Puerto Montt, Chile, Part II

Puerto Montt, Chile, Part II has more to do with people than with places and things. We had the wonderful opportunity to visit my Chilean mom whom we fondly called "La Mom." We lived with her family as "pensionistas." Basically, that means that we rented a room from them. They provided a maid who cooked and cleaned for us. Sometimes, Mom would get mad because we arrived late...past the 9:30 p.m. time we were supposed to be in. What can I say...we were very, very busy in Puerto Montt. We had a great time with them.

This is "La Mom" in 1977.


This is "La Mom" in 2009 when we visited her. I tried to get the exact same picture of her standing in her doorway.


Here is a picture of the entire family without the only boy.


It was so wonderful to see "La Mom" and her family. We had "once" (pronounced own say)with them. Luisa had made a delicious cake. We laughed and laughed at the various things that they remembered about the "Gringo Grande" (big gringo). From their home, they had such a beautiful view of the ocean and Volcan Osorno. Now, the view has been blocked by a tall building.





We also had the opportunity to visit a few members while we were there. The picture below is of President Usabeaga and his son Eduardo. He was the branch president while I was in Puerto Montt. He became the district president when Puerto Montt became a district. Plus, he was very instrumental in helping the Church purchase property for all of the church in Puerto Montt. He and his family were stalwarts in the Church and still are. We went to three churches in Puerto Montt to find him. The city and the Church have really grown. Puerto Montt is now a stake.



We loved Puerto Montt, even though it was clouded over and rained the last day we were there. We saw some of the people I loved the most.

Puerto Montt, Chile

Puerto Montt was wonderful even though it was cloudy and a bit rainy. We arrived late Friday night because we had driven all day and stopped along the way, the last stop being in Frutillar because I knew the weather wasn't going to be very good, and the sun was setting on Lake Llanquihue and Volcan Osorno. After taking a host of pictures, which you can see in a previous blog, we headed to Puerto Montt.

We arrived, checked in, and headed to our room. The hotel was very nice, and we were impressed. Our room overlooked the bay. Absolutely gorgeous. Pictures cannot really capture the element of feelings that I felt when I stood there in the window and looked out into the bay, remembering 30 years ago when I served. What a feeling.



The next morning, we rose, ate breakfast in the hotel's restaurant. The view was again breathtaking because it was on the top floor overlooking the entire city.



We hopped in the car and headed to Puerto Varas, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Volcan Osorno. Alas, it wasn't to be, but we had a good trip and saw some gorgeous countryside. Plus, we found one of the capillas (church buildings). Whether that was the right one, we shall see. The Church's website listed only one building, but we know there are more.




Once we returned, we caught a taxis and went to Angelmo. I really didn't want to drive down there with our car. Once I arrived, I discovered that it had changed over the past thirty years. While it was a small fish and tourist market back then, it has been very turista...We walked through the fish market while various young women tried to get us to eat in their little restaurants. Finally, we succumbed. We had a nice meal. Joanne and I both had different fish. I had Conger eel and Joanne had a fish I am not familiar with, but they were both delicious.


After a delicious meal, we wandered through the booths, looking at all of the great things Chileans make. Joanne bought a beautiful shawl, and we bought some things for the girls, but I cannot post what they are because Christmas hasn't arrived, yet, and we want it to be a surprise.



More later about my visit with my Chilean mother....

Villarica, Pucón, La Unión, and Frutillar

Today was a most interesting day. Of all of the time we are spending in Chile, Thursday night was the one most in the air. We didn’t really know where we would be—perhaps in Concepción, Valdivia, or Osorno. We decided to stop in Villarica. On the way, we stopped at Los Saltos de Laja. What a beautiful site this was. I remember going there as chiquillos working in the office; so, I wanted to return.

We attempted to stay the night at a bed and breakfast run by Americans, but it was full. She gave us the name of another hotel named Hotel El Parque. It was about three miles out of town on a lake. I believe after we arrived, we decided it was a much better place and less expensive overall.

Once we arrived, Joanne and I walked down to the lake front and took a few pictures of some archaic swing sets and things. They were pretty old. Then we walked back up and headed to dinner. The people who didn’t have room for us asked us to come to dinner, which we did. It was delightful. Both Joanne and I had chuletas—pork chops—and all of the trimmings—potatoes and asparagus cream soup, which was absolutely delicious.

