How Much Is Charizard Card?

meetings, even meetings and two beautiful hikes.


Constitution - Chanco - Tregualemu - Quirihue - Design - Tucapel - Antuco - Los Angeles - Curacautin - Malalcahuello.

My journey thus continues to be a sort of waking dream that distills the dropper unforgettable meetings and fabulous scenery. My beautiful drive along the Pacific and bounces on the green hills with vast forests on one side and the ocean on the other, the ocean which spreads its intense blue of sight.

Meetings have not missed the point sometimes make me forget that I travel alone.

First there was Neil, American fiftieth anniversary bike, too, taking his time traveling. Chance has put in my way to 5 days and 200km apart. Both times it was the same pleasure to share the tea by candlelight, talking travel under the stars.

A little later, Fernando, the ranger took me out of the impasse on a road decidedly uncrowded. As a bonus I win a dinner with Max, a Chilean writer who cooks for us this evening a barbecue of the sea dressed in Parisian chef. The house, almost as surprising as its owner, a cliff overlooking the impressive recent blushed peaceful daybreak. Jorge

it is an agricultural engineer and the State the burden of flush in strawberry plantings, insects with bad intentions. He was also found twice on my way (or me on his own, it depends!) And the second time, I found myself in his cousin to share a delicious chicken with all the family.

Erwin and Miguel are two of them young and enterprising commercial atypical selling small furniture. They invited me to spend the evening at home after having taken a ride in their combi WV. We pride ourselves head first into the nearby river and then I meet with other youth of the village during a football match to remember!

Then there was Alvaro, the beekeeper descendant of Basque, Daniel, thrilled to practice her French learned in Paris in the 70s in the service of Baron Empin! Finally the man who went back to Santiago and I totally left his home for holiday one instruction to put the key under the woodpile.

A Design my road leaves the coast line to the east and found the Cordillera, Mendoza and Santiago left in one day in October. I found here, a little lower, more accessible and above all ... volcanic. Tomorrow I attack around the Antuco volcano and see the colors he dons tonight, it promises to be something. My trek will eventually shortened by thick layers of snow and bad weather threatens. But in a day and a half, the volcano could have offered me fabulous scenery, crossing a lava field and the small red stones, and black yellow night in a circus with steep slopes which escaped 1000 waterfalls. This awakening in the morning and the sun that lights a fire to one of the ridge. Finally the splendid vision of near-perfect cone volcano lit by the pink glow of sunrise and shy. The rain that threatened to fall but it finished by the turn of Ruth and her family to open up their doors. Rain, far from ceasing, stepping, drumming the corrugated iron roof. Once assured that a bucket was well under each flight (which is no shortage) we eat delicious sausages, grouped around the stove watching the rain fall from the window.

Southern must begin here, or rather, the vision I had is there before my eyes. It is a small quiet village which bears the pretty name Malalcahuello (Try you'll see it sounds good. Cahu-My-lal-yo). Behind the old disused railway station, a short grass prairie of this and yellowed by snow, wind, cold and the sun dance today under the caresses of a current of air. In addition, small colorful houses with roofs sharp shake against each other in the narrow valley. So by the time my second hike that will leave just to mess with another volcano, beautiful too, the Lonquimay. Unlike the above, it is him surrounded by a thick forest of Araucaria, the conifer to the local side which impressively large, our most beautiful pines would look like matchsticks. This forest, bathed in sunshine, reveals an incredible number of shades of green and open occasionally to offer a beautiful view of the volcano. Again, a rise in the morning to contemplate the light that slowly increases while a fine mist floats, slightly above the village like a veil covering the last moments of sleep men.

What happiness that whole days spent outside show up in the evening, the limit of darkness and light up slowly the mountain as we turn the page on a beautiful picture book ...

Finally a big thank you for all your comments make me happy and with me here as a firm discrete and light on my shoulder ...

Aspartame Withdrawal Symptoms

Change of scenery ...

Mendoza-Santiago-San Antonio-Lago Rapel-Pichilemu-Bucalemu-Boyerucca-Llico-Douao-Constitution.

