La Serena

I pull weeds.

A relaxing job. Soothing. ¨Limpia el alma (soul cleansing)¨ says my host mother and boss, la Señora Laura.

A fitting task for me while living in a city called la Serena, which translates as ¨serene¨ in English.

A city on the coast, la Serena is bigger, older, and more formal than Copiapó. In contrast to the tangle of dirt roads and cracked asphalt that criss-cross the little desert town I just left, the well-organized downtown of la Serena forms neat right angles. My steps ring more swiftly and clearly on these old cobble stone streets.

But my boots trod on soft ground at my home on el vivero just east and above the city center.

I am living in a place of palm trees (as I had hoped)! But el vivero is not the organic farm I had expected. La sra. Laura is a kind-hearted friend of a farmer I contacted through WWOOF (my organic farm website) who offered me a place on her fruit tree and flower nursery.

We grow and sell plants. 

For farms, gardens, or window sills.
From roses to cactus.
From orange trees to lilies.
Potted plants of all shapes and sizes scatter the surfaces of la sala de ventas, the tent where our younglings are displayed. After each day of customers perusing the many-petaled aisles, the plants must be reorganized, watered, and weeded. Wilting plants are removed, and new blooms take their places. I help write new price tags and twist them around the sturdiest and most visible stems. 

On cool, cloudy mornings we like to work in the warmth of the greenhouses. There are thirteen other people with whom I work, and we all split off to tackle different tasks. We trim plants, water plants, and count plants. We separate the roots of seedlings before planting, carefully selecting which ones are worth keeping. One person uses a rod to make holes in the bags of wet dirt, while others follow, filling in the holes with the chosen seedlings. About twice a week someone gets to cut the prettiest flowers in the greenhouse to arrange in bouquets. The outdoor plants need watered as well. And there is always weeding to be done. I feel like a superhero when I weed. I remove THE BAD to make room for THE GOOD.
I save lives everyday. 

And I get to do so with good friends.

This girl keeps me laughing when there is absolutely nothing to laugh about. My first day at el vivero I was asked to shadow Katty so she could show me how things are done. 
I stayed at her side from that day forward. 
We sing songs, discuss our language differences, imitate movies, or laugh about boys as we work. She is patient with my slow, halting spanish. She loves hearing me speak Chilean slang. And I teach her basic phrases in English, but she can never finish saying them before she starts to laugh. I finally taught her how to count to twenty. She does it well. And we laugh anyway.

Katty took me under her wing from the start, but it took some time for the others to warm up to me. The majority of my fellow workers had never met a foreigner before. So from the moment I arrived I was a novelty on el vivero. I felt like they had never seen anyone who looked like me in real life before. I am about double the height of most of my fellow workers and they have twice my color.

Katty, sra. Fresia, Rosa, Macarena, Carla, and me

It was strange for them to meet a full-grown, seemingly capable adult who couldn't speak fluently. The men especially were hesitant to talk to me at first. They would peer at me from afar between the rows of plants. The women welcomed me more quickly, chatting as we worked. They ask me questions: Can homosexuals get married there? Can you understand African Americans when they talk? Do all churches in the United States have big choirs? Do you have a pool in your backyard? Do they eat McDonald's everyday in your country?

I spend my days kneeling amongst the green rows, tending plants, and laughing with my co-workers.

And in the evenings I return to my new home. 

My new sink. 

My new dog. 

And my new family.

We live on the property of el vivero: sra. Laura, Laurita (her 17 year old daughter), sometimes Diego (the boyfriend), Luna (the dog), and me (the new girl). Ever since sra. Laura picked me up from my hostal downtown and drove me through the gates of el vivero that first time, she has treated me as if I were her daughter.

Our first cup of tea together sealed our friendship. Now we drink tea and talk every evening, checking in with each other, reviewing the events of the day, chatting about el vivero, men, and our families. Her family is the most important thing to her in the world. She has 4 children, 1 boy and 3 girls, all around my age more or less. Only Laurita, the youngest, still lives in the house with us.

In the afternoons, la sra. Laura and I fix lunch (always an adventure).

