I´m sitting in the airport right now, with my Vincent Van Gogh style earpatch, awaiting my flight home. It´s two weeks early and without a trip to Antarctica, but for even more than that there is a weight of sadness.
The last time I travelled for a bit, I was gone for six months, a fair bit of time. However, I never stayed and settled down, so when my time came to go home, I eagerly awaited my flight. I can say I was 100 percent excited to go home.
However that´s not the feeling I have now. I spent a long time here in Chile and I have a deep affection for the people and the place that allowed me to share the last 9 months with them. I feel sad, because I know that my Chilean mom, Pati, will not make it up to the states to see me. I can only hope that she saves enough so that Pato and the Patis can make it. The most likely thing is that I will have to go their to see them, and with the looming possibility of a real job, and only two weeks vacation, I will be seeing very little of them
I guess these are just the realities of travel, and I knew that they played a part, but I was unaware how strong my attachment and relationship would be to these people. I mean I almost cried on the bus today and that´s really saying something considering I didn´t cry for either of my grandparent´s deaths. I´m not sure what it is about my makeup, but I just don´t break down much.
So with a heavy heart, I´m heading to my gate. I´ll sit down, probably text my mom to let her know that I´m on my way, and then I´ll take off. I´m sure that my sadness will be lifted when I get home and see my mom at the airport pickup, with Cali hanging out the window. And when I get home and have a few beers with my brother and the crew, but it´s definitely the first time that I´ve really left part of my heart in some place since Hawaii when I was a kid. What´s even stranger is that I seem to be enjoying this weight of melancholy, because even though it´s a normally negative emotion it comes from a huge emotional gain. The Pati family is a group I will never ever forget, and a family that I already miss. I miss Pati cursing like a sailor, Claudio´s singing, Pati Sue and her prankster craziness, and Pati Paz and her sweet (albeit rarely shown) caring side. Even Pato, with whom I´ve spent very little time, I can only hope that I´ll here from him from time to time.
I just know I´ll be back.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Ear Muffs
Friday was not a good day, although at the start it had heaps of possibility. A perfect sized swell was on the way for my good bye weekend, we had the kick of party the next night, all my friends from Pichilemu were coming back into town and I was getting ready for Antarctica.
It just seemed to get better too, because I went down to Nacho´s place and found that he had fixed my board and not charged me for it. I have been surfing my single fin a lot lately so I was really looking forward to getting back on my thruster. I waited for the wind to die down and then I went out for a surf with brian to catch the last hours before dark.
It was really fun, and we were pretty much the only people out in the water. We spent two and a half hours swapping waves and having fun. It was even starting to get better as the sunset was approaching. The wind was continuing to lay down and the swell was starting to line up better and suddenly we found ourselves getting even better waves.
I was stoked and decided to stay out in the water longer because I´m leaving tomorrow and won´t get a chance to surf a wave like this for a long time. I then see this beautiful wave line up and I can tell that it´s just going to be an awesome wave, but I´m a little out of position so I scramble over to a spot further outside. I get there in time but I have to have a late takeoff and as I spin and go my hand slips and I dive headfirst into the water with my hands behind me. Normally I´d have my hands on my head and nothing would happen but this time my board corked up and the rail gave me a vicious blow right to the ear.
When I surfaced I was really dizzy so I immediately grabbed my board and went in. I could feel the dizziness dissappear but I was having a hard time hearing out of my ear. I figured that it wasn´t much and that I´d have it checked in the morning.
Chris and Val just had a baby girl, Emma, and were driving home from Santiago and I was invited to go over to their house and have a little surprise party for them. Everyone was sitting by the fire and hanging around when my ear started to hurt a bit, not a lot but enough to be somewhat disconcerting. I waited for Chris and Val to get back, I congratulated them and then quickly split and went to the hospital to have my ear checked out.
Ruptured ear drum
It has to be one of the worst sounding injuries, up there with punctured lung. This of course meant that I am done surfing for a while which severely depressed me. So I got back and sent a text message to my folks letting them know what happened that I was alright, but not calling them on Sunday because of the ear and the fact that I just wasn´t in the mood for talking. So what happens? Of course, they call.
Normally my parents have a great soothing effect, but this time they seemed to have forgotten it. I had been cleared for travel by the doctor but they didn´t even ask what he said and were somewhat persistent in trying to get me to skip out on Antarctica and just come home even though going to Antarctica has been something that I was really looking forward to doing. It would be really cool to see all the sea life down there, the leopard seals and the orcas and the blue whale (the biggest mammal in the world). I was already in a bad mood and since they weren´t doing anything but worsening it I was really curt and quickly got off the phone. Should I have been nicer? Yeah, probably but in that situation I think it is at least somewhat understandable.
It should have ended there, but the next day I go to the internet and rummage through my email to see that there is a message from the organizers of the Antarctica Cruise.
Its fucking cancelled.
