Are Places What We Expect?

One of my life dreams was always to visit Machu Picchu, Peru.  It was probably one of the greatest travel aspirations that I have had for most of my life.  It is interesting to say that here because it isn’t so uncommon for people to travel between countries.  But for me, coming from a place like the U.S. where we tend to not travel outside of our own country that often for a variety of reasons, I had always imagined Machu Picchu when I was younger as a place that was remote, far away and unattainable.  Years ago, I probably felt that way about all of South America.  Perhaps because throughout my childhood, all of my memories of the news on TV centered on scenes of guerilla war and uprisings (many caused by our own government) as well as drug trafficking.  Never mind the major contrast of all of the Latin American countries, not to mention the major distances between them, our news helped grow the vision that all of Latin America together must be the same:  unsafe.  Interestingly enough, most of my students are now having the same thoughts towards the U.S. after continuously hearing about loose gunmen randomly killing people in schools and movie theaters. Their opinion is that we are somewhat crazy, and I think they probably have good reason to think so.

The truth is that flying into Cusco, the closest city to Machu Picchu was really very easy.  While the city is somewhat touristy and the local people are adamantly trying to sell you things like hats and magnets and massages on every corner, it is definitely a place where I felt for the most part, serene.  The architecture is a combination of the colonial Spanish and the indigenous Quechua culture of the Andes Mountains.  For me, having a vacation from the dreary winter of Santiago, I couldn’t get enough of the clear sky and the balky clouds that hover low that remind me of places like the desert of New Mexico and Arizona.  The only problem was becoming accustomed to the higher altitude during the first day which led to me spending the first five hours in bed nauseous, with a migraine headache.  However, the hostel provided plenty of free coca tea which supposedly relieves these symptoms.  I think my body eventually adjusted.

In the days leading up to Machu Picchu, I was able to travel outside the city to an area called the Sacred Valley which is filled with scattered indigenous ruins.

     

There are two options for seeing Machu Picchu.  One is by taking a train from outside of Cusco and the other is by hiking the Inca Trail.  Because access to the trail is limited by the number of people per year in an attempt to preserve its existence, the latter involves making a reservation at least five months in advance with a guide and a small group of other hikers.  This is what I decided to do and yes, the trail can be tough at times, but it’s really the better way to see Machu Picchu.  Not only because you see many other ruins along the way and have the opportunity to connect with other travelers from different countries, it also builds more of an anticipation to reach the destination.  And, in addition, you acquire much more of a relationship with the land.  The hike is not completely difficult as I passed many people that were very young and very old, but it can be exhausting since you are walking six to eight hours each day up and down very steep steps, part of the time in the rain, the second day being the most strenuous.

   

We were lucky enough to have signed up with the tour that we did because I have heard of some that give little food.  On the contrary, ours offered three huge meals each day and not mediocre food, but a variety of homemade soups and vegetable and meat dishes complete with a dessert.  Below are the men that carried and prepared all of our food and equipment.

These men, some of them wearing only sandals literally ran very quickly ahead of us on the trail transporting all of these items on their backs.  Some people even paid them to carry their own personal belongings as well.

Usually it takes four days to reach Machu Picchu, but our group arrived just before sunset on the third day which only gave us enough time to view it from a distance and relax a little before walking to Aguas Calientes, the closest small town to stay the night in a hostel.  The next morning we returned around 6am to have an official guided tour of the site, unfortunately, in the rain.  The area was covered in a thick layer of fog that later began to disappear.

Not long after our tour, hundreds of other tourists began appearing which made me think of when I went to the Grand Canyon and found myself bombarded with large buses of loud mouthed families all anxiously waiting their turn to take pictures of themselves on the edge of the cliff.  It sort of disrupts the serenity of it all, to say the least, especially after spending so many days away from the sounds of vehicles and city life.  Therefore…..