Neither of us have very refined skills in the kitchen, so we throw together whatever we can find. We work as a team. Sra. Laura always has lots to do, lots of people calling. When she bowls in for lunch, she is still in rush mode. She gets out the pan to boil water for the potatoes at record speed and quickly calculates the most efficient, tasty, and rapid way to prepare the remaining food in the fridge. She tells me the plan and always ends with, "te tinca?" which I translate as, "does that tickle your fancy?" so it always makes me smile. It really means something more like, "do you think that will be good?" or "would you like that?" I always say yes and start chopping the vegetables. 

I grow to admire sra. Laura more as each day passes. 

A successful and precise business woman, she is always looking for ways to improve el vivero, her life's project. She is patient with her workers, and she communicates well. She speaks with a smile and a soft voice, but she has a strong will and is decisive about what needs to be done. 

She looks like a picture. Her eye shadow shines just right. She maintains herself, her house, and el vivero presentable and fresh. 

She speaks properly (almost a different spanish than the guys in Copiapo). She speaks slowly and clearly for me, and she always waits for me to finish my long, slow thought/speech process.

She has a cute tendency to always use the diminutive, ending words with "ito" or "ita." We drink tecito (little tea) and eat pancito (little bread). I cut the tomatito (little tomato), please pass the cucharita (little spoon), lavamos los platitos (we wash the little dishes). She affectionately calls her daughters gorditas (little fat ones), and we are always attending la Luna, la cochina perrita (the bad little dog).

When we have time we go out together. To the grocery store, to the mall, or just to run errands downtown. She prefers when I drive. 

We even went out dancing one night!

The above two pictures were taken at her family's plot of land just north of la Serena. She took me there to see the last of the season's desert flowers.

Again! I find myself in a beautiful place with beautiful people. How does it work out so well? I have found yet another home, here in this old, peaceful city by the bay. Another family.

Katty and sra. Laura

Pulling weeds may not be on the typical traveler's to-do list
on a trip to la Serena,
but I am having a great time.

Copiapololo

I went in search of flowers.

I found them. And more.

I arrived in Copiapó early morning Tuesday September 6th. I lugged my backpack through the bus terminal, bleary-eyed after spending the night on the road. The adrenaline rush of not knowing where I was going or what might happen of the night before had worn off. I was tired. Just wanted a place to lay my head.

As I wandered the foggy mid-morning streets of Copiapó, I started to think myself crazy for coming to this strange city in Northern Chile with no one I knew, no map, no destination.

Why was I here again? The farm I had finally found to host me was in La Serena. I decided that I would like to get down to La Serena sooner rather than later. I am living in Chile with limited funds, and while working on the farm my room and board would be free (this country is more expensive than I thought it would be, less expensive than the US, more expensive than Argentina). I decided I would stay a few short (hopefully cheap) days in Copiapó and then be on my merry way, taking a bus back down to La Serena.

Great. Now to find a place to rest for the night... On a whim I had logged onto couch surfing the night I left Santiago. I had never used the website before, but friends had recommended it to me as a cheap way to travel. ¨Where do you want to go?¨ said the text box. Copiapó, Chile. I wrote quick messages to the first two hosts who popped up. I didn´t figure either would respond or have availability with such short notice. I figured I would have to find a hostel once I got there.

And there I was. I wandered into the first hostel I came across but was unhappy with the price. I decided to get online and research my options. A nice man walked me to el centro, helped me find a map of the city, and directed me to the nearest internet cafe. To my surprise I found a message in my inbox from one of the couch surfing hosts. His name was Nico.

I ended up spending a full week in Copiapó. My family consisted of 3 men and 1 dog. Alejandro (in his 40s or so) and Alvaro and Nico, both 23, both high school teachers. Alvaro teaches History. Nico teaches Literature. All 3 men have children who they only get to see every once in a while. Los profes (Alvaro and Nico) had just moved into the house a few days before I arrived. And the best looking of them all is the lovely Florencia.

(we had a less lovely neighbor dog).

I lived with them in their little bachelor pad off a dirt road on the southern edge of Copiapó.

                                
The centerpiece of the living area is their sound system.

