First I’ll clarify exactly where I was. Thursday I finished at the farm (and this entry fucks my Blog Chronology as I planned a Farewell Farm post — but that will have to wait) and caught a bus 5 hours up north to (Chilean) Los Angeles to visit a friend and her boyfriend, Hanna and Christian (both Germans). They live 15 minutes out of the city in a massive country villa. First night passed pleasantly and uneventfully. It’s a lovely property with fruit trees, shit loads of dogs, a pool and a 50 metre high private internet tower for extreme connection. That was Thursday. Friday passed with incident and I had a lovely 1 hour plus Skype conversation with family including The Brother.
Then it went a little something like this; phone beeped at 3.00am, another garbled nothingness voicemail that I can only assume was one of a long line of connection failures from the parents in Australia. Since I was awake I decided to knock out a ninja toilet run. Returning to bed I assumed the Pharaoh Position to relax back into a deep sleep. Then it started. A soft rumble that I noticed from the get-go being awake, Pharaoh-like and all. I had experienced a couple of these soft trembles in Santiago a few times so wasn’t too concerned until it fucking racked up ten-fold in seconds. I ran to the door that had opened itself and stood there clutching the sides. After maybe 30 seconds in actually got worse and I struggled to stand still. The noise was insane; the deep rumble of the earth, the lurching of the house, the clashing of doors and the smashing of everything that wasn’t secured in the house. It actually felt like riding in a 4 wheel drive on a dodgy dirt road or an out of control catamaran driven by a one-eyed Rottweiler. I truly believe the house was moving up to a metre in all directions. The hardcore part went for damn near 4 minutes and at around 3 minutes I thought I was going to get Crushed To Death By Country Mansion. It pattered out into softer inconsistently consistent aftershocks (as I write this right NOW — over 6 days later — there is a unpleasantly large turtle-necking aftershock).
I was extremely lucky to be where I was, away from the city. And I thank my lucky stars that I didn’t decide to visit Concepcion or Chillan first that got double teamed with Tsunamis. The only true inconvenience I have suffered has been the inability to contact anyone back home. Well over 24 hours after the earthquake I was fortunate enough to have access to the ONLY functioning phone in Los Angeles (at the boss’ house of Christian) for which I am truly grateful. Even that long was hard enough on the family but it was highly possible that they were not going to hear a word from me for 5 days! Sweet Jesus! Delia would have looked like Mr Burns on crack after that long!
But I have been more than fine here on the Estate. After the initial, hideous clean up, there was nothing to do except wash the dishes in the river every morning. Obviously kissed on the dick by a fairy, Hannah and Christian had actually prepped for a massive party the next day so we were totally stocked on food and drink. I have done much of the following over the last days; sit in a hammock, swim in a pool, played with the dogs, eaten too much fruit from the trees, played serious bouts of Pachisi by candlelight and knocked off a book. So I hope no one stressed too much about my safety as, thank Van Halen, I passed it all safe and sound. And can I just say that hammocks are the greatest invention ever. Do yourself a favour and fucking get one now and reap the abundance of rewards. Now for a few snaps...
Smashed!
Yes, there were ample supplies due to party preparations but MANY were lost in the quake — that room was a tough one to clean, let me tell you.
Thank you Jesus, Mary and Joesph that you decided to crack the pot and not the massive gas tank behind it.
Just outside the house — it's caved in a bit in the last few days, but those cracks go down over a metre!
The pool, formerly known as the communal bath — I tried the ice cold river once and it was bad (I am still waiting for my genitals to reappear). It has since been topped up but before it lost almost a third of it's water in the quake!
Oh, that sweet, sweet hammock. I NEED to get one man. Good naps and books have been had in that fella.
The mighty Night Passer. I am addicted now, but only when played by candle light. It seems familiar and I think it might be the German version of the game played as children called Trouble?
On a serious note though. I hope all the lovely people I have met in Chile have come through the other side unscathed and my deepest sympathies to those that lost a lot more than just power and water. May Terry Moto never strike Chile again.
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