I'll start with the ride over: terra cotta tiles covering white buildings, standing out from the bushes and water - the former varying from electric yellows to vibrant variations of green, interspersed with orange trees; the latter a deep turquoise with streaks of bright teal where the sun broke through the clouds. The clouds themselves were a nebulous mixture of grays, alternating from purple to silver, and concealing the tops of the blue-lavender mountains...it's beautiful at the coast, and I'm struck (forcefully) by how much I've missed the ocean. It brings with it peace, passion, inspiration. Remembrances of people, places I once knew - Nova Menco and the sunset on HWY-1 with Jules, both windows down to feel the wind race past our ears, to feel uplifted and spirited away by it, though only our hair moved. Micro rides in Valpo. Photo-taking by Cerro Esperanza with Stephanie, the smell of rain, the life of Chile, romance (failed and otherwise), intensity, salsa, pisco... Pisco itself resembles the ocean - the pale water at the tip of a wave, the white foam as it breaks on the rocks... The sea is a form of deepest nostalgia to me, but also a source of infinite inspiration.
Being on a boat, however, is a different scenario. So, on much less content note, on to the subject of our ferry ride. Well, Jay got motion sickness and we had no cabin, so we are doing the best we could amongst the noise and smoke of one of the lounges -- crowding our two chairs around our bags (well, I did this as Jay was already asleep) and it was alright. I even started to fall asleep and was infinitely encouraged when, at about 1 in the morning, the lights dimmed and more people cleared out... Until a blaring disco broke out beneath us. I could not be more literal if I tried; we are in two chairs by a balcony looking down onto the floor below us (smoky cafe no longer) and my God this music is terrible. There are multicolor strobe lights about 10 feet from my head, a ring of speakers aimed to the lower level (one of which I could touch if I just stretched out my foot), and yet Jay sleeps on.
Funnier yet (in a sort of "ha ha this sucks, but irony is nice" way), no one seems to be dancing. A staff member is wandering around aimlessly on the floor, lit from above by the multicolor bursts from the strobes -- I can't help but wonder: is he supervising against "freaking"? Too bad there seems to be not much action to glower upon. Rather, the guests, mainly comprised of a tour bus full of loud Italian teens, continue to gather their stuff and make their way elsewhere (presumably to "freak" in private)... This raises the hopeful question: If everyone leaves, can they kill the music?
Let's call it a curve ball; time for some Atwood.
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