Music was a large part of my everyday life while living with these guys. Alejandro cannot get enough Pink Floyd. They like to relax to the tunes of Queen or Red Hot Chili Peppers after a long day at work. And Nico learned English by memorizing the lyrics to Michael Jackson songs. They introduced me to Chilean groups, and I made them write a list of bands I need to remember to check out before I left.

Loca by Chico Trujillo is the song that makes me dance the most right now. It´s the melody that is leaking out of the houses into the streets as the people open their windows to welcome the warm spring breeze. I catch snippets of Loca as I walk to the grocery store, all the young people in the clubs throw their hands in the air when this song is played, and my taxi driver bobs his head to it.





Our neighbor would always play his radio loud and I would listen to the familiar trumpets of Chico Trujillo through the open door while I washed dishes.

I washed many a dish in that house. Since couch surfing is free it is always a nice gesture if the surfer helps clean the house or pays for the food or takes out the garbage. It´s couch surfing etiquette.

I would wake up in the mornings after the guys had left for work and wash the dishes from breakfast and the night before, I would hang their clothes on the line if a wash had been done, and I would walk to the almacen (little grocery store) down the road and buy a few things that we lacked. Sometimes I felt like a housewife which is a role I have never played before in my life. It was good for a week.

I am no cook however. Alvaro and Nico would prepare our meals, so I ate like a chilean bachelor/college kid. A good cultural experience. It´s important for me to know how to buy and eat food here on a budget. One night Nico taught me how to make little homemade pizzas that are DELICIOUS.

And one night we just ordered Sushi. Which Alvaro ate with enthusiasm.

They took me on various adventures around the city and beyond.

I played paintball with Nico and some of his students

Rode with Alvaro on his moto to climb the sand dunes

Found my way around el centro and read Pablo Neruda in the plaza

I was there to taste all that Copiapó had to offer.

I ate the best ice cream I have had so far in Chile

(a scoop of swiss chocolate and a scoop of dulce de leche with nuts),

danced the night away at the local casino,

and attempted to sing in spanish at a karaoke bar.

One of my favorite excursions was climbing los cerros (the hills) with Nico. Copiapó lies in a valley surrounded by dry desert hills. Our street dead-ended into a little rocky path up one of the many dusty slopes. So one morning we decided to take a walk, we didn´t bring anything, just my camera. We ended up going on a 3 hour hike. We climbed the nearest and highest hill. Well, I climbed. Nico flew. 

We could see all of Copiapó from up there.

I decided to spend more time in Copiapó when Nico invited me to spend the weekend at his friends´ beach house, an invitation that should not be turned down. We went with Mario and Adriana (both physical education teachers at Nico´s high school), their 10 year old daughter Maite, and their beagle puppy Teo. We drove for an hour through the desert land to Caldera, a darling little beach town where Mario and Adriana own a darling little house.

Our first excursion on the morning after our arrival was the only necessary errand for the weekend: a trip to the port to buy fresh fish.

Nico and Mario carefully selected the best catch.

They presented their chosen fish to the man at the stand WHO WAS WEARING A COLTS HAT.

I squealed! My first sign of Indiana here in a country on the other side of the globe. I excitedly yelled up to the man that he was wearing the hat of mi equipo de fútbol americano (my football team).
He had no clue who the Colts were.
No knowledge of the glory of the team he was representing.
No knowledge of the people in a state far away who proudly sport the same shades of blue and white.
And I didn´t get the opportunity to inform him. He was preoccupied with cutting the head off of the fish we ate for lunch.

I helped Adriana prepare the fish as soon as we breezed through the door. We filled ourselves with treasures from the sea that afternoon. The fish from the port, shrimp and cheese empanadas, crab and cheese empanadas, and even live oysters (ostiones vivos).

Maite and I searched the rocks later for the little creatures that had tasted so good.

It was an overcast and windy day at the beach. We walked the coarse shoreline and watched the waves crash against the sculpted cliffs of Bahía Inglesa.

We scrambled up as many of the rocky outcroppings as we could without risking the life of little Teo, who thought his legs were as long as ours.

Teo is of the firm belief that he deserves to go everywhere we go.

We returned from the beach exhausted and still satisfied by our glorious seafood feast of the afternoon. Drinks and card games were in order. I taught them all how to play Speed. Maite reigned as champion for the weekend.