So now I´m not able to do anything because I´m on meds, I have a ringing in my ear, my plans have fallen through and I have two weeks left to kill and plane tickets to the south of Argentina that aren´t really worth anything to me.
So you know what I´m going to do?
I´m going home. I´m going to go to the LanChile office and trade all my tickets in for the first flight home. So whoever´s around I should be home by the weekend. See you soon.
It just seemed to get better too, because I went down to Nacho´s place and found that he had fixed my board and not charged me for it. I have been surfing my single fin a lot lately so I was really looking forward to getting back on my thruster. I waited for the wind to die down and then I went out for a surf with brian to catch the last hours before dark.
It was really fun, and we were pretty much the only people out in the water. We spent two and a half hours swapping waves and having fun. It was even starting to get better as the sunset was approaching. The wind was continuing to lay down and the swell was starting to line up better and suddenly we found ourselves getting even better waves.
I was stoked and decided to stay out in the water longer because I´m leaving tomorrow and won´t get a chance to surf a wave like this for a long time. I then see this beautiful wave line up and I can tell that it´s just going to be an awesome wave, but I´m a little out of position so I scramble over to a spot further outside. I get there in time but I have to have a late takeoff and as I spin and go my hand slips and I dive headfirst into the water with my hands behind me. Normally I´d have my hands on my head and nothing would happen but this time my board corked up and the rail gave me a vicious blow right to the ear.
When I surfaced I was really dizzy so I immediately grabbed my board and went in. I could feel the dizziness dissappear but I was having a hard time hearing out of my ear. I figured that it wasn´t much and that I´d have it checked in the morning.
Chris and Val just had a baby girl, Emma, and were driving home from Santiago and I was invited to go over to their house and have a little surprise party for them. Everyone was sitting by the fire and hanging around when my ear started to hurt a bit, not a lot but enough to be somewhat disconcerting. I waited for Chris and Val to get back, I congratulated them and then quickly split and went to the hospital to have my ear checked out.
Ruptured ear drum
It has to be one of the worst sounding injuries, up there with punctured lung. This of course meant that I am done surfing for a while which severely depressed me. So I got back and sent a text message to my folks letting them know what happened that I was alright, but not calling them on Sunday because of the ear and the fact that I just wasn´t in the mood for talking. So what happens? Of course, they call.
Normally my parents have a great soothing effect, but this time they seemed to have forgotten it. I had been cleared for travel by the doctor but they didn´t even ask what he said and were somewhat persistent in trying to get me to skip out on Antarctica and just come home even though going to Antarctica has been something that I was really looking forward to doing. It would be really cool to see all the sea life down there, the leopard seals and the orcas and the blue whale (the biggest mammal in the world). I was already in a bad mood and since they weren´t doing anything but worsening it I was really curt and quickly got off the phone. Should I have been nicer? Yeah, probably but in that situation I think it is at least somewhat understandable.
It should have ended there, but the next day I go to the internet and rummage through my email to see that there is a message from the organizers of the Antarctica Cruise.
Its fucking cancelled.
So now I´m not able to do anything because I´m on meds, I have a ringing in my ear, my plans have fallen through and I have two weeks left to kill and plane tickets to the south of Argentina that aren´t really worth anything to me.
So you know what I´m going to do?
I´m going home. I´m going to go to the LanChile office and trade all my tickets in for the first flight home. So whoever´s around I should be home by the weekend. See you soon.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
What Goes Up, Must Come Down...
I´m back in Pichilemu and I have finished the Macchu Picchu hike. It was a lot of fun to wander around an area so pristine and severe. The mountains are rise quickly from the base of the valleys so the hiking was pretty up and down. What was surprising though, was how easily my mom and I got through everything. I had been told that this is a very difficult hike, that you go from very early in the morning (which is true) to very late in the day (not true, at least for us). Apart from the first day, we got up early every morning and finished early. On the infamous second day, which is the hardest day (with an exception for my mom and I, but I´ll get to that later), we got into camp a few minutes before 1 in the afternoon, and that included a 40 minute break for tea while we were going up the mountain. It was a difficult day, as it´s uphill the whole way, but having all that time in the afternoon gives ample time for recovery, stretching or whatever is needed for the next day. On the longest day, my mom and I got in at a hair past three and that was including an impromptu inaccurate history lesson of Peru that lasted about a half an hour in a cave while it rained pretty hard.
I was right to believe that the trail wasn´t as hard as I thought it could be, due to the lack of real hikers that do it, but I hadn´t imagined that the trail would be as easy as it was. I guess some people handle the elevation and the hiking differently than others. So while some people get a sense of accomplishment from hiking the 4 days at Macchu Picchu, I did not. It was a more pleasurable experience that really, for me, didn´t warrant a sense of accomplishment. It was a great time to wander through these gorgeous mountainscapes with my mom, a chance to roam through a unique ancient civilization´s ruins and wonder. It gave me time to just be, to think and relax. The thing that gave me a sense of accomplishment, ironically, was scaling (or better said, descending) Wayna Picchu, the short little hike on the steep mountain that sits behind the city of Macchu Picchu in the photos.
