Full circle

Last week marked the end of term for DD1 hence a parent-teacher "conference" was scheduled. Her teacher was very direct and clearly didn't want to waste any time chatting but all was reported to be well much as had been expected. I still don't feel particularly aware of what goes on at school other than that all parties seem content with the status quo. In spite of the school's gloomy anachronistic ambience, DD1 has in fact been very happy, forming solid friendships and learning to read and write during her time there which is more than enough to satisfy me at this stage. She has also acquired Chilean Spanish in the most natural way possible as well as considerable cultural knowledge, numeracy skills and managed to lug an incredibly heavy rucksack to and from school every day... She may well be trailing behind in English spelling and writing but by way of compensation has learnt joined-up handwriting, loops and all. It's not quite what you'd get in a sub-standard state school in the UK (according to The Economist) but she's still young enough to catch up and the experience of living in South America for two years is probably a fair swap for anything she may have missed out on back in the twenty-first century...

Much the same can be said for DD2. Often she has lamented the fact that she goes to a Spanish-speaking nursery and not an English-speaking one, choosing to remain "as quiet as a mouse" for as long as possible while slowly but surely absorbing everything around her... She has gained an extraordinary level of confidence linguistically and culturally as well as producing enough artistic creations to sink the Titanic. Not to mention her experience of presenting to the class (this week it's seashells)... It's probably been very different to nursery in the UK but at her age being with other children and having fun are all that counts. The fact that she can also recite poems in Spanish, dance the tango and knows all about the glories of Chilean history are of course all a bonus...
As for me, I've learnt Spanish too, albeit not as well nor as naturally but I have had a good go, aided mainly by my very patient and eternally encouraging teacher. Not sure what else I have achieved apart from visiting some beautiful and far-flung places, surviving in an alien culture and always feeling like something wasn't quite right... Now my days as ama de casa are well and truly numbered as we prepare for our impending return to the UK. To use an analogy my children might understand, I feel a little like Jo in the Magic Faraway Tree, who visits the land of Topsy-Turvy and ends up walking upside down on his hands while his friends remain the right way up. After spending a while like this he eventually gets a reprieve and is allowed to return the right way up again, vowing to himself that he has in fact had enough exciting adventures and will not be visiting any more of the fascinating but unpredictable lands at the top of the Faraway Tree, however tempting they may seem...

The girl from Ipanema

Last week we celebrated the extra day of leap year by boarding a plane to Rio de Janeiro for a final fling before returning to the rigours of the new school year this week (more about that to follow)...
It was a fabulous trip to what must be one of the world's most naturally beautiful cities. Situated on a sprawling bay overlooking the Atlantic Ocean, Rio is a metropolis with protruding hills and palm trees along miles of sweeping, golden beaches...all under the out-stretched embrace of Christ the Redeemer on one side and the imposing Sugar Loaf Mountain on the other. As we left the airport heading into the city we looked up and saw huge dark birds circling and gliding overhead... just one of the signs that we were somewhere new, exciting and exotic.
Exotic is probably a word which sums up Rio rather well, from its landscape, its vegetation, its tropical climate, its scantily-clad inhabitants to its food and cocktails, all of which we encountered at some point during our stay. Due to the Brazilians having already adjusted their clocks (an aspect which wasn't entirely clear to us for the first day and a half), we were in the same time zone as Santiago but suddenly in quite different surroundings and climatic conditions. While Santiago is warm and dry though cool at night, Rio was hot and humid all day long which was rather uncomfortable at first. Also this meant that indoors the air-conditioning was invariably set at full blast therefore also not ideal (a scarf or cardigan was essential extra clothing). Needless to say we tended to prefer the natural environment outdoors and just tried to keep ourselves hydrated as far as possible, although the inevitable traveller's tummy struck its evil blow (fortunately limiting itself to DH and myself, thus sparing us the agony of sick children on holiday). Interestingly there were very few families on the tourist trail but lots of gay and straight couples and also young adults in general.
We managed to strike a reasonable balance by aiming for half a day of sightseeing activities in the morning and spending the rest of the afternoon on the beach. The sand on Ipanema beach was as fine as golden flour, while at the foot of Sugar Loaf Mountain it was more like brown sugar. The girls were happy either way, busily digging and burying, shaping and constructing. Meanwhile the water of the Atlantic was turquoise and clean although the waves were often huge and the pull of the undercurrent dangerously strong.
One of the most memorable moments of the trip came as we were finishing lunch in Santa Teresa, a bohemian area on a hill whose cobbled streets and inviting shops, cafes and art galleries wouldn't look out of place in a fashionable part of London. A trio featuring a trombonist, an acoustic guitarist and a pianist began softly playing authentic bossanova which perfectly captured the mood and setting. We managed to linger at our table for long enough to savour the magic while the children attempted to take photos of the musicians until DD2's wriggling and fiddling with the trombonist's microphone became too much and we had to leave the establishment to remove the disturbance... Maybe Rio is more of an adult destination, though the girls loved the train ride up the Corcovado to see the statue of Christ and the cable cars up Sugar Loaf went down very well too. Plus the incredible beaches... An unforgettable and essential part of the South American experience for all of us.

