This Year Abroad is a lot more than just a chance to practise Spanish and open myself to other cultures. It was a year of new experiences, going out of my comfort zone and doing things I would never have dreamed of doing. I have been parachuting, horse riding, to horse therapy (who knew that was a thing right?), scuba diving, volcano climbing, going to a very professional wine tasting evening, attending conferences in the Ritz Hotel, seeing one of the wonders of the world and almost starting a business. All these will be discussed in future posts, and with so little time left in Chile, it is exciting to say I still have so many new experiences left to have.
Me and My Mexican friend, Torre, on the Beach Outside of Our Hostel
Pichilemu is a fantastic little town about a 4 hour drive south from Santiago. Situated on the never-ending coastline, the town hosts some fantastic beaches. Two really stood out to me:
The one outside my hostel in Cahuil, another town just outside Pichilemu, which had some of the biggest waves I have ever seen mixed with a very rocky shoreline and black sand making it dangerous for surfers and swimmers alike, but aesthetically incredible. The rocks made it difficult for walking barefoot along the shore, we even tempted fate without any shoes and tried playing a game of football. For one of my friends, this did not work out and he ended up going home early with a blood-covered right foot.
The other was Punta de Lobos, a beach on the outskirts of the chilean surfing town. The only bad thing I have to say is that it was always busy, although it did not help that this was New Year’s weekend. It is called Punta de Lobos (Sea-Lion Point) because of all the sea-lions which can be seen laying around its interesting rock formations. This was the beach, I spent most of my time on as this was the weekend I learnt to surf.
I have never seen a town which completely revolves around surfing, but weirdly, it works. There is genuinely nothing else of note to visit in this town, apart from some general great scenery, but it is just this which gives it a great charm.
So after saying farewell to some of my friends who were sadly going home, me and the two mexicans I spent Christmas with, decided to travel for New Years. None of us had ever learnt to surf, and so we anticipated seeing some great failures from each other when we hit up the waves. Needless to say, there were many.
We arrived on New Year’s Eve to a great hostel called Surfarm. It was boiling hot and a 30 second walk away from the sea, giving the air a certain freshness and gentle humidity which kissed the skin. We were greeted by a lovely German girl who had just come out of school and decided to go travelling. She settled us in and became one of our best friends of the trip.
Without hesitation, we asked about booking a surfing class. We were eager to get out there and anger the professional surfers eagerly waiting to catch a wave while us amateurs make fools of ourselves, barely being able to get on the board.
We did not have a class because they were expensive. Fortunately, a Canadian girl from our hostel who we befriended offered to show us some techniques for how to stand up on the board for free. With these techniques in mind, we set off for Punta de Lobos, all the while I was being strangled in my extra-tight wet suit.
This first session did not go well. Not only did we not stand up on the boards, we were hardly able to lay down on the board without being battered by the oncoming waves. The waves were between roughly 2 and 3 metres high, very frequent, and pushed by a strong current. After 5 minutes in the water, we found ourselves halfway down the beach. Part of the reason this session was not too great was because of the crowd. You had to informally queue for a wave, and if you did not take your opportunity, the crowd got angry.
Day one was not a success. We went back to the hostel defeated, but the war was not over. We were determined that the following day we would stand up again. The feeling of defeat slowly went away as we arrived back at the hostel to find a New Year’s party being prepared. We had thought of going into the town to a bar, but the owner of the hostel was generous and had decided to buy a few cases of beer for the roughly 12 guests. We had already brought some tequila and the other guests had thought to do the same. In the back of my head, a quiet voice was shouting at me telling me not to repeat my Christmas-time antics. The voice was not loud enough however, probably because it was drowned under the water which had seeped in through my then waterlogged ears while surfing.
Earlier in the day, the German girl had also told us there would be an “asado” in the evening, a word unique to Latin America meaning “barbeque”. For that reason, we had bought some great steak cuts to start the New Year in style.
The asado was great. A group of new Argentine guests had arrived in the evening, joining our already ethnically diverse group of Canadians, Germans, two people from South Park (awesome, right?), Chileans, Mexicans, an English girl working as a journalist in Buenos Aires and me. One of the Argentines spoke French, so this was a great opportunity for me to practise after a 6 month period of hardly speaking it.
Nothing much happens in Chile for New Year’s either, despite a fireworks show in Viña del Mar, but the majority of people spend it with their families.
For us, this was a night we would spend with people who we would likely never see again. It did not matter what we did. The conversation was flowing as we did not so much look to get to know each other, as we did just to have a great time. The Argentines took over DJing, and the barbeque, and pretty much everything given how many there were, but they were happy to do so.