No, I didn’t have any spiritual realizations.  For some reason, I always considered that I would, but I find that I have those in moments that are more unanticipated.  This is why I am happy that I experienced the hike, because the actions of walking the steps and spending so much time under the trees and noticing all of the subtle changes in landscape and climate and altitude from the beginning to end are what affected me most and what I will most remember of Machu Picchu.  Sometimes I like to think of places in terms of relationships and so I could say that in some ways, I had a short encounter with a very beautiful and amazing place and I wish I had had more time to continue knowing it.

  

And, it was an interesting experience having always imagined a place, a perfect place and always carrying a certain image of how I might be changed in some way by that place.  The reality is that real change cannot be predicted or foreseen or maybe even longed for; instead, it is usually quite unexpected.  I must admit with some honesty that I am more certain that I have had spiritual and emotional shifts in places like….yes, Santiago… only because it is a place that has tested my patience and caused me to struggle in ways that have forced me to grow as a person.   It is a place that I have built a relationship with and in this respect, I am always seeing myself mirrored back to me, the good and the bad.  And so, the trip made me think a lot about the expectations I project towards places as well as the time limits I place upon them.

Finishing the trip also made me think a lot about fulfilling life dreams and life goals.  It sort of gave me that dreaded what’s next? feeling.  Maybe it’s even caused me to feel like I can be finished (at least temporarily) with all of that traveling I was dying to do all those years.  Not that I don’t want to see other places, but at the same time, I can let go of that feeling of having never really experienced life outside my country in a profound way.  It’s no longer a big mystery and I see it as something do-able instead of unattainable.   I guess my goals in life are returning to that need to once again build a career for myself and maybe how to do it a little differently this time, and that leaves me with making some decisions on how to approach things next.

I used to think I would know what to do when the time presented itself to me…but I think it’s more like me being ready enough to seek out the time and knowing that making the decision is just like taking an opportunity…like trying something new and interesting.

Whatever I decide, the process continues…

Mi Cumpleaños en San Pedro de Atacama

Two years ago, after I was laid off of my job, I wanted to change my life.  I started gathering every interest I have ever had and began the process of sorting out my life in order to build a new life that reflected me and not what I thought I should be doing.  For my 31st birthday that year, I took myself to Sedona, Arizona to be alone.  To think.  It was one of the best birthdays I have ever had…and it made up for my pitiful 30th birthday that for the most part went uncelebrated.  In Sedona that year, I set the intention to travel abroad and I have now finally realized that.  And so, this year I took myself to the desert again…but in Chile.  Last week I went to San Pedro de Atacama for my 33rd birthday, a two hour plane ride to the North of Chile.

The day prior to the trip was quite strange.  My Brazilian friend Alzinete flew to Santiago from Sao Paulo to celebrate my birthday and to accompany me on my trip; however she had been having health problems and thought it best to not go to such a remote place and be so far from a hospital.  Instead, she stayed in the city for my birthday dinner and decided to go to the beach to relax while I was in the desert.  This was also the advice of one my friends who had had similar symptoms to Alzinete in the past.  Oddly enough, during my birthday dinner Roxana was the one who became ill at the restaurant.  She had to leave immediately, but kept calling me to make sure I was okay because she felt she had ruined my birthday.  At the doctor’s office, she told the staff that she had a plane to catch.  Apparently, she had planned to surprise me at the airport the next morning to go with me to Atacama.  The doctor’s response must have been something like….ummm…you aren’t going anywhere.   I had no idea until the next day when she called me with a fragile little voice telling me that she had been planning this for months with another friend of mine named Farzad who would be meeting me in San Pedro later that night.

Despite all of the unusual circumstances, just the thought of Roxana planning this in addition to having my Brazilian friend visit me really made me feel amazing.

Traveling to the North gave me a different perspective of Chile.  For one, I was feeling more confident traveling on my own since I have been learning the language.  This gave me more reassurance and more desire to connect more with the country.