I had been told how beautiful Wayna Picchu is and I was already decided in my intent to go up to the top of the mountain and look over the city of Macchu Picchu. Just like Forrest Gump, I figured since I had gotten that far, I might as well keep on going. My mom knew this, and despite being tired from four days of hiking, she figured she´d go up there with me.
It was a pretty steep ascent, but with the ropes to pull yourself up and the shortness of the ascent, it was much easier than anything we had done during the hike. It didn´t take us more than forty minutes to get to the top. However, once we get to the top part, my mom starts to get a little nervous. Not really nervous, but enough where I see that she is, in fact afraid of heights. She handles it well though, and we ascend the last twenty meters without incident. It was not until we got on top, that I fully understood the depth of my mom´s fear of heights. On solid rocks she doesn´t even stand up and forces herself to do a weird crab crawl thing across. I am amused by this, but I don´t say anything, I think it´s just a normal fear. Then she looks at me, with the complete fear of god in her eyes and politely asks ¨Breene, can we please get down from here?¨ And so I immediately, take a picture of this. I´ll have to show it but its of my mom half smiling and cringing as she´s laying on this rock and the whole of Macchu Picchu is in the background. It´s a great picture.
Still not completely understanding what my mom is going through, I promise her that we´ll start our descent down. So I walk the circle, with my mom crabwalking behind me til we get to this little down step. Up until this point I hadn´t seen my mom deal with any descent so I am now about to realize how scared my mom is. The step that she is attempting is literally an eight inch step, that is cut from a sloped rock. Something that no one has any problem with, and it takes her about two minutes just to go down one step. Then we get to this little chute that leads to the main stairway down. It´s probably only 8 steps but it takes my mom five minutes to go down this little part. The worst part is when this goofy assed english guy blurts to his wife (I would have used ¨said¨ instead of blurts but this is one of those guys that can´t contain any of his thought and has a sort of word vomit thing going on, or as my old friend Train would say, Diarrhea of the mouth, so blurt seems to capture the manner of speak this guy has) about how if somebody fell it´s probably about 1000 meters to the water. Thanks, asshole, can´t you see my mom is taking half an hour on a 8 stair staircase. I of course don´t say this but, as politely as possible, ask him to just be quiet. He still doesn´t get it and says that he´s not rushing us and follows that up with some more word vomit about the height of the mountain. Miraculously, he decides to control his diarrhea of the mouth and my mom finishes her panicked, muscle twitching 8 stair descent to the main walkway. When we get down, there is a little break from stairs and it´s just a little path to the other side where there are more stairs. Of course my mom is hanging onto the wall for dear life as we go around. When we get to the next steps I let her go first, so I can guide her down. The steps aren´t very wide, probably about a meter, but they aren´t too narrow either. They aren´t even big steps, maybe only a foot down a peice. However if you look off to the side of them, there is an easy 300 meter shear drop. My mom has managed to keep herself in a state of controlled panic slithering backwards down the steps slowly, one by one. I´m carefully guiding her down, it´s not too bad because there is this other mother/son duo doing the exact same thing. It´s maybe 70 steps so it takes us a good while to get to the bottom. But before we get there, one of the rocks sticks out maybe 8 inches (an ENORMOUS distance for my mom at this point) forcing my mom to squeeze around it. We get to the bottom and my mom takes a break while I go to figure out the best way down. It´s just around the corner but this staircase is really steep and very long. I´d say it contains a good 150 stairs (small and narrow stairs). No one is behind us so we give it a go, this time though (At this point I´m trying to figure out the best way to guide my lovely panic stricken mother), I decide to go first, in the same fashion as my mom, slithering backwards so I can guide her every foot and give her some comfort of me being right below her to help her. It seems to be working, and we are making slow progress, but progress nonetheless.
Of course, we aren´t fast and it´s the middle of the day, so within 15 steps we have twenty people behind us. I tell people as kindly as possible, that they can´t pass while my mom is on the stairs and we´ll get out of their way as soon as possible. The guy that is right behind us (you in the orange shirt and dark beard, I will forever be thankful for being so kind) tells us not to worry and he proceeds to give my mom plenty of space and even make sure that no one passes him. There are little shelfs next to the stairs, like big stairs but they are about two meters high and wide, so I´m looking to get my mom on one of them to let everyone else pass. We get to the point where it´s completely safe to get my mom over there and I simply tell her that we are going to move to the left side and slowly slide off the stairs to let some people pass us by. ¨I am NOT going left!¨ my mom says. Okay so maybe we´ll just keep going then. I look up to explain to the guy behind my mom and before I can get anything out he says ¨no worries, take your time.¨ I was so happy to not have that chronic word diarrhetic hurrying us with his estimation of the distance of our possible fall. Especially since the stairs get even narrower. Now they are only two feet wide at the most and they have slightly broke from the wall giving the stairs a sense of being floating, which I correctly guessed was a bit disconcerting for my mom. But she maintains her poise, in midst of fright, and keeps slowly going down with my help guiding her. We finally get to the bottom of these steps and though I know that a lot awaits us, I am happy that my mom has safely descended the steepest part that doesn´t have any cables to hold on to. We drink a little from our water bottles and let the 30 or so people who have built up behind us pass.
