The scenery reminded me of the Drake's Estero part of Point Reyes. Or perhaps of Golden Bay, New Zealand.
Pretty churches. Random swans.
Marcelo Orellana is a scultptor from Santiago. Patricio, my host in Chiloé even has one of his pieces in the gorgeous room where I'm staying.
I love his Cathedral Spire in the Presidio at home.
We took the requisite selfies. The little boys in the family hiking ahead of us ran down to the gate and nearly fell into the ocean. Their parents were remarkably tranquilo. On the way back, I persuaded the youngest, crying, to dame los cinco. (Give me five.)
At Cape Reinga on the northern tip of New Zealand, the Maori believe the souls of the departed fly north, past the lighthouse, back to the Polynesian home of their ancestors. Chiloé's myths from the native Mapuche people involve whales disguised as women but are similar.
I wish I could tell you why there's a chartreuse dome in the middle of the park, with horses nearby. But that would take all the mystery away.
Where do our souls go when we die? I hope it is somewhere like Chile.