We drove home to Copiapó that night. Mario drove that is. The rest of us slept. Maite, Nico, Teo, and I squished comfortably together in the back seat. Sandy, content, with the smell of the sea in our hair/fur. I realized then how thankful I was. There in the back seat of the car. With my head on Nico´s shoulder and Maite´s head on mine, Teo sharing our laps. I opened my eyes for a minute in the darkness just to see if it was real. I was in Indiana three weeks ago, how on earth did I end up here?

Copiapó. What had started as a name I couldn´t pronounce on a bus ticket without a plan had become a home for me. I realized how comfortable I felt with the people of this desert city in Northern Chile, with the landscape, with the food, with the dogs, with this dusty road.

I wandered the hills near the house on the afternoon of the day before I left. I had said my goodbyes to Mario, Adriana, Maite, and Teo. Alvaro and Nico were at work. And I felt like walking, reflecting, breathing fresh air. The mission of witnessing a desert busting with blooms far from my mind. The goal that brought me here. I could have left the next day feeling like my mission was completed, without seeing a single flower. But Copiapó is full of surprises.

Job?

Valparaiso, Chile

I have a job! And it might involve seeing palm trees every once in a while! 

One of the farmers I emailed up North responded! With a no. Hendrik doesn't have a place for me on his farm right now, but he sent me the contact information for one of his friends, Laura, who lives on a farm nearby. She would probably be able to receive me (this was a few days ago). I thanked him and emailed her right away. No response. 

I decided to call. I was using the house phone, and unfortunately calling from landline to cell phone in a different region in Chile seems to be a complex process. I called Tio Juan's son, Juan, to help me. And he did. He was able to get ahold of Laura from his cell phone, give her my number, and FINALLY I received her call last night (on MY South American cell phone). 

She lives in La Serena, on the coast. 

She spoke spanish slowly for me, and 

she seems very eager to receive me! 

She said I can come to her farm in La 

Serena whenever is best for me, just to 

call her the day before. I asked how 

long she would be needing my help. 

As long as I would like to stay would 

be fine, she said. Depends on how I 

like it there. I will be staying with her 

and her daughter.

The farm is located just across town 

from the beach.

I don't know what my duties will 

include yet. But I am looking

forward to living on a farm again.

I leave tonight on a bus for Copiapo.

Just me and my backpack.

I will arrive in the city early Tuesday

morning. I don't have a place to stay yet.

I'm just planning on spending a few 

days up there. A few days to explore the North

on my own and FIND SOME FLOWERS before I take a bus

                                back down to La Serena. 

After much consideration, I will be leaving my computer here at tio Juan's house, along with my luggage. 

It's heavy. I don't want it to be stolen or damaged. I actually look forward to being free of it. When I don't have a computer to come back to each night, I spend more time getting to know people and places. 

I look forward to this journey.

I am not the first to leave tio Juan's house this week. 

Carolina's son back in Peru is very sick. They are unsure of his illness, but the symptoms are serious. Carolina is from the jungles of Peru, la selva, where quality medical attention is hard to come by. She's on her way to take care of him now. It will take her multiple bus rides and hours of walking to get home. Since the trip is so costly, she will be spending at least a few months in Peru. We miss her already. Her laughter filled the hollows of this house.

She sat here on my bed a few nights ago and helped me pick out my outfit for a birthday party I was attending. When I showed her the little bag of earrings we had to choose from, she was astonished. She neatly laid them on the bed pair by pair. She carefully counted them, organized them by size, and fixed all those that were broken. Apparently I have 35 pairs of earrings. 

I wanted to let her choose a pair before she left, but Carolina left unexpectedly while I was out. I didn't get a chance to say goodbye. I'm thinking of her now and wishing her and her son the very best.

That's the update from here. I leave on a bus in a few hours and I still need to pack. Goodbye Santiago!

Cherry Blossoms

My first week in Chile. A week of fresh seafood, cumbia rhythms, and cherry blossoms. I have been able to see and do and eat so much here already that I could go home tomorrow filled to bursting with Chilean goodness.

But I'm not planning on it. 

Today was a beautiful day here in the city. The last three days in fact have been no-coat blue-sky days. A wonderful way to welcome September.

