After a late start I wandered to the centre of Panguipulli for breakfast and carried on down to the pleasant lake shore. Then, after packing and checking out, I went to double check on the all-important bus and boat information. There is only one boat per day that travels the length of Lake Pirihueico (up to the border at the east end) and there’s no other way to reach the border since there is no road. I booked my bus ticket to Puerto Fuy, which is where the boat will leave from tomorrow morning.
Having some time to kill, I then wandered back down to the lake with my camera and experimented by trying to use the polarising lens on my sunglasses in front of the camera lens, to darken the water and remove the surface glare.
By the lake shore I ran into the cyclists who I’d met the previous day – they had a similar plan to me, but will take 2 days to reach Puerto Fuy since they plan a half-way stop. I then got chatting to 3 British girls, and had lunch with them, before heading back to fetch my backpack on the way to the bus terminal.
The bus, which was coming in from further west, was full – people were standing in the aisle. However I found my assigned seat and my reservation was respected. The trip was gorgeous – a feast for the eyes – winding along the edge of lake Panguipulli for an hour, then on increasingly narrow and remote roads up a valley towards the next lake.
A couple of times the bus stopped long enough for people to hop off to buy things in roadside shops – I got a bit of extra food since I didn’t know what there would be at Puerto Fuy.
When the road (and bus) suddenly stopped, it became clear that the answer to the last question was “not a lot”. There was no hotel or hostel as such, but a few of the local residents offered bed and breakfast to those in transit. I ended up staying in a simple house with 2 fellow passengers from the bus – a retired judge from Argentina and a Chilean from Santiago. After a while the former said he was going to have a picnic on the beach and invited everyone in sight to join him. Down by the lakeshore we all shared what we’d bought on the way – meanwhile the setting sun turned the sky behind us a beautiful shade of pink.
The Argentine judge (whose name is Juan) then took out a thermos flask and an odd looking cup. He asked something that I didn’t understand, but which a couple of others evidently did, since they nodded. A strange ritual then started, consisting of the judge pouring some green powder or tea leaves of some sort into the cup, all the way to the top. He then poured hot water into the cup, which also had a metal tube sticking out of it.
Juan then drank by sucking on the the metal tube (which took hardly any time at all since there can’t have been more than a few spoonful’s of liquid in there) then he refilled the cup from his thermos, and passed it to one of the other people who’d previously agreed to participate. This person then drank from the same metal “straw”! Then Juan refilled the cup and the process repeated for the next person, and so on. It looked like they were passing around drugs! I wondered if this was actually legal – maybe they knew that the nearest police post was 30 km back down the road and there was no risk here on the beach in the middle of nowhere…
But remembering that Juan was a former judge, I gave him the benefit of the doubt, and asked what was going on here. He said they were drinking “yerba mate” (pronounced “ma-tay”) which is a strong herbal infusion, and that this way of drinking it (sharing the cup and straw) is quite common in Argentina.
Finally some students from Santiago showed up on the beach with a couple of bottles of wine, and I chatted with them until after midnight, assisting them a little with their wine.
?? muy intetesante tu manera de describir el mate!!! y tu asombro…