Monday, November 30, 2009
Another Year, Another Day
My birthday party was, well different. Barbara and Pablo set up a table in the back yard and we ate tuna sandwiches and jam made out of what I think is a type of melon. There was a bag in the frig all week that said ‘Cuidado, Christian no mira!’ (Be careful Christian, don’t look!). I couldn’t have guess that it was a cake. Chocolate with cherries, and was unlike the other cake I’ve eaten here, which is much moister. Pablo brought out rum so we all poured a little of that on our pieces to wet them down a bit.
I actually turned 19 while I was climbing in the Andes. That night Pablo was taking a couple out for what is here called ‘night trekking’ so Francisca and I tagged along. It turned out to be a grueling four hour excursion up into the mountain range above Pisco Elqui. We hiked so high above our town we couldn’t see its lights. And as we did the stars really became beautiful in the amazingly clear skies. I don’t think I’ll forget that birthday any time soon.
Things are really winding down in the schools. Tomorrow night there is an end of the year concert with all the little schools of the valley. Each performs a combination of skits or plays or songs. It’s not a competition but more a celebration of what they’ve learned all year. The themes range from Gabriela Mistral to Legends of the Valley. Ill be sure to take lots of pictures. Also America is learning to crawl. It first started with her shoving her forehead into the floor and flailing her legs. She found out she can use her hands too, so she’s pretty good at wiggling. But the more she grunts the better she gets. Oh and I've been able to post about 40 pictures to my Picasa Web Album. The website is picasaweb.google.com and you'll have to search for my profile (Christian.J.E.Turner). Thats all for now, God bless.
Monday, November 16, 2009
How to Find a Feather
Two nights ago I stayed over at a family’s house who I have become great friends with since being here. I originally met Maria Eugenia while working at La Esquela Ortiga where she works part time. She and her husband Lucas have three children: Valentina (14), Diego (7), and Elsie (4), all of whom adore me. They live about thirty minutes higher in the valley than I do in a little rustic cottage. Though both Maria and Lucas were raised in large cosmopolitan cities, they chose a quieter life here in the Valle de Elqui where Lucas has begun raising goats. I’ve been over a few times, but this time I spent the night which I think was a nice break for Pablo and Barbra. We made bread and barbequed chicken, bathed in the river, and had long talks by candle light; but I most enjoyed a peaceful nights sleep devoid of regeton music.
In the morning, after a breakfast of porridge, I decided to go for a walk along a canal that flows through the upper portion of their land. Tall and twisted trees grow on either side of the waterway, and I felt a sort of energy walking in their shade. My feet became muddy and my clothes covered in plant matter, but what’s an experience if some of it doesn’t stick to you?
After going across a few properties, I spotted some structures on a hill above me. First I entered a stable, inside was all charcoal as though it was burned out. I rested in its coolness away from the sun and thought about continuing along the canal. But the mystery of the others intrigued me. Just above rested a long adobe building, which may have been a barn. I circled the structure and found, to my dismay, that all the windows and doors were boarded up. The only viable entrance was a bard door that was open about 12 feet off the ground. I used a window sill to scale the building and was able to poke my head in the opening, but found that there was an overturned table blocking my view.
On the way down I noticed that the shutters on the window budged a little. With little expectation I gave the board a shove and heard a thud as the wood creaked inward. I climbed through into a dark room and found a rock, what was holding the window shut, on the floor. The only other thing in the room was a poster of a Catholic Virgin on the wall. I explored the three other rooms of the building by the light that fell through the cracks of the ceiling above me. All were situated in a row with a hallway running through them. The second contained a pile of dust and trash with two brooms and a hand made ladder. The third had a more rusted cans and a bed frame, the last, heaps of decaying barbed wire and another ladder.
