Leaving the calm...


I've officially stepped outside of the eye of the storm and into the whirlwind that is the final month of my time here in Chile. The past few weeks have been nothing short of ridiculous. I returned from my week on the island of Chiloe to play catch up with my classes for a few days and then head out to a weekend camping trip with my painting class. I'm still sufferingg from a severe lack of sleep --I almost felt as if I were back at u of m, staying up to finish my projects--, so this will be a short post, but I wanted to get up some of my photos from my trip to Chiloe.





After a ferry ride from the northern city Puerto Montt, we arrived at the beautiful island. I'm not quite at a point where I can properly describe my experience, so I'll simply share with you some of my notes I made along the trip...I apologize for the improper grammarer and random train of thought --I jotted when I had a few seconds here and there to dig into my bag for my sketchbook.























The island is gorgeous and seems traditional; stuck back in time, but the nice shiny cars ruin it for me. The "micro" buses are really new and nice, and while I appreciate the luxury, it almost feels like cheating. Achao was particularly desolate and awkward. I felt like a real outsider and a major spectacle. People stared as if to say "What in the hell are you doing here???"









The wall treatment in our hostel room was fascinating. At fist I was particularly turned off to it, but I soon grew to like it in the few short hours I spent inside the room, waiting out an evening storm. The tiny room with its many imperfections was like a time machine. It's as if closing the heavy metal door reminiscent of a bomb shelter-- took us back to different time when you would hang out the window to see who's outside and have to sleep head and tail to fit in your tiny bed --which we did. The architecture of the city was not as interesting as I had expected, but the wooden shingles used to side the houses were interesting. The many different patterns and designs were rather inspiring. I'm thinking of using them as a starting point for a project...













Castro is more what I expected from the island --men in rubber fishing boots, people stopping on the streets to talk to you, travelers taking photographs in front of churches, beached fishing boats, people saying hello to eachother as they pass, etc. Walking down the shore is almost surreal. I could spend the whole day just walking along, seashells crunching underfoot, taking photographs and reflecting on the world around me. The houses --"palafitos"-- are gorgeous, perched precariously on their wooden stilts. Everything about the city is a bit off balance. Walls are leaning ever so slightly --and sometimes more than slightly-- fences are crooked, shingles are missing, curtains are miss-matched; and for someone who normally has to have everything in its right place in good, clean condition, I love it here. The imperfections are what make it perfect. The dusty roads, the seemingly garbage covered shore, the uneven stairs and sidewalks; it's all amazing...better than I had hoped. I really think I could live here if given the chance.









The national park was something from a story book. There were very few people to be found and the only other sign of life was thoccasionalal chirp heard over the ever-present wind. The trail we followed seemed trapped in another reality; made of logs and surrounded by a twisting wall of moss-covered trees, creating a completely different universe.



A small sign at the end of the trail promises an "artisania" after a 10 minute walk. After about 20 minutes of jumping from log to stone to grassy patch over a water soaked terrain, we arrived at a house where a small, practically toothless woman showed us to a tiny wooden shed. Inside we found wooden mugs, spoons, and buckets alongside wool socks and hats and hand woven baskets --needless to say, I now own a pair of wool socks.