The dull roar outside has been steadily intensifying as people gather on the Alameda. The sound comes in waves as the election results for each region are announced. There is a constant blare of car horns and the periodic euphoria of ‘chi, chi, chi, le, le, le, viva Chile!’ As far as I can tell, the sky has not begun raining fire. Two blocks away at the Crown Plaza Hotel is the campaign headquarters for Sebastian Piñera, who it appears will almost certainly be the next president of Chile. There is little chance that this will garner much notice in the [View Full Entry]

---

---

If Chile is well off the edge of most people’s map of the world, Patagonia rests somewhere around or beyond the edges of geographical imagination. For most, it is more of an idea than a location. That said, it is located at the far back end of the nowhere. Luckily, nowhere is only a two hour flight from Santiago. Consequently, the arrival of Esther from the horrific world of American economic collapse and lawyering grind meant New Years on the beach and a plane trip south. The beaches in central Chile are either cloudy or painfully bright with hole-in-the-ozone-layer strength sun. [View Full Entry]

---

---

It arrived about a week ago. The thin sleek black envelope was covered in orange, mulberry and rose colored stamps of the queen of England’s head. On the back, a black 8 ball with white stenciled pointing uncle sam giving that accusatory ‘your turn’ finger and the words ‘american mettle’. Some days later, carly asked, “Is it good?” How the hell should I know? It’s poetry. Who knows good from bad? No one reads poetry anymore. We the modern reader want straight forward, clunky, obvious as hell, dan brown narrative structure. The reader’s response is drivel, so spoon feed it for [View Full Entry]

---

---

You may have heard that Charles Darwin sailed on a boat called the HMS Beagle and wound up writing a somewhat controversial book called On the Origin of Species. I once tried reading it and would not recommend it unless you yourself are stuck on a very slow boat sailing across the Atlantic, through the Straits of Magellan, up the coast of South America and then across the Pacific. What is perhaps less well known is that before getting to the celebrated Galapagos, Mr Darwin did a fair amount of putzing around Chile and wondering why there were fossils of ocean [View Full Entry]

---

---

I totally stole the title and most of the pictures from my friend Ben. All credit is due to him. I am pretty sure my exceedingly dull descriptions of mountains and my effort to get up them will not be missed. Instead, here are some pictures of a Sunday day hike in November to the summit of Pintor (4180m). [View Full Entry]

---

---

First of all, brother Evan had a baby boy on Friday at 5 am, an hour Evan has rarely seen. They named the boy Waylon. My attempts to get Montgomery and Ulysses into the mix were quickly rebuffed. This disappointment came on the heels of another; Broc crumpled at the 9th hour and failed to name his boy Thor. Nevertheless, nice work to all of those who have successfully reproduced. In Chile, I spend much less time grappling with baby names and more trying to understand the bewildering aray of acronyms that permeate life when living in the zone of influence [View Full Entry]

---

---

Although now November, as far as keeping up with things, I am still back in September, a month long gone but one full of significance for Chile. On Sept 11th, 1973 President Allende was deposed by the military coup. Somewhat ironically, just around the corner on the 18th is Fiestas Patrias, Chilean Independence Day. The 19th is Armed Forces Day, which for most is a day spent recovering from the excesses of ´Dieciocho´, the 18th. Not surprisingly, the 11th doesn't really draw the country together. Down by the Moneda (Chilean White House), people lean red carnations against a statue of Allende [View Full Entry]

---

---

Disclaimer: I have again failed miserably to write anything about the culture of Chile. This is my fault rather than Chile’s. Instead, I have yet again written about going camping in the Andes. I imagine this is stultifyingly boring for those who have enough sense to sleep indoors. cheers -c In the olden days, some crazy, one-eyed, warty old lady could find the portents of doom in the innards of disemboweled chickens or the lines in the palm of your hand. These days, they usually arrive in a friendly email. The ominous warnings had been arriving from Michigan for a couple [View Full Entry]

---

---

Morning arrived. Then afternoon. The metro. A cab. Sitting in the airport is followed by sitting on a plane. Near dusk, we walk down the ladder onto the runway of the Calama airport. Around us, the soft blurred reddish magenta tones of sunset color the smooth dunes of the Atacama Desert. Night comes quickly and a blanket of star-pierced black is pulled up and around us as we taxi south toward the little city of San Pedro de Atacama. San Pedro is a tiny town of low adobe buildings whose narrow dirt streets are filled with tourists. The reason has less [View Full Entry]

---

---

Perhaps it was for my sake. Or hers. Or his. But whatever the reason, Tia put Antoine on a plane in NYC and sent him to Santiago. This is remarkable because of Anaïs (age 2 and change) and Noémie (8 months or so). In my experience, no one willing sends their genetically obligated care-taking partner on vacation to see me. So due to Tia fabulawesomous, I walked back from class Thursday morning to find a Frenchman in my apartment. In a wholly lame effort to reciprocate Toine’s tour guiding in Paris and New York City, we wandered around and looked at [View Full Entry]

---

---