I remembered that I had left my water bottle and notebook out side the house and thought I didn’t expect that anyone would be passing by, it would have been a definite sign that someone was in the house. I brought them inside and went to explore the rooms once more. Just as I was leaving the barbed wire room to go, I noticed a square hole in the corner of the ceiling. I used the larger ladder, which was difficult to maneuver because of its weight, the barbed wire, and the room’s small size, and positioned it under the opening. It had a few rungs missing and on the way up another one broke. When I entered the attic, a wave of dank heat engulfed me. Pigeons the size of crows fluttered out through the holes in the roof as I creaked along the floorboards. There were feather and poop everywhere; in some places so thick I couldn’t see the round. The walls were stained with long cascades of feces. There were wasps everywhere, humming in the heat. Old hives hung fossilized to the rafters or lay strewn amongst the feathers. Only when I walked to the barn door could I breathe fresh air again.
In the morning, after a breakfast of porridge, I decided to go for a walk along a canal that flows through the upper portion of their land. Tall and twisted trees grow on either side of the waterway, and I felt a sort of energy walking in their shade. My feet became muddy and my clothes covered in plant matter, but what’s an experience if some of it doesn’t stick to you?
After going across a few properties, I spotted some structures on a hill above me. First I entered a stable, inside was all charcoal as though it was burned out. I rested in its coolness away from the sun and thought about continuing along the canal. But the mystery of the others intrigued me. Just above rested a long adobe building, which may have been a barn. I circled the structure and found, to my dismay, that all the windows and doors were boarded up. The only viable entrance was a bard door that was open about 12 feet off the ground. I used a window sill to scale the building and was able to poke my head in the opening, but found that there was an overturned table blocking my view.
On the way down I noticed that the shutters on the window budged a little. With little expectation I gave the board a shove and heard a thud as the wood creaked inward. I climbed through into a dark room and found a rock, what was holding the window shut, on the floor. The only other thing in the room was a poster of a Catholic Virgin on the wall. I explored the three other rooms of the building by the light that fell through the cracks of the ceiling above me. All were situated in a row with a hallway running through them. The second contained a pile of dust and trash with two brooms and a hand made ladder. The third had a more rusted cans and a bed frame, the last, heaps of decaying barbed wire and another ladder.
I remembered that I had left my water bottle and notebook out side the house and thought I didn’t expect that anyone would be passing by, it would have been a definite sign that someone was in the house. I brought them inside and went to explore the rooms once more. Just as I was leaving the barbed wire room to go, I noticed a square hole in the corner of the ceiling. I used the larger ladder, which was difficult to maneuver because of its weight, the barbed wire, and the room’s small size, and positioned it under the opening. It had a few rungs missing and on the way up another one broke. When I entered the attic, a wave of dank heat engulfed me. Pigeons the size of crows fluttered out through the holes in the roof as I creaked along the floorboards. There were feather and poop everywhere; in some places so thick I couldn’t see the round. The walls were stained with long cascades of feces. There were wasps everywhere, humming in the heat. Old hives hung fossilized to the rafters or lay strewn amongst the feathers. Only when I walked to the barn door could I breathe fresh air again.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Its all in the Lighting
I meet Daniel on the corner of our streets at 9:30, the usual meting place and time. Tonight we had been invited over to the house of a bartender, Diego, we had meet the night before. We haden't really undrstood the directions he'd given us, but this is small town, most people know each other. His day job is that of a highschool teacher here in the valley, and he was interested in talking to us about what we do here. I get the vibe that he has an unwilling acceptance of us, like most teachers. I feel they probably put us in the same category as all he other tourists who pack the camping grounds for the weekend, squander their money in the bars, litter the streets, and leave with some really unappreciated pictures of mountains and sunsets.
A man named Herman saw us walking on down the street, he said if we wern't doing anything tonight his nephew was having people over, we said we had other plans and continued walking to 'El Tosoro'(a German resturant/camping ground), the usual meting place for the volenteers and young germans of Pisco. I failed to mention that since I don't have a cell phone, everything is sort of spur of the moment, and this is the best place to find someone who knows, for example, where Diego lives.
All of the Germans i knew working, so we waited out front (their shift ends at 10). Strangely, Chile is a strange place but no Chilean will ever tell you that, Herman drove by and asked again if we were sure we didn´t want a life to his nephew, Diego's, house. I can't see how you could call anything coincidence here. We agreed and he drove us a few minutes up at dirt road into the valley where we camped two weekend ago. It was now dark; as we started up an almost nonexistant rocky road, Hermans car stalled. He pointed to some lights a hundred meters above us (i think in metric now), and said we'd just have to walk the rest of the way.