September is an important month here. Not only is it the beginning of spring, but September 18th is Chile's Independence Day--las fiestas patrias. From what I've heard it's the largest celebration of the year throughout the whole country. And it is not just a one night affair. The kids are granted an entire week off school to honor the holiday.

I will be up North for the revelry. The desert country. That's the plan.

Here's where I am for those who need a visual.




Yes. I am way down here.

Chile, as you can see, is a long country. It spans a wide range of latitudes, so it consists of climates and landscapes of all types. From the deserts of the North to the glaciers of the South. I am in Santiago now. Right in the middle. Probably about where that arrow is pointing. The capital city, built just west of the Andes Mountains (I get to see them every day!) and about an hour's drive from the sea.


So. The plan. Well, it's less of a plan and more of a bus ticket.

Above that arrow is mostly desert. The Atacama desert. The driest desert in the world, says google. And once a year, depending on the rain fall, for a few weeks, it blooms. That's why I'm getting on a bus Monday to Copiapo--a mining city up North. And that's why I will be somewhere in that region during las fiestas patrias. I'm not going to miss a flowering desert.

Unfortunately, as you can imagine, there are just a handful of organic farms on my WWOOF list that are located in the northern region. I've sent emails to this handful with little luck. I realize that internet might not be easily accessible, so I may try contacting by phone. My WWOOF list includes phone numbers for most farmers, but my spanish is much better in emails than on the phone. So, as of now, I am unsure if I will have a place/places to stay while I explore the North. I think I'll find something... Right now I just know that I plan on spending my September in the desert country.

I have the next few days to appreciate the blooms of Santiago.

Cherry trees are bursting into flowers all over the city, and I found these particularly beautiful blossoms atop cerro San Cristobal, an abrupt hill in the middle of the flat, zipping metropolis.

I paid 

about 4 USD 

(1800 pesos) 

to take a funicular 

to the top. 

And the view 

was worth my 

4 bucks.

From every

direction.

The building with the yellow top I am told is the tallest building in South America. Or it will be! It's not finished yet. I use that building as a reference point. I can see it from tio Juan's house. And always the Andes Mountains rest steady and strong in the background--la cordillera as they say here (the mountain chain). It is always there, but somehow, it's never the same. Which is why it usually causes me to gasp.

Here is la cordillera as I turned around on my walk up the hill to tio Juan's house at sunset time.

And here is la cordillera from the site of a house tio Juan is designing for his friend Pedro.

Depending on the snow and the clouds and the light, the mountains can be almost any color you can imagine. And they are M A S S I V E. They are the presence of God here. Something BIGGER and unfathomable. 

I think los santiaguinos would have a hard time living in Indiana.

Pedro's house will sit on the side of a mountain that overlooks all of Santiago and la cordillera. It will be integrated into the landscape as much as possible, using boulders already there as support. I tagged along as tio Juan and Pedro discussed how to best design the house tucked into the hillside, how to wind the entranceway around the rocks and uneven terrain...

and completing the structure with an open-faced terrace where Pedro will be able to sit with his wife and three kids to soak in the view.

Just like tio Juan, Pedro will have all of Santiago out his back steps. Only a little farther away.

Santiago has been wonderfully accessible to me, welcoming me to Chile with open arms. I feel at ease among the shadows of the high rises and the sunbeams of the plazas. I have a metro card (called a BIP!), I am familiar with the major landmarks, and I can navigate my way through the streets of downtown. I come home to warm food every night. A warm family. A warm bed.

I'm excited to travel this country. But I realize my journey may be colder and lonelier than I have found Santiago to be. So I bought a friend.

I sat in this little hidden grotto, among the cherry blossoms atop San Cristobal, and I read aloud the words of Pablo Neruda The pride of all of Chile. The most acclaimed poet of South America. 

His words will keep me company as I travel his country. I don't understand all of them, but I love the sound of them. The rhythm. Just the way the words roll off my tongue soothes me, thrills me, moves me. Neruda wrote about all aspects of his beloved country. I'll read his poetry on the flowers of the desert as I depart Monday for the dry land. Tonight I smile to speak his words concerning cherry blossoms.

Quiero hacer contigo

lo que la primavera hace con los cerezos.