From the window the night falls slowly Santiago. The lights come one by one and the Plaza d'Italia agitated loudly does not seem to realize that the day ends ... Under my eyes, the same restlessness, the buses that pass crazy on the boulevard to the look impressive, the sounds of car horns, these pedestrians running to avoid these four cars running around the front .... And yet, I feel good here.

Santiago, journey's end for aircraft Aeropostale there are still a few decades ... and I find myself dreaming of Mermoz, landing a few miles away, his face frozen in a rough crossing of the Andes ... the guys who unload the sacks of mail, St Exupery, stroking cabin its Latécoère before returning to Buenos Aires, Natal, Recife, St. Louis and Toulouse finally ... By looking carefully, I wonder if these readings are not the first who called me here ... Santiago!

But I digress and the waitress brings me my empanadas is responsible for me from my reverie.

For the umpteenth time since the beginning of my journey, I pull out the map of the right pocket of my trousers and spreads it on the table in search of a starting point to begin the descent towards the south. Those with whom I have spoken knows how this descent to Earth of Fire made me dream and nurtured my imagination all these years.

It was in San Antonio that I jump on the bus, grabbed my bag and put myself on the road. But what a shock! A good breeze slaps my face like an old friend I would tap on the shoulder to ask me to walk a little. The air is crisp and fresh, the sky filled with these fair-weather cumulus, and beyond the port basins and breakwaters, the clear horizon let me enjoy the curvature of the earth. The port is agitated and I love the atmosphere; cranes are working to unload tons of sand from the Giant of the Sea, the Atlantic Morning which is released here takes care of him I do not know what, but voila two tugs coming out of the harbor at high speed, a door-contenaire is approaching ...

Across the pond, gulls agitated and discuss farm prices the last fishery. Weary sailors, spoof multicolored boxes while two old smoke their pipes and chatting ... it is good that fresh air from the sea, I leave my bag with my fleece and am happy to nibble a corner contemplating my picnic this joyous agitation ...

So here begins my long road to the south and all these names that resonate in my head as much appeal to travel ... Puerto Montt Castro, Chiloe, the Gulf of Peñas, The Messier Channel, Punta Arenas, the Straits of Magellan ...

On the road out of town, four men discussing in front of a grocery store, the shop owner sits on a stool under his banner, while others are standing there, arms crossed or impossible to describe shapes with their hands. My time is stop everything and after riding double, I hear them call me. I turn around, take a few steps back and find myself among them. Immediately the faces light up and it asks me to accept the best place on the stool. I was please tell where I am and where I intend to go. One of them is particularly expressive and heart takes over, slapping his leg, a response in two. For not only my throat dries up and shortens the story, it gives me a bottle of water out of the grocery store refrigerators. When I saw their eyes at the moment to announce my final destination, I understood that I was not alone in dreaming of Tierra del Fuego. It might have ended there and stay as an encounter quite a few others but no sooner had I finished my story that the situation is reversed. And here is my four snowmen that began to tell me a trip that Eric, one French, one bike there. He also put his butt on that stool, here just a year and spent two days with them here. The best stage of his tour of South America are reported to me my greatest happiness ... Almost out of breath, they end up ... and it just arrived in Buenos Aires, the end of his journey ... I've been everywhere!

No doubt, they are fans of that Eric, the French cycling. I'm leaving by walking very glad of this good break and they seem happy, they made two nice trips to the grocery store this afternoon.