It´s a good point because my mom can sit in this crevice and kind of get back her breath (even if she can´t let the terror go). I see a good size break and tell my mom that we are going to start up again, with me leading (because we have had the best succes, read least fear in my mom´s eyes). The first part is really steep, but it has a rope, so I go down and my mom slowly, but obviously more comfortable because of the rope, scales down as well.
This second part is decidedly different, consisting of narrow switchbacks instead of the direct downward descent of the stair. It also has a bit of bush to block the view of the potential fall, but with the mud it adds enough of an element of fear that my mom still is locked into the crawl mode. At this point we have found a rhythm though, and I am completely sure that we´ll be fine. I go down first, in the style that my mom would and then tell her what to expect. This part also offers a bit of room inbetween the steep stairs so that people can pass with some frequency and the building crowd won´t pressure my mom. So even though we are still going slowly, after a couple of switchbacks my mom is starting to relax (she isn´t relaxed though, but is less tense) and we are making good way. The cables are also giving her an added boost of confidence and two thirds of the way down the hill my mom is going down the hill forward and standing up like every one else. Still nervous and hesitant, so we don´t rush anything. We finally get to the bottom and my mom starts to cry. It´s definitely a unique cry, as it´s a combination of released fear, happiness of being down the hill, a sense of accomplishment for overcoming her fear of heights and a gratitude to me for being patient and positive with her the whole way down. I just hold her for a second, letting her catch her breath. I too am relieved, but since I´m not much of a crier, I just let out a couple of huge deep breaths. I then promise to never take my mom up a place like that again, and we both laugh.
It was weird how something like that, added so much to the trip. And although I never want to put my mom through it again, it was something completely unforgettable that allowed us to bond so much more. It added an importance or an urgency to the trip that hadn´t quite been stamped into the trip until that point. That part of the trip became so much more, like it was it´s own trip, separate from my living down here in Chile, because of those horrifying, amazing and special three hours.
I was right to believe that the trail wasn´t as hard as I thought it could be, due to the lack of real hikers that do it, but I hadn´t imagined that the trail would be as easy as it was. I guess some people handle the elevation and the hiking differently than others. So while some people get a sense of accomplishment from hiking the 4 days at Macchu Picchu, I did not. It was a more pleasurable experience that really, for me, didn´t warrant a sense of accomplishment. It was a great time to wander through these gorgeous mountainscapes with my mom, a chance to roam through a unique ancient civilization´s ruins and wonder. It gave me time to just be, to think and relax. The thing that gave me a sense of accomplishment, ironically, was scaling (or better said, descending) Wayna Picchu, the short little hike on the steep mountain that sits behind the city of Macchu Picchu in the photos.
I had been told how beautiful Wayna Picchu is and I was already decided in my intent to go up to the top of the mountain and look over the city of Macchu Picchu. Just like Forrest Gump, I figured since I had gotten that far, I might as well keep on going. My mom knew this, and despite being tired from four days of hiking, she figured she´d go up there with me.
It was a pretty steep ascent, but with the ropes to pull yourself up and the shortness of the ascent, it was much easier than anything we had done during the hike. It didn´t take us more than forty minutes to get to the top. However, once we get to the top part, my mom starts to get a little nervous. Not really nervous, but enough where I see that she is, in fact afraid of heights. She handles it well though, and we ascend the last twenty meters without incident. It was not until we got on top, that I fully understood the depth of my mom´s fear of heights. On solid rocks she doesn´t even stand up and forces herself to do a weird crab crawl thing across. I am amused by this, but I don´t say anything, I think it´s just a normal fear. Then she looks at me, with the complete fear of god in her eyes and politely asks ¨Breene, can we please get down from here?¨ And so I immediately, take a picture of this. I´ll have to show it but its of my mom half smiling and cringing as she´s laying on this rock and the whole of Macchu Picchu is in the background. It´s a great picture.
