ferry to puerto montt.
ferry to puerto montt
punctually at 5 am a highlight is announced over the loudspeaker. a narrow passage. sounds extremely exciting. so i get out of bed and switch the camera on. people are standing at the rail, some in their pyjamas, and take pictures. too bad, that the announced passage is still ahead of us. later we go through the again properly announced passage and people take pictures again. now i understand why there is this ‘take a picture now service’: i would not know that there is something to take pictures of. back to bed. again an announcement: breakfast. sounds more exciting than ‘passage’. it seems everything is announced on this ship.
breakfast starts punctually. not punctually in a south-american way. i mean germanic punctually, exactly. breakfast is boring but i declare it an all-you-can-eat event to recover from the hike. otherwise not much excitement: weather it’s cloudy, nothing to take pictures of and worst of all no books to read. i chat with some of the passengers. and there’s lunch. punctually. for dinner we kill the first bottle of wine. also punctually.
puerto eden.
i don’t join the trip to puerto eden. it’s raining. and i don’t feel like staring at the last 12 indigenous people. i can just imagine the poor fellows put somewhere on display so people can take pictures of them. ‘here we see the last 12 of the so-and-so people’ – ‘where’s number 12?’ – ‘?’ – ‘where’s number 12?’ – ‘still in bed, it was a tough party last night’ – ‘didn’t you announce we’ll see 12 of them? get him out of bed.’ …
my personal success of the day: first in line for lunch. pre-announcement appearance…
and i prepare for the throw-up party we’ll have when we cross the open sea in the evening. the daily bulletin is very clear about that: ‘eat properly and sleep in the foetus position’. we develop different theories about the advantage of sleeping in the foetus position. i believe it’s a combination of physical and emotional stability to fight sea-sickness. on the one hand it allows to stay more or less stable in bed without bumping around too much, on the other hand it’s a reminder of the good old times that lets us ignore the fact that the shaking comes from waves that make us terribly sick.
dinner time, wave time. following the recommendations i intend to eat normally. the people from the kitchen are kind enough take the trays to the table for us. a smart move: it’s obviously less work to clean up the mess from the floor. the bland taste and the size of the portions are another indicator of the experience they have on this ship. obviously it doesn’t make sense to put too much effort into cooking as most of it will be used to feed the fish later. well, after playing around with the spaghetti for a while i move to the theoretically best place to survive: the top deck. and i do what theoretically is the best thing to do: i stare at the horizon to have a stable point of orientation so my eyes, my brain and my ears have something they can deal with instead of telling my stomach to change into inverse digestion mode. everything is fine: waves are moving perfectly fine, horizon is also moving but visible, no symptoms of future barfing. more waves. more staring. nothing happens. not even a slight sickness. and then i go and throw up. i’ve never gotten sick within 10 seconds so far. hey, wouldn’t that be a catching phrase: come and join the 10-10-10-speed-barfing-tour! 10 seconds to get sick. 10 seconds to run, 10 seconds to throw up.
no more staring necessary. i’m bored and i try the foetus position. i think they should extend the advice in the daily schedule: eat normally, sleep in the foetus position, and in between throw up.
somewhere at sea.
today i’m the cook’s best client again, i’m back with the usual amount of food. and there is the highlight of the trip for well trained american spring-break-kids: a party where you get drunk to be laid or you get drunk to make somebody look interesting enough to become active yourself. what can i say? it’s quite an amusement to watch the rituals. especially, when you're sober. one of the things that i find interesting: they take pictures of themselves getting drunk and probably doing many other things. to confirm the next day how great they looked after the 8th bottle of beer? to show mom how well they were communicating with people from all over the world? would i do the same? for sure there would be more jumps on my pictures.
puerto montt, bariloche.
i have to endure a day in puerto montt before i return to bariloche in the evening. as perfectly organized the ferry trip was as bad is the final schedule: the bus to bariloche leaves the moment we arrive at the port. i think that’s actually done on purpose to keep some money in town. there are no sight-seeing highlights (as far as i can see) so i follow my favourite reflex: food. once that is done i stroll through the streets.
there is actually something remarkable: it looks different compared to argentina. the people have rougher features (maybe an effect of the germanic part of the gene pool vs. the nicer looking italian influence in argentina). and the houses are mainly built from wood and make it look like a scandinavian area to me.
before i enter argentina again, i’m allowed to enjoy the chilean art of organization a last time: close to the border each of the passengers is assigned a number on a list, at customs we have to stand in line in the same order and the officers process our cases quickly. very efficient, very impressive. at the argentine side it’s similar but not done the chilean way. guess what. it takes longer. i guess that’s the disadvantage of the italian genes. but be honest: would you like to look good or be organized? for a process engineer i’m a real heretic, aren’t i?
in bariloche a have a wonderful midnight steak, this time i follow a recommendation of the guys from the 1004 hostel. too bad i forgot the name of the restaurant, but it has a distinct architecture: it looks like a wooden witch-hut.
