A 24-Hour Drought in Chile? Plus, My Own Personal Wine Lodge

Chile, like California, often experiences drought – it’s a wet-winter, dry-summer Mediterranean climate and, at the moment, summer is fast approaching. Right now, on the outskirts of Talca, it’s 86° F with 27 percent humidity, the kind of weather that often calls for a cold beer (though I’m not much of beer drinker).

Still, just a few minutes ago, at 8 pm Santiago time, Chile officially became a dry country. On election day – the country chooses tomorrow between former president Michelle Bachelet and the weak conservative candidate Evelyn Matthei – there is a de jure 24-hour period of prohibition during which you cannot sell or purchase alcohol (though that doesn’t mean you can’t stock up before 8 pm).

I think I understand the reasoning behind this – in principle, a sober electorate should make a better choice, but that’s open to question. Having witnessed the results of last November’s US congressional elections, I'm tempted to suggest that alcohol consumption should perhaps be obligatory, especially in so-called “red states” (which, however, may not have been sober anyway). Meanwhile, as zero-hour approached, I was enjoying a pisco sour (like the one above) at Casa Chueca.

Last night, though, prohibition was not a problem. For the first and probably only night in my life, I had a 13-bedroom winery guesthouse all to myself, at the Maule valley headquarters of Viñedos Julio Bouchon. At Mingre, about 30 km inland from the coastal city of Constitucion, it's a sprawling colonial casona with Francophile furnishings, two internal patios, citrus trees, olive trees, and even a rustically styled hot tub outside.

I was working, of course, and got a tour of the modern winery facilities, whose maceration and storage tanks stand in the open air, rather than in a building, but shaded by tarps. It produces the usual Chilean varietals, including Cabernet Sauvignon, Carmenere, Chardonnay and Sauvignon Blanc in several different lines. It didn’t surprise me to hear that 90 percent of their production goes for export – that’s not unusual in Chilean wineries – but I was rather shocked to learn that 70 percent of those exports go to Russia. It’s only now breaking into the US market, through Sausalito-based Vine Connections.

On a warm afternoon, before falling asleep in a comfortable room to nearly total silence, I indulged myself in several glasses of an excellent Sauvignon Blanc from their Mercedes line – not their top, apparently, but still outstanding – to accompany a dinner of gnocchi and pesto. I also took away a bottle of Carmenere that I’m looking forward to. The Mingre line (pictured below) is another step up, but I can't imagine it's that much better.

Onward to Patagonia: I Acquire a New Vehicle in Chile

Last April, I received an anxious phone call from my Santiago friend Marializ Maldonado, to whom I had loaned my trusty 1996 Nissan Terrano (it’s a Pathfinder in most other countries) when I was last in Chile a year earlier. As she was running some errands in Santiago’s Quinta Normal borough, a young man ran a stop sign and hit her directly on the drivers' side of the vehicle. Fortunately, she was not seriously hurt, but my truck (seen below in the Argentine village of Colonia Pellegrini, after a mudbath in the Iberá marshes) was a total loss, the cost of repairs exceeding its market value.

Worse yet, my insurance with BCI Seguros, its collision coverage valid only for total loss, had apparently lapsed and the young man in question had no coverage whatsoever. At the same she told me, though, that his family had sufficient resources to pay for the damage. Meanwhile I learned, to my surprise, that BCI had automatically renewed my policy even though I had not paid a single peso of the premium, and would pursue the case on my behalf.

It took eight months, but yesterday came the reward, as BCI presented me with a check for 2.5 million pesos (roughly US$5000) which I could devote toward a replacement, a 2005 Suzuki Grand Nomade that my trusted Santiago mechanic Mauricio Donoso found for me. I won't divulge the final purchase price, but I'm delighted with a comfortable vehicle that's suitable for the Patagonian roads that lie ahead. BCI did deduct the unpaid cost of my unpaid premium from the settlement.

