Chillan

Located halfway between Pucon and Santiago, Chillan is a quiet, untouristy town. I headed up there to visit Casa Ursulina, where a new friend works with local women.

 

I arrived in the afternoon when classes were in full swing. Today's schedule included painting, weaving, and crocheting. The idea behind these classes is to provide local women with marketable or enjoyable skills and to give them a support network. The rooms were packed with women busily working, checking out each other's work, and chatting.

 

South America is generally mildly obsessed with Simon Bolivar but in Chile, it's Bernardo O'Higgins who steals the spotlight. O'Higgins was born in Chillan and a block long mural recalls highlights of his life.

His mother and sister buried in a nearby tomb.

 

We went for a long walk through town to see Old Chillan. An earthquake had destroyed the town decades prior so the government's response was to move the residents and start Chillan all over again. As is often the case, it took the government awhile to get around to rebuilding. In the meantime, locals had rebuilt much of the town and also started the new town, hence Old Chillan is next door to (new) Chillan.

 

As the previous church hadn't withstood the earthquake, the new one was designed to be stronger and reinforced. From the outside, its unusual shape makes it looks modern in a dated way.

 

And while the interior is equally unusual, the scale and simplicity of the arches made me feel like I was inside of a whale's ribs. It inspired a sense of awe.

 

We went to the market to pick up ingredients for an upcoming cooking class. The produce was incredibly fresh as this area is known for its agriculture. It had the standard fare, as well as something I had never seen before: baby kiwis. I picked up a kilo and we tried to figure out how to eat them. Peel them? Eat them whole? Each baby kiwi was the size of a large grape and the inside was identical to its full sized version, the only difference being the skin wasn't fuzzy. Once I got the hang of eating them whole, they disappeared in no time, which is when I realized I had forgotten to take a picture! Oops.

 

It was a short stay in Chillan but it was great to spend a little time somewhere free of tourists. In fact, I was the only foreigner on the bus to Santiago and when I was waiting to collect my backpack, a local assumed I was also Chilean and asked me for directions! I'm often mistaken for Latina but usually for a Brazilian or Argentine. I was pleased that a local thought I was Chilean!