punctually at 5 am a highlight is announced over the loudspeaker. a narrow passage. sounds extremely exciting. so i get out of bed and switch the camera on. people are standing at the rail, some in their pyjamas, and take pictures. too bad, that the announced passage is still ahead of us. later we go through the again properly announced passage and people take pictures again. now i understand why there is this ‘take a picture now service’: i would not know that there is something to take pictures of. back to bed. again an announcement: breakfast. sounds more exciting than ‘passage’. it seems everything is announced on this ship.
breakfast starts punctually. not punctually in a south-american way. i mean germanic punctually, exactly. breakfast is boring but i declare it an all-you-can-eat event to recover from the hike. otherwise not much excitement: weather it’s cloudy, nothing to take pictures of and worst of all no books to read. i chat with some of the passengers. and there’s lunch. punctually. for dinner we kill the first bottle of wine. also punctually.
puerto eden.
i don’t join the trip to puerto eden. it’s raining. and i don’t feel like staring at the last 12 indigenous people. i can just imagine the poor fellows put somewhere on display so people can take pictures of them. ‘here we see the last 12 of the so-and-so people’ – ‘where’s number 12?’ – ‘?’ – ‘where’s number 12?’ – ‘still in bed, it was a tough party last night’ – ‘didn’t you announce we’ll see 12 of them? get him out of bed.’ …
my personal success of the day: first in line for lunch. pre-announcement appearance…
and i prepare for the throw-up party we’ll have when we cross the open sea in the evening. the daily bulletin is very clear about that: ‘eat properly and sleep in the foetus position’. we develop different theories about the advantage of sleeping in the foetus position. i believe it’s a combination of physical and emotional stability to fight sea-sickness. on the one hand it allows to stay more or less stable in bed without bumping around too much, on the other hand it’s a reminder of the good old times that lets us ignore the fact that the shaking comes from waves that make us terribly sick.
dinner time, wave time. following the recommendations i intend to eat normally. the people from the kitchen are kind enough take the trays to the table for us. a smart move: it’s obviously less work to clean up the mess from the floor. the bland taste and the size of the portions are another indicator of the experience they have on this ship. obviously it doesn’t make sense to put too much effort into cooking as most of it will be used to feed the fish later. well, after playing around with the spaghetti for a while i move to the theoretically best place to survive: the top deck. and i do what theoretically is the best thing to do: i stare at the horizon to have a stable point of orientation so my eyes, my brain and my ears have something they can deal with instead of telling my stomach to change into inverse digestion mode. everything is fine: waves are moving perfectly fine, horizon is also moving but visible, no symptoms of future barfing. more waves. more staring. nothing happens. not even a slight sickness. and then i go and throw up. i’ve never gotten sick within 10 seconds so far. hey, wouldn’t that be a catching phrase: come and join the 10-10-10-speed-barfing-tour! 10 seconds to get sick. 10 seconds to run, 10 seconds to throw up.
no more staring necessary. i’m bored and i try the foetus position. i think they should extend the advice in the daily schedule: eat normally, sleep in the foetus position, and in between throw up.
somewhere at sea.
today i’m the cook’s best client again, i’m back with the usual amount of food. and there is the highlight of the trip for well trained american spring-break-kids: a party where you get drunk to be laid or you get drunk to make somebody look interesting enough to become active yourself. what can i say? it’s quite an amusement to watch the rituals. especially, when you're sober. one of the things that i find interesting: they take pictures of themselves getting drunk and probably doing many other things. to confirm the next day how great they looked after the 8th bottle of beer? to show mom how well they were communicating with people from all over the world? would i do the same? for sure there would be more jumps on my pictures.
puerto montt, bariloche.
i have to endure a day in puerto montt before i return to bariloche in the evening. as perfectly organized the ferry trip was as bad is the final schedule: the bus to bariloche leaves the moment we arrive at the port. i think that’s actually done on purpose to keep some money in town. there are no sight-seeing highlights (as far as i can see) so i follow my favourite reflex: food. once that is done i stroll through the streets.
there is actually something remarkable: it looks different compared to argentina. the people have rougher features (maybe an effect of the germanic part of the gene pool vs. the nicer looking italian influence in argentina). and the houses are mainly built from wood and make it look like a scandinavian area to me.
before i enter argentina again, i’m allowed to enjoy the chilean art of organization a last time: close to the border each of the passengers is assigned a number on a list, at customs we have to stand in line in the same order and the officers process our cases quickly. very efficient, very impressive. at the argentine side it’s similar but not done the chilean way. guess what. it takes longer. i guess that’s the disadvantage of the italian genes. but be honest: would you like to look good or be organized? for a process engineer i’m a real heretic, aren’t i?
in bariloche a have a wonderful midnight steak, this time i follow a recommendation of the guys from the 1004 hostel. too bad i forgot the name of the restaurant, but it has a distinct architecture: it looks like a wooden witch-hut.