I also was so happy to finally get away from Santiago.  People always ask me if I like Chile and up until now I could only give an unfair response as I only really knew one area.  I’m just not a big city person and therefore not a huge fan of Santiago.  But also, I love the desert.  It has to be my favorite environment and it was my most loved place “to breathe again” when I needed a break from the endless suburban California coast.  Some people think of the desert as being a flat, stark place…but I think of open space, invigorating sunlight, and unique and bizarre landscapes that seem to transform themselves by altering their color depending on the time of day.

The morning of my actual birthday, I flew from Santiago to a small city in the North called Calama and from there I shared a taxi with two people I met at the airport to the bus station, where we all took a two hour bus ride to the town of San Pedro de Atacama.  San Pedro is a very small touristy town of all adobe buildings filled with restaurants, hostels and tour offices.   The first day while I was still alone, I joined a tour with three other people from Germany and Brazil to see some of the Lagoons and Salt Flats about an hour outside of the town.  The first day was so mellow.  I found the hostel that my friends had reserved, had dinner and waited for Farzad and his brother.

Some of the Salt Flats……

End of the First day……Sunset

Farzad and his brother from New York finally arrived around midnight.  We managed to find a restaurant that was still open and probably waited an hour and half for the pizza we ordered.  Service appeared to be the same as in Santiago.  Because we had no sleep the night before, we missed all of the early morning tours.  We also realized how it’s practically impossible to leave the town without joining a tour.  Farzad almost threw his Lonely Planet guide in the trash when he discovered the real cost of taking a taxi out of the town was at least ten times the amount listed in the book.  The first day with all of us seemed to be about walking aimlessly through the town and watching the Independence day parade.  September 18th is Chilean Independence Day, but it is celebrated for the entire four day weekend, day and night.

But, by four in the afternoon we were able to find a group to see a part of the desert called the Valley of the Moon.  This place resembled Death Valley in California and even had its own Valle de Muerte.  The heat was so intense in this place.  We were baking in the sun.  The Atacama desert is supposed to be the driest place on earth and I was having major allergy problems from all of the dust and sand that I was breathing in.

The walls of the canyon were covered with this texture…

This rock formation is called the “Three Marias,” except that we were told that four years ago a French tourist broke one of the Marias while hugging it to take a picture.  (I’m thinking its the one on the left?)

By the end of the day we were so exhausted from walking in the heat and my allergies were making it difficult to breathe.  We had enough energy to have dinner and drinks and then we were out. Farzad (who speaks maybe just a little less Spanish than I do) and I actually made a good team of putting all of our vocabulary together to ask questions and understand the people we met on the tours, at the hostel and in the restaurants.  The next morning we woke up to both the distant sounds of people still partying for the Independence Day as well as a rooster.  This rooster did not stop making noise for at least two hours.  I always thought roosters weren’t supposed to awaken people until the sun came up.  Farzad kept commenting that he was going to find the rooster and lock it in a room and turn the lights on.  When we finally did get out of bed, we met with a group of people to visit what is called the Lagunas Altiplanicas which included a National Reserve for Flamingos that existed in the middle of Salt Flats and water.

Gradually we made our way towards higher altitude which started to make me feel really sick.  Sometimes my love of nature makes my mind wander into these unrealistic fantasies of say….devoting all of my free time to learning every trail in the San Gabriel Mountains of Southern California and becoming an expert on plant life.  It’s just not going to happen.  Nor am I ever likely to hike the Appalachian Mountains or do any other such great hikes that have always fascinated me.  Five minutes out of the van on our hike at high altitude and I was nauseas and immobilized by the cold weather.  The scenery was incredible, but I’m sure I would have enjoyed it much more without the sudden migraine and dizziness.  I had to remain in one place while my friends walked on.