Finishing the purchase, though, wasn't quite so simple as I had hoped. This morning I met the seller - Mauricio's cousin María Elena León - at the Registro Civil in the borough of Vitacura, where an ill-mannered civil servant refused to transfer the vehicle because I did not have the original copy of my RUT, the Chilean tax ID that's obligatory for all such transactions. In the Terrano’s glove compartment, it was lost in the accident’s aftermath.

Instead, he directed us to go to a notary public who could verify my photocopy of the tax ID and complete the process. As I wrestled with the idea of arranging a long-term rental with option to complete the purchase, everything went smoothly and, now, I'm almost ready to start my road trip to Patagonia, the region I love most.

Paying in Pesos? An Argentine Anachronism?

In its quest to make life more complicated, Argentina appears to be targeting not just its own citizens, but also foreign visitors. Its international reserves shrinking rapidly, though dollars are abundant in every other country in the region, president Cristina Fernández de Kirchner’s administration has announced yet another capricious measure to prevent capital flight but that’s likelier to backfire.

The details are not yet clear, but the government is clearly exasperated with the “blue dollar” market that allows tourists (and others) to sell their foreign currency at a premium that makes visiting the country cheaper. As of yesterday, the official exchange rate was 6.24 pesos per dollar, while the “blue” went for 9.45 pesos – a breach of roughly 34 percent. That means, for example, a hundred-dollar hotel paid in informally obtained pesos actually costs US$66.

That may not be true much longer, though. The government’s latest bright idea is that foreign visitors will not be able to pay for tourist services in pesos, but only in dollars or by credit card (effectively in dollars, at the official exchange rate). The rationale, apparently, is that this will increase the amount of dollars in circulation, but that overlooks the probability that visitors may simply reduce their purchases to compensate for higher prices. Even worse, they may not even travel to Argentina as the destination becomes costlier.

Accommodations and transportation would, apparently, be the sectors most affected. Last year, for example, I purchased a ferry ticket from Buenos Aires to Colonia (Uruguay) for 180 Argentine pesos which, according to the official exchange rate at the time, was US$37.55. I had changed informally at 6.35 to the dollar, though, so it cost me only US$28.35, but under the new regulations I would have to pay by credit card at the official rate. A year later today’s cheapest rate, on the Buquebus website, is 384 pesos or US$61.52 (which suggests something about Argentina’s rampant inflation even with a gradual official devaluation).

What’s unclear is what actually constitutes a “tourist service?” Hotels and transportation are pretty obvious, but what about rental cars or gasoline, for that matter? If my Chilean license plates suggest that I’m a tourist, must I pay by US cash or credit card even in remote Bajo Caracoles (pictured above), where the only communication is a single pay telephone in its namesake hotel? Do budget backpackers need to make their hostel payments by credit card? (not all hostels are equipped to do so). If one attends a “for export” tango show at El Viejo Almacén, are pesos unwelcome? (probably 90 percent of its clientele are foreigners).

I won’t be in Argentina for at least a couple weeks yet, but friends in the tourism sector are expressing frustration with the sheer unpredictability of it all. One Bariloche operator hadn’t heard much yet but says “It’s BS – any foreigner can pay anything in pesos and should be wary of people saying otherwise. Of course, a hotel is hurt when a tourist pays pesos at the official dollar exchange rate.” The new measure, of course, could turn into a boon for a hotel that surreptitiously accepts dollars at the official rate and changes them on the blue market.

There’s an extended but occasionally confusing discussion of this whole issue at an Argentina-based expat website. For the moment, it’s probably too early to say how matters will work out in practice; in Argentina, the law of unintended consequences is always at work. Still, according to another friend who operates a travel agency catering to foreigners in Buenos Aires,  “It’s getting more complicated and not encouraging for foreign tourism.”

Pleasures of Patagonia? The Platters of Punta Arenas

From people who don’t really understand what a guidebook writer does, I often hear that I have the ideal job, spending four to five months every year “on vacation.” While I enjoy what I do, and welcome the opportunity to revisit people and places that I’ve gotten to know over the past couple decades-plus, that’s a big oversimplification. At this point, for instance, I would find it difficult to dedicate a week-plus to hiking Chile’s Paine Circuit – as I first did in 1981 when it was almost unknown – because I have to devote so much of my time in South America to basic fact-checking for upcoming editions of my books.

