The weekend was amazing. Incredible company. Beautiful scenery. Handmade bread. Candlelit conversation for hours on end. Wood chopping. Starlight. Moonlight. An incredible amount of poo of from a wide range of species. Cold mornings and a hot shower. The immense quiet of the campo.
I want to live in Villa Renovald. It is a village of fewer than 15 houses about an hour from Puerto Natales. Everything feels so modern and loud and city-like now that I've returned...which is strange since Natales has fewer than 15,000 people who live in it. It might as well have a million inhabitants for how loud it now feels to me.
I used to think I wanted to live in a big city for a few years, but now I realize that I am not a city girl. I want to say Hi to my neighbors every day. I want to know I am safe walking alone. I want to be able to escape to the countryside without having it be a huge process to do so. I want to work hard with my hands and not have a machine for every little thing. Something about manual labor is calming to body, mind and spirit. Achievable tasks that require effort are so satifying.
I have this great sense of satisfaction from this weekend...like this is exactly how life is meant to be. I miss it already.
Showing posts with label City. Show all posts
Showing posts with label City. Show all posts
17 April 2011
02 March 2011
Everything Continues to Happen for a Reason
At a crosswalk today in the searing heat of afternoon, I found myself standing with my hands on my hips, sunk into my hips and an expression on my face of disbelief that the light had the audacity to make me stop for a moment. The second the cars moved away from the line and passed, I darted out into the street and walked briskly to the other side, ignoring the beeping motorcycle trying to make a right over my shoulder.
As I reached the other side, I wondered what had come over me. I don't stand like that...I don't cross like that. But then, Santiago is a city that makes sure you are aware of its millions of inhabitants at all times. The collective peer pressure is immense. Even more so when one sticks out like an ostrich in a chicken coop.
So now I have a Santiago strut.
I love many things about Chile already (food, wine, art, eating schedule, and even language), but one thing that really bothers me is how much attention my blonde hair sets me up for from the men. I went out to the college district for a beer with friends last night and walking through the crowds was like running the gauntlet. 20 comments in 20 feet, mostly along the lines of "Hello, woman..." (yes, in English) and "Deliciosa." Even though I'm dressed down and a Chilen woman in a miniskirt and tube top is right next to me.
I dealt with this BS before in Italy, but the machismo in Santiago is on a whole other level. Funniest part is that in the crowds were hard core punk rockers, business men, college students, and older men who all used the same tired lines to try to catch my attention. In Italy the attention felt complimentary in some ways. This feels more predatory. As long as I'm with friends, I'm fine. And it feels safe here nonetheless.
When traveling, I often keep to myself. This trip I've been the most social ever, meeting friends in the hostel and having some truly great conversations. We are all in limbo in a way, transitory beings who come and go almost without being noticed or missed.
But then occasionally one meets a person with whom they connect on so many levels, a kindred spirit out on the road. They become a close friend within days or hours, a confidant and someone who doesn't make judgments. You both know time is limited and that this is only a meeting by chance, but for a short time it feels like you've been friends forever.
And one of you has to leave. Or both. Either way the jaunt of friendship comes to a screeching halt and you say your goodbyes. It's a big world, and you might never cross paths again. But then, the world is getting smaller all the time with Facebook and email and Skype. Like-minded people will likely remain like-minded and seek out the same type of path. That's what brought you to meet in the first place, right?
If there is one lesson that the universe has been trying to beat into my head over the last few weeks, it's that everything happens for a reason. Things that have no business happening happen all the time, things that should be statistically near-impossible. Why I meet one person and not another is always a mystery.
And occasionally a shooting star that only I get to see shows up and streaks across my life. And I get to be satisfied that there are people like me out there in the world, and that we occasionally find one another.
As I reached the other side, I wondered what had come over me. I don't stand like that...I don't cross like that. But then, Santiago is a city that makes sure you are aware of its millions of inhabitants at all times. The collective peer pressure is immense. Even more so when one sticks out like an ostrich in a chicken coop.
So now I have a Santiago strut.
I love many things about Chile already (food, wine, art, eating schedule, and even language), but one thing that really bothers me is how much attention my blonde hair sets me up for from the men. I went out to the college district for a beer with friends last night and walking through the crowds was like running the gauntlet. 20 comments in 20 feet, mostly along the lines of "Hello, woman..." (yes, in English) and "Deliciosa." Even though I'm dressed down and a Chilen woman in a miniskirt and tube top is right next to me.
I dealt with this BS before in Italy, but the machismo in Santiago is on a whole other level. Funniest part is that in the crowds were hard core punk rockers, business men, college students, and older men who all used the same tired lines to try to catch my attention. In Italy the attention felt complimentary in some ways. This feels more predatory. As long as I'm with friends, I'm fine. And it feels safe here nonetheless.
When traveling, I often keep to myself. This trip I've been the most social ever, meeting friends in the hostel and having some truly great conversations. We are all in limbo in a way, transitory beings who come and go almost without being noticed or missed.
But then occasionally one meets a person with whom they connect on so many levels, a kindred spirit out on the road. They become a close friend within days or hours, a confidant and someone who doesn't make judgments. You both know time is limited and that this is only a meeting by chance, but for a short time it feels like you've been friends forever.
And one of you has to leave. Or both. Either way the jaunt of friendship comes to a screeching halt and you say your goodbyes. It's a big world, and you might never cross paths again. But then, the world is getting smaller all the time with Facebook and email and Skype. Like-minded people will likely remain like-minded and seek out the same type of path. That's what brought you to meet in the first place, right?
If there is one lesson that the universe has been trying to beat into my head over the last few weeks, it's that everything happens for a reason. Things that have no business happening happen all the time, things that should be statistically near-impossible. Why I meet one person and not another is always a mystery.
And occasionally a shooting star that only I get to see shows up and streaks across my life. And I get to be satisfied that there are people like me out there in the world, and that we occasionally find one another.
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