Down Day
The pace of the last few days has finally caught up to us, and with nothing formal booked, we spend most of the morning relaxing in the room catching up on things and planning what to do next. We figure we can wander around town and do a little shopping, including a visit to the grocery store as our new place comes complete with a kitchen – a huge benefit as we are growing very tired of restaurant food.
Aside from the boat tour, the two big options remaining are a full day road trip to about a half dozen spots in the national park, and an 18km hike to the base of Torres del Paine. The hilly, 5km to Muelle de Las Almas has left my fellow adventurer in some pain, so shooting for something 4 times that long seems aggressive, but the write ups we find on the Internet rave about it. For the moment, we go the safe route and arrange the road trip for tomorrow, but I have a feeling the debate isn’t over.
That out of the way, we wind our way through the quite streets of town, finally stopping in a casual fast food place for some lunch. Those who follow our travels know of the legendary Lomo Completo sandwich we discovered in Argentina, and our distinct hope in traveling back to South America is that we would find in Chile as well. Sadly, it is nowhere to be found here, even though they commonly eat something also called a Completo.
It couldn’t be more different, as they cover a cheap hot dog with about an inch of diced tomatoes, avocado paste, and mayonnaise, all in a bun about twice as think as a hot dog back home. Based on the name alone though we have to try it, and the look on Angela’s face as she takes a bite is priceless. You’d think she bit into a mouse. ¡Dios mío! Where is a camera when you need one?
That’s not even the pinnacle of our culinary adventure, as for dinner we head back to a barbecue place we found during our walk. It has much more of a local vibe to it than the one in front of our hotel, and the speciality is the parrillada, a grilled up pile of lamb, chicken, potatoes and chorizo similar to what we had on our boat tour. It looks awesome.
Powering through the stack, we soon realize the tour version has been polished up a little for tourist consumption, as for the locals, there are a few extra treasures including some blood sausage, a neatly woven chunk of intestine, and something we believe to be heart.
Now we’ve watched the Travel Channel where people eat these bits and say how good they taste, so we put on our big boy pants and give them a try. Those people are as full of crap as the rubbery mess on the plate in front of me. There is nothing pleasant about the experience whatsoever. The taste is bad. The texture is bad. It’s all just bad. Thankfully, I still have a few pieces of regular meat left to mask the taste of partially digested grass and congealed blood.