Punta Arenas

There is nothing more spectacular than flying over the Andes, the southern Andes in particular. Interspersed amongst the snow capped mountain peaks run the numerous glaciers that look from above as if they were water slides at a children's aquatic theme park. Their colour of icy pearl white is so clearly defined amongst the blues and greys of the neighbouring mountains and lakes that you might mistake the scene for a fictional painting.

On 22nd December I flew south along the mystic cordillera and into the setting sun above the town of Punta Arenas; a place renowned for its location at the end of the world and also for its intensely fierce winds. As the plane prepared to land, I watched from the window as the lights of habitation glistened amidst the barren darkness of the Patagonian wastelands. By the time I searched my friend’s house it was midnight.

Punta Arenas holds a special place in my heart because four distant years ago I partook in an exchange in this lonesome town. I went to school everyday, and in the afternoons and weekends I enjoyed enlarging my belly with rich, hearty foods that kept me warm in the constantly cold weather. I also had the opportunity of meeting many wonderful people, some of whom are the friends I had now journeyed to visit.

My Chilean family welcomed me with open arms at the airport - my Chilean father whispering into my ear, "welcome back hija" as we embraced in a warm saludo. During the car ride to their apartment they demanded to know everything. They praised me for my natural glow; an obvious result, they said, from the fact that I was in love and who better to be in love with, then a Chilean.

When we arrived, my Chilean younger brother was there to greet me. I had first met him when he was merely 16 and lanky and with bracers but now he was muscularly shaped and had facial hair. Such a strange phenomenon!

In the peak of summer, it was less than 10 degrees Celsius outside my window as I fell asleep in that same familiar bed, in that same familiar room.