We rose early and drove to Pucón. I really wanted to see Volcán Villarica. It was too cloudy. Around 12:00 when we were heading to La Union and points south, the Volcán Villarica came out for a partial picture. What wonderful countryside pictures of wild flowers we took just wonderful.

We stopped in La Unión. On our way in, we saw three missionaries walking down the street. We stopped them and asked directions. They didn’t know Boris Ocampo, but they did tell us to stop at a place to make some calls. I parked the car and headed up the street. I stopped at the first Caja de Llamados I came to and tried to call Boris. He wasn’t there. For some reason, I didn’t write down his address; so, I attempted to find a place with internet, which I did. I got online and got his address. Before I left, though, I made another call to see if I could roust Boris. Fortunately, I did. He told me to meet him in the Plaza. We drove there and waited for him. Soon, he was walking toward us. He hasn’t changed a bit. Still joven, still delgadito, still great fun.

We chatted a bit and then walked to where the new capilla is or at least new to me. They had torn down the old house where we used to have meetings and built a brand new church house back in 1982. La Union used to be a stake, but because of the worthiness of so few males, they had to reduce it to a district. They are working very hard to change this.

Then we drove over to the Soto house where we lived as missionaries. Only Mr. Soto was in. He said that the señora was out with Mauricio in Osorno where she had a doctor’s appointment. We chatted for a rato and then had to live. I really wanted to stay and visit, but we needed to spend some time with Boris and his lovely bride. We spent a couple of hours with them. It was wonderful just to chat. They live in a tiny, tiny house.


We said our goodbyes at 7:15 p.m. Boris had a meeting or we would have taken them to dinner. It was hard leaving them. We promised to see each other in two years when the Concepción Temple is ready to be dedicated. I do hope we can return.

The sun was beginning to set when we pulled into Frutillar. I knew if we didn’t get pictures of the Volcán Osorno, we probably wouldn’t get to see it this trip because of the projected weather—rain and cloudy. When the clouds set in, then nothing can be seen. Lake Llanquihue was absolutely stunning with the sun lighting up the lake just a bit. I took a few pictures, but I don’t know how they will come out. We shall see. The first picture is Volcán Osorno and the second is Volcán Calbuco.

Talca, Chile

We made it to Talca on Tuesday evening. We arrived and headed into town. Again, the street signs were minimal. Some road construction creates some stir, but we made our way into the city by the Google map that I had made. Again, with Google’s help but with God’s help more, we found the hotel. We parked on the road and walked in and checked in. It was a bit eery because I felt as if we were really strangers in a stranger land. We checked in. They told me to park in the back of the hotel. I went outside and was ready to get in the car when a young man dressed in a uniform of sorts handed me a piece of paper and said, $230 pesos por favor. I asked him why? He told me that I had parked and that I owed money for parking on the side of the road.
With a bit of disgust, I told him I didn’t have any money because Joanne had it all. Let me park, and I would return with the few monedas that I owed. So, that’s what I did. I parked in the back; and while I went out to pay the young man, the the bellman hauled out luggage upstairs and helped us in our room.

Once inside, we arranged things and then I called Walky to see what was going on with the Diaz family. She said that she would be right over because her office was very close by. Within five minutes, she was there, giving us abrazos and such to welcome us to Chile. We jumped in the car and headed to her house, with a stop by the school to pick up Tamara y Natan, her two children. We arrived at the school, and they had already gone home. So, we turned around in the very narrow street and headed to the Diaz Family’s house.



We brought our presents with us and handed them out once we got in. Hermano y Hermana Diaz were very excited to see us. It was wonderful to say hello to them once again. We had a wonderful chat, and then we loaded up in two cars and headed to Rio Claro, one of the parks there in Chile. I remember having a picnic with the branch when I served her. And I remember eating sandia (watermelon) in the park with my companeros, just prior to going on a hike through the mountains. This hike result in a few blisters but a sunburn beyond sun burn. We took a few pictures and then headed to the top of the hill so we could see out over Talca. We parted company with Hermano y Hermana Diaz because they were going home to make Once for us, which I told them they didn’t have to do, but they wanted to do it anyway.