The next morning we woke up at 3:30 in the morning for a tour that only left at 4am.  This is because we had to take a two hour drive to see geysers that are only active for about two hours or less in the early morning.  This morning I wouldn’t have minded the rooster so much.  I tried to sleep a little on the way to the geysers, but I could not find a comfortable position as I sat next to the window in a freezing van.  I couldn’t get warm.  For some reason, we decided to wear our bathing suits under our clothes thinking we were going to go to hot springs and not really understanding what we were doing that day.  Thankfully, I was wearing many layers and brought my heavy coat.  The guys didn’t.   Once again we were in high altitude.  I left the van to walk around the geysers but couldn’t wait to return to the van.  This was the coldest I had felt in some time and once again, I felt some nausea from the altitude.

After the geysers, the three of us sat in the van and propped our heads up against the seats in front of us and fell in and out of sleep.  When I woke up we came to this small village to eat homemade empanadas and sopaipillas.

I just knew at the end of the day that I’ll never be the type to really put my backpack on and face real challenges in nature.  The extremes of experiencing the desert sun and then the ice and the wind in addition to the altitude changes really wore me out.  But something about this exhaustion caused me to think about how maybe I don’t need to push myself anyway.  I actually felt pleased with the idea of going back to Santiago to rest.  I mean usually I am notorious for planning my next trip or wanting more adventure…more time away, but this time I just felt like four days in the desert was enough.  And I also felt fortunate.  I saw some amazing places that maybe some people will never see.  I don’t need to be the authority on nature or the great adventurer.  And in relation to other parts of my life, I thought about how I also don’t need to be the great artist or teacher.  Much of my time in Santiago has been spent sort of pressuring myself to reinvent myself and recover for all of my years not going after what I wanted.   If anything, all I was really feeling at the moment was weak.  In regards to coming to South America, My friend Roxana likes to tell me that we don’t need the gold medal and that it’s enough that we showed up.  The desert knocked me out.  The thing on my mind most was how much I wanted to take better care of my health especially before attempting big hikes or adventures and especially after seeing my friend black out without warning before I left.

Leaving the desert, I realized how I actually feel satisfied for once in my life.  I have enough, is a little phrase that kept playing in my head on the way home.  Maybe it’s that I am finally really adjusting to being in South America or that I have been away from my life in the States long enough to let go of a lot of things.

I think mostly what I’ve come to terms with lately is that I don’t need to do it all.  That I’m really happy with what I have done and what I am doing.  Having my friend come all the way from Brazil and having Roxana plan such a great surprise for my birthday also made me feel satisfied with the people in my life.  I’m not sure I have ever felt this way.  That in itself is the biggest accomplishment for me.  Two birthdays ago in Sedona was much different.

4th of July….and Being a Vegetarian

Yesterday we celebrated our own 4^th of July (it was actually the 3^rd, but it was the best we could do) by having a BBQ in the park.  This time Roxie had all of our plans colored coded in an excel spreadsheet (which I didn’t read and was reprimanded for!).  We didn’t have fireworks, but at least we had good food (and an abundance of rice).  I was specifically told to make rice for 19 people and of course only one serving of it was actually eaten and I think that was just someone being nice.   One of the guys showed me how he had taken some of it: “See, I’m having some, Jen.”  I looked and he had taken a small sympathy spoonful.  I knew no one was going to eat that stuff.  Rice is like that side dish that you eat last because there isn’t anything else good leftover…or, if you are vegetarian like me.  So now I have rice for 18 people sitting in my refrigerator.

I love how whenever I go to events that involve eating that people assume because I’m a vegetarian, I can be satisfied by just eating some lettuce.  “Oh, there will be something there for you to eat,” is usually the response I get and usually it’s like a piece of cheese or something that someone pulls out of the refrigerator at the last minute.