That said, at the end of the day, it’s always nice to relax with a pisco sour, a nice seafood dinner and a glass of wine, as I’ve done most of the last few days in Punta Arenas (as seen above from the Muelle Prat, where Cruceros Australis vessels dock). That’s still work, as the latest information on restaurants is part of the job, but it slows the pace and gives me a chance to reflect on the day’s accomplishments (or lack thereof) and plan for the coming day(s).

Punta Arenas is actually one of my favorite dining destinations and, after arriving Saturday afternoon on the LAN flight from the Falklands, it was a pleasure to contemplate the possibilities. Unfortunately, on a four-day stay that ended today, I was unable revisit every place I might like – I can only eat so many meals per day – but here’s a summary of what I managed to sample.

SOTITO’S BAR

I hadn’t been to Sotito’s – whose name is misleading in that it’s a full-fledged restaurant – for several years since they had moved into large new quarters. Saturday evening at 8 p.m. (early for dinner here), I was alone in the upstairs dining room, though the downstairs was virtually full with a special event. The king crab cannelloni didn’t blow me away, but the calafate mousse for dessert was spectacular, light and flavorful but not excessively sweet. The pisco sour was a bit on the sugary side, though.

CLUB CROATA

On Sunday, I took a day trip on the Strait of Magellan ferry to the town of Porvenir on Tierra del Fuego, and lunched at the classic Croatian Club – Croats played a huge role in settling this part of Chile – and ordered a king crab lasagna which, unfortunately, was an enormous portion and heavier and creamier than I would have preferred. Next time, I’ll order grilled fish, I think, and I still love the retro ambiance.

LA LUNA

Back in Punta Arenas that evening, I didn’t feel like a full dinner, but I couldn’t resist a visit to this quirky institution, where I ordered an appetizer of ostiones al pil pil, a garlicky scallops dish that was surprisingly spicy for a country whose palate usually rejects hot peppers. Bigger portion than I expected, but it was irresistible.

LOMITO’S

Monday at lunchtime, I headed to Punta’s sandwich specialist for ave con palta (chicken with avocado). A lot of Chilean fast food is pretty bad but, if you insist they hold the mayonnaise (Chileans regularly overdose on the stuff) and split this huge sandwich, you’ll be set until dinnertime. To wash it down, choose fresh raspberry juice.

DAMIANA ELENA

In a classic Magellanic house, Damiana Elena has become Punta’s prestige restaurant and, though nobody was there when I arrived with a friend at 8:30 p.m., it filled up quickly even on a Monday night. The menu now consists of seven or eight nightly specials; not caring to eat beef, I made an offbeat choice for sub-Antarctic Patagonia: mahimahi, flown in from subtropical Rapa Nui (Easter Island) with an onion and Carménère sauce. The dessert was more locally sourced – a rhubarb ice cream.

SUSPIRO DE LIMEÑA

After spending the morning at Fuerte Bulnes, the ruins of the region’s first Chilean settlement about an hour south of Punta Arenas, I chose this new Peruvian restaurant under the auspices of La Luna’s owners. The parihuela, a tomato-based soup embellished with king crab, scallops, shrimp, squid and octopus, was perfect for a frigid late-spring day, with chill winds off the Strait of Magellan.

LOS GANADEROS

Recently merged with its sister seafood restaurant Puerto Viejo, this relocated grill specializes in Patagonian lamb (pictured above), but I chose not to overindulge myself in a large portion of meat as tempting as it sounded – though the US$30 price tag also helped make up my mind. Instead, I chose the Puerto Viejo option, a portion of merluza (hake) in a cider sauce at a third of the price. I was slightly disappointed in it, given my previous experience at both restaurants, but still would not hesitate to return for the lamb or a beef dish.

THE NEXT TIME BACK

Fewer than four full days in Punta left me unable to sample everything I might have liked, but I’ll be back, maybe even later this summer. Next on my list is El Remezón, which specializes in Patagonian game dishes.