Pisco Sours, windy walks along the coast to see the giant ibis nests filled with downy chicks, and every sunset over the horizon of the unexplored snowy peaks of Seno Skyring all make me pause, take deep breath of crisp air, and think, “Oh man, we’re really here. We’re in Chile. Our home for the next six months.” My mind reels with thoughts of why we have come, what we left behind, and what we hope to experience.

The weather, the ranch, my husband, Christian’s extended family, and the hard work oscillate between chaos and calm. We have come to Southern Patagonia to Estancia Rio Verde to slow down, simplify, to learn, to eat, and to understand our roots. Our home is 1½ hours from gas stations, Internet cafés, and grocery stores. We share 20,000 acres with 10,000 sheep, 1000 head of cattle, 100 horses, a staff of 15 that includes a handful of Chilean gauchos (horsemen), a couple of maids, and an eclectic international restaurant and hotel staff who have arrived for the summer to help with the small hotel and lodge built here to give tourists a chance to experience traditional ranch life.

Water comes directly out of the creek and works all the time except when guests are about to arrive at the hotel. Electricity comes through a generator after 8:00 at night and first thing in the morning- or on Sundays when a soccer match is on. Fresh lamb is on the menu every night, and an organic garden supplements what is brought from town once a week.

My goal to write has been overshadowed with daily living life on a ranch; barely a moment goes by that I can’t think of something else to do. Everything happens with “gusto” and there is little time to record it. People here would wonder why even bother. One second we’re all running around like banshees getting ready to serve 25 gringos just off a tour boat a lunch of fried cheese empanadas pumpkin soup, roasted lamb, and fresh rhubarb kuchen. After washing 100 glasses and plates by hand, we sit down to our own meal and chat for two hours about politics, old friends, the price of beef and the coal mines being built on the remote and savage Isla Riesco we see across the bay. The gringos leave and we might not see another person for days.

I believe that young children are as close to Buddha as they can be before life leads them astray with goals, schedules, and what they “should” be doing. As we grow older and begin conceive the past and the future, we begin to get that nagging feeling that life should be something other than it is. My five-year old daughter constantly reminds me that what is most important is living in the moment- she just wakes up in the morning and lets things happen to her.

Me? I’m having trouble adjusting to being here and decompressing away from phones, computers, schedules, telephones, and deadlines. I have a handful of writing projects constantly in the back of my mind but this somehow distracts from this incredible chance to just live day to day and let pass what may.