One of the best parts about travelling is that we get to learn new things every step of the way.
For example, as we traipsed from city to city, we were able to begin cultivating an appreciation for architecture. Where once I would have been satisfied to label most structures as “buildings”, I am now able to further differentiate between the three main types of architectural works we are normally faced with – what architects refer to technically as “new buildings”, “old buildings” and “REALLY old buildings”.
And in the port town of Puerto Montt there are A LOT of “REALLY old buildings”. I’m pretty sure some of them even fall under the special sub-categories of “disintegrating piles of waste” or “a hazard to life and limb”.
Jo thought I was being overly critical. She thinks there are many redeeming qualities to these old buildings, chief of which is that these stalwarts of a bygone era have a lot of “character”, which in Jo-speak, means that they are “colorful”.
Under normal circumstances, the more “character” a building has, the further I would stay from it. But in Puerto Montt, it seemed like I did not have a choice. The only accommodation we managed to find online was for Casa Perla.
Ever wondered what it would be like to stay in a witch’s cavern? Well… neither have I, but Casa Perla managed to surpass all my expectations from the moment we stepped into the house.
I don’t think the owners of Casa Perla are practising witches, but the knick knacks they have lying around the house could certainly convince you otherwise.
Along with floors that creak at every step, dimly-lit hallways and the howling winds and perpetually stormy weather outside the house, I half expected to hear chantings of “Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and cauldron bubble” around every corner.
The house has clearly seen better days (possibly in the year 1321), but the people at Casa Perla sort of make up for this.
Perla’s husband (it is after all Perla’s House, but no… Perla was not home when we were there) is a perpetual fixture in the living room. And I mean that VERY literally. For the entire three days we were there, he was stooped in front of his television in various stages of consciousness, rousing only to give us the most detailed description of where to go and what to see in his “hood”.
It seemed like Uncle Perla (we never got his name) is a permanent fixture on his arm chair. He would be there when we woke. He was there when we left for our excursions around the town. He was still there when we returned for the day. And he was there when we went to bed. I think he was also there when we snuck to the pantry for a midnight snack.
I have to admit, it was kinda weird at first. But after our run-in with drunk Jackie Chan man and a day exploring the
colorful character-ful houses about town in the blistering winds and rain of the lakeside town, we I can see the appeal of just lazing about the house.
So you see… it’s not that I WANT to spend three days in the warm, comfortable beds at Casa Perla. We HAD to.
Next: WHY the hell did we spend three days in Puerto Montt????