Vegetarian food here has no imagination.  In the States, a Vegetarian sandwich (commonly called the “health sandwich” as my friend always likes to point out and laugh at – this could just be a California thing) has things like avocado and sprouts and other vegetables carefully chosen for the perfect combination, on some kind of thick toasted wheat bread usually with seasonings and flavor.  The sandwich actually has weight to it and some creativity.  Here, it’s like someone bought a bag of plain white wonder bread and cut up a tomato and put some pieces of canned corn or other such flavorless vegetables inside it.  It feels as if the chef took their inspiration from cleaning out the refrigerator and figuring they could either throw the stuff in the dog’s bowl or make a sandwich.   No taste, no thought…It just sucks.  No one can fathom a meal without some kind of beef or chicken or pork.  The other day I ordered what was called “The Vegetarian” from a small restaurant in between classes.  I only had a vague idea of what that consisted of and assumed it was a salad of some sort, but I was perplexed when I opened up the box while I walked down the street and noticed there was a heap of chicken on top.  I took the box back and explained that there must be some mistake and so the guy just opened the box and grabbed all of the chicken and gave the box back to me.  Needless to say, I make most of my food at home.

I declined meat from one of the guys at the BBQ yesterday, telling him that I don’t eat meat and he didn’t hesitate to inform me that “that will change if you stay here,” but I have news for him; it won’t.

I haven’t eaten meat in almost 7 years now.  I try not to be a pain in the ass about it, but it’s been so long without meat that, I’m sorry, but I’m probably not going to start eating the stuff again at this point, no matter how much people try to tell me I need more protein and no matter how much I try to tell people I have my own sources of protein.  All I know is that my body feels much better without it and I rarely get sick anymore as opposed to before.

It’s funny to me how some people respond when I tell them I don’t eat meat.  Some people actually get quite defensive and edgy about it.  It’s strange to me.  It’s just food.  My mom tends to react this way and always adds “well, we eat meat here,” (referring to her and my dad) as if my decision is an attack on them.  She used to take it very personally in the beginning, insisting that I can eat her chicken, as if I had to choose between vegetarianism or my family.  Mostly, I think it’s just that she doesn’t appreciate her own lifestyle being challenged by her own kid.  And that’s why she has a tendency to announce to a roomful of people that her daughter doesn’t eat meat, and then she kind of waits around to see if anyone will join her in agreement of criticizing my highly “defiant” act that doesn’t jive with her own cooking.  It doesn’t matter how many years go by, my parents still react to me like I am 15 years old and trying to purposely disobey them by getting part of my body pierced.  Alas, I’m the youngest and I will never be seen as an adult.

My friend from the US recently sent me a box of foods and other odd things I am missing here.  The package included things like real organic peanut butter and organic cheese puffs which were all eaten in the first day of receiving the package.  Only in the US would they actually make cheese puffs organic.  And they do it just for people like me who claim to be all health conscious and assume…organic = healthy.  Its cheese puffs for god’s sake.

I want organic refried beans to be in his next package.  He thinks this is an unusual request.   He assumes that Chile must be the same as Mexico and he can’t wrap his head around the fact that beans aren’t a big deal down here.  I miss Mexican food.  Its not the same here and you can’t get beans in a can here without paying $4 and finding them at the giant grocery store across the city.   I don’t have the time and patience to always soak beans and make a dinner that takes 2 days when it normally only took me ten minutes in the States.

(So instead of paying $4, I make my friend pay $50 to send them from the US).  I know it really doesn’t make any sense.

We actually had warmer weather yesterday and so it was nice to be in the park and actually be able to be without a coat for part of the day.  Recently, it rained and so all of the mountains surrounding the city are now covered in snow:

My personal favorite…thanks to yoga…..

 Yes, we shamelessly painted our faces:

After the BBQ, the guy who is convinced that I will eat meat again, gave me a ride home.  I pleaded:  Please don’t make me ride the metro home (alone) with an American flag painted on my face…my poor non-meat eating self is bound to get into some kind of trouble!