The ride to the hill was a short one actually. We arrived and looked out over Talca. Walky explained the changes that had occurred even her last fifteen years while she was in Brazil. Talca had really changed. Lots of new housing development had spread on various sides of the city. We then walked up to an old church, just up from where we parked. I took a few pictures, and then we watched the children play in the yard around the church. Walky said she let them play because in Brazil, you couldn’t let them play because of all of the snakes and other venomous things that hung around everywhere. I don’t think I could live in a country like this.



After our time there, we went to the Daiz’s house where we had once, which is comprised of bread, juice, cheese. Hermano Diaz had me give the blessing on the food, which was a wonderful experience for me. We had a wonderful conversation. After once, we sat in the living room. Soon young Guillmero came. Walky, Hermano Diaz, and Walky sang two songs for us, one was the Cueca and the other was Te Vas Para Chile, which is the national song. It was wonderful. Hermano Diaz inserted their names to pass by when we visited Chile. Just delightful.



On Wednesday, we started the day out with desayuno of bread, fruit, yogurt, thinly sliced meats, and bottled water at the hotel and then walked around downtown to see the city. I went to 2 Sur 937 to see if I could see my old pension. What I think was my pension is now boarded up. The little Mercado next door is now some sort of negocio. Gone are the real things; the only things that stayed our memories of walking to the house and being let it by Yolanda or the other maid whose name totally and completely escapes me.

Around 11:45 a.m., we met up with Walky and headed out to the La Universidad de Talca. We walked around a bit and then we went to the medical school part, specifically the dental part and visited with a few people. After the university visit, we headed once again to the Diaz family. They had prepared such a delicious meal for us—fish, potatoes, tomatoes, and fruit for dessert. It was delicious. We had such a good time. After the meal, Joanne and I drove to the church house where we thought the baptism was going to be. We felt good about knowing where it was just in case it was dark when we actually went to the building. Then we went home. Amazing, the street changed, and it became a one way really quickly, and everyone was quasi nice about it when we were driving up a wrong way for about one block. Then, we went home and took a nap. This nap business is getting in the way of visiting more, but the four-hour time difference is creating some havoc.


I took a short nap while Joanne lingered en la cama. While she slept, I attempted to do some more writing before we needed to go to the baptism. Around 7:00 p.m., I woke Joanne, and we got ready and left the house. We arrived at the appointed church house. A gentleman was just going in when we pulled up. I approached him, and he told me that this wasn’t the church house and gave me directions. Well, I had no idea where this was. I couldn’t believe this: Here we were trying to do what we were supposed to do. Well, we attempted to follow directions, but we couldn’t find the church. Time was gaining on us, and we were about to be late. We started back to the house to call Walky when all of a sudden I saw a church spire to my left. I quickly turned left and “poof” a church house appeared out of nowhere. We parked and went in. There was Walky who gave a sudden sigh. We had made it, thanks again to our Heavenly Father who continues to guide us in these days.

We met everyone and took pictures out in the hallway. Natan looked cute in his white clothes. The meeting started about 30 minutes late for some reason. The brother who was conducting asked that I come bear my testimony, which I did. I didn’t do as well as I would have liked. Also, during the baptism ceremony, I was one of the witnesses.



Afterwards was when I gave my testimony, and then I confirmed Natan Alexander Egar Diaz. It was a great experience. We blessed him that he would prepare well to be a good missionary, that he would be an excellent missionary, that he would listen to his mother’s counsel, that he would do everything he can to be the person Heavenly Father wants him to be. We also blessed his mother through him.

After the baptism and the confirmation, Brother Diaz and Walky stood and bore their testimonies. They both thank Joanne and me for taking time and coming to Chile for this occasion. They were too kind and gracious to us. We went into the cultural hall and had a few snacks. I met other members of the church. I met a young woman, Walky’s age, who had the opportunity to play basketball for BYU, but her mother told her she couldn’t go. So, she became a professional women’s basketball player and went to the Pan-American games. She now coaches a national women’s team. She was a hoot. I enjoyed visiting with her.

We took lots of pictures of the Diaz Family and the Hammon Family. It was very, very fun. We loved being there with them.




As we all left the capilla, we all hesitated just a bit because we knew that, perhaps, this might be the last time we saw each other. Yes, we made promised to “volver” to visit them. But it took me thirty years to make it back, and few gente are still around. We gave each other abrazos Chilenos, said our teary goodbyes, and then left in separate cars/camiones, each waving a fond farewell. Was the night worth it? Absolutely! Incrediblly, Sonja was there with her four children, two boys and two girls. She told me that her youngest was going to be baptized next year.