We reached a house on a plateau and saw a roaring bonfire in the distance with two shadows standing next to it. I've learned that in ambiguous stiuations like this, its best to just shout '¡Hola Amigos!' They shouted back something muffled in the night air. I was relieved to find that when we neared the figues they were Diego and Marco (a twenty something German who seems to know 'where the party at').
The night held a few incredible stories about how Diego drag races muscle cars in the dessert below San Pedro, how he encountered a jaguire while camping alone in the Andies, how back at home (Easter Island) he and his friends surf down grassy slopes on banana trunks wearing only a loin cloth and decorative fethers. As the shame of living a relatively unadventurous life was beginning to set in, I learned that the real reason he wanted us at his house was to see the moon rise.
Over a horison of black jagged mountains sat a mass of whispy clouds that were being slowly illuminated by an unseen light. The stars over the east began to fade, a large red ring formed in the cloud and a bright white orb at its center broke the peak. As the moon rose we stood, chuckling at the rediculousness of the bearty. The mountain range behind us became a projecton screen for the bands of moonlight were striping through the layers of clouds at the oppisite end of the sky. The rock mountains became a pool of rippling light and dark stripes. Diego explained that the ring, which is now shades of red, orange, yellow, and blue, is a moonbow formed by the light of the moon through the clouds. I took a few pictures, but it was difficult to get the color of the Moonbow without over exposing and loosing the shape of the clouds. Some aspects of nature refuse to be captured. God Bless.
A man named Herman saw us walking on down the street, he said if we wern't doing anything tonight his nephew was having people over, we said we had other plans and continued walking to 'El Tosoro'(a German resturant/camping ground), the usual meting place for the volenteers and young germans of Pisco. I failed to mention that since I don't have a cell phone, everything is sort of spur of the moment, and this is the best place to find someone who knows, for example, where Diego lives.
All of the Germans i knew working, so we waited out front (their shift ends at 10). Strangely, Chile is a strange place but no Chilean will ever tell you that, Herman drove by and asked again if we were sure we didn´t want a life to his nephew, Diego's, house. I can't see how you could call anything coincidence here. We agreed and he drove us a few minutes up at dirt road into the valley where we camped two weekend ago. It was now dark; as we started up an almost nonexistant rocky road, Hermans car stalled. He pointed to some lights a hundred meters above us (i think in metric now), and said we'd just have to walk the rest of the way.
We reached a house on a plateau and saw a roaring bonfire in the distance with two shadows standing next to it. I've learned that in ambiguous stiuations like this, its best to just shout '¡Hola Amigos!' They shouted back something muffled in the night air. I was relieved to find that when we neared the figues they were Diego and Marco (a twenty something German who seems to know 'where the party at').
The night held a few incredible stories about how Diego drag races muscle cars in the dessert below San Pedro, how he encountered a jaguire while camping alone in the Andies, how back at home (Easter Island) he and his friends surf down grassy slopes on banana trunks wearing only a loin cloth and decorative fethers. As the shame of living a relatively unadventurous life was beginning to set in, I learned that the real reason he wanted us at his house was to see the moon rise.
Over a horison of black jagged mountains sat a mass of whispy clouds that were being slowly illuminated by an unseen light. The stars over the east began to fade, a large red ring formed in the cloud and a bright white orb at its center broke the peak. As the moon rose we stood, chuckling at the rediculousness of the bearty. The mountain range behind us became a projecton screen for the bands of moonlight were striping through the layers of clouds at the oppisite end of the sky. The rock mountains became a pool of rippling light and dark stripes. Diego explained that the ring, which is now shades of red, orange, yellow, and blue, is a moonbow formed by the light of the moon through the clouds. I took a few pictures, but it was difficult to get the color of the Moonbow without over exposing and loosing the shape of the clouds. Some aspects of nature refuse to be captured. God Bless.
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