In the spirit of the 4^th of July, this morning I gave one of my more advanced students a reading about the holiday from the New York Times called “Red, White and Blue and Many Other Colors.”  It was a sentimental article complete with quotes from the National Anthem about immigrants coming into the harbor in New York City for the first time and gazing at the Statue of Liberty.   The writer ended the article saying “God bless all of you on this great day and god bless America,“ and of course this made both of us laugh immediately.  I left his office and his last words to me were: “God bless!” while my other advanced student drew an arrow on his copy of the article and added “South” to “God Bless America.”  My less advanced student just looked at me, confused and asked “What’s a firecracker?”

 

Family and Friendship…

Yesterday was a great day.  I finally made it out of the city and went hiking with friends and friends of friends.  Roxana organized all of us to get together and go hiking for the day and have lunch in Pirque, a small town outside of Santiago.

Yesterday was one of those days where I couldn’t take anything too seriously.  Maybe its how being in nature makes me feel a little giddy, but I forgot how much good humor I find in all situations even if I have a tendency to laugh at maybe not the most appropriate times as well.  I remember camping with a friend of mine years ago in the desert, setting up our tent and going for a bike ride.  When we returned, all of our things were gone.  Our tent had blown away in the wind.  He was pissed.  I couldn’t stop laughing.  I remember him not being very pleased with my reaction.

I am pretty sure this comes from growing up on ridiculous comedies and maybe also the last 10 years of reality tv shows combined.  I was happy to sit in the back of the bus like a trouble maker scheming with my French friend and being disciplined by Roxana.  I swear she is such a leader and such a great organizer.  The price I pay for my sense of humor is that I am not a great leader, nor a good organizer.  In fact, I fail when it comes to those things much of the time.  I don’t have the personality to pull off what she does.  She even had all of us introduce ourselves and do that thing where you have everyone say one interesting thing about themselves.  I wanted her to have a clip board and a headset and pass out name tags too.

Friendship is so important to me.  It always has been.  I rarely get to see my family and to make up for it I have made exceptionally close friendships in my life with both men and women…they are like my replacement family.

I’m not sure if I consider my biological family close.  It bothers me.  I try to call my mom once a week.  I try, but I don’t always do it.  I haven’t seen my sister in almost 7 years and my brother…I haven’t seen him in at least 3 or more years and I only see my other brother due to the fact that he lives semi close to my parents, so when I see them maybe once a year, I usually see him as well.  Is this normal for us in the US?  My dad and I have never been very close, but his one wish for me was to actually write to my sister to say hi and break the ice a little between us.  Why weren’t we talking?  I have no idea.  I think it’s merely just a lack of consciousness we have for communication.  I feel my real family fading away in the dust and it bothers me immensely.

Sometimes I think about how years ago I couldn’t imagine never seeing my siblings…how they were such an integral part of my life.  How did I ever end up with this completely disconnected family?

I always remember the one time my brother came to California because of his job.  He just happened to visit me as well.  I met him at his hotel and we spent the evening together.  The next morning his flight was canceled and he irritatedly referred to the rest of the day together as “dead time.”  That kind of stung. But then at the same time I hear from so many people that know him about how much he talks about me and how much he thinks about me.  He isn’t the only person like this in my life.  Why can’t we just say how we feel to the actual person we have these feelings for?  And why is it easier to express it to someone else?  My mom always says, “You know your dad talks about you a lot,” but he isn’t talking about me to me so how would I know?  In addition to this, my family has always had a habit of insulting each other and its sort of an affectionate thing.  Tough love.  I kinda have a feeling that this is normal for many American families.

So much of American culture is based on independence.  If you are still living with your family after 20 years old then something is wrong with you…or at least that is what we assume.  I haven’t lived near my parents since I was 18 years old other than a small stretch of time when I needed to stay with them for financial reasons.  I missed out on a consistent relationship with my brother and his family and all of my nephews and my niece.  Suddenly my niece is 14 years old this year.  Suddenly my parents have grey hair and all kinds of medical problems.  When did they age?  I was never around long enough to witness all of the transitions.

