Puerto Natales – Day 2 & 3: Patagonian Port Life
PUERTO NATALES
Day 2 & 3: Patagonianian Port Life
March 29 & 30, 2023
After the feast Iād had the night before, I headed for an early one. And thank god I did, cause ahead of me were three days of doing absolutely nothing. Despite having such little time left on my hands, I figured my time here would be better spent resting and getting ready for an adventure that would probably shape up to be one of the best Iād yet to experience. One Iād been thinking about ever since the beginning of my trekking days, way back at the Lost City in Colombia.Ā
In the meantime, Iād get to hang out in the city and chill at my hostel ā a holiday in and of itself before all hell would break loose. By this point, the few commitments I had waiting for me back home were already starting to pile up, and I had a proper to-do list looming over me:
- My best friendās wedding (Momma Bear’s getting hitched!)
- My other best friendās brotherās wedding (might get cancelled)
- Another best friend’s birthday (it’s her 30th!)
- A court date (testifying in a patient’s injury case)
- A visit to the dentist (long overdue)
- A visit from Blanca (the Spanish chick I met in Costa Rica)
- Buying underwear (sink-washing kinda does a toll on fabric)
Traipsing, Not Walking
For now, I was focusing on the present and just doing me. Three full days dedicated to no one other than myself. In retrospect, I felt like I shouldāve booked a nice hotel. In retro-retrospect, that wouldāve probably broken my bank, especially considering I was averse to doing much else in the city, mostly cause everything is so damn expensive.Ā
Take the MilodĆ³n Cave, for example, where a now-extinct giant ground sloth was once discovered. The only way to get there is by taxi, and it also has an entrance fee. Or Cerro Dorotea ā a hilltop hike that offers a splendid view of the city. Iād be doing my fair share of trekking soon enough, so this was literally the last thing on my mind.Ā And so, I was resolute in being lazy.Ā
I didnāt so much as take a walk around. Nay ā I traipsed. I traipsed happily all over the place. The main road, packed with barbershops and trekking gear stores, felt like the universe gently reminding me that I was as unprepared for my next trek as I was unshaven and unkempt. As much as I enjoyed wandering the streets, my favourite was by far the coastal road, with dazzling views of the blue sea and icy peaks in the backdrop. Add to that the stone fingertips jutting out of the ground at the Monumento de la Mano, the old wooden piers, and entire bevies of black-necked swans flocking around them, and it was hard not to linger. I also got to visit the Municipal Historical Museum, which features various exhibitions on the Magellanic regionās past and its indigenous peoples.
The best part of my stay, though, was undoubtedly what awaited me at the end of each night. Curled up in bed under the warm embrace of my quilt and the AC, I found myself using earplugs for the first time ever, thanks to six or seven roommates snoring like friggin truckers. I tried everything in my arsenal to surreptitiously wake them from their slumber ā fake coughing fits, shifting around in my creaky bed, even dropping things on the floor. Oh, and the BO of this one guy. It kinda rivalled that of the French bloke from that one dorm back in La Ceiba ā thanks to whom Iād befriended Emma and Julia.