Wonderful times with Diaz Family. They are absolutely wonderful! We love them! We enjoyed our stay in Talca. I wish it could have been longer. We didn't get to see the Avendano family. Some of them were supposed to come to Natan's baptism. Later, I did "Facebook chat" with Priscila. The three children I knew have all been married in the temple. That is fantastic!

Santiago Temple, Santiago, Chile

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

We woke early, got ready, and headed to the temple, arriving around 8:30 a.m. for the 9:00 a.m. session. When we walked through the doors, the man at the front desk said in English, “You two look like you are from North America.” His name was Elder Biddaulph from Denver. He said he and his wife lived about 700 feet from the Denver Temple and were on a temple mission in Santiago. He asked us to be the witness couple on the spot and sent us to get our clothing. We went to the clothing window, picked up our clothes, and headed back. When I asked la hermana if I needed to pay, she said, “No.” So, we don’t charge those who attend the Santiago Temple.



The session was wonderful. There were four males and eight females. It was a very small session, but the spirit made up for it. We had a nice prayer circle. I completed the entire session in Spanish--for the first time ever. I did all right. I knew what it was supposed to be in English, but I was more than tenuous as a Spanish speaker. But I made it through and met Joanne in the Celestial Room, which was beautiful. We sat down and just enjoyed the spirit.

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Later, we dressed and headed outside and toured the Temple grounds. What a beautiful place! Flowers were starting to bloom, the trees looked wonderful, and the grounds were immaculate, just like any other temple grounds. The Church has a systematic approach to keeping things neat, clean, and beautiful. Thank you.

Viaje a Chile

Welcome to Chile o sea Bienvenidos a Chile!e are in Chile! Yes, we have returned the long, slender country know to the world as Chile, more specifically to southern Chile--Talca, La Union, and Puerto Montt with a plane landing in Santiago to get here. I will write when I can and insert pictures as we go. So, here are some first things:



As we were flying into Santiago, off to the east were the magnificent mountains that make up the Andes also known by many as the Cordillera. Wow! What a spectacular sight. I tried to take some pictures out the window; so, we shall see what they turn out to be. We landed around 8:00 a.m. By 8:30 a.m., we had passed through customs. We each had to pay a $131 entrance fee just to get in the country. Then we passed through customs. That wasn’t too hard.

We walked over to the Alamo place and stood there for a good half an hour for them to run through their things. Holy cats it took them a long time. I believe Budget spends most of their elsewhere. Finally, we were almost there when their system crashed so we had to start all over again. In the meantime, we finished and headed out to the car.

Now, what a experience this was. The guy and I walked around the car to make sure that he has written down all of the dings and things. There were a bunch, much more than the ones we see in the USA; but after driving around, I soon learned why. We drove out and followed the arrows. The GPS didn’t work; so, we didn’t get one to use. Basically, we were on our own. Soon, we did get lost and didn’t turn when we were supposed to. After stopped at a farmacia, we went on our way and poof got lost again. Amazingly, though, we just happened onto the Avenida Eliodoro Yañez. Ten blocks later we pulled off the street into one of the hotel’s parking spaces. When we checked in, we discovered we were way too early. We got directions and headed to the temple. Because of all of the one-way streets everywhere, it took us longer than we what thought. But in reality, it is only about ten minutes away. We plan on going to the temple tomorrow morning. We will try to hit the 9:00 a.m. session. The Church has a huge building on temple grounds. It must be the headquarters for the Church here in Chile.

When we returned, we checked in. A young man led us to our room. Lo and behold, it looks like a suite. He had already brought up our luggage and placed it in our room. Joanne and I lay down and fell asleep because we didn’t sleep well last night or morning, whichever it was. I just woke up around 12:30 p.m. and decided to begin my Chilean journey.



After we returned, we decided to walk around and find a place to exchange some dollars. Well, the bank where we wanted to go had a sign out that they were doing something inside; so, we couldn’t go in. We came back in ½ hour when they said they were going to open back up, but they never did. Come to find out, banks open at 9:00 a.m. and close at 2:00 p.m. Now, that’s where bankers receive the adage “bankers’ hours.”

