cerros de vida

Valparaíso has been home now for more than two weeks. This is a beautiful small city, with palm trees and seagulls and incredible night views of the city's hills containing thousands of small lights.

I have stepped foot in all of Pablo Neruda's houses open to the public. Qué rico! Who else would think to collect ship figureheads that lean toward views of the sea, or stone murals, or nautical instruments? He never ceases to amaze. I've been to Santiago twice, and while impressed by the garden-covered hills and weirdly clean and artful metro system (which made me nostalgic for New York, even for the hot hot hot elevator ride up at the 181st station on the 1), don't think I'd like to spend too much more time in the sprawling Westernized capital. I've also walked the streets of Valpo, learning empanada places and markets and how to cook fresh fish and collectivo systems and wine stores. Me encanta.

Today, I climbed a mountain. !! Meg and I didn't think we could do it, but after four hours (half an hour less than the suggested time), we reached the cumbre (summit) of La Campana. I can't even begin to describe the view: imagine sunsoaked rocks glittering with coloful graffitti of climbers past and present, with the Andes lined pristinely behind and beautiful farmland beneath. Fed by an incredible sense of accomplishment, especially given the fact that I haven't exercised since my leisurely mountain bike ride to las ruinas near San Pedro.

I've thought a lot about languages while here, and how it's so odd that a specific set of sounds that we produce with our mouths somehow become imbued with meaning, to the point that communication in our native tongue is instant recognition of these sounds. Learning Spanish, I feel like I have to hold the entire word in my mouth and feel every letter, and then, in true Chilean form, let some letters sink into my tongue before speaking. Also, I take verb conjugation for granted much too often. The rhythms of this language are beautiful but also tiring for me to try to imitate, and I'm realizing that when I lapse into English with Britain and Meg I take comfort not only in the ease of communication but also in the tones and lilt of our conversation, ingrained in my vocal cords from birth.

I'm also thinking about history (of course), and how Salvador Allende, first freely electd socialist president of the world, was born in this city. I've been fortunate enough to be able to pass as an instructor at Britain and Meg's workplace and so have been taking advantage of their library, and am now reading Missing by Thomas Hauser, which is obviously biased but has a lot of succinct information about the fucked up way that the U.S. government was involved in the Chilean economy and politics--in the name of preserving the free world--in the ´70s. I know it would take a lifetime and more to parse together how these policies play out today, but I want to dig deeper here, even though I'm almost positive that whatever searching I do will not result in any pride in the country of my birth. The copper mines and towns that I saw near San Pedro are taking on a different color in my memory, knowing about the nationalization of copper mines and the profound changes wrought both by Allende and the U.S.

I am still in furious search of a WWOOF farm, and might have to put my fledgling Spanish to use soon. Wish me luck.

off the radar (i hope)

Ooh, stolen pictures. I <3 google.



Arequipa, at the foot of a volcano. Second biggest city in Lima, home of conservative movements.



Santa Catalina Monastery in Arequipa: secluded Spanish looking for redemption in conquered territory... (my interpretation)



Arica! Driest city on earth? Contested battle spot between Bolivia, Peru, and Chile? Place of surfing.



Valpo! Pablo Neruda, how I love you and your birth town.

a thousand five hundred thirty one and a half miles from lima

Al fin, Valparaiso!

This past week has been a whirlwind of hostels, bus rides, and beautiful cities I will probably never see again. My camera was stolen in Lima by a small child who is excellent at distraction techniques, and for the first time I was very regretful that I did not have a camera because I have seen some of the most beautiful landscapes of my life this week. I will try to find some pictures online to steal for this blog, to keep everyone entertained.

Last Friday, I took an overnight bus from Lima to Arequipa, the second biggest city in Peru. I saw the Santa Catalina monastery there, whose bright colors and orange trees were both pleasant and strange--to think that the Spanish ordered this city to be built on a newly "conquered" territory, and to imagine that these nuns and monks would wind their way to this new world to live in seclusion, makes me believe that the beauty of these monasteries comes also from a need to physically manifest tranquility that perhaps was a myth in reality.

