The Daily Commute

My House is in La Boca. My Studio is in Navidad. The distance between La Boca and Navidad is not great, unless one considers the mountain between towns. I can walk the distance in 45 minutes, or bike it in about 20. Moving in either direction requires summitting the mountain, proving a beautiful view: steep passages of hills, the distant snow capped Andes, grazing animals, cliffs, black sand dunes, and white waves crashing in from the blue sea.


(my house in La Boca)


(view of the beach in La Boca looking South)

I arrived already!

I arrived about a week ago to Chile. The flight went well. I lost my friends from Montreal in the airport, but I have email addresses to contact them. Immediately upon arrival I began hacking out some bad Spanish because every taxi driver in the airport wanted to offer me a ride. Eventually, Alejandro showed up and we chose one of the drivers to bring us to the central station in Santiago. From there we traveled to Llolleo (yo-yeo), took some lunch and bought some things. I bought a mp3-cd player and a used red bicycle (which mostly works). We arrived in LaBoca, my new town. The house where I am staying is nice, and so is the owner (Lily) and her family. I am getting along well with everyone. They are, for the most part, very patient with my lack of language.

In the mean time, I am learning to do many things. I went surfing the other day with Lily and some cute surfer guys. The water was really cold, but we had suits so it went well. I had alot of fun, but I was super tired. I have also been trying to learn to dance proper salsa and merengue. I am a bad dancer, but I figure with 5 months here I wil learn many things.

My studio is coming together slowly. I am going to work there a little bit today. Pictures will come soon enough. But my computer time is up.

Mission to Santiago (or Atlanta), or Maybe I Should Buy a Lottery Ticket

Well, the flight wasn't as easy as I thought. After some delaying in Montreal I was told to get on my flight to Atlanta regardless. There, I would find out if I was going to Santiago or not. I flew and arrived in Atlanta at 10pm. My flight to Santiago was supposed to leave at 10:05pm. I was hoping for delays from Atlanta too--the only way I could possibly catch the flight. I checked the boards in Atlanta as soon as I got off the plane--A 20 MINUTE DELAY! I ran and caught the shuttle train. There were 3 other 20-something there too and they had been on my Montreal flight. All spoke French and two spoke English. I asked as the train moved where they were going. Santiago. The four of us ran and ran, sprinted up three floors of escalator stairs, and ran all the way down the terminal to be greeted by the Delta gate people. The flight departed without us. SHIT.

I separated from my running buddies to go freak out on my own time and try not to cry. I found the right ticket counter, got new tickets for the next night and scored a hotel room (which they had no reason to give me since it was my fault I missed the flight, so they said). I had to promise not to tell anyone I had the room. Sure. Whatever. I took off toward the airport shuttle and ran into my running buddies. Long story short, they were denied a hotel room. Then they were escorted to a supervisor's desk to see if she would give the ok for a hotel room. There was some discussion, but no yelling by me or any of my buddies. I stood by not wanting to get involved. The woman who gave me my hotel room came over and got involved with them and the supervisor. Then she asked me to come with her and to give her my tickets and paperwork. No. NO WAY! I knew she was going to tear it up. I walked away from her and grabbed my friends. I explained to them the insanity and we marched out of the airport. I told them they could stay with me in my room.

We jumped onto a shuttle and to the hotel. On the shuttle was another man from our flight. He too was going to Santiago. So, not only would they not wait for 5 people to catch the flight, but they only gave two of us hotel rooms. I think they hate my French speaking Canadian friends. I checked in at the hotel and it was no problem for us all to stay in a room. We did.

And now I have three new friends (Lissa, Jeff and Audrey) who will all be in Chile for a while. I told them to come visit me in La Boca. They told me to come visit them in Montreal.

I called Alejandro so he would not be waiting hopelessly in the Santiago airport for me tomorrow. We talked for a little while, which was nice. I never call him on the telephone!

So, this is the waiting part. I am typing on the computer in the hotel lobby. I just finished reading for a few hours and doing some sudoku puzzles. My friends are sitting near the pool. My feelings about Atlanta are forever tainted.

I've never seen Chile in spring or summer.

I leave for Chile the day after tomorrow; I'm moving, and have almost finished packing for the next five months. Right now, I'm in Plattsburgh (my hometown) transitioning from a month-long adventure in Rome, Florence, Siena, Venice and Nice. I spent two weeks of the month in Venice making some large prints. That was a great experience for so many reasons it could fill up a whole other blog. All was rich with imagery and style, history, passion, complexity, chaos and simplicity.

Genuine excitement for this new Chile adventure began two nights ago. Finally. I have no idea how strange this whole experience is going to be, or what profound effect it may have. It's fair to say I'm a little nervous about the decisions I've made, but what else would I rather be doing with my life? I sure wouldn't want to feel stuck in a rat race of tenure track appointments, academia abound, glory, glory, I'd have a pay check! That can wait for later. Now is the time to go on an adventure.

I have two 50 pound bags and a carry-on that is going to fly out of Montreal with me. Gratefully, the Chilean sculptor/warrior (and dear friend) Alejandro is meeting me at the Santiago airport on Tuesday morning. Then we are off, I imagine, to Navidad (where the studio is) and La Boca (where I am living).