It was close to three months since I last found myself in a proper city, and only minutes elapsed before I was entranced by Valparaiso. In route to an Airbnb the narrow winding roads zipped by my colectivo’s window, leaving long-exposure trails of brightly colored facades in its wake. One turn off the main drag and I was instantly lost in this city of hills. Hidden staircases, adorned in spray can acrylic, branch off in every direction creating a vast web of interconnection amongst the earths undulating surface. Dead ends cease to exist. I gazed out upon the city sitting above and below me from a small lookout at the edge of my street. Beyond the port, outside the harbor, the open ocean played horizon to the rising sun offering a personal welcome.

Rain was tailing me as I forged on through the lakes district. The dark clouds and damp air I had attempted to abandon leaving Patagonia had no intention of releasing me. Disembarking a bus in the tourism hub of Pucon, I found myself in a familiar situation; a planned hiking itinerary had been dismantled by Mother Nature and I was relegated to waiting it out in the hostel. With time to pass and a well equipped kitchen on premises I took on a task I had been thinking about for a while. In prior accommodation, a similar rainy day situation encouraged a French cyclist to spend the day preparing a feast for herself and her cycling companions. It had been their first real kitchen in weeks and she went all out, which included baking a fresh loaf of bread. Though delicious in appearance and smell I thought, no, knew, I could do better. I don’t like being second fiddle when it comes to my hobbies and took her public bread display as a personal challenge. Wallowing in a grey state of fog and precipitation I grabbed a bag of flour and got to work.

Out of Patagonia I embraced the long lost comforts of modern development and the tourism hub of Puerto Varas had all the fixings. Beyond comfortable beds and hot water on demand, delicious sweets were readily available along with the best coffee I had encountered in all of South America. A not too shabby brewery on the outskirts of town was a welcomed treat to a parched palate and I quickly became a regular at a young, former boutique chef’s, gourmet empanada outpost. A local farmer’s market and butcher shop rounded out my rapidly developing daily routine, as my disdain for the rain encountered upon arrival eased. I was happy to stay put here for a while. On day three in town the rain cleared and clouds finally lifted, immediately blown away by what I saw, the reason this town is a must see became abundantly clear.