Although we were both tired this morning, we roused ourselves, looking forward to meeting with the Chileans Silvio had befriended from the tourist rest area. We drove north wondering where their town was, and although we were aiming for Caldera, Bahia Inglesa and Lorento, we managed to miss all three. Perhaps we were looking at too many different names.
Finally, once we realized the GPS had shut down, we turned around and drove the sixty kilometres back to where we had ignored the signs. The older couple met us beside a gas plant, and soon were leading us to the market. There the man watched the truck and Silvio, auntie and I strolled the market. Silvio let her identify prices, and he bought vegetables while I watched the crowd. I spent some time trying to identify the metallic origin of hand made tools at one stall, but most of the time I watched people interact and tried to identify thieves. In each culture there are similar identifying features of thieves and some that are different. In this case, I didn’t see anyone who was obviously a thief.
Once we had out food, we went back to their place and auntie made us a big lunchtime meal. I helped her a bit, but mostly we just chatted while she cooked fish for Silvio—after I assured her I didn’t eat meat—and then around the table while we ate. 
Their house sits in a small compound surrounded by a seven or eight foot fence with razor wire on top. They said the place is tranquillo, and seguro, but they also told us about a break-in that was stopped by uncle firing shots at the burglars. The food was great, the decorations of the house interesting—given the black dolls on the chair, the sitting Buddha, catholic decorations, and multiple trinkets including a model ship, and very hospitable people. After lunch we did a tour of the property and the man pointed out where the burglars had entered, and explained where he had shot. He said the word had likely gone out over the neighbourhood and that now the thieves never attempted again. They know he has a gun.
We left their place after many goodbyes and drove back south to Bahia Inglesa, where we are now parked off the main street. We first went to a beach where I walked to the rocks and collected a few shells, and then sat around and chatted while the waves thrashed and the wind blew off the ocean. It is a bit of a drinking beach, so we drove back to the downtown strip to park. There we climbed a rock hill that rears above a beach and took a few photos, and walked part of the beach and the boardwalk. This is definitely a tourist area. There are BMWs parked beside tourist cabanas and happy families on the shore. It is off season however, and the air is a bit chilly, so there are not nearly as many people as there would be in the southern summer.
Silvio ducked out to check the security of the surroundings and came back with a flat cake. He hadn’t paid yet, so he was going back with money, but I had eaten practically all of it by the time he gathered his bag. I asked him for more and he returned with a half cake. It is excellent, some kind of chocolate peanut butter tart.
Once we were settled in to Bahia Inglesa, Silvio went out to get internet and came back with a person, of course. Maria Fernanda is a really interesting single mother of a two-year-old girl. 
Interestingly, she wanted a child so she told the father she only wanted the sperm donation and she had the child on her own. She is the cake maker, and before she lived in Mexico where she was a dive instructor. We mostly bonded over my bad Spanish and her worries about her English—which she rarely used—and how we both want children. We talked about adoption in our respective countries as well as about family in general before she left and we slept to the sounds of the crashing waves and the occasional car.
