Alvarro says not to be too hopeful. There's a wind from the north, which usually means bad weather the following day. I am hoping that if, despite the prognosis, the weather turns out okay that I can partly hike and partly kayak my way to one of the higher peaks in Parque Nacional Chiloe.

I write you from Hospedaje Arruyan, essentially a cabin neaby the Pacific Coast of an island in southern Chile. This afternoon, I took a dusky meandering to the beachside to say hello to my familiar friend, the west coast, propping up a stick in the sand for the ocean to play with. It is good to see a beach again, and to see the wispy trails of sand, flying by at ankle level. There are these strange birds everywhere, most of which I've never seen before.

Since I'm out here during winter, there is an inspiring sense of remoteness to the town of Cucao. Natch, of course, some of the thoughts of my previous entry should condition such a statement.

I suppose I need to catch you up a little. I've come out to Chiloe on the hint that there's some important local mythology that involve monsters of the sea. According to one sign nearby that reads in both Spanish and English, the people here still maintain a lifestyle relatively removed from the circuit of globalization. I'm not sure how the author of this placard explains the predominance of cell-phones on the bus ride to Castro.

Yes, Castro. What a fantastic name for a city isn't it? This is where I stayed the first night on the island. As far as I know at the moment it has nothing to do with Fidel. Will research.

But back to the sign... It carries on to mention that the people here continue to live lives of "magical unreality." A funny description for which I thought was a translation problem, but even in the Spanish section it states that the people live in "irrealidad magico." I'm not sure what this means, exactly. However, the tourist map does include some illustrations of two nautical monsters, one which is labeled El Basilisco (it looks sort of like a serpent with the head of a rooster) and the other is El Cuchivilu (a serpent with the head of a boar). Tomorrow, if the weather does not accomodate the hike, I'm going to question Alvarro to see what he knows about these and many other interesting legends on the island.

A Town Called Castro

Before getting here, I've had an exciting journey out. Every step further that I make into South America seems to demand more speaking ability in Spanish. In fact, Chileno Spanish is a unique batch of its own. Polite smirks have substituted some of the blank looks I used to receive, for now I'm speaking with a distinctively Argentine American accent. I must sound like a Latino Mickey Mouse. Lord knows that must be un poco amusing.

I arrived into Castro without any guidebook, but fortunately ran into Miguel, who runs a very cozy place. The town itself is great, fulll of hills, houses full of color, putting the famous La Boca distrct of Buenos Aires to gentrified shame. Kids play soccer in the streets with whatever obstacles they can arrange. One little 4 year old had a real knack for entertaining himself with the cardboard of an empty roll of duct tape.

That night, Miguel and his wife cooked dinner for everyone, and we stayed up late dissecting modern art pieces in Spanish. I mentioned to Miguel that I might like to work on the waterfront if he had a friend that needed help. He mentioned that he knew someone that worked with "churros." You can imagine my less-than-excited reaction, for the potential of working for a street vendor. But fortunately we cleared up the language problem. Apparently, what are cinnamon sticks to most of Latin America are, to this island town, a name for a type of clam or mussel. I ate a few with the salad. Freakish looking, but good. Don't taste like cinammon at all.

Among the other misunderstandings recently cleared up:

• "Zona De Bomba" signs do not signify where the local municipality keeps the militia weaponry... it's just an area where the fire department requires access to.
• The phrase "contigo," old-fashioned as it is to an Argentino, is in full use here. In fact, I've noticed that while the Toyota slogan in Argentina is "Siempre Con Vos", here it is "Siempre Contigo".
• Here there are no mercados. Only supermercados and hipermercados. Tiny little convenience stores will be supermercados, often shortening their names to "Sup." I believe I saw a sign that read "Sup. Don Juan." I know that I saw a sign that read "Sup. Sunny 2"
• I can get Miguel's little puppy to respond to my instructions. I'm not sure why, but it is comforting to know that even an animal can confirm some of my new language abilities.
• Typical oferta for a lunch is 15,000 pesos. The high numbers are shockers at first, but I'm starting to get used to them. It's time for a math major to relearn multiplication in the grocery store, as 1k Chileno Pesos are about 1 and 1/3 less than the US Dollar equivalent. Yep, throw in the kg versus pounds system and you've got an arithmetic mess.

It's educating to enter a new country, if only to give frame of reference to Argentina. Some things stay the same, some don't. For instance, the bus drivers all continue to worship Elivs style, only now a new flag hangs near the fuzzy dice.

Before I forget to mention, I discovered that I'm officially at the end of the Pan-American highway: Ruta 5, as it's known here, terminates at the south end of Chiloe Island. Should I wish, it could officially take me all the way back to Tacoma, or all the way to Alaska for that matter.. It is one thing to see the Pacific Ocean and recognize that its immense continuity gives me a natural connection to home. It is another to realize there exists a vast continuous tract of asphalt to provide a more postmodern warm and fuzzy feeling.

Wow, that's a lot of writing! Time for sleep. I'm already feeling sad that in a few weeks I won't need to speak Spanish anymore, as I'll be off to Sydney. If things go well, perhaps I'll stick it out a bit longer. I love South America!