Still not completely understanding what my mom is going through, I promise her that we´ll start our descent down. So I walk the circle, with my mom crabwalking behind me til we get to this little down step. Up until this point I hadn´t seen my mom deal with any descent so I am now about to realize how scared my mom is. The step that she is attempting is literally an eight inch step, that is cut from a sloped rock. Something that no one has any problem with, and it takes her about two minutes just to go down one step. Then we get to this little chute that leads to the main stairway down. It´s probably only 8 steps but it takes my mom five minutes to go down this little part. The worst part is when this goofy assed english guy blurts to his wife (I would have used ¨said¨ instead of blurts but this is one of those guys that can´t contain any of his thought and has a sort of word vomit thing going on, or as my old friend Train would say, Diarrhea of the mouth, so blurt seems to capture the manner of speak this guy has) about how if somebody fell it´s probably about 1000 meters to the water. Thanks, asshole, can´t you see my mom is taking half an hour on a 8 stair staircase. I of course don´t say this but, as politely as possible, ask him to just be quiet. He still doesn´t get it and says that he´s not rushing us and follows that up with some more word vomit about the height of the mountain. Miraculously, he decides to control his diarrhea of the mouth and my mom finishes her panicked, muscle twitching 8 stair descent to the main walkway. When we get down, there is a little break from stairs and it´s just a little path to the other side where there are more stairs. Of course my mom is hanging onto the wall for dear life as we go around. When we get to the next steps I let her go first, so I can guide her down. The steps aren´t very wide, probably about a meter, but they aren´t too narrow either. They aren´t even big steps, maybe only a foot down a peice. However if you look off to the side of them, there is an easy 300 meter shear drop. My mom has managed to keep herself in a state of controlled panic slithering backwards down the steps slowly, one by one. I´m carefully guiding her down, it´s not too bad because there is this other mother/son duo doing the exact same thing. It´s maybe 70 steps so it takes us a good while to get to the bottom. But before we get there, one of the rocks sticks out maybe 8 inches (an ENORMOUS distance for my mom at this point) forcing my mom to squeeze around it. We get to the bottom and my mom takes a break while I go to figure out the best way down. It´s just around the corner but this staircase is really steep and very long. I´d say it contains a good 150 stairs (small and narrow stairs). No one is behind us so we give it a go, this time though (At this point I´m trying to figure out the best way to guide my lovely panic stricken mother), I decide to go first, in the same fashion as my mom, slithering backwards so I can guide her every foot and give her some comfort of me being right below her to help her. It seems to be working, and we are making slow progress, but progress nonetheless.
Of course, we aren´t fast and it´s the middle of the day, so within 15 steps we have twenty people behind us. I tell people as kindly as possible, that they can´t pass while my mom is on the stairs and we´ll get out of their way as soon as possible. The guy that is right behind us (you in the orange shirt and dark beard, I will forever be thankful for being so kind) tells us not to worry and he proceeds to give my mom plenty of space and even make sure that no one passes him. There are little shelfs next to the stairs, like big stairs but they are about two meters high and wide, so I´m looking to get my mom on one of them to let everyone else pass. We get to the point where it´s completely safe to get my mom over there and I simply tell her that we are going to move to the left side and slowly slide off the stairs to let some people pass us by. ¨I am NOT going left!¨ my mom says. Okay so maybe we´ll just keep going then. I look up to explain to the guy behind my mom and before I can get anything out he says ¨no worries, take your time.¨ I was so happy to not have that chronic word diarrhetic hurrying us with his estimation of the distance of our possible fall. Especially since the stairs get even narrower. Now they are only two feet wide at the most and they have slightly broke from the wall giving the stairs a sense of being floating, which I correctly guessed was a bit disconcerting for my mom. But she maintains her poise, in midst of fright, and keeps slowly going down with my help guiding her. We finally get to the bottom of these steps and though I know that a lot awaits us, I am happy that my mom has safely descended the steepest part that doesn´t have any cables to hold on to. We drink a little from our water bottles and let the 30 or so people who have built up behind us pass.
It´s a good point because my mom can sit in this crevice and kind of get back her breath (even if she can´t let the terror go). I see a good size break and tell my mom that we are going to start up again, with me leading (because we have had the best succes, read least fear in my mom´s eyes). The first part is really steep, but it has a rope, so I go down and my mom slowly, but obviously more comfortable because of the rope, scales down as well.
This second part is decidedly different, consisting of narrow switchbacks instead of the direct downward descent of the stair. It also has a bit of bush to block the view of the potential fall, but with the mud it adds enough of an element of fear that my mom still is locked into the crawl mode. At this point we have found a rhythm though, and I am completely sure that we´ll be fine. I go down first, in the style that my mom would and then tell her what to expect. This part also offers a bit of room inbetween the steep stairs so that people can pass with some frequency and the building crowd won´t pressure my mom. So even though we are still going slowly, after a couple of switchbacks my mom is starting to relax (she isn´t relaxed though, but is less tense) and we are making good way. The cables are also giving her an added boost of confidence and two thirds of the way down the hill my mom is going down the hill forward and standing up like every one else. Still nervous and hesitant, so we don´t rush anything. We finally get to the bottom and my mom starts to cry. It´s definitely a unique cry, as it´s a combination of released fear, happiness of being down the hill, a sense of accomplishment for overcoming her fear of heights and a gratitude to me for being patient and positive with her the whole way down. I just hold her for a second, letting her catch her breath. I too am relieved, but since I´m not much of a crier, I just let out a couple of huge deep breaths. I then promise to never take my mom up a place like that again, and we both laugh.