On the waterfront

Finally DH is officially prevented from going to work due to the annual closure of the university so our summer holiday proper may commence... and not before time.
Our first foray out of Santiago last week was to the much-lauded Region of the Lakes in the south of the country, beyond the forests of monkey-puzzle trees and meandering rivers but just preceding Patagonia. Every Chilean raves about the lakes, the south in general and we had only heard good things about it. Thus we flew to Puerto Montt then immediately drove in a hired car to Puerto Varas, a pleasant and useful place to base oneself right on the edge of the majestic Lago Llanquihue. From our window we could enjoy unobstructed views of the immense lake, its pebbly beaches and most dramatically of all, the snow-capped, almost perfectly conical Volcano Osorno on the horizon. That would probably have been enough to please many but there was much more to be discovered...
A short drive west led to the picturesque town of Frutillar, immaculately preserved as the first German settlers constructed it with wooden houses, neatly trimmed rosebushes and perfect window boxes providing a chocolate-box image of a lakeside resort. Again however the volcano was the prime attraction, looming largely over the still water and dominating the pretty but slightly artificial town with its natural beauty. Venturing further north still, we encountered Puerto Octay, a quiet but more real fishing village set on a natural peninsula which provided a secluded and beautiful beach on which to set up camp for a morning, search for stones and watch the fishermen (trying not to disturb them of course).
The second leg of our trip involved driving towards the Argentine border beyond paved roads for a considerable distance to Petrohue', situated on one side of the truly spectacular Lago Todos Los Santos. It was a shimmering green lake practically at the foot of the omnipresent volcano, whose last eruption provided much of the black rubble surrounding the shore. Hugely atmospheric setting, clouded only by coachloads and campervans of tourists eager to enjoy the natural panorama in Chile's most-visited national park. Definitely to be seen out of season... Our lodge at Petrohue' was comfortable and had nice touches such as inviting sofas around open fireplaces although it was run by a group of young people who evidently hadn't made a great deal of provision for families. Not their fault of course as it was a hiker's paradise. In fact when the rain came and didn't stop for the last day and a half of our stay, plenty of technical waterproofs were in evidence from the more intrepid outdoors folk who had planned for every eventuality. The girls were delighted to wear their raincoats which had otherwise been gathering dust since our arrival in Chile and I must confess to enjoying seeing rain again after months and months. However waterproofs and trainers are not my ideal exclusive holiday equipment and by the second day of incessant rain the novelty was rapidly wearing off. It was fun for a while but we were all glad to be back in the summer of February in Santiago, where we were able to peel off the layers on arrival, putting the raincoats away and reacclimatising to natural heat again...