Maybe I needed them more.  Maybe leaving them so young was actually a premature thing to do because the lack of them has made me seek it in others and I’ve maybe stayed in relationships way too long or formed bonds that maybe I shouldn’t have because of this.

At the same time, to appear needy at least in the US is completely unacceptable and so I was taught that I need to do it all on my own and I need to be proud of this.  I am proud of it.  I have done a lot just solo…more than I give myself credit for most of the time.  I’m definitely not afraid of being alone.  I can take care of myself and I can support myself just fine even if I slip up sometimes and get my Ipod stolen or forget my keys or have to go back to my apartment two or three times after I intended to leave to get something else.    One of my ex-boyfriends used to call me “two trips” because I couldn’t just leave the apartment the first time.  I’m not perfect.

I am thankful for Roxana because currently she is my stand in family and she does a good job of it.  She also does a good job of including all sorts of other people that are new here.  Our new addition was a guy from the States who lost his financial job during the beginning of the economic crisis in the US and changed his life becoming a yoga instructor and looking towards spirituality instead of the American dream.  That’s not much of a unique story these days.

I think I would absolutely go crazy if I didn’t have at least one good friend here that I could really communicate with inside out.  I’m realizing so much how I actually do need people in my life and maybe being so overly independent isn’t all that its cracked up to be.

The mountains were beautiful yesterday and it was so nice to breathe fresh air again.  Between that and having laughed all day, I feel somewhat renewed from all of it.

“The Whale Soul Trip”

Yesterday, I went on another trip through a tour group called EcoChile.  Once again, a guide met me and a friend of mine at our apartments early in the morning, this time in a small, white nondescript car, faulty seat belts and all.   You would think, if you were a tourist new to Chile that the start of this tour could be a little sketchy, especially as we kept pulling over to the side of the road without explanation so Mario, our guide could get CD’s and other things out of the trunk of his car.  But, having already gone to the mountains with this group, I knew it was just their “way.”

The thing I like about this tour company is that they are completely different than any other tour I’ve been on.  For one, most tours are a little more formal, at least in the United States.  There is usually a van with the tour company name, some kind of introduction prepared, maybe some information about safety precautions.  So that said, I wouldn’t even exactly call this a tour, rather you feel like you are just hanging out with your friend who is excited about showing you his favorite spots.  But the “friend” you are “hanging out with,” you feel has a love of the land and also has a lot of knowledge not only about the details of the plants you are seeing or the history of the area, but also of how to gage peoples’ need for space in each place.   All of this is projected in a very genuine way rather than from scripted words.

Most tours I have ever been on are sort of overwhelming.  I can never wait till I have time away from the guide.  And there’s usually too much information, too much standing in one place.  But, so far, these guys have given me so much time to enjoy and explore each place without having to be reminded that we are on some schedule.  And, I think that’s their thing.  They want you to have your own experience of these natural places and they want you to have a very spiritual experience as well.  So, in the appearance of them seeming amateur, this actually adds to the character of the trip.

So, this time we were headed for the coast.  It took about an hour and a half of driving through grape fields and struggling to listen to Mario’s Chilean reggae music over the sound of his rickety car.

Our first stop was the town of Quintay.  Quintay is a tiny fishing village south of Valparaiso.  Really beautiful.  Had the weather not been so dreary yesterday, I’m sure it would have been even better in the sunshine.

Apart from the beauty of this place, is the fact that this used to be the biggest whaling station in Chile until 1967 when all countries with the exception of Japan and Norway (who claim “Scientific Investigation” as their sole purpose) signed a treaty to end all whale hunting.  In its most lucrative year, the whaling company in Quintay killed approximately 1,600 whales for oil and baleen to be used for the production of soaps, combs, detergent and other products.  I was told that the sea was once completely red with blood and the odor from the town was unbearable.  Today, the remains of the whaling company look like an abandoned concentration camp.  There is just an eerie skeleton of a warehouse left.