It was weird how something like that, added so much to the trip. And although I never want to put my mom through it again, it was something completely unforgettable that allowed us to bond so much more. It added an importance or an urgency to the trip that hadn´t quite been stamped into the trip until that point. That part of the trip became so much more, like it was it´s own trip, separate from my living down here in Chile, because of those horrifying, amazing and special three hours.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Macchu Picchu
Tomorrow is a big day. My mom and I start our hike to Macchu Picchu bright and early in the morning. I think my mom is a bit more nervous than I am about the whole thing. I know that it's going to be long and tiring but I don't imagine it to be that mentally difficult, something that you just kind of keep plodding. I mean I've grown up playing golf and thirtysix hole days have to be just as tiring if not more so because you are carrying a bag of metal sticks on your back. I'm not trying to take away from the trip but I just think its going to be more beautiful and intriguing than challenging. This is also easy to say because my mom has hired extra porters for us and I don't have to carry any of the cooking gear (although it should be noted that in my extra porter bag is just my sleeping bag and the rest is my mom's stuff). There is also the great chance that I get to the end of everything and am cursing myself, but it just seems like it'll be a tiring couple of days but that there is little chance that I don't make it.
The reason I say all this is because of the people that I have seen walking around town talking about how they've done on the trek. And for the most part, I would say that there doesn't seem to be that many serious hikers. It seems like the majority of the people talking about it are backpackers/travelers and I haven't been that impressed by the fitness of many of them. My mom and I sat at this table for dinner the other night and the couple next to us had just finished the trek a couple of days before and they were gracious enough to spill some of their wisdom to us. My mom was soaking it in like a sponge, because she has been a bit worried, but nothing they said seemed that shocking. It was basically: Drink water (um, really?), bring snacks on the way and eat them (profound!) and don't try to go too fast. On top of all this, the guy had more excess body fat than my mom, me and his wife/girlfriend combined. So naturally I became even more relaxed. Who knows, maybe this is hard, but it seems a lot less daunting being here.
The reason I say all this is because of the people that I have seen walking around town talking about how they've done on the trek. And for the most part, I would say that there doesn't seem to be that many serious hikers. It seems like the majority of the people talking about it are backpackers/travelers and I haven't been that impressed by the fitness of many of them. My mom and I sat at this table for dinner the other night and the couple next to us had just finished the trek a couple of days before and they were gracious enough to spill some of their wisdom to us. My mom was soaking it in like a sponge, because she has been a bit worried, but nothing they said seemed that shocking. It was basically: Drink water (um, really?), bring snacks on the way and eat them (profound!) and don't try to go too fast. On top of all this, the guy had more excess body fat than my mom, me and his wife/girlfriend combined. So naturally I became even more relaxed. Who knows, maybe this is hard, but it seems a lot less daunting being here.
Saturday, October 6, 2007
And Here´s the Pitch
If there is one thing that Chile has in abundance it´s swell More than any other place that I have visited, Chile has the most consistently large waves I´ve ever seen. And with that one adapts to these swells. I´ve found that over the last few months there hasn´t been any times where the waves have scared me, until yesterday. You see, the waves here are big, but relatively friendly. The bigger the wave gets the mellower it seems to be. When the waves are head high out here at La Puntilla or Punta de Lobos, you can easily find some very hollow waves. However as soon as it gets over double overhead (which happens more often than not) the wave backs off and becomes a big wall of water. It´s fun to cruise on but doesn´t provide much of a scare. And with that, it is really easy to get accustomed to big waves.
Yesterday was a bit different. It has been big the last few weeks, since my parents have left and so I´ve been paddling out on my 6´10´´ lightning bolt. It has more foam so it allows me to paddle into these bigger waves. Yesterday it looked like it would be a bit of fun so a group of us (Chris, Brian the Lion (the only selfgiven nickname to stick, plus he´s bald), Brian the Painter and I decided to go for a surf.
It was pretty fun when we first got out, a little windy but once on the waves it was well groomed and they were long. I got the first wave and rode it almost all the way into shore. I paddled back out and realized that the wave I had caught was really only a little inside wave and so I had to take a hand ful of even bigger waves on the head. That really doesn´t bother me too much. I´ve gotten used to getting rolled around in the whitewash here, I just duckdive, bearhugging my board once underwater, and I know that I´ll eventually cork up.