Weekend at the beach

It has to be said that a rather wonderful aspect of living in Chile is the possibility of taking off for the beach for a weekend in January. Of course January here is the meteorological equivalent of July in the northern hemisphere, thus you begin to imagine the crowds, the difficulty in finding suitable accommodation, not to mention the traffic on the motorway... However, undeterred, we booked ahead and set off bright and early on Saturday morning for our chosen destination of Quintay, a picturesque and largely unspoilt fishing village with a tiny bay frequented only by fishermen, divers, the odd adventurous (or foolhardy) family and lots of seagulls. It was dull and overcast when we arrived, almost reminiscent of the English seaside were it not for the dramatic landscape, including valleys of fertile vineyards one passed en route to the almost vertical slope we had to walk down (and later up again) to get to the sheltered cove at Quintay itself. After a quick wander around the miniscule beach (dodging the stray dogs) we headed for a hearty fisherman's portion of fish and chips, Chilean-style (no batter, enormous quantities) and very good it was too. As we were settling the bill and ready to reach for the buckets and spades, DD2 announced she didn't like beaches after all, which was rather a bad omen for the two days we had planned of exactly that...
We attempted to begin to digest our lunch by visiting the ex-whaling station, now a vacant, shell of a museum mainly containing black and white photos testifying to its somewhat unfathomable past incarnation. As so often happens in Chile, the sun suddenly emerged from behind an apparently impenetrable layer of cloud to produce an absolute scorcher of an afternoon, thus we hurried to Playa Grande, a nearby stretch of golden sand which became more and more full of holidaymakers as the day went on... We had only just remarked on how peaceful it was when at around 4pm a sound system was plugged in and a DJ began blasting what can only be described as beach house music to a not completely gratified public...
By evening we were too happy and tired to care much that our cabaña, while recommended in two of our guidebooks, had in fact been a disappointment in terms of cleanliness and hygiene which may have been why some of us didn't have the best night's sleep...
The next day we set off further down the coast for Isla Negra, not an island but a locality so-called for its clump of dark granite rocks along the beach and also home to one of Pablo Neruda's houses, now a museum of the poet's eccentric and extravagant personal items collected from his travels around the world. Unfortunately choosing to visit Neruda's house in Isla Negra on a Sunday in January was a little like choosing to visit Shakespeare's birthplace on a Sunday in the summer months, that is to be avoided at all costs due to hordes of people, long queues and the selling out of tickets... Never mind we thought, a great excuse to go back to visit this little gem at another time of year. Instead we made straight for the beach which was beautiful and very atmospheric although made up of fine pebbles therefore not as interesting for more advanced construction purposes. However we still managed to keep busy for an entire day, making stone soup and tea amongst other delights and contemplating the ocean, whose icy water we paddled in but could not swim in. Clearly Chileans are made of sterner stuff than some of us...

Fly me to the moon

Like other Catholic countries, Chile observes a national holiday for the feast of the Immaculate Conception (8 December) thus we have just had a four-day weekend (always welcome). In fact having noticed this on the school calendar we had planned our last short break of the year accordingly and flew out from Santiago on Thursday morning to Calama, approximately a thousand miles north and gateway to the much-talked-about region of Atacama, home of the driest desert in the world...

Calama itself seemed to comprise the airport, rows of prefabricated houses and little else of any interest. Like the hordes before us we too were bound for the region's cultural capital and were soon bumping along a seemingly interminable but ruggedly awe-inspiring road through barren rocky desert towards San Pedro de Atacama. It was a longer journey than we'd imagined but when at last the bus chugged towards a shimmering green oasis amid the swirling dust clouds, we knew we had arrived at our destination.

San Pedro is even more spectacular than one expects; its position on the edge of the desert and poised between dramatic valleys, lakes, canyons and volcanoes must be one of the most naturally fortunate in the world. The town itself is pretty, faithfully preserved with its original adobe architectural style while also being very well-developed as a tourist and serious traveller destination. Clearly the town's raison d'etre is the sheer panoply of excursions possible and available to be purchased from any one of the numerous tour operators lining its streets (along with the hotels, hostels, cafes, restaurants and shops) although it is also a calmly pleasant environment in which to relax between tours, whether sipping a drink in the shady main square (complete with picturesque church) or ambling around its dusty corners. Judging from the number of northern European travellers, both budget and luxury, one can only conclude that San Pedro de Atacama must have achieved legendary status on the traveller trail as backpackers and young people in general abound, both visitors and local workers, though surprisingly so do senior citizens evidently in search of pastures new as a busload of French pensioners proved...

The first thing we did on arrival was to take time to acclimatise to our new environment, paying particular attention to the adjustment in altitude which was over 2400m. However we were all fine, some dry skin apparent even on the girls' lips by the end of our stay but nothing more serious than that. Sunglasses were essential equipment, even for the children, as were hats and sunblock to resist the glare of a very strong sun. Our hotel was comfortable and clean though we were wary of not wasting tap water while also drinking copious amounts of the bottled variety. Soon we were busy exploring the town centre, weighing up the possibilities, staving off the touts and trying to strike a balance between nature, adventure, activity and relaxation with two -admittedly robust- small children in tow.