As the night went on, we laughed, we danced (this has become sort of a recurring theme), we sang and we played games. Some lucky Chilean girl has a video of me and my Mexican friend, Torre, doing our nationally-renowned dance routine to Danza Kuduro. Fortunately, it has not gone viral yet, but maybe I will see it again in the future.
As the clock struck 12 we all cheered, walked around in circles saying happy new year to everyone. New year, new me I thought...for maybe 3 seconds until I took a shot of tequila and thought how unrealistic a concept that is.
What happened next is a blur for all of us, but despite my slightly inebriated state, one image remains strong in my mind; the sky. Oh the sky, it was so beautiful. So many stars which are not even visible from the northern hemisphere. There were constellations I had never seen before, and best of all, there were no clouds. It was perfect, and I felt blessed to spend an hour or two or four asleep on the beach with my first memory of the year being the glorious sky.
The next day is another day I will never forget. The pain could be seen everywhere. Nobody could walk straight, our ethnically diverse group now had something in common, a horrible headache and the inability to walk, let alone stand up. A 2 second walk to the bathroom seemed an eternity. We were all as slow as how I imagine a pack of turtles trapped in quicksand. The destruction from the night before was still apparent with smashed plates, dirty plates, smashed glasses, dirty glasses, left over meat and a lot of shoes, It could also be seen in the war scars endured by several of the guests (not including myself) who woke up with mysterious cuts and bruises the cause of which would remain a mystery.
Despite looking like we had just survived a losing war, the weekend did not defeat any of us. We did not manage to go surfing on new years day, but me and the Mexicans took a walk along the beach. We found an open space free of rocks and played a very humorously aggressive game of football. It was difficult at first, but our suffering wore off and before we knew it we were pushing each other over, piling on each other and trying to win at any cost. After, we got back and watched What If?, the new Daniel Radcliffe movie, accompanied by the lovely German girl.
We slept well that night and woke up early to give surfing another ago at a time where there would be fewer in the water. Our strategy worked, and we were basically alone on the beach. We practised a lot and spent maybe 2 hours in the water. This time, we caught several waves as we got used to laying down on the boards without getting beat up by the destructive waves. It was on this morning, that I would experience my first glorious and prideful moment of the year. I stood up...for 2 seconds! An anticlimax? Maybe. But I was actually pretty proud of myself.
It was with this moment that the weekend drew to a close. The Mexicans returned to Mexico soon after and I feel fortunate to share some great memories with them.
Since then, I returned to Pichilemu for another weekend of surfing with my friend from Southampton, Gav (a.k.a The Notorious G.A.V, a.k.a. Gav-Lar). As well as breaking my record and standing up for 6 seconds, we did something I never thought I would be able to say. I saw Shaggy live. If you don’t remember him, he was famous around 2001 for his songs It Wasn’t Me and Angel. It was great. I have nothing but great memories of this small surfing town, and I know that one day I will return.
The one outside my hostel in Cahuil, another town just outside Pichilemu, which had some of the biggest waves I have ever seen mixed with a very rocky shoreline and black sand making it dangerous for surfers and swimmers alike, but aesthetically incredible. The rocks made it difficult for walking barefoot along the shore, we even tempted fate without any shoes and tried playing a game of football. For one of my friends, this did not work out and he ended up going home early with a blood-covered right foot.
The other was Punta de Lobos, a beach on the outskirts of the chilean surfing town. The only bad thing I have to say is that it was always busy, although it did not help that this was New Year’s weekend. It is called Punta de Lobos (Sea-Lion Point) because of all the sea-lions which can be seen laying around its interesting rock formations. This was the beach, I spent most of my time on as this was the weekend I learnt to surf.
I have never seen a town which completely revolves around surfing, but weirdly, it works. There is genuinely nothing else of note to visit in this town, apart from some general great scenery, but it is just this which gives it a great charm.
So after saying farewell to some of my friends who were sadly going home, me and the two mexicans I spent Christmas with, decided to travel for New Years. None of us had ever learnt to surf, and so we anticipated seeing some great failures from each other when we hit up the waves. Needless to say, there were many.
We arrived on New Year’s Eve to a great hostel called Surfarm. It was boiling hot and a 30 second walk away from the sea, giving the air a certain freshness and gentle humidity which kissed the skin. We were greeted by a lovely German girl who had just come out of school and decided to go travelling. She settled us in and became one of our best friends of the trip.
Without hesitation, we asked about booking a surfing class. We were eager to get out there and anger the professional surfers eagerly waiting to catch a wave while us amateurs make fools of ourselves, barely being able to get on the board.
We did not have a class because they were expensive. Fortunately, a Canadian girl from our hostel who we befriended offered to show us some techniques for how to stand up on the board for free. With these techniques in mind, we set off for Punta de Lobos, all the while I was being strangled in my extra-tight wet suit.
