The World of Nickolândia: Punta Arenas, Part 2 (Partly not a pleasant blog)

So when I arrived in Punta Arenas, Chile, on Saturday evening, I showed up at the hostel I had booked, which actually ended up being a B & B, and they said I didn’t have a reservation…Great. I pulled up my email to show her my confirmation, and suprisingly I was atually correct. She then told me her internet was down the past few days…duh that must be why you didnt get my reservation. Anyways, I booked 1 person for a ‘shared double’ which I thought was just a dorm room. She told me that normally I would have to double the price if I was taking the room alone, but I think since there was nobody else there, she agreed to the original price.

Anyways, it was nice to finally have a real bed. Not a 4 or 6 person bunk room, not a mattress, couch, or air mattress, but my own room with a really nice bed. I booked a tour to Torres del Paine the next day. I’ll talk about that some other time. Came back Sunday night from the tour at 1130 dead, fell asleep. Woke up at 7am to moans and grunts from the room next door through the paper thin walls. After 5 minutes, I deduced it was the grandpa of the house (as the whole dang family lives here, it’s really like I’m living with them), and he was in pain.

This proceeded for 20 minutes, with a few people going in and out, at which point I should have got up and left. Then, I heard the footsteps and voices of even more people, mostly family I figured. Then I began to hear the more official voices of a man and woman in the room telling him what to do. So at this point, I figured this guy was dying or he was in surgery. I heard what I thought were plastic wrapped bags of tools opened, and tool bags being set down. So then it got pretty chaotic, and here I am, awkwardly listening to it all from my room next door, with everyone outside the room. I put my earplugs in and hoped it would end soon.…certainly did not want to walk out into a frantic group of family members and say hello in my pjs. They must have given him some morphine because his painful grunts started to subside. Finally, at 745, the shuffling of all the feet at once passed by the room, coupled with phrases like ‘Zapatillos, zapatillos!’ and I concluded they were carrying him out. Thankfully, for me, I did not have to sit awkwardly in my room awaiting a good time to leave for hours upon end.

Later, I was talking to the grandma (while she chopped up a lamb with a hack saw at about 9am), and she said he had a terminal cancerous tumor...

Anyways, I actually like Punta Arenas, contrary to what I heard about it before. It's on the Straight of Magellan. All the houses & roofs are different colors, very bright. There aren't really any tall building, its just kind of a port town. Plus, I saw some wild emu's on the bus ride into here, and you can't beat wild Emu/Ostrich sightings.

Straight of Magellan: