Jennifer Beals's Writing：On Vacation (Trip to Patagonien/Chile) @ COME As You Are

女王2003年年底拍完第一季的TLW後(2004/01/18TLW播出第一季Pilot)，選擇去智利騎馬歡渡40歲生日，幫現在已停刊的Jane Magazine寫了一篇智利之旅的日記，登在2004年五月號上，JBC上面有雜誌掃瞄圖片，德國JB粉絲網站有文字稿，全文轉載如下：

JB 200312

photos photographed by Isabel Snyder and Jennifer Beals

Jennifer Beals trip to Patagonien/ Chile by Jennifer Beals (2003/12/13-21)

Jane Magazine, May 2004

雜誌原標題：Vacation：Jennifer Beals chooses Chile

As I was about to turn 40 (a momentous if not slightly terrifying occasion, according to every eye-cream ad), I wanted to enter into this new decade with unabashed joy. I used to spend summers in the Colorado Rockies at a camp, horsepacking for days in the mountains. At the end of the ride, every pore smelled like horses and pine. That´s what I wanted for my birthday. I set out with my husband, Ken, and my friends Isabel and Paul for a horsepacking trip in Patagonia, where horses outnumber cars 10 to one. My kind of place.

DAY 1: PUNTA ARENAS, CHILE (2003/12/13)

Flew from Vancouver to Los Angeles to Lima, Peru, to Santiago, Chile, and finally to Punta Arenas. 23 hours. I take my duster on the plane along with my new cowboy hat - an Akubra, which the nice lady with the frosted nails in the store tells me can best be cleaned with a loaf of sourdough bread. From behind the desk she takes out a loaf to demonstrate. No lie, it works. Just like a giant eraser.

Arrive at the Hotel Plaza. Meet with Cristina (our ridiculously gorgeos Austrian guide) that evening for dinner. We have calafate berries for dessert, because we are told that if you eat the calafates, you are destined to return to Patagonia.

DAY 2: ESTANCIA LAZO (2003/12/14)

The baquianos arrive at Torres del Paine National Park with the horses. I am in heaven. That evening me meet Sergio, his 13-year-old son Cristian, and Manuel. I romanticize them instantly. They are handsome and dress in traditional baquiano gear. Sergio and Cristian are tiradores, which are wide leather belts decorated with thongs of leather and coins. They all wear fajas - multicolored sashes (at the time I think they´re decorative, but later I find they help support your back on the long rides); spurs and scarves (I notice Sergio has his clasped together with a beautiful silver ring that functions as a slide ... I feel to stupid and superficial to ask him where he got it). I am shy, my Spanish is half-assed at best - I often resort to Italian and hope they´ll understand. Tomorrow we begin the ride.

DAY 3: CAMPAMENTO LAS CARRETAS (2003/12/15)

Exhausted. Happy. Five hours of riding. My horse´s name is Remache. A surefooted, strong bay. At lunch I thanked my friends for coming with me. It is amazing to think a friend would travel 23 hours and spend seven days camping on horseback in the wind and cold. Grey Glacier.

Ice sounds like thunder. Riding across the pampas.

Cantering for long stretches. Trusting my horse and my horse trusting me. Not an ounce of sweat on him after the canters. The last half hour of the ride my stomach muscles are killing me. The Chilean saddle and style of riding are very different from what I´m used to. They push their stirrups forward and lean back a bit in the saddle. After the ride, we pitch our tents. Cristina cooks an amazing meal. It is truly manna from heaven.

DAY 4: LAGUNA AZUL (2003/12/16)

Went to an old outhouse at the camp. On the wall it says, GRINGOS GO HOME. There was an American flag drawn and then crossed out. Amazing to be from a country where your government is so hated. I wonder how long it took to build such enmity.
Later in the day, riding across a dusty trail, I put my bandanna over my face, turn to Manuel and say, "¡Eso es un robo!" He laughs. He pulls his scarf up and does the same. We play robbers in the back of the line. Who new a line from "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid" would serve as my first bond with a baquiano in Chile?

DAY 5: DICKSON VALLEY (2003/12/17)

Long day. Winds so strong I was nearly blown out of my saddle. Crossed the river on horseback. The sound of the river rushing by, pounding everyone´s words down in the waves.

As we approach Dickson Valley, Isabel asks me about my mom. I start to talk about her for a while and then we are quiet. I realize how much my mother has done for me, how she gave continuously of her mind, her heart. I cry a little because I am grateful, and I realize the purifying process of being out in nature under relatively rigorous conditions has begun. Things become clearer. Playing Bette on "The L Word", I realize I now take it personally when I hear someone say faggot or dyke in that hissing kind of strike that people use when they intend a slur. We then round the bend and Dickson Valley spreads before us. I cry again (I swear I wasn´t premenstrual) because it feels like home. Even with my body aching from the long ride, my heart cannot deny the wonder of God's work.
At dinner I showed Cristian how to thumb-wrestle. I hear a horse brush by the tent in the darkness. I fall asleep.

DAY 6: [(2003/12/18)

I say to Manuel, "On the count of three, let´s canter together and catch up to the others." (No, I don´t know how to say that in Spanish.) Manuel misunderstands me and takes off at a run across the meadow. My horse follows, getting low to the ground. The winds whips my face. I am laughing so hard I realize I have to stop or else I´ll fall off. I think I actually squeal with delight. The freedom, the movement, the unmistakable danger are too delicious to be believed. One of the happiest moments in my life.
It rains that night. Tomorrow is my birthday.

JB 2003/12/19

DAY 7: LAGUNA AZUL (2003/12/19)

We ride back to Laguna Azul. Shortly after we arrive, a rainbow alights on top of the mountain range. Not an arc, but a shimmering of light.
That night, Cristian gives me a drawing he made of Remarche. Isabel gathers 40 lupines and seven poppies for good luck and places them in water bottles on the table. Sergio gives me the ring that binds his scarf - a relic of Lautaro, a famous Indian chief. I am speechless and so moved. I wasn´t expecting anything from anyone. I don´t know that any of these people realize how much they mean to me. I feel like Dorothy in "The Wizard of Oz", "And you were there, and you ..." We dance around the fire to the cumbia. Danced with Sergio. Like dancing with Gene Kelly, grounded but light. Danced with Manuel. So sweet, like dancing with a young boy at a bar mitzvah, bouncing up and down, happy to be moving to the music. That night I count my blessings.

DAY 8: PUNTA ARENAS (2003/12/20)

We head back to Punta Arenas. I will never forget the warmth of Remarche´s face next to my own as I said goodbye to him. I pressed my face to his and told him how grateful I was that he had been my horse. I told him I loved him. And he looked me straight in the eye. I saw him. I saw Patagonia.