At Home in Castro, capital of Chiloé

Chiloé, “place of seagulls” in the indigenous Huilliche language, is known for being South America’s largest island, and the last place in the continent to finally gain independence from Spain. It is also an archipelago of tiny islands with distinct architecture, food, superstitions, customs, mythology, flora and fauna. Too too much to describe in this short blog. But feel free to learn more here:
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chiloé_A…

I decided to devote two weeks to just live on the island, in its capital of Castro, in a neat little cabaña (in Chile, a self-contained little house) in a residential area a mile from the center of town. Here I have become acquainted with many sweet “chilotes,” all about my height of 5’ 1” or shorter—rarely taller—and have fallen in with the culture day by day.

I started with the Mercado Municipal, the “feria,” (the City Market) which is in every Chilean town of any size. During the week, the permanent stalls re-sell food and handcrafts which were bought from other markets or individuals. But on the weekend, a large inner space is occupied by folks from all over the archipelago to sell their garden bounty. They are not charged for the space. I bought Swiss chard, a bag of very unique potatoes (it is said that over 200 varieties are cultivated here) “cochayuyo,” a kind of kelp that bulks up a soup, fresh shelling beans, fat sweet carrots, cilantro, cabbage, and giant cloves of garlic. At the regular stalls, I bought a bit of smoked pork for flavor and the ultimate luxuries: cheeks of merluzas ( a large fish) salmon ceviche and wood-smoked salmon—all of which I enjoyed in my own soups or on their own.

Every day there have been conversations, chance meetings, and many observations. Such as: when it rains, a very frequent occurrence, the most anyone does is to pull up the hoods of their jackets—or not—and just get wet. Kisses on the cheek are the greeting of choice to say hello or goodbye, and they are warm and affectionate. I have been kissed by the sales staff who helped to sell me my new rucksack, two men on my street carrying a heavy bag home to their wives, and my guide from a hike. When two dogs meet, they lick each other on the “face.” They teach each other to howl lustily, and to practice the deliciously dangerous and naughty sport of chasing cars and motorcycles. Fish and shellfish rule—fresh or smoked—and they are cheap and delicious. Ditto with local cheeses.

I’ve haunted city cafes and the municipal library to study, and visited more than once the main church of San Francisco —one of sixteen which are UNESCO Patrimonios de la Humanidad— and the City Museum. But most of all I walked and talked and looked and wandered. The pictures tell more of the story.

Please sign your first name if you leave a comment.Read more