Here's where it gets, if you're actually here, a bit complicated
Shipping, literally boxes but also ourselves, down to Raul Marin (south of Chaiten, Chile) tomorrow. This dude Thomas has some land, and also some big ideas, down there. But there'll be no stores or computers (unless we sail two hours into town and pay a premium) to speak of, or through as the case may be. So goes, or here goes, the story...
92-hour Bread Catalogue
Got some whole wheat flour last week and had a bread festival here at Casa Amarilla. No oven was available.
| Day @ Hour | %WW | Type | Size | Leaven | Method | Good | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| W, 4.4 @ 10 | 100% | zucchini bread pancake | 5-7cm dmtr | baking powder | oil pan/stove | very | w/egg, delicate |
| W, 4.4 @ 21 | 80% | pita | 10-12 cm dmtr | b.p. & yeast s. | dry pan/fire | only ok | no gas for stove, ate in morning |
| R, 5.4 @ 20 | 80% | pita | 12-15cm dmtr | b.p. & yeast s. | dry pan/stove | better | sort of split |
| F. 6.4 @ 7 | 50% | banana-zuccini-murta pancake | 4-9cm dmtr | baking powder | oil pan/stove | pretty | no egg, gummy |
| F, 6.4 @ 15 | 50% | sopapilla | 5x8-12cm | yeast starter | deep fry/stove | perfect | Chilean junk food |
| F, 6.4 @ 21 | 50% | squash pita | 10x15cm | yeast starter | dry pan/stove | very | same dough as sopapilla |
| S, 7.4 @ 17 | 60% | sourdough potato pita | 15cm dmtr | dough from R | dry pan/stove | great | split well, pleasant tang |
| N, 8.4 @ 6 | 50% | fermented-berry pancake | 6-8cm dmtr | baking powder | oil pan/stove | no | no egg, very purple |
Mountaintop Shit Flip
Did you know that on top of Volcan Antuco there are hot steam vents? We didn't know, or care, when we made a reckless plan to sleep up there. Fortuitously, Antuco provided us sustenance as it has taken from so many. We slept warm, wet, and cozy, just don't tell the parents or they might flip--we did.
Unstimulation
Since I can't calculate,
unlike every other morning,
I guess instead I'll write
something short and boring:
I couldn't make a fire,
but the burning pyre
of Nature's heavenly fire
has burst higher than
the hill and through the
window to my eyes,
and to the possible ire
of my sleeping friend:
more in the head,
less in the thighs.
unlike every other morning,
I guess instead I'll write
something short and boring:
I couldn't make a fire,
but the burning pyre
of Nature's heavenly fire
has burst higher than
the hill and through the
window to my eyes,
and to the possible ire
of my sleeping friend:
more in the head,
less in the thighs.
Some thoughts on Warmth
There's nothing like being toasty-cozy warm. But I have some habits -being relatively skinny, using a down sleeping bag that's missing at least half its feathers, swimming in cold water to the point of inducing mild hypothermia, that tend to inhibit this sensation. After swimming in the Pacific, I'll do anything, including donning full, non-breathable raingear and lying in the sun, to be warm.
Some thoughts on Soil
Max and I have been here at Casa Amarilla for two weeks now. The soil here is thick, rich, wet, and soft -very different from the soil at Puquelehue, which is dry, sometimes sandy, and other times hard as sedimentary rock. I'm wondering whether the attitude of farmers is strongly influenced by the attitude of their soil, because the people here are much more easy-going, and they come from a place of abundance rather than scarcity in their dealings with the volunteers. From my sample size of two, I see a strong correlation; but without more data points, it is surely statitstically insignificant.
Some thoughts on Yellowjackets
I hate yellowjackets so much now that they seem to have developed a taste for me. I don't know if I've started smelling like a flower or what, But one bit me on the lip three weeks ago, after refusing to stop hovering around my face for at least five minutes while I attempted to eat and converse with purpose. I killed another with my journal while camped behind Antuco but then for a day or two every twinge I felt in my feet seemed to me to be a yellowjacket caught in my open shoes and about to sting my toes, even though it wasn´t either of those.
An Encouraging Series of Experiences
In the week between Puquelehue and Casa Amarilla (where we are now), we met some of the nicest people. First we went to Parque Laguna de Laja, where we were the only ones at the campground and the manager Lily was so pleased to show us around and get to know us. When we got out of the mountains five days later, she offered us food and showers and use of the washing machine all for free. And she kept saying, in Spanish of course, "Oh no, thank YOU for sharing lunch with ME."
Then we stayed at a cheap hotel in Los Angeles de Chile, and the proprietress seemed initially suspicious of me, but I think she was just puzzeled by my terrible Spanish. By the next moring she was telling me that she has a tall, blonde daughter who studies English and wants to marry a white man. She asked why we were not staying another night and I had to convince her that it was only because we were going straight on to Puerto Montt, and not that we were in any way unhappy with her hotel.
Then, also in Los Angeles, I had an extensive, poorly-prepared post office project to pursue and the lady at the counter was so patient and accomodating. At first she painstakingly double-checked each charachter of each address with me on account of my terrible handwriting, but eventully she passed the keyboard over the counter and let me type in the addresses. I thanked her profusely and promised to tell my friends and family about her.
Of course, I didn't have to cohabitate with any of these women, but it was still an encouraging series of experiences considering my record up to and including, and hopefully concluding with Puquelehue.
Then we stayed at a cheap hotel in Los Angeles de Chile, and the proprietress seemed initially suspicious of me, but I think she was just puzzeled by my terrible Spanish. By the next moring she was telling me that she has a tall, blonde daughter who studies English and wants to marry a white man. She asked why we were not staying another night and I had to convince her that it was only because we were going straight on to Puerto Montt, and not that we were in any way unhappy with her hotel.
Then, also in Los Angeles, I had an extensive, poorly-prepared post office project to pursue and the lady at the counter was so patient and accomodating. At first she painstakingly double-checked each charachter of each address with me on account of my terrible handwriting, but eventully she passed the keyboard over the counter and let me type in the addresses. I thanked her profusely and promised to tell my friends and family about her.
Of course, I didn't have to cohabitate with any of these women, but it was still an encouraging series of experiences considering my record up to and including, and hopefully concluding with Puquelehue.
How to eat a kilo of rice in four easy meals
1. Cook half in seawater and eat half of that hot -a simple yet vaguely gourmet meal.
2. In the morning, eat the cold cooked rice with hot sauce -vaguely reminicent of sushi.
3. That evening cook the remaining rice and mix half with hot sauce and honey for a vaguely bbq dish.
4. Overcook the rest and stir in manjar to make a rice pudding; cool overnight and add dark chocolate chunks for a vaguely naughty yet fundamentally perfect breakfast.
2. In the morning, eat the cold cooked rice with hot sauce -vaguely reminicent of sushi.
3. That evening cook the remaining rice and mix half with hot sauce and honey for a vaguely bbq dish.
4. Overcook the rest and stir in manjar to make a rice pudding; cool overnight and add dark chocolate chunks for a vaguely naughty yet fundamentally perfect breakfast.
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