So anyways, in Pucòn, there is a ton of stuff to do. Despite how great it would have been to climb the smoking volcano, we opted to go for a horse trek. The Steve McQueen in me is obsessed with horses and Meli is pretty much down with any animal big enough to hug (honestly, she has tried to hug everything from sheep to dolphins on this trip). So we went to an adventure agency and chose a three hour horse trek. They had programs where you could go ahead and also visit some traditional Mapuche homes and whatnot, but neither of us wanted to participate in a "gringo go gawk at the natives" excursion so we opted for a simple ride. Our guide, Rodrigo showed up, we got in his car to drive out into the mountains, and Meli asked him if he was from Pucon. "Soy Mapuche", he said, indicating he was from the Mapuche town outside of Pucon, and not the Chilean city proper. Both of us got sick simultaneously, as somehow us gringos signed up for a "gawk at the natives" excursion after all.
After some pleasant small talk (all in Spanish of course - Meli's Spanish is getting us everywhere), we met our horses, crossed a small river, and hit the trail. The horses moved at a leisurely pace and we got to soak up the astounding beauty of the Mapuche lands. Nestled against some mountains about 10 miles outside of Pucon, across a rickety bridge (marked "Puente està mal estado" or something ominous like that), over the raging river Trancura, the Mapuche town is absolutely pristine. Small houses dot the landscape, there are sheep and cows and horses everywhere, people exchange small talk, and the river is the loudest thing you hear.
We had been riding about 15 minutes, and Meli's proficiency with the language and some small forays into different social issues allowed Rodrigo to tell us some about his people. He spoke with great pride about his culture, their ceremonies and customs, and the gains they had made in the years following the Pinochet dictatorship - a period of time sensitive to many Chileans, and not any less to the Mapuche. Neither of us had really wanted to ask questions and be invasive, but our guide was opening up a bit, so we took it for all it was worth. We asked about the ways that Pinochet had injured the Mapuche, asked about Mapuche food and custom, schooling, and anything else we could think of.
After some more talk, we rode on to a rushing river about 4 feet deep with a bed of stones and boulders. Rodrigo gave us a quick, nonchalant lesson on "what to do if the horse falls down" (you gotta be kidding me) and into the river we went. Jesus, how much you love your horse increases exponentially from one side of a river to the other! Needless to say, the heart was pounding. Then, if that wasn`t enough stress on the poor beast, we climbed high up a narrow pass into the mountains - well HE climbed, with my fat ass on his back. When we had cleared the pass, the three of us tethered our horses and Rodrigo took us on a hike even higher up, onto a rocky outcrop where the view of the landscape was just breathtaking. From there, not only could you see the full grandeur of smouldering Volcàn Villarica, but also Volcàn Lanin, which straddles the Argentinian border. Pucòn, Lake Villarica, and the Mapuche lands lay stretched out before us. And all you could hear were the birds and the River Trancura. Now this was paraìso!
Laying there up on the outcrop, we talked for a long while to Rodrigo. We told him about the US, teaching, and the stress of big city life. He listened and commented, invited us to his niece`s birthday party in November, and waxed poetic about the tranqulity, simplicity, and happiness of his land and his people. We told him that we loved Pucòn and thought about returning there to stay for a bit after our trip south, and he told us about a little stone house on his family`s land that was for rent if we were interested. Needless to say, we drooled.
We got our horses and made our way back down the mountain. On the way back to the house where the horses we kept, Rodrigo decided to chase an ornery dog pack with his horse. My horse got the fever too and took off. Now, before this moment, I had never done anything but MAYBE a slow trot on a horse, and this motherf%cker was galloping! All I have to say is, at least once in your life, get on a horse and let him take the f%ck off. Something buried deep in your genes, something from back before the time of cars and health insurance and big cities, will reawaken and make you feel more alive than you have ever felt.
I galloped on my horse a few more times and so did Meli, we tied our horses up, and left for Pucòn. The next morning, we took a 10 hour bus ride south, but I can tell you for sure, as much of ourselves as we left in Valpo, we left even more on those Mapuche lands outside of Pucòn.