Our first excursion bright and early the next morning was to Laguna Cejar in the middle of the salt plain although it soon transformed itself into something of an endurance test, largely due to an incommunicative and incompetent driver. However the lake itself was a wonder to contemplate, not just for its beauty but also for its apparent ability to keep even the heaviest person afloat due to its high salt concentration as DH successfully tested...

The next afternoon came probably the highlight of our stay: a trip to the Valle de la Luna, so-called for its other-worldly landscape, sense of infinite space and of course lack of vegetation. In this case even the bus ride was spectacular but walking along its stony surface surrounded by mineral-rich rocks and jutting cliffs was even more evocative of space exploration. It was a little like being on a vast film set or a photo shoot as the opportunities to remain impressed were endless. The children loved it, DD1 running up and down sand dunes while DD2 scrambled to keep up, collecting as many stones and crystals as she could carry.
It was a tough choice but for the last day we plumped for an afternoon spent at Termas de Puritama, a series of eight natural rock pools with thermal properties and water at a temperature of around 34°C. The pools themselves were dramatically set in a breathtakingly verdant canyon under the watchful gaze of the active volcano Licancabur whose smoke one could see rising... Only snag was that DD2 refused to set foot in any of the pools once she knew there were fish and other creatures swimming in it, not to mention algae and other suspicious-looking "green things"... DD1 on the other hand had to be forcibly removed from the water when it was time to go.
Back in Santiago and it feels as if we were really on another planet for a few exciting and unforgettable days...

Termas de Chillan

Another conference for DH to attend last week so again a perfect opportunity for us to join him and explore another of South America's many wonders... This time the conference location was Concepcion, a university town a few regions south of Santiago and most remembered as the epicentre of 2010's devastating earthquake. However, as Chile is such a thin country, one can easily choose whether to head for the sea or the mountains from just about anywhere. We chose the latter after being wooed by tantalising descriptions of one of Chile's foremost mountain resorts in the form of the thermal baths of Chillan. Despite an eight-hour journey from our home in Santiago to the remote mountain valley, we were not disappointed...
Travelling by train first of all was quite a novelty, especially for the first hour or two. The train was surprisingly spacious and the girls were busy with their activity books and picnic lunch, even staying in their places for a while... Later there was a moment of restlessness but numerous trips to the rubbish bin at the top of the carriage seemed to provide enough amusement to see them through. On arrival at Chillan our transfer to the mountains was a minibus/people carrier which also met with plenty of approval from our intrepid smaller travellers, though the winding roads caused us a few hairy moments. We were relieved to arrive at our destination, swathed in mist and appearing in the semi-darkness more similar to the Scottish Highlands or possibly the Alps than anything else. Luckily our lodging was a cosy mountain refuge complete with huge chimney places, soft comfortable armchairs and open beams...
As the skiing season ended over a month ago now, it was low season and very quiet, therefore for us the best possible time to visit. We were practically the only guests along with what appeared to be a couple on honeymoon (whom we hardly saw, probably their choice) so had the dining room, living room and even outdoor hot thermal baths all to ourselves, much to our pleasure. We wrapped up in warm jackets and scarves for exploratory walks to nearby waterfalls and savage woodlands while admiring snow-covered mountains set against the dramatic backdrop of a volcano. It was incredibly atmospheric and invigorating as well as being relaxing and pampering, although the girls probably tired of the full board before we did... A weekend was just enough to appreciate the wild beauty of our environment whilst also enjoying the distance and remoteness from the hustle and bustle of the big city, though the prospect to returning to heat and sunlight was also appealing as we began the long journey back yesterday afternoon...