I put my bag on my shoulder after having asked a few days Pichilemu. This city is the capital of Chilean surfing for nothing. The wave is awfully good, and I must admit that despite two days of hard, I could not find the entrance. This wave is beautiful kind of powerful and very fast, a little too much for me. I surely will try again on the way home because once inside, it looks really good. So I put my bag on my shoulders in good shape after this short break. My route along the coast to Design. On Road still a lot of meetings and two days in a charming family who invited me to his house for Halloween festivities. When leaving, they offered me a wonderful gift in telling me a shortcut through the hills to join my next step. The forest trail is proving to be one of the most beautiful I've done until today. It rises gradually from the village that lies at sea level, it goes hard but if you take the time to turn around, it's worth it ... Behind me, the lagoon Boyerucca spread, between the peaceful and beautiful wooded hills and dunes which separated from the ocean. She extended by an area of saltmarsh. To my left, the Pacific Ocean sent a nice little wave that breaks at my feet. The horizon is vast and splendid colors despite an overcast sky. On the other side lies a rolling plain and green at the end of which appear in the distance, massive and snow covered Andean peaks ...

I walk between the Andes and the Pacific!

How Much Does It Cost For A Cyst Removal

On my way ...

Villa Giardino Cruz de Eje-La Rioja-Aimogasta Chilecito-Union-Villa-San Juan-Mendoza

These small pieces of selected days between Villa Giardino and Mendoza.

A detour to the English countryside:
I walk along a pretty road, shaded by tall trees, which is nice because, despite the hour rather morning, the sun is already fierce. The road winds through a lush and rolling countryside. Behind large gates, one sees towering houses with various charms and uncertain: Swiss Chalet?, Mas Provencal?, Family house in Deauville? Percheron longhouse? And always, freshly mown fine turf on which you could plant out his tent. It's a bit chic and shock but very nice and relaxing, and most is green, which feels great after the long runs dusty in the region of La Serena in Chile. At the turn of a village, I met a retired couple more too young to be walking with his arms crossed behind his back and nose in the air. The man makes me stop and sign. He asks me where I'm not listening but my answer, I am convinced that English anyway, and too happy to excercer his talent in the language of Shakespeare, explains in perfect English that he must always, when walking along a road, dealing with cars coming ... Thank you, but I knew this morning, I seek the shadow instead (which was to the other side) and it happens here a car every 30 minutes.
- "Goal where are you from, in England?" wonder there.
- "I am French, from Nantes"
- "In French!" Then, turning to his wife.
- "In France, Nantes ..."
And the eyes of the old woman lighting:
- "To France, Paris, Montpellier, Nice, Charles Trenet" ... and a thin voice to sing with me a beautiful accent, "Douce France, dear country of my childhood ..." and two verses after the amusement of her husband.
I have not had the courage to go into long explanations to come to the sad conclusion that today, unfortunately, my beautiful country is that much more deluded recklessness tender, time progressed, and I wanted to enjoy this beautiful road that reminded me as the English countryside ...

The road is nice but ...:
The next day there I was for three hours of unsuccessful stop at an intersection to direct sunlight (photo), where, by chance, pass the whole village, creating a little animation. Before me, the road from what I've been told is a long ribbon of asphalt burning of 250 km in the desert. It is therefore unnecessary to proceed by walk away. Here I am at least the thin shadow of the pole supporting the traffic light. Finally, a truck takes me to La Rioja. The type is nice, not too early cause but when it comes to talk about work he discovered that I work in transportation, it becomes more Locace. This road, in fact, is impressive. It's a long straight line with each side, 50 meters of fire are cleared and beyond, a low and sparse vegetation emerges from the sand.
It comes therefore to discuss the working conditions of my driver I do not always come back. He arrived alone in Buenos Aires, he went last night (and it is 18h), it has made little bits of things break, but not great, it's Saturday night and he still bounds to do so. And that's all the world like it. There is no regulation of working time, whereas here, we die a lot on the road. Truck accidents, and even since, (whose drivers work in much the same way) are very frequent. Often the driver falls asleep in a line a little too straight ("Like this one?" I said making sure that the eyelids of my drivers are always open) or exceeded a little bold ...
I let my chauffeur Patquia, glad to still be around, and wish him a lot of courage for the 3 remaining hours, without pause and provided with nightfall the program ...