So I finally get all the way back out and am sitting much wider in better position for the sets. It´s a weird place for me, due to the swell angle, I wasn´t used to surfing out this far wide. It was incredibly difficult to get into the waves because of all the wind and I started to realize how steep the waves were. I miss getting into a couple of waves and then I finally line up for a pretty good size set wave and I´m paddling hard down the face, but the wind won´t let me get in and suddenly I´m stuck in the lip of the wave with nowhere to go. And for the first time in a long while, as I stare down the distance to the bottom of the wave, I´m scared. I ended up being alright. I took the punishment that accompanies getting stuck in the lip (the worst might be having to paddle through the remainder of the set, because you never get stuck in the lip on the last wave of the set), and I paddled back out and even though I´ve taken far worse beatings in my life I was all jacked up on adrenaline. I actually felt really good. But a few moments later, I began to realize how shortlived the adrenaline can be and even though it was still there, pumping, I felt how quick it seems to diminish. It was fun for me to get something a little be out of my element, it´s been a while since that has happened but I think that the better feeling for me is just getting the stoke of a good surf, not necessarily of a huge wave. I´d much rather have surfed La Puntilla a few feet smaller yesterday, and gotten a few barrels and played out there than getting the feeling of survival.
Yesterday was a bit different. It has been big the last few weeks, since my parents have left and so I´ve been paddling out on my 6´10´´ lightning bolt. It has more foam so it allows me to paddle into these bigger waves. Yesterday it looked like it would be a bit of fun so a group of us (Chris, Brian the Lion (the only selfgiven nickname to stick, plus he´s bald), Brian the Painter and I decided to go for a surf.
It was pretty fun when we first got out, a little windy but once on the waves it was well groomed and they were long. I got the first wave and rode it almost all the way into shore. I paddled back out and realized that the wave I had caught was really only a little inside wave and so I had to take a hand ful of even bigger waves on the head. That really doesn´t bother me too much. I´ve gotten used to getting rolled around in the whitewash here, I just duckdive, bearhugging my board once underwater, and I know that I´ll eventually cork up.
So I finally get all the way back out and am sitting much wider in better position for the sets. It´s a weird place for me, due to the swell angle, I wasn´t used to surfing out this far wide. It was incredibly difficult to get into the waves because of all the wind and I started to realize how steep the waves were. I miss getting into a couple of waves and then I finally line up for a pretty good size set wave and I´m paddling hard down the face, but the wind won´t let me get in and suddenly I´m stuck in the lip of the wave with nowhere to go. And for the first time in a long while, as I stare down the distance to the bottom of the wave, I´m scared. I ended up being alright. I took the punishment that accompanies getting stuck in the lip (the worst might be having to paddle through the remainder of the set, because you never get stuck in the lip on the last wave of the set), and I paddled back out and even though I´ve taken far worse beatings in my life I was all jacked up on adrenaline. I actually felt really good. But a few moments later, I began to realize how shortlived the adrenaline can be and even though it was still there, pumping, I felt how quick it seems to diminish. It was fun for me to get something a little be out of my element, it´s been a while since that has happened but I think that the better feeling for me is just getting the stoke of a good surf, not necessarily of a huge wave. I´d much rather have surfed La Puntilla a few feet smaller yesterday, and gotten a few barrels and played out there than getting the feeling of survival.
Friday, September 28, 2007
The Next Step
So my parents and brother have left, gone back to the US. My brother left me with two hours of spanish lessons so I´m trying to figure out what to do. I´m beginning to reailize that my abilities have become really advanced, and aside from simple review, there really isn´t a whole lot more to learn in the grammar part of it. RIght now, even though I speak well, I just need to continue to use it. I need to keep developing my vocabulary and my comfort with using some of the complex sentence structures in speech. For this reason I think it´s goo that I´m at the end of my trip. I´ll have a seven more weeks to continue with my progress and then when I get back I´ll reevaluate what my options are. At this point I have a few general ideas for what I could do to continue improving my spanish and to give me time in South American countries while at the same time reverse the trend in my bank account.
While the opportunity is definitely there, I am not sure I would want to be an English teacher. It would definitely give me time to be in a cool place like Pichilemu. But I would like to be in an environment where I´m speaking more spanish than english.
With the burgeoning wine countries of Chile and Argentina, the opportunities to work with the wineries would provide a good opportunity to give me time in South America and BAck home. Unfortunately, the ideal job would be being a buyer and I lack the palate to do this. The more likely of this would be to be a guide at a South American winery, but that would probably mean that I would be speaking mostly english and I would be away from home for the whole year. Ironically this field is something I grew up hating due to the fact that my old man and his cronies would gather around a bottle of wine and talk about it like it´s a person.
Spanish television has become big in southern California and it would be really cool to be involved in something where I would probably be dealing with an array of accents and dialects in spanish. And because I have background working for advertising I could probably get a job starting somewhere. However, there probably would not be too much room for travel though as it would likely be something on set and pretty stationary.
Because of the size of the hispanic work force, Construction would be another good option. It would allow me to be outside and using spanish. Unfortunately I have very little experience (by that I mean zero) with construction so I would probably have a hard time getting a job.
