and sweating with still most of the 1,750 meters of elevation gain left to go, I opted for the chairlift. About half the group choose to hike and so the four guides divided themselves among us and we continued on at our separate paces.

After the chairlift ride, we stopped to take off some layers, reapply sunscreen, and drink water. While we did this, the guides gave a demonstration of how to use our ice picks for “self arrest.” They opened this demonstration by explaining that these were going to be plenty of opportunities during the next 3 hours of hiking for us to slip and fall. Due to the icy condition of the snow, if this were to happen we were likely to start sliding down the barren slope. To drive home this point one of the guides walked a few meters up the slope and then fell abruptly onto the snow. He allowed himself to slide a few feet before reaching over his shoulder and hammering the ice pick into the snow for a perfect stop.  We all tightened our grip on our ice picks and glanced down at them with new appreciation.

I am rather afraid of heights and while chairlifts do not make me nervous, sliding uncontrollable down an icy slope does. As we began to switchback up the volcano’s slope, I choose to be in the front of the line where I could place my feet in the same indentations that the guide, Victor, had made with his boots. I used my ice pick like a ski pole, always in my uphill hand. The idea of sledding down on a tiny plastic disk became less and less attractive and I tried not to look down the steep incline to where the ground gave way into indiscernible whiteness.

Victor has been a guide on Villarrica for 8 years. He started the summer before he went to university and continued each year until he graduated and moved permanently to the area. He enjoys rock climbing and responded to our nervousness about the steepness of Villarrica’s slope by explaining that really, it is all in our heads. “What angle do you think it is?” he asked. “45 degrees” responded one of my hiking mates. “No, it is probably closer to 25 degrees, or 27. 45 degrees seems almost vertical when you are hiking it.” He went on to explain that when he rock climbs, slopes are often as steep as 65 or 70 degrees. “That’s when you get out the rope and have a pick in each hand and just go little by little all the way up” he imitated the climbing action with his hands to reassure us.

We hiked for 20-30 minutes at a time with short breaks in between. The breaks were short since the wind and melting snow soon chilled anybody who stood still or sat down. I discovered this during a longer break when Victor encouraged us to eat some of our lunch to refuel.  Sitting in the snow eating my peanut butter sandwich I began to shiver violently. It was far worse than any teeth chattering cold I have experienced before and was probably compounded by the fact that my inner layers had become soaked in sweat and so chilled quickly. I soon found myself wanting to turn back even if it meant an uncontrolled slide down the icy slope.  When Victor encouraged us to pack up and get moving, I asked the friend next to me if he thought I could just go down now. “No, you can do it, Kim. You’ll warm up once we get moving.” I bitterly shrugged back on my back and started trudging up the hill again. Within half a minute, my mood and body temperature had made a strong recovery and I had committed myself to reaching the top.

The last hour of the hike was by far the hardest. With trembling leg and wind-burned cheeks, the top looks deceptively near. The midday sun has begun to melt the ice allowing each step to sink deeper into the snow.  Like kids on a road trip we began to ask the guides “Are we there yet?” and “How much longer?” whenever we could catch enough extra breathe to do so.  Our line of weary hikers would halt every couple of minutes, as someone required a moment to ease tired muscles, catch a breath, “take a picture” or just complain. But as wafts of sulfurous gas began to reach us we were spurred on like cattle smelling the barn.

For most of the way up the hill I had been preoccupied by feeling out of my comfort zone in terms of the strenuous hiking and the prospect of a scary descent down the steep grade of the volcano. I cycled though feeling resigned, indignant, and on the verge of meltdown. But all the mental drama came to an abrupt halt when the ground beneath my feet suddenly flattened and the panorama including dozens of other snow capped volcanoes unfolded around me.  Here was the crater. Here was the column of noxious gas. Here were all the other trains of hikers taking pictures and eating their lunches. Dropping our packs in the snow we all rushed over to see the belching crater and snap photos of each other with the stunning views.

After taking our pictures and finishing our lunches, the guides instructed us to put on our helmets, and showed us how to prepare our gear for the slide down. The canvas squares were brought out our packs and they showed us how to buckle them around our legs and waists like giant diapers. Our plastic sleds were also buckled on so that they wouldn’t be lost during the slide down. They then showed us how our ice picks could be held like boat rudders to control our speed while sledding. Then without much ado, they walked us over to where a sled-sized groove had been carved into the snow by previous trekkers.

My attitude towards sledding had settled on resigned but it clenched to nervousness as I watched the first of my group mates disappear over the edge. I listened for a scream or the crunch of a catastrophic wipe out, but none came. When it was my turn, I stalled by asking our guide to re-demonstrate the proper use of an ice pick. He assured me that my technique was corrected and off I went.

Sledding down Villarrica was nothing like I had imagined it would be. Instead of plummeting at neck breaking speed, I bumped a long at a good clip in complete control of my speed. If anything I wish I could have gone faster and that the journey had been longer. When at last the slope flattened out into the now slushy lava fields it was hard to admit that there was no more sledding to be had and that only my own two feet would get me back to the waiting van.

I am still afraid of heights, but I am hoping that I can cross steep mountains off the list of things that make me nervous. I think Victor was right: it is all in our heads.

Comments (1)