Moving on tour :
Sunday, I leave the city of La Rioja with a long road that goes to the mountain. Small break in the shade of the final tree before attacking the coast. I rush in the sweltering heat of the morning after to the mountains promise me a little more fresh for tonight. As it is Sunday and Mother's Day, families are united in the gardens in the shade of a tree or a canvas for the occasions. We share here a grill, a few drinks and feel of a good meal. I welcome the passage of these joyous GameCafé.
At the second, we stopped to drink a glass of chilled Fanta! My throat could not expect better!
the fourth, it gives me a bottle of water actually come out of the freezer especially for me.
"Hey, it's french!" and comes to kiss my daughter
"bring him a sandwich and a Fanta, I think sauccisse left there is well done", and just shake hands with my son,
"look son, c 'is a french ... ". When pressed, I tell a little of my journey, and I still being discussed. Further, it gives me more water. The after noon
advance (and me too quickly unfortunately) tables are more joyful. People I greet or gives me a little something to me never let go without encouragement:
"Suerte, That you will have good, buen viaje ..."
Is Fanta that rushes to my head, but the further I go, the more it encourages me, the "Suerte" are More and more, we stop again for giving me a helping fleet, in cars that double me, kids stick their heads out the window "Suerte". It ended up having a euphoric effect and helping the imagination, I'm transformed into Raymond Poulidor, yellow in the ascent of the Tourmalet. The difference lies in the fact that here, the weather was not the same value and that when someone offers me a drink, it takes a little time. Discus are very nice, the kids can not believe my bag, there to sleep in a tent in the mountains! And eyes to open even bigger. I'm
carrement standing on the pedals, the nose to the grindstone, according to the motorcycle RTF file to the top, the pack is far anyway, the crowd m'aclamme when, after a tight hairpin, more person, large plastered walls, behind a closed gate, there are the blue pool ... My Tour de France breaks off here, but the encouragement of early morning after I can easily take until evening .
Well I added a little late but I like the book I felt.

Cuesta de Miranda
He leads and is not quite talking, she is professor of biology and more of a chatterbox. The road is breathtaking. The red dust is raised gradually as we advance on the track. At the bottom, much more down, a stream. The valley is almost a cayon, the different sedimentary layers form emplillements twisted, bent by the telluric forces and the wind and rain have finished the job. Awesome! In talking with the teacher, she confirmed what I had heard in other cars.
last over several decades, climate change has hit here is felt, the winter months lesjours no longer bring freshness and summer, which is normally the rainy period, became completely dry. This year, on this area, not a single drop of rain against a little over 10 days earlier. Streams dry up and the fragile equilibrium that can live in these semi-arid areas is seriously threatened. The leaves of the trees become thinner is the less nourriturres for animals that live in
ect ... The water problem arises here seriously, already some villages that did just streams must be delivered to water tank ... According to some, there are some villages that exist over here a few years ...

And just for fun ... :
The evening air is sweet is sweet and once again, here I am on the edge of the road, thumb raised. An old Chevrolet pickup stops smoking. It is led by a young guy in the head with a sympathetic friend to look good punk! I sit on the bench with them at the front. A little later, another car stopper joins us. We are now four in the front seat, a bit tight but who cares, we advance a little faster than walking and that is the main ...
50 km / h (the motor does not seem to do better and given the state of the car, it is also much like that) on a completely deserted road, we go down south. The sky is clear after this hot day, on our right, a few miles away, stands the imposing Andes Cordillera and its snowy peaks. To our left, a little closer, the pre-mountain range, lower but so beautiful, adorned the glowing sunset ... Between the two, the low vegetation gives the impression of bodies of water when you look away ... A magical landscape and colors ... In the car, not a word, each contemplating the scenery through the windows, faces are illuminated by the colors of the sunset, all with music by Elton John tragic
I the impression of being in a road movie of the 70 American
When they dropped me off, the car 615 325 km! Calle and does not restart. Are sprinkled liberally engine blow bucket of water, still trying, discussing, making predictions ... So we are pushing this huge car, which eventually smith in a blackish cloud. Through the smoke, the smiling face of the driver, always lit by the red sun greets me, a hand through the window, greet and go pitch my tent in the moor ...