The rest of the warehouse has been transformed into a museum showing photos of its whaling days along with information put out by the International Whaling Committee about wildlife conservation.  Coincidentally, the old man selling tickets for entrance into the museum was a former worker of the whaling company.

EcoChile likes to call this trip “The Whale Soul Trip,” which could easily fool you into thinking you were going to be seeing live whales.  I don’t know if it was the overcast weather yesterday, but after learning about what this place was once used for and hearing the stories of how people would put explosives in the mouths of the whales to blow them up…the place just seemed sad.  So I can see how you could feel the “soul” of the whale as you try to imagine how much life was wasted and disregarded in this place and how during that time people were probably just ignorant of their actions?

Aside from the ex whaling company, the coast was amazing.  Just as in Santiago, there were so many stray dogs looking for affection.  One followed us along our hike and sat with us on the rocky cliff.

The coast for me looked a lot like Big Sur in Northern California.

Further down the coast, we drove to a few other beaches…still waiting for the sun…

Surrounding the beach is a forest of Pine and Eucalyptus trees (not native to Chile) and Mario took us to a natural tree house that felt like you were in one of the Lord of the Rings movies.

Finally, we ended up in a town further South called Algarrobo where there were more sandy beaches.  The sun barely came out at the end of the day.  We commented on how we were busy climbing on all the rocks while Mario meditated. Again, not your typical precautionary tour guide.

We finished the day with gelato before heading back to Santiago. When I was home, I made a tea with some mint leaves that I collected from the forest.

Muy relajante!

First Week in Chile

I’m starting this blog because I need a creative exercise.  It has been a while since I was painting daily and in the last year or so, I’ve really abandoned my art – so, in the spirit of Artist’s Way, this is my attempt to start somewhere…to just write something and also to record my experience here in my new home of Santiago.

So, as of now – all I know is that:

1.  I have a contract (that hasn’t quite been made official) to teach English here until December.

2.  I’m determined to learn Spanish.

3.  I want to travel and explore South America.

4.  I want to begin again doing something creative, artistic…

Ultimately, I’m still searching for the best art form to do…??  What?  There was always a separation for me and my art in the past that was so uncomfortable to me…so not right.  I know they say that there is always struggle in creating art, but shouldn’t there feel like some flow from whatever is inside me to the physical outcome called art?  I never felt it.  For example, I want to feel like painting flows from me as easily as I desire to eat, sleep, love…  It always just felt like work to me.  And, yet I still feel like I need to do something.  But, what?  I’m choosing to start with where my passion has always been and with which I have usually ignored or not given enough credit because there has never been any physical product to see from traveling, seeing places, meeting people, moving around in the world, being outside in the mountains, the desert…or just doing something I love versus what I have I always thought I should be doing.   Why not start doing what I love and stop telling myself how great it is to be pacing around my studio with my paintbrush wondering if this year my paintings will sell…if I will sell just one?  or…if I will be in this show or that show….or am I doing enough work…?   meeting the right people? …and not just that, but just feeling so frustrated about how limited it feels to sit in my studio and paint…there’s something more I desire from art…but I don’t know what it is and maybe it will just turn out to be nothing…we’ll see..

Still…I have to know if it’s the physical art that I desire to make or if it’s just that I have lived my life in fear of doing and enjoying the things that I truly desire and that what I really need to do is just make my life like art.  I think that to express myself as an artist, I first have to just be honest with myself…do what I really love and try to put the rest aside as much as I can.  Maybe it’s that simple.

Yesterday, I went to the Andes Mountains for the first time ever.  I’ve wanted to do this for years.  Through, a group called EcoChile that takes people to places that they don’t normally see or can’t normally get it…I went on an all day hike to the Glaciers in El Cajon del Maipo about an hour and a half from Santiago.  I probably wasn’t totally in shape for the hike.  My legs hurt today and my face is completely sunburnt, but I had so much fun!