Impossibly blue

Sunday, September 17

So I woke up and I honestly thought I couldn’t move. Luckily, the thought of warm oatmeal convinced me otherwise. Even so, in our communal state of absolute exhaustion and all-over pain, the most we could muster ourselves to think of doing was walk slowly somewhere. Per Germán’s suggestion, we headed to the privately-owned, rich-people-inhabited peninsula that juts out in the middle of Lake Villarrica. A group of playful dogs decided to join us as we wound our way around the five kilometer road that coughed up view after view of impossibly-colored scenery, and warm, sun-bathed rocks from which to sleepily drink it all in. We spent several hours nestled among the mosses and underbrush-carpeted hills and beaches just staring at how endlessly blue the water and the sky seemed to be. I feel like this country just makes it too easy to be inspired; it should be more difficult to find yourself overcome by an incredible urge to wax poetic…or, at the very least, creative nonfiction/travel writing.

Before catching our overnight bus back to Viña, we filled up on our last few rounds of southern completos, and even played several hands of hearts while sipping tasty fruit milkshakes. My trusty yogurt spoon triumphed once again come dinner time on the bus; and we all found it just a bit easier to sleep this time around as we lumbered north, leaving those misty trees and circus tent hills behind us.