By telling us your country of residence we are able to provide you with the most relevant travel insurance information.
Please note that not all content is translated or available to residents of all countries. Contact us for full details.
Shares
As I stood on top of the mirador in Torres Del Paine park in Patagonian Chile my heart began to beat faster. What lay before me was a huge turquoise lagoon, encircled with gigantic rock towers, of which, at the base was a beautiful, pristine white glacier and from there water trickled down the sides refreezing and causing the faces of the peaks to shimmer in the bright sunlight. I realized I was quietly crying the type of tears I didn’t want anyone else to see, tears reserved just for me, the type that someone else might laugh at, which in that moment would have broken the spell of majesty and timelessness of the place. At 33 I’d decided that seeing the world was more important to my experience of life than the speed at which my next promotion came or if I had children pre 35. My friends congratulated me on my “bravery” of course with and aplomb but I was aware none would be following me down the garden path anytime soon. This was for me and only for me. Patagonia (The home of Torres Del Paine) is a place where you can’t help but contemplate time, both the passing of our own experience but also that of the mountains, rivers and valleys that one spends all day driving through. The vastness and age is a catalyst for thinking so intensely and then suddenly just not thinking at all. (Vast landscapes should be sold as a meditation tool for those who can’t meditate). So when I climbed to the famous mirador I was expecting more of the same. But it wasn’t that. After a 4 hour trek along vegetation and then arid sections, winding, flat, green paths cut into the sides of mountains and dusty hot hills covered with boulders that needed scaling on all fours, you round a corner who’s contents was completely hidden just moments ago. It takes you by complete surprise and it awakens you with so much visual stimulation that you feel like a child at Christmas looking at a stock pile of toys you probably don't deserve because you’ve been pretty terrible all year but there they are. After exploring and climbing all over the place we took time to just lay in the sunshine enjoying the white wine we had slogged all the way up (pro tip, if you aren’t a pro always hike with white wine). We (my husband and I) got to talking about how surprised we were with the landscape and what a perfect surprise it was. We realized that neither of us had trawled the internet for pictures of the park so we had turned up with almost no expectations. We had managed to savior the experience completely for the first look (Oslo filter not included) and it dawned on us that this was the first place In 3 months that we had encountered without seeing a representation before. We were experiencing it like the first people to find it, with sheer delight and surprise, something nearly impossible to do today I suppose. From that moment on we made plans to avoid reading anything but written reviews. We travelled to Valparaíso knowing that there was street art but having no idea until our arrival of the scale or artistry involved. We climbed a volcano in Pucón only to realize that the toboggans at the end were over 700m long and dug 3 meters into the snow essentially making the experience everything that it was. To imagine the words of others and save the visuals for reality has been the biggest game changer of travel for us. Because no matter what I imagine the world always over delivers.