From Arequipa, which does not sit in vain at the foot of a volcano (from a quote), I took a 7-hr bus to Tacna, and then a 2-hr collectivo across the border to Arica, most of which time was spent going through emigration and immigration customs. Arica is supposedly the driest city on earth, which would not explain the two large fountains in the city center, and sits at the base of El Murro, a large cliff with a military museum perched on top of it. You have a beautiful view of the red and white plaza filled with palm trees (plus the seemingly wasteful fountains) from the top.

Arica to San Pedro de Atacama was another overnight bus journey, though this one included a very fun 4 in the morning stop at a police checkpoint where a man in a yellow vest poked at my clothes with a stick. San Pedro de Atacama, a town of dirt roads, hostels, and tour companies willing to take you as far as Bolivia to see what the earth has to offer, is in the midst of some of the most gorgeous scenery I have ever seen in my life. A fellow solo traveler and I took an afternoon mountain biking ride, which took us through narrow gaps between incredible rock formations and beautiful sand dunes. I also splurged and got a tour to the Salar de Atacama, the biggest salt basin in Chile, which was breathtaking. Such blue, blue water, with these barely pink flamingoes grazing among white salt rocks casting shadows into shadows, all against a background of active volcanoes and volcanic rock formations colored orange and red by the sunset and a clear, clear sky. Absolutely incredible. The tour guide told me he would send me pictures so hopefully I will have some up soon.

Finally, I boarded a bus bound for Valparaiso, where I met very generous people AND Britain and Meg, roommates from New York! (Roommate rendezvous count has increased to 3, with one in the coming and another possible!) Valparaiso is magnificent. The city is spread over rolling hills and spills down into the port by the sea. The views at night are like nothing else and everything is bright and colorful. I think I would like to spend some time here, but I am also anxious to find a farm.

Traveling solo (sola) here has been an experience as well. While I was a bit anxious about it, there were absolutely no problems at all; in fact, I feel like people were more willing to help me out when they found out I was on my own. There is a surprising number of other solo or couple travelers who are spending up to a year traveling South America or the world, and I feel like I've stumbled onto this whole new culture where people ask each other¨"so how long have you been on the road" or "where is the cheapest place to do laundry in this town". There are some ridiculous people in this world, and I'm starting to realize that if you put your mind to it, anything really is possible (motorbiking across the world? climbing active volcanoes? giving up a banking career for endless travel? why of course!). Who knows where this adventure will take me next.

ciao, lima

Today, I had lunch in the Paseo de la Solidaridad,a few blocks from my hostel (not the Red Psycho Llama; I moved to one that was just down the street, half the price--20 soles, or around $7, for one night!--and much more social on Tuesday). I wondered what solidarity they were referring to, and what this paseo was doing in the middle of ritzy Miraflores. I haven't even begun to figure out the idiosyncrasies of this city.

This is my last day in busy busy Lima; tonight I board a (luxury?) bus to Arequipa, the White City that I'm hoping resembles--at least a little!--Gondor from Lord of the Rings. I might have to find a white horse to ride into the city on.

Lima has taken some getting used to; my NYC street crossing instincts are actually more harmful than helpful since cars here just don't care at all about pedestrians. This is worlds away from Pine Ridge, and I'm starting to realize that while I enjoy the convenience and the closeness and the forced camaraderie of large cities, I don't think I could ever really be happy living amongst 10 million other people in one imagined community (Benedict Anderson!). Space matters. Lima is gray and a little grimy, though I'm staying in the nicer part so there's lots of cool buildings and apartments around--plus the beautiful Pacific, which is surprisingly clean here, even in the city.

I've spent the last couple of days with Joanna, a suitemate from the past (we can begin the suitemate rendezvous count at one, so far), who was doing research on the reception of the HPV vaccine in the outskirts of Lima. We've had four hour lunches, many walks, some pisco sours, some salsa-dancing, and lots of coffee. I'm eternally grateful for her Spanish language skills, and slowly working on mine--last night I met Isabelle from France, who is staying in the same hostel as I am. Our conversation was a mixture of Spanish, French, and English, which was incredibly confusing and wonderful. Now I just have to find some Chinese travelers, which may be a little more difficult.

I'm ready to move on, and see what the conversative hub (or so I hear) of Peru has to offer--glorification of colonization? We shall see.