kellita the señorita the ibby dibby dow: I have never seen the stars

Ever. In my life. I thought I had, all those times I sent beside the woodpile in the side yard at 305 Gloucester Ct with the then love of my life, David Coonce, staring at the night sky. But I only just realized tonight, when I walked outside, that what I spent so much time gawking at in my awkward teen years and thereafter, was nothing in comparison.

Yesterday I bid adieu the fun, yet long and frustrating, tour-bus journey. We had a great farewell 40-sausage bonfire/cookout Thursday night in Puerto Varas, and my stomach behaved itself. Then we all watched, entertained yet horrified as Daniel, our 58-year-old lovable bus driver, got whiskey drunk. He told us of his secret to life (several times): having 2 women. Apparently when you have two women, there are “no children, no dishes, and therefore, no problems”. Seems Daniel is using good protection. I think he was regretting the whiskey drinking decision Friday morning when he had to drive us around again, and every 15 minutes or so he just kept yelling "whiskey". I was just glad he was still alive, and also to hear I had missed his mooning photos the night before. Such a charmer.

We stopped in Frutillar for some food, then at a lake-side spot to take photos and eat some tongue staining berries, before they dropped me in Osorno to make the journey to Dominique’s family’s farm. After an hour of sleuthing in the rain to find the bus terminal I made it to Entre Lagos, where Alex, the driver, picked me up.

The farm is on Lake Puyehue. When Alex turned left off the main road, separated from the lake by maybe 100 feet of earth, I realized the house was literally "on the lake". We drove down a wooded gravel driveway and arrived at a beautiful sprawling one-story blue house maybe 20 feet from the water overlooking not one, but five volcanoes. I arrived in the middle of lunch, and was warmly greeted by a smiling table of 15 including Monica, Patricia, and the rest of the family. They immediately cleared a place for me, and I happily sat down amid the welcoming greetings.

After lunch we drove across the road to the land that houses the farm, gardens, main house (or the house above), chapel, barn, and probably many other places I will come to know. Monica and her husband, Marco excused themselves for their afternoon siesta, and I went to my “room”. I am staying above the “barn” where the kids all used to sleep so I could have my own bathroom and live undisturbed and comfortably during my time here. This would be a luxurious experience at any stage of my life, but to have this family open their doors to me during this vagabond penny-pinching time is incredible. To call it a room is an understatement. I climbed the stairs and found myself in a beautiful wood-paneled window-filled room complete with bar, ping pong, pool, and fusball tables, more a giant studio apartment than a anything else.

I met Fabiola, who has worked with the family for over 27 years. She is a short, portly woman, with an ear-to-ear smile, and a contagious giggle. We chatted for a few minutes as she gave me the lay of the land and a small tour of the main house. She told me to leave any laundry outside my door, as she would make sure it was clean first thing. Seriously, let’s stop for a moment. Do you know how amazing that is? I haven’t washed my laundry since I left Guatemala. I cannot wait to bask in the smell of my clean clothing tomorrow.

Around 6:30 I headed down to the lake house for tea with Pati. As the sun set on the most perfect panoramic landscape, I was already into relaxed farm life. The whole family gathered in the living room by the fire at the house above to play their nightly dice game of Dudo (or doubt). Marco took me under his wing, and I was in the game doubting up a storm in no time. We played until dinner, whenthe kids left us, and we sat to enjoy a lovely dinner which ended with me in a food coma at 11:30.

I was so stunned by the contrast of the bright illuminated sky as I stumbled across the dark path in search of my door that I could hardly mumble my thanks for such a lovely day. I turned to Monica, and said, simply with my mouth gaping, “wow”. I stood like a child in the grass staring at the vast starry landscape for about an hour.

I woke up to the sounds of cows and sheep mooing and baaing, my room still warm from the fire in the chimenea Alex had lit the night before. I started my day with Pati, (after I literally laid on top of my clothes, soaking in the smell of clean laundry) who educated me on the ways of the farm. No one wakes up before 10 or 10:30, so it would just be she and I seated at one side of the huge dining room table. We had french-press coffee, farm-fresh eggs, homemade bread and raspberry marmelade, and fruit. It was decadent. After a dip in the hot tub, a jet ski ride, and a spin in the kayak, we lunched at the lake house, where Max grilled amazingly tender steak on the parilla overlooking the water. As Annie would sing, “I think I’m gonna like it here”.