November news

Well it's November so it must be...spring. It doesn't seem quite so strange this year and after having had to endure winter during the traditional summer months I certainly don't feel guilty about it this time. Flowers are blooming, adorning corners of the city with incredible colour and exuding heady scents while filling the air with thick, snow-like pollen. Snow itself is now scarcely visible on our now familiar mountains whose bare rock has begun to glow with our long light evenings and spectacular sunsets. We have taken up our rugs, put away our jumpers and scrubbed down our terrace which had been coated in layer upon layer of soot... This must be one of the dustiest cities in the world with dry particle-filled air which is almost never washed clean by rain (a phenomenon so rare that one can live without waterproofs). However the upside is almost constant year-round sun... hence hats and sunblock are now required items for the children's rucksacks.
With only a month to go, the countdown to the end of the school year has begun, with shows being prepared, songs practised and costumes fitted... DD1 is tired after a whole year of getting up unspeakably early thus even she is now beginning to look forward to the summer break (though is probably unaware that it is nearly three months long). Our building's swimming pool has recently been reopened for the summer season so at the moment I foresee plenty of dips to keep us busy... though we haven't yet been in. No rush...
Meanwhile at DD2's nursery they are preparing for the annual Far West Camp, during which the boys dress up as cowboys, the girls as natives and those whose parents agree get to spend the night in a tent in the nursery's garden with the "tias"... DD2 was all for it until she realised we wouldn't be coming too. Luckily it coincides with a prior arrangement we had already made so we all have a five-hour train journey south of Santiago to look forward to instead which we feel a bit happier about...

The other side of the mountains

DD1 has often asked me what is on the other side of the great awe-inspiring mountains which constantly loom large and majestic over us here in the eastern elevated side of Santiago. Thus when DH had to attend a conference in Cordoba, Argentina it seemed like as good an opportunity as any to tag along and see for ourselves what lay beyond... Many people drive from Santiago to Mendoza up and over an apparently spectacularly breathtaking mountain pass, crossing the frontier to Argentina on the way. Cordoba however was quite a bit further north and east so we decided to take a short hop by plane, thereby minimising the possibility of car sickness (alas a crucial consideration) and drastically reducing the journey length...
On arrival and while travelling from the airport into the city, Argentina was immediately and noticeably different: greener and flatter at first, becoming hilly as we approached the city. Cordoba itself was a pleasant treasure-trove, full of historic buildings from the time of the Jesuit settlers who industriously constructed several churches, schools and libraries. The streets around the old town were buzzing as were the newer areas around the canal, packed with students drinking mate (an Argentinian tradition) and lots of bars, cafes and restaurants... One could have been forgiven for thinking that one was in Spain. People were friendly, food was interesting and varied and all in all it was rich in culture. The girls and I even managed to do two museums in one day which was quite a result, although they drew the line at an academic lecture in Jesuit architecture, preferring to explore the cloisters and courtyard while a guide earnestly explained the intricacies of the early conferral of university degrees in the Salon de los grados...
A most enjoyable and refreshing city break, all the more pleasurable for its flavour of Europe and feel of the Old World which seem so far away from Chile...

Excursion into the Central Valley

The weekend following the party was a long one thanks to Columbus (more about him later) so we took the opportunity to have a change of scene by hiring a car and driving into the Central Valley south of Santiago to explore some of the famous vineyards, orchards and countryside in general.
Ruta 5, the main motorway which bisects Chile's already slim interior, is not particularly interesting in itself though it is pleasantly surprising how quickly one can actually get out of the city (traffic permitting). This being Chile however there are often unexpected sights to note on the motorway such as cyclists, pedestrians and of course stray dogs traversing the carriageways (often to their peril). We took advantage of the roadside vendors on the way back to stock up on fresh produce, filling every available space in the car with minor wonders from the fertile Colchagua valley such as sackfuls of potatoes, oranges, kiwis, avocados, strawberries, asparagus...
Back to the trip. After passing Rancagua we turned off the motorway at San Fernando, embarking on the aptly-named Ruta del Vino which was a meandering road flanked by endless vineyards and occasionally bursts of startlingly beautiful wild orange flowers. Eventually we reached our destination of Santa Cruz, the main town of the area and inevitably a gateway to the tourism, gastronomy and business of visiting vineyards, wine-tasting and buying wine. It was a good place to stay while exploring the area though the guidebooks had somewhat exaggerated its charm we found. As usual for Chile there was a stark contrast between the social classes; most of the town was unexceptional with some very dilapidated parts to it while a luxury five-star hotel and restaurant (with its own casino) occupied the central position in the main plaza...
Our own bed and breakfast was tucked away on the edge of the town but was perfectly comfortable for our purposes which were quite literal in this case. We dutifully visited a vineyard though chose one the girls would enjoy which included a tour of the vines by horse-drawn carriage... and were persuaded into tasting and buying some wine too. The vineyards themselves were somehow different to the ones we knew from the more familiar landscapes of France and Italy, not terraced nor set on undulating hills but organised on the plain and surrounded by countryside which was reminiscent of the Wild West... This was "huaso" (Chilean cowboy) territory after all.