This first session did not go well. Not only did we not stand up on the boards, we were hardly able to lay down on the board without being battered by the oncoming waves. The waves were between roughly 2 and 3 metres high, very frequent, and pushed by a strong current. After 5 minutes in the water, we found ourselves halfway down the beach. Part of the reason this session was not too great was because of the crowd. You had to informally queue for a wave, and if you did not take your opportunity, the crowd got angry.
Day one was not a success. We went back to the hostel defeated, but the war was not over. We were determined that the following day we would stand up again. The feeling of defeat slowly went away as we arrived back at the hostel to find a New Year’s party being prepared. We had thought of going into the town to a bar, but the owner of the hostel was generous and had decided to buy a few cases of beer for the roughly 12 guests. We had already brought some tequila and the other guests had thought to do the same. In the back of my head, a quiet voice was shouting at me telling me not to repeat my Christmas-time antics. The voice was not loud enough however, probably because it was drowned under the water which had seeped in through my then waterlogged ears while surfing.
Earlier in the day, the German girl had also told us there would be an “asado” in the evening, a word unique to Latin America meaning “barbeque”. For that reason, we had bought some great steak cuts to start the New Year in style.
The asado was great. A group of new Argentine guests had arrived in the evening, joining our already ethnically diverse group of Canadians, Germans, two people from South Park (awesome, right?), Chileans, Mexicans, an English girl working as a journalist in Buenos Aires and me. One of the Argentines spoke French, so this was a great opportunity for me to practise after a 6 month period of hardly speaking it.
Nothing much happens in Chile for New Year’s either, despite a fireworks show in Viña del Mar, but the majority of people spend it with their families.
For us, this was a night we would spend with people who we would likely never see again. It did not matter what we did. The conversation was flowing as we did not so much look to get to know each other, as we did just to have a great time. The Argentines took over DJing, and the barbeque, and pretty much everything given how many there were, but they were happy to do so.
As the night went on, we laughed, we danced (this has become sort of a recurring theme), we sang and we played games. Some lucky Chilean girl has a video of me and my Mexican friend, Torre, doing our nationally-renowned dance routine to Danza Kuduro. Fortunately, it has not gone viral yet, but maybe I will see it again in the future.
As the clock struck 12 we all cheered, walked around in circles saying happy new year to everyone. New year, new me I thought...for maybe 3 seconds until I took a shot of tequila and thought how unrealistic a concept that is.
What happened next is a blur for all of us, but despite my slightly inebriated state, one image remains strong in my mind; the sky. Oh the sky, it was so beautiful. So many stars which are not even visible from the northern hemisphere. There were constellations I had never seen before, and best of all, there were no clouds. It was perfect, and I felt blessed to spend an hour or two or four asleep on the beach with my first memory of the year being the glorious sky.
The next day is another day I will never forget. The pain could be seen everywhere. Nobody could walk straight, our ethnically diverse group now had something in common, a horrible headache and the inability to walk, let alone stand up. A 2 second walk to the bathroom seemed an eternity. We were all as slow as how I imagine a pack of turtles trapped in quicksand. The destruction from the night before was still apparent with smashed plates, dirty plates, smashed glasses, dirty glasses, left over meat and a lot of shoes, It could also be seen in the war scars endured by several of the guests (not including myself) who woke up with mysterious cuts and bruises the cause of which would remain a mystery.
Despite looking like we had just survived a losing war, the weekend did not defeat any of us. We did not manage to go surfing on new years day, but me and the Mexicans took a walk along the beach. We found an open space free of rocks and played a very humorously aggressive game of football. It was difficult at first, but our suffering wore off and before we knew it we were pushing each other over, piling on each other and trying to win at any cost. After, we got back and watched What If?, the new Daniel Radcliffe movie, accompanied by the lovely German girl.
We slept well that night and woke up early to give surfing another ago at a time where there would be fewer in the water. Our strategy worked, and we were basically alone on the beach. We practised a lot and spent maybe 2 hours in the water. This time, we caught several waves as we got used to laying down on the boards without getting beat up by the destructive waves. It was on this morning, that I would experience my first glorious and prideful moment of the year. I stood up...for 2 seconds! An anticlimax? Maybe. But I was actually pretty proud of myself.
It was with this moment that the weekend drew to a close. The Mexicans returned to Mexico soon after and I feel fortunate to share some great memories with them.
Since then, I returned to Pichilemu for another weekend of surfing with my friend from Southampton, Gav (a.k.a The Notorious G.A.V, a.k.a. Gav-Lar). As well as breaking my record and standing up for 6 seconds, we did something I never thought I would be able to say. I saw Shaggy live. If you don’t remember him, he was famous around 2001 for his songs It Wasn’t Me and Angel. It was great. I have nothing but great memories of this small surfing town, and I know that one day I will return.
Shaggy Rocking the Stage