Festivals afuera y a la casa

I'd heard the phrase 'the captain goes down with the ship' as synonymous with responsibilty for all that goes on with his boat. And I knew that Chilotes are proud of their long history of being hardy seafarers. Still, what we witnessed on the shores of Quento Saturday morning has to go beyond the ultimate sacrifice. When our launch grounded in low tide mud, 25 feet from the pier and 15 feet wet feet from he beach, our captain donned hip waders and ferried people ashore in a dinghy. The captain of the larger boat next to us had neither hip waders nor a dinghy and an equally full boat of tourists. The Santiago tourists were not jumping in to thigh deep water and wading ashore and the captain wanted them off so he could return for another boatload. What to do? When we arrived he was in T shirt and underpants hefting tourists over his shoulder and slogging from boat to beach.

For our part Mike and I rode the dinghy, rolled up our pants and got our feet muddy. (Gabi took and ride from Mike. Berto choose that moment to get squeemish about mud and was carried in by our captain. And so we arrived at the Feria Costumbrista de Quento.
In Jnuary and February each little village has their own feria costumbrista or folk life festival on a different Saturday or Sunday. If you wanted you could eat roast lamb, curanto (clam bake) and smoked pork with potatoes every weekend through out January and February. Quento had a double attraction of being nearby and requiring a boatride.
Quento is about a 30 minute boat ride across the estuary from Castro or a 30 minute bus ride around to the penninsula that we see from our beach. Despite gray skies Saturday morning we got on a boat and headed out. Interestingly, the Chilean navy had two sailors at the dock to enforce life jacket and passenger limit regulations. From the way the launches were packing in to ferry tourists across, I sensed that in the past some quick money might have come before boater safety. Mike, Berto and I enjoyed the new view of Castro. Gabi was rather irked at the fit of the life jacket.


Once ashore it was all about the food. For a little village of fewer than 200 people, it seemed like everyone was engaged in some part of food preparation. The kitchen in the community hall had three large pots nestled in the coals of the recessed fire pit. Smoke and steam from pots of chicken stew and milcao steamers had the dozen or so cooks and servers down to short sleeves. These folks were all business and had no time to chat with me.
Further in at the edge of the field was the pork and chochoca stand. Chochuca was a mystery to the majority of the tourist crowd. What is that stuff the woman is slapping onto the 6 foot long pole? Why is the man turning the log over the fire? Cameras came out. A line of would be photo journalists pressed forward to document the scene. We all took pride in, for once(!), knowing what was going on while the majority of the Chileans had no clue. Back in August, we'd seen Tia Victoria shred the raw potatoes, mix them with a bit of flour and pork lard, wet the log with boiling water, slap the potato mixture on the log and watch over as Tio Humberto and Tio Piti put the log over the coals to roast the chochoca. (August 18 blog post has photos) Plates from this stand would have squares of chochoca wrapped around smoked pork, a hunk of smoked pork, potatoes and sausage. The chochoca ladies told me they would peel and hand shred four, hundred pound bags of potatoes before the day was done. No wonder women here have forearms like teamsters.
An unofficial survey of visitors had about 50% from Santiago, 40% from the rest of continental Chile and the remainder a mix of mostly Spanish speaking foreign tourists. As people arrived and milled about, a group of kids were in a circle grouped in threes. One trio would do something and the rest would sing a song and have to repeat the action. In short order the actions to repeat got more and more comical. Noting that the kids from about 8 to 18 all had matching bandannas around their necks, we inquired and found out they are Escouts y Guias (Boy Scouts and Girl Guides) down for a week of camping from Santiag0. (Is anyone still in Santiago?) Berto was uninterested in joining the kids. his father and grandfather have two more years to inculcate him in the ways of the Boy scout Ravicz men.
Up the hill, nalca leaves shrouded a steaming mound. Buried in a four foot pit were potatoes, mussels, chicken and sausage for curanto. We noted a few modern alterations to the tradtional Chilote dish. Instead of wrapping the food in nalca leaves to keep out the ash and coals, food was packed into woven plastic flour sacks. Mussels were in plastic mesh bags. As we've become curanto snobs, we eschewed the curanto for the masses in favor of our home steamed mussels. I did return later for the unveiling of the curanto pit. At a time when the pit looked still half full, they were calling out "numero 78" and serving up plates to an eager crowd.
Eventually we found our favorite food, the roast lamb shed. Yummmy! Roast lamb, potatoes (of course, we are on Chiloe), salad and a cup of pebre (minced onions, pepers, tomatoes and cilantro). Two plates had four Raviczes quite full. Gabi made sure Mike didn't have too much to eat as she split a plate with Papa. And to stay local, Mike and I washed it down with chicha. To the uninitiated, chicha looks yellow like beer, has a sour apple taste and the alcohol level of strong wine.
As the day turned into afternoon, jackets came off, sunscreen came out and we enjoyed a nice Chiloe summer day. Berto played on the beach, Gabi charmed, Mike watched Gabi and Lisa went off to take pictures. By 3ish it was clear we needed naps and we took the boat home. This time boarding from the concrete pier in high tide. Five minutes into the boat ride Gabi assumed the posture of a satisfied 2 year old.

Speaking of two years old.....Gabi had a birthday. Sunday we celebrated by throwing a Chilean-American barBQ. Roast pork & barBQ sauce, baked beans, cole slaw, tomato & onion salad, boiled local potatoes, washed down by Chilean wine or Budweiser and Chilean soda or Pepsi. In the spirit of Chilean American good will, the two countries' national soccer teams played to a 1-1 tie the night before. here in nercon, Mike showed his manly skills with the BBQ. The Red Sox cap and Boston T shirt assured success. Boston was also much talked about as our photo books of Boston had finally arrived. Can we still call it Christmas if we give the gift within a month of Dec 25th?
Gabi unwrapped her birthday gifts and made sure everyone saw how much she like them. Note Gabi's sundress and Mike's bare legs. Sunday was the middle day of a string of blue sky sunny days. Much to our pride a quart of home made BBQ sauce, cole slaw and a big pot of Boston baked beans were demolished as well as roast pork while potatoes and Chilean salad made big left overs.