Day 8-10: Punta Arenas

Thus far I am not impressed with Punta Arenas. When I arrived it was rainy and depressing. I hoped that sun would improve the city, but it hasn´t. I was not suprised when Greg, my unofficial tour guide, told me that Punta Arenas is unaffectionately referred to as Puta Anus.

My main complaint is that there are all these beautiful colonial buildings that have been left in a horrible state of disrepair. Imagine the French Quarter after it has been abandoned for several years. The only layer of paint not peeling is the grafitti that covers the walls of nearly every building. The only buildings that appear to have been spared from the spray can are the mansions that surround the Plaza. And most of these building have not been preserved as museums, but have instead been turned into banks, restaurants, and travel agencies.

A few redeeming factors, though, are the Avenues lined with meticulously groomed juniper trees, an enormous cemetary, colorful churches, and the Strait of Magellan. As strange as it may sound, the cemetary is really impressive. The gravesites range from rows of buildings that have graves stacked two stories high, to gardens with real and/or fake flowers, to statues and monuments, to family mausoleums, and finally to miniature churches. No matter how humble the grave is though, there are always pictures and an assembly of knick knacks surrounding it.

Yesterday I went to Seno Otway, a magellanic penguin colony. It was really surprising. As the bus got close to the entrance, I wondered if I had gotten on the wrong bus. Instead of the ice and snow I expected, the terrain reminded me of south eastern Idaho. It was desert-like with sagebrush-type bushes and weeds. Then there was the exotic mix of fauna: penguins, of course, sheep, ostriches, and dolphins. With the exception of the penguins, there were no arctic animals around.

The penguins were amusing. It was the time of year that the baby penguins lose their baby fuzz. They spent a lot of time bending their neck backwards preening. My favorite, though, were the ones playing in the water. The fearless ones dove in without hesitation like an armless child on a slip-n-slide, but the other ones timidly stuck their heads in the water and then belly-flopped into the water.

I spent my last day in Punta Arenas taking a cruise down the Magellan Strait to Isla Magdelana. Although the island itself was nothing to write home about (hee-hee), every square inch of it was covered with penguins.