I had heard wonderful things about Pucòn. My host family insisted that Chile's southern Lake District is one of the country's most beautiful areas; a Chilean friend ranked it right up there with Punto Arenas (southernmost tip), where you can personally chip pieces of ice off a glacier and use them to chill your drink. We had heard rumors of jacuzzis and adrenaline filled excursions from the other half of CIEE students who had taken the same trip the previous weekend. Thus, upon arrival, morale was high, despite the fact that we had just spent 11 hours on a bus watching numerous showings of a poorly dubbed Jurassic Park III.

Ecstatic with the luxurious cabins (complete with jacuzzis, full kitchens, and fireplaces,) we dumped our luggage on the bunk beds and congregated in the dining room in eager anticipation. Naturally, there was a general feeling of hesitancy when the first activity turned out to be...a four hour bus tour! Fortunately, the tour included plenty of stops, providing us with ample opportunities to photograph a jade green waterfall, mountain lakes wrapped in ice and surrounded by volcanos, (most notably Volcàn Villarica, which was startlingly active a few weeks ago,) and foothills blanketed with pine trees. (Volcanos aside, those of us from the northern States felt right at home.)

The tour guide, extremely eager to help us preserve memories of Pucòn, seemed slightly disappointed when our group of 18 declined to have him photograph each of us individually, senior picture style, at every single overlook. He consoled himself by introducing us to the bright pink copihue, (co-pea-way,) Chile's orchid-like national flower, protected by countless laws which subject the picker to full prosecution. He then proceeded to pick the very flower we had been admiring and invited me to take it home. This provoked shocked and sympathetic glances from my CIEE companions, and one suggested furtively that I should think twice before taking it out of the country.

The highlight of our tour was a two hour soak in the termas, natural hot springs enclosed in a Vail-like lodge. We soon grew accustomed to the slight odor of sulphur, and felt very privileged to be enjoying the snow covered mountains from the comfort of the termas.

After the luxury of the first day, we were ready to step outside our comfort zone the next, ignoring the icy rain and 40 degree weather to go white water rafting. Dressed in wet suits, parkas, and water shoes (none of which did much to alleviate the cold,) we piled into the raft with our guide, who seemed a bit anxious when he discovered that 4 out of the 6 people in our boat had never rafted before. When we had trouble discerning "Adelante" (paddling forward) from "Atràs" (paddling backwards) he decided that the class IV rapids may prove a bit much, and that we would be wiser to portage. This brought sighs of relief, particularly when the huge wave which engulfed our raft and nearly swept 2 passengers overboard was a "Class II." However, our team pulled together, quickly learned the meaning of "al piso" (hit the floor so you don’t get washed out of the raft), and was eventually able to handle the Class IV when it came time.

The guide kept our spirits up by joyously announcing the name of each set of upcoming rapids; these included "La ùltima respira" (The Last Breath) and "El castigo de los pecadores" (Sinners' Punishment.) After three hours of icy water and gorgeous scenery, we were ready for black coffee and dry clothes. After dinner at El Fogòn, a log restaurant in town, we took advantage of the cabin jacuzzi, cable tv, my friend’s peanut butter (mailed from the states) etc.

Undaunted by the less-than-perfect rafting conditions the previous day, some of us decided to try the "canopy tour." Visions of parrots, monkeys, and tropical flowers disappeared as we strapped on harnesses, helmets, and carabineers in the sleet. We piled into four wheel drive vehicles, which brought us to the crest of a very large hill. Overlooking the vast canyons and rivers below, we observed the five long zip lines which would eventually bring us to the bottom. After a few practice runs, in which we learned how to brake and were informed that it was "particularly dangerous" due to the icy conditions, we were invited to ride the zip lines down. We certainly reached the "50km/hr" promised on the brochure, and though the sleet made it hard to see, the zip lines were quite an experience. Warming by the lodge fireplace, we agreed that it would be much easier to sleep on the bus ride home.