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Hitchhiking to Lonquimay

I’m in Southern Chile in a town called Lonquimay. I got here yesterday by hitchhiking. The hitchhiking was ridiculously easy. I had my thumb up for about three minutes when an older guy in a sedan pulled over. He was a teacher in Lonquimay, a town in the Andes close to the Argentinean border, and he talked the entire ride. Sometimes I would ask questions and before I finished he’d already started answering, but a completely different question.

Me: “So, what year did this tunnel get buil–”

Him: “That’s the new bike path, right there. It’s going to be beautiful. Seventeen kilometers long.”

It’s cold here. Terribly cold. And today, after teaching a couple English classes, I plan to hitchhike to the Argentinean town of Las Lajas, about two hours away. I’d rather not hitchhike, but there are no buses in the afternoon. And I can’t stay in Lonquimay because the nice lodging is expensive, and the cheap lodging is depressing. So I have to brave the cold.

Before this town I was in Concepcion for a week staying with a hippie couple. I’d come home from being out sometimes and it was like walking into a commune, incense burning, tribal music playing, one of my hosts gyrating in front of a full-length mirror to test out her latest dance moves.

Before that I was in Santiago for a few days.

And before that I was in Iquique, in Northern Chile, for a week.

I haven’t blogged in a long time because I was figuring some stuff out. I’m not exactly sure what I was figuring out, but I’m pretty sure I figured it out, hence why I’m writing again.

And now I have to pack and get ready for my English classes. I have to rate Instagram ads. And figure out how to warm my fingers up.

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