The cowboy theme continued the next day as we set off on our first horse-ride, DD1 and I on one horse and DD2 and DH on the other, accompanied by a real-life "huaso" on a third horse. We had expected to be led around a field for half an hour or so therefore were most surprised when our guide took us for what turned out to be a two-hour trek into open countryside. Despite some initial fears such as how to control one's horse it was very atmospheric and I for one felt like a character from a western. DD1 spent most of the time complaining she was being squashed and panicking every time the horse broke into a trot while DD2 was blissfully blithe, held firmly by DH who lost then regained his stirrups... but we all made it safely to the end, muscles aching but exhilarated by our latest adventure...

Somewhere over the rainbow

Our trip to Europe over and at the moment none of us wants even to think about boarding a plane, train or automobile for a while. Not that it wasn't wonderful but too much travelling in too short a time. This was because we managed to catch up with both sets of grandparents and extended families in two different European countries all in the space of twelve days. Almost like a Royal tour if it hadn't been for easyJet and the Gatwick Express... and two missing suitcases on the way back due to a very tight connection in Paris. It was of course lovely to see everyone, sample some of the delights of the twenty-first century and have a holiday by the sea even though the weather wasn't as glorious as it can be in Italy but we were treated to the breathtaking spectacle of a rainbow over a choppy Adriatic which was some compensation.
To my surprise it wasn't as hard to leave the Old World for the New as it had been only six months ago. I can't say that I missed Santiago but perhaps I feel less hostile towards it than I did before. The phone-hacking scandal coupled with the recent attacks in Norway, elements which could have been lifted from a novel by Stieg Larsson, certainly help to make one feel more inclined to enjoy living in a remote part of South America. The girls have been delighted to return to their school and nursery respectively and I too was keen to get back to what has now become our home. For now...

The 1980s time warp

Another Storysack meeting this morning at DD1's school and happily Maria-Luz, the aptly-named and truly inspirational teacher was back leading the session with her infectious enthusiasm, this time on how to make a short animated film. I was suitably impressed... and reassured that the school does in fact possess some modern technology and is applying this towards enhancing positive learning. Phew... so we are in the twenty-first century here after all. Often one could be forgiven for thinking travelling this close to the edge of the world involves some kind of time-travel backwards of around thirty years or so, a suspicion which is reinforced by the relentless soundtrack of the early 1980s played in every shop, taxi, hairdresser's, children's party or similar public situation. Especially of the US variety (think Foreigner, Journey, the Bangles, Cyndi Lauper, Hall and Oates etc and you begin to get the idea). Either that or someone has meticulously and rather eerily tried to recreate the 1980s, like a kind of audio version of The Truman Show... Apparently according to some sources this obsession with the music of 1980s is due to what was going on in Chile at the time, ie a slow but determined reaction to the years of repression due to the presence of the military regime and a reawakening or stirring of the senses amongst those who had suffered and put up with so much. Sometimes it is hard to conceive of this happening during our lifetimes as recently as the latter part of the twentieth century, while back in the free Western world some of us were yet to enter adolescence while the same music formed part of the background. But shocking or not it is true and it explains a lot about Chile and its people today...

Talking of time travel, we are about to go back to the future as it were tomorrow as DD1's school breaks up for its two-week-long winter holiday today. Thus we will have a taste of the European summer in July as opposed to snow-based activities on offer in the Andes. Just as we were beginning to get used to the winter too...

Summer holiday

We made it back in one piece after what seemed like an epic voyage in the end. It is impossible to explore fully a country like Chile without a car so we hired one and took off, practically without any planning and decided to try and see if we could handle a road trip en famille. Surprisingly the moments when we were in the car were among the most restful and undisturbed of the entire holiday, which was definitely a bonus as we covered over a thousand miles in total.