Around 7:20 p.m., we walked down to the lobby and outside and waited for Fernando, Gloria’s husband (She served in our District/Zone in Puerto Montt). He was supposed to pick us up around 7:30 p.m. Because of the traffic y otras cosas, lateness isn't an issue. Well, around 7:45 p.m. or so, he drove up in his car. We gave abrazos, got in, and headed out to their apartment. The traffic was terrible. We arrived around 9:00 p.m. or so. We passed by Frank Aravena’s office, which is also Fernando’s office because they work together; then we headed for the apartment, arriving around 9:00 p.m. Gloria was there.

She had fixed us jugo. We had such a nice chat, some in English but mostly in English. Soon, it was time to eat. They had fixed asparagus, papas de purė, tomatoes, roast beef, little potato balls, and cucumbers. For dessert, we had flan, which is okay for once in a while. During the meal, we reminisced about Concepcion, about the mission, and about the families. After dinner, we chatted, took pictures, said our good byes, and Fernando took us home. We arrived around midnight. Joanne and I were both exhausted. After reading scriptures, we fell into bed. But what a wonderful evening with my Chilean friends. Just wonderful!



Stay tuned for more from los viajeros Chilenos!

Stick Horses

When my youngest daughter was young, she moaned about not having a horse. At times, it has become so bad, I hated to drive by a pasture where horses might be nibbling on a leaf of grass. She will use that voice, “Oh, Dad, aren’t those horses beautiful?” We did succumb and give her riding lessons, but that didn't lessen the desires of having a horse. She thought that since she had riding lessons, a horse should follow, something akin to if you go to a basketball camp, your parents should buy you a basketball court or put you on a basketball team. Fortunately, manufacturers solved that problem: portable basket hoop, which we had for years in our driveway. Now, what about a portable horse?

My Uncle Wilford solved that problem years ago—at least for me. With his nifty bandsaw, a chunk of inch or inch and one half pine board, a couple of white tacks, colored string, and 36" dowel, he was in business. One family reunion at the old rock building in Menan, he brought a whole herd of horses in the back of his pickup. And they didn’t even make a mess or require much coaxing to get them out.
He maneuvered them through the white doors of the building and handed them out to the little people, me included.

Mine was a beaut. The way I remember him, he was the epitome of a perfect stick horse: black head, cut carefully by a bandsaw; white tacks stuck deep in the pine and served as eyes. Carefully placed in the crevice where the saw dipped in to make his mouth, the yellow string reins were drawn tight to the back where the mane was supposed to be and stapled high on the neck. Its body was one slim dowel smushed tight in a round hole, held in by wood glue. How could you not love such a wonderful creature? And he was mine and didn’t take much of corral to keep him, either.

At that time, my corral was 1509 Beverly Road in Idaho Falls. Our backyard bordered what was to become Casseopeia Street. I don’t remember a road then, just high weeds that had some semblance of a trail weaving through it, built just right for little boys and stick horses. The weeds served simultaneously as sagebrush and big trees we could lope around and through. And on a good day, I could jump them although my horse’s hoofs sometimes dragged in the brush. I could never get him to make the clean jump. His 36" shank just couldn’t clear the tall timber. Not once, though, did we roll or get bucked off because of it.

I usually rode bareback. I climbed on from the left side, just like a regular cowboy, and grabbed the reins with my left hand. Sometimes, I was plain bold and hopped on from the back end, like I had seen Roy Rogers and the Lone Ranger do. And when I was in a big hurry, I stuck the long shank between my legs and rode pell mell out into the back yard, out the back gate, and through the weeds, pretending I needed to save folks holed up in fort just over the ridge. My job was to save souls and ride hard.

Often, my little pony would begin to buck incessantly. I have to admit, though, I induced him to buck more times than not. It was awesome the way I stayed on, left hand on the reins, right hand back (often vice versa), sometimes with my hat waving in the wind. He bucked high, and then he twisted around like some wild bronco I had seen once at the Jefferson County Stampede. If the judges had been there on those occasions, I probably would have scored high.

Somewhere along the way, my stick pony ended up in the fire bin, I suppose the way all good pine horse go. But I had several along the way. I think I even made one, once in cub scouts.

My daughter is now too old for a stick horse and out of the house. I figure by now the thoughts of possessing a pony have dissipated from her mind although I doubt it. I still think about the reasons why I just didn’t buy her a regular horse. But the thoughts of a different kind of horse comes to mind: one that does not need a garage or insurance or new tires or beaded seat cushions. I wonder if I could talk her into just riding her shank pony.