A dream job of mine would be to work with the Dodgers in the scouting department and some sort of scouts assistant. I would get to travel around Latin America, talking baseball and checking out places like the Dominican Republic, Venezuela, Cuba, Puerto Rico and Colombia (all of which have coastline, so surfing could be done). And when I come back I´d be back in LA with the dodgers. However I get the feeling that to get in the sporting world you need to have some sort of connections or to have played the sport to get in. Maybe that´s just a misconception, but I´m definitely going to at least give that a look.
A spinoff of that would be to work for ESPNDeportes and pray that I didn´t have to work in Bristol, Conneticut. There would probably be less travel though and If I ended up in Bristol I would only be able to last a year at the most.
Probably the most ideal would be to work as an international rep (probably starting as an assistant) for a surf company (like Quiksilver/Body Glove/Rip Curl/Billabong/Hurley) and that would get me tons of time in South America, around the surf and free or cheaper gear.
I guess it´s really up in the air at this point, but at least I´ll be coming home with some ideas of what could be possible. I´m sure that there are other areas in which spanish is needed so I´m just going to keep my head up and my eyes open for what´s next.
While the opportunity is definitely there, I am not sure I would want to be an English teacher. It would definitely give me time to be in a cool place like Pichilemu. But I would like to be in an environment where I´m speaking more spanish than english.
With the burgeoning wine countries of Chile and Argentina, the opportunities to work with the wineries would provide a good opportunity to give me time in South America and BAck home. Unfortunately, the ideal job would be being a buyer and I lack the palate to do this. The more likely of this would be to be a guide at a South American winery, but that would probably mean that I would be speaking mostly english and I would be away from home for the whole year. Ironically this field is something I grew up hating due to the fact that my old man and his cronies would gather around a bottle of wine and talk about it like it´s a person.
Spanish television has become big in southern California and it would be really cool to be involved in something where I would probably be dealing with an array of accents and dialects in spanish. And because I have background working for advertising I could probably get a job starting somewhere. However, there probably would not be too much room for travel though as it would likely be something on set and pretty stationary.
Because of the size of the hispanic work force, Construction would be another good option. It would allow me to be outside and using spanish. Unfortunately I have very little experience (by that I mean zero) with construction so I would probably have a hard time getting a job.
A dream job of mine would be to work with the Dodgers in the scouting department and some sort of scouts assistant. I would get to travel around Latin America, talking baseball and checking out places like the Dominican Republic, Venezuela, Cuba, Puerto Rico and Colombia (all of which have coastline, so surfing could be done). And when I come back I´d be back in LA with the dodgers. However I get the feeling that to get in the sporting world you need to have some sort of connections or to have played the sport to get in. Maybe that´s just a misconception, but I´m definitely going to at least give that a look.
A spinoff of that would be to work for ESPNDeportes and pray that I didn´t have to work in Bristol, Conneticut. There would probably be less travel though and If I ended up in Bristol I would only be able to last a year at the most.
Probably the most ideal would be to work as an international rep (probably starting as an assistant) for a surf company (like Quiksilver/Body Glove/Rip Curl/Billabong/Hurley) and that would get me tons of time in South America, around the surf and free or cheaper gear.
I guess it´s really up in the air at this point, but at least I´ll be coming home with some ideas of what could be possible. I´m sure that there are other areas in which spanish is needed so I´m just going to keep my head up and my eyes open for what´s next.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Chilean Cheerleading Championship Cheerleaders
In my life I have spent plenty of time around sports. I´ve played most of them and have been a fan of those I learned I wasn´t fit to play (i.e. basketball, football, soccer, well anything with running really). Which puts me in the position of also having watched thousands of cheerleaders, but until now it had always been about what girls were the hottest not which routines were the best. Now, I´m living with a family in Chile that has two daughters that are incredibly involved in cheerleading. It´s a strange phenomenon actually caring what is going on in the routine but I better be able to at least fake it because the girls are competing in the first national cheerleading championships of Chile, this weekend, right here in Pichilemu. And because I´ve become so close to the family, not only will I go to the Cheer Championships this weekend, but I´m going with the whole family to Concepcion (about 8 hours south in bus) in three weeks for another Cheer competition.
It´s going to be weird going to a competition where there are cheerleaders but no sports. And focusing on routines rather than, well...you know, the girls (especially since these girls are 14 and 15). But I figure that I´ve ogled enough cheerleaders that maybe now I should appreciate all the work that they do to perform. THoughts to come, Saturday should be interesting.
It´s going to be weird going to a competition where there are cheerleaders but no sports. And focusing on routines rather than, well...you know, the girls (especially since these girls are 14 and 15). But I figure that I´ve ogled enough cheerleaders that maybe now I should appreciate all the work that they do to perform. THoughts to come, Saturday should be interesting.
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