[025] To Concón
I'm travelling in South America. Here's what I'm up to, some photos and other bits
In Concón I like the mornings best, although the evenings are pretty nice too. The air comes in cool off the Pacific overnight, and my little casita is protected from the sun by the eucalyptus trees over the street. I like to eat breakfast at the table under the veranda and sometimes I’m visited by a bright male Jewel Lizard (which is endemic to Chile) or an Eared Dove which likes to sit on my swim shorts as they dry on the line. My breakfast is usually some of the fruits which are so tasty at this time of year - melon, peaches, cherries.
It’s been a year since I left for Buenos Aires to travel a little. I marked the day with my mate Albert who is doing some travel of his own, and we played beach cricket with Viña del Mar Cricket Club. It’s basically two Chilean guys who inexplicably picked up the cricket bug, and so are consigned to setting up plastic blue stumps in the corner of the beach where the the tramps sleep.
Although I’m in Chile, I’ve stopped ‘travelling’ so to speak. I’ve taken this little casita until May. There’s no grand plan, but I’d figured that if I’m still stumbling forward trying to work out the next little stretch of my life, better to do it from here. The days are long and the weather is perfect. Here I can live affordably, swim in the sea and keep improving my Spanish. I say there’s no grand plan. I have an interview in March and so hopefully I’ll be leading cycling and hiking trips in Europe over the summer. If that doesn’t work out, let’s see.
I swing from thinking being here is a brilliant idea to questioning what the hell I am doing.
The confidence comes when I’m sat at a table sharing asado with a group of my lovely friends, and roughly following their conversation even though it’s littered with Chilean slang like Weón, Si Po and Cachai. I’ve been told learning Spanish here is like learning English in Liverpool. So wish me luck with that.
Or there’s the moment where I’m sat on the pier after snorkelling in the cold Pacific waters, half unpeeled out of my wetsuit with the sun drying and browning my shoulders. Or nestled down in a favourite spot I’ve found amongst the rocks. I go down in the hour before sunset and feel the sun fade away on my skin. Sometimes the ocean is ferocious and it makes me anxious and scared. The waves break and throw spray towards my feet which hang just out of reach. But when I’ve had a good day, done a little work and eaten well, then it’s a tranquil place. I can happily watch the water fill the pools and move the seaweed. The water mimics treacle as it runs, settles, then retreats, and it does not seem like water at all. Flowing thick and slow it is liquid mercury absorbing the fading sun.
Sometimes a ballooning sail will traverse the horizon, out beyond the rocks where the cormorants sit drying their wings. The eucalyptus perched above the winding coastal road contrasts against the dull but acceptable apartments out on the peninsula which seem to have been transplanted from Miami. And when the sun sets behind the apartment blocks, its glow pours through the spaces in between the buildings and creates a bedazzling warmth. There is a serenity in this world with edges: the rock supporting my back, the coastline on my left, and the flat but undulating horizon out west into the Pacific.
There have been lonely days too. The days kicking around the house. Too much time and too little focus. An aloneness which can grow, suffocating my energy to reach out to the friends that I do have out here. I might put on Nick Cave’s ‘Waiting For You’ and if tears come I let them. After that I’ll feel better.
Shortly after arriving here I heard the heartbreaking news that my university pal Charlie had died. I really regret not seeing him recently, but I’ll not forget his incredible spirit. A guy who would brighten your day, with a fierce competitive streak too. The lasting image I have is him riling up the boys at half time in a football game, or tensely cheering on an Arsenal penalty shootout during a Champions League night in the college bar.
The news got me looking through some old photos from university which brought on warming but mournful waves of emotions. The prevailing observation was the strength of community we had back then. From the football team to our subject group and bunch of housemates, we lived within such close confines that there was always someone around to say hello to and offer some support. A time lapse we’d recorded as housemates - no idea why - summed it up best. Sat on the couch in the café, flicking through the paper, sharing stories; and yes, scrolling memes. But what stood out to me was the physical closeness we had. I guess we built this over time by living together, playing sports and joking with each other, working towards separate but common goals side-by-side.
And it got me thinking how quickly community can fade once we leave those school or university walls, and how can we maintain it? Yes, we continued it initially, albeit in a watered-down version through grad schemes, sports teams and house shares. But as we move into our thirties and start building distinct nuclear families, it becomes harder to create.
I don’t really have any answers. Extended family has an important place, playing in a sports team or joining a club, trying to foster relationships with neighbours. Maybe not moving to Chile would be a good idea. But it feels there is an urgent need to focus on these parts which provide community in our lives.
One thing which did brighten my week was the circulation of our friends Letterloop. It is an email which goes out monthly, collecting and publishing our individual responses to a changing set of questions, like: If 2024 was an animal, what would it be and why? What’s the book, film, experience or other bit of culture that has most let you down? Or just: general update pls? It’s a weak replication of sitting in the cafe and chatting, but it certainly helped me feel closer to my community.
As you can see, I’m veering away from the travel stories a bit. Not sure what it will become, but I’ll keep writing if I have something to say. I’ll probably do a round-up of my 2024 travels next month.
Today I’m heading to the island of Chiloé for a bit of camping and wilderness.
Love as always
George