DH, despite having forgotten to renew his driving license, manfully took on the lion's share of the driving while I concentrated on navigating, seeing to everyone's needs and gazing out of the window at the dramatic and ever-changing landscape. We headed north on Ruta 5 and made our first stop off at Concon, a rugged coastal town whose beauty was reminiscent of the Cote d'Azur without the glamour. As we piled out of the car, buckets and spades at the ready, we also realised why it wasn't packed with holidaymakers; there was a strong wind blowing which made for great surfing but not bathing. Never mind, we thought as we enjoyed the sea air and the crashing waves, further up the coast it'll be calmer... It was another 500km and a lot of very barren desert before we stopped again in Tongoy, a small but buzzing town with sheltered beaches which were still crowded at eight o'clock in the evening with a wide cross-section of people and dogs making up its clientele. It was so remote and unspoilt that there weren't even any proper roads in Tongoy itself, just sand and stone tracks which led up and down its dusty mound. We stayed in a compact but well-designed A-shaped wooden cabaña with a view of the ocean and a children's play area which seemed to satisfy all of us... Camping with a roof. The beaches were made up of flour-like sand which was littered with shells, many of which we collected. The children loved it and were busy digging and playing in the sand and water though often the mornings were too windy and the afternoons very hot. Everything was going reasonably smoothly until DD1 overindulged in the jardin del mar (seafood platter) and came down with food-poisoning, which put a slight dampener on our spirits for a few days. However she bounced back enough for us to continue our travels further north to La Serena, Chile's second oldest city which still retains many of its colonial buildings and thus charm. From here we ventured into the Elqui Valley (or the "Milky Valley" as DD2 called it) which the guidebooks and Chileans rave about and which was quite breathtaking especially the further up one went. DH and I felt as if we were driving through the set of a western and tried in vain to impress this upon the children though the point was probably lost on them as westerns seem to have fallen out of fashion in the last thirty-five years. DD1 was keen to dress up as a cowboy with hat and neckerchief though so perhaps she was listening after all, while DD2 kept wondering where all the milk was... Eventually another round of tummy bugs forced us to turn back and we began the long but atmospheric drive home.

Time for another trip?

It has taken me more than a full week to readjust to life in Chile after less than two weeks away in our former habitat. Glad to report that I have cheered up a little, exploiting the activities Santiago has to offer such as cycling and swimming which I would normally not be doing at this time of year. I still sometimes yearn for it to be winter but I'm sure my biorhythms are adjusting or at least enjoying this extra summer holiday. It does feel a little wicked in a way, knowing that the northern hemisphere is busy beavering away at school and work while we bask in the sun but I'm sure we'll feel differently in six months' time... The children have switched effortlessly as ever from indoor to outdoor life and don't of course notice what the calendar says for now. They may even grow up thinking it's perfectly normal to have one's summer holiday in January and February... At the moment life seems to have taken a slightly surreal turn as since we returned there has been no school for DD1 and even DH is off until the end of this month. Thus we are back in Santiago but not in our previous routine, settling into a new house while also on an enforced extended holiday... We have therefore decided to make the most of it and go travelling for a proper holiday to explore some of El Norte Chico, taking in some sea and if the children agree maybe even some of the inland valleys. On the eve of our departure it feels like another leap into the unknown...

Coming home

Last week marked our first foray out of the city and to the coast as we tagged along with DH for a conference. Not quite as glamorous as it sounds as it wasn't exactly the five-star treatment and golden sands. Rather it entailed the children and myself wandering around the vibrant though ramshackle port town of Valparaiso, trying to find our bearings and keep warm in the cool, cloudy mornings while also being prepared to peel off our layers like onions once the sun came out later in the day. Valparaiso itself is an interesting destination for grown-ups: a picturesque UNESCO site of world heritage for its colourful houses perched on its 45 hills and once the principal port in South America until the opening of the Panama Canal, it is now teeming with tourists from far-flung places while also apparently a hang-out for hippies of all ages and persuasions. The children enjoyed climbing up and down the steps, watching the boats and of course were desperate to get their shoes and socks off and play in the sand. Trying to avoid losing anything either in the steep winding streets of the hills or in the hustle and bustle of the busy flat area near the port with two children, plenty of snacks and drinks and all those jackets and jumpers was always going to be difficult. Dipsy (DD2's favoured soft toy) was the first casualty, coming a cropper on the way to our bohemian boarding house (run by an enigmatic Frenchman with flowing locks), but by the end of our stay we had also managed to mislay a purple sock, a sun hat and some Chilean pesos. Highlights of the stay included getting close to swimming and resting sea-lions on a boat trip and watching seagulls and pelicans flying over the rugged waves of the Pacific Ocean while the children had their afternoon of frolicking on the beach. It was good to have a change of scene and coming back to Santiago afterwards for the first time felt like coming home.