Ancud

Went to the island of Chiloé for the weekend with some friends. Took some pictures, drank some alcohol, asadoed some asado, danced some dance. You know, the norm.

 Even the smallest towns in Chile all have these little jungle gyms. They're kind of weird but also really fun? The second one from me was sort of a treadmill. It was actually somewhat difficult to run on, since there was nothing stopping those tubes from rolling as fast as possible.

 Rainy rainy Chiloe. Such is a southern Chilean winter.

 Mapuche mythical statues in the center of town.

 Sanctuary!

 From the Regional Museum of Anvud.

 SO MANY STREETDOGS. This guy was huge, and pretty scary.

 Again with the hoof yerba mate cup! Gah!

 YAY FUN

 Zach, Jenn, and Daniel also enjoying the beautiful weather.

 TSUNAMI WARNING SYSTEM GAAAAAAAHHH

 I wait for you until our next kiss!

 Yeah we don't actually have any idea how to play dominoes.

 I do not understand how the street dogs here manage to get so big. But I do respect them for doing so. Especially this sassy pants who was giving us some serious side-eye.

 Mother's day presentation and my view for much of the Mother's Day presentation. Being short is bad. Being shorter than some of your 9th grade students is embarrassing.

What more do you need. French fries and coffee.

 Underwhelming meat emapanYada (as Zach would pronounce it!).

 After dinner on the first night we were there, Zach talked me into going out even though we had eaten what felt like a bowling ball's worth of food and were slightly hammered from the two drinks we had gotten at the restaurant (they were EXTREMELY generous with their pouring. I order two whiskey and cokes because there was a special and basically got two glass with four fingers and a small bottle of coke to split between them). So we were wandering around, not finding much in the way of nightlife, when we stumbled past what looked like a closed garage door. We looked inside and it did SEEM to be a bar, although we weren't certain. But the two middle-aged ladies who ran it told us to come back in a half an hour. Which we did; to the second picture. Completely empty. There was a karaoke machine, though, so I went up on stage to see if I could sing a song. No, I could not, I was told. That was only for the DJ. So we get some more beer and did a little dancing in this awkwardly large, empty barn of a "club" when suddenly in what looked to be essentially the graduating senior class of Ancud high school. They started dancing, but only with one person, in two long lines, facing each other. It was like some sort of modernized version of a Jane Austen adaptation's ball scene. Obviously we had no choice but to join the line! Later, Zach would tell me that at one point in our boogeying among (but not really with) these teenagers, I turned to him and while continuing to dance in my typically horrific, flailing fashion, stated seriously and emphatically, "I have made SEVERAL poor decisions this evening", and then returned to dancing.

So... success?

Grungy bathroom. Neither the first nor last in a lifetime full of them. Such is the work of the dive bar lover.