Thursday, January 29, 2009

finally, some pics

the garden, roses, alejandra and the dog

alejandra´s parents´place



For two days, we went to Valpara`iso, a city of bursting colors of "casa loca", that are ascending on hills and accessible via various "ascensores" - high up you have a relaxed walk with a splendid view on the harbor and the city.
But before we left, first my patience and all my German instincts were severely tested. Suffice it to say that I woke myself according to plan, at 8.30am, Alejandra appeared at 10am, and we - Alejandra, Rodrigo, and myself - started for the bus station at 1pm... The parents left with us in a state of excited disarray: a neighbor had called in from her holiday resort, alarmed by yet another neighbor who had been surprised to see some movers relocating /stealing the contents of the house. And Alejandra´s parents decided to go there and see for themselves, armed and all. Ils sont fou ces Chiliens!
In between I was continuously fed by the mother, which by now somehow looses some of its instinctual charme but reminds me of my own grandmother´s habit of perpetual feeding.

alejandra and her brother

But Valparaiso! Ah Valparaiso! Full of colors, there´s art in every corner taken by graffiti, sculptures, colorful walls, graffiti-in-stamps (how do they call this? I can never remember..)
Initially we mistakenly took a bus to "le quartier chaud" in Valparaiso. As Alejandra put it, the guys looked at us "as if they are the wolves and we their prey"... Everybody, including the driver, went like: Don´t get out here! and he didn´t even stop for some guys (as he confirmed later).
In the bus on the way back we met a German expat now living in New Zealand who confirmed by already abysmally bad opinion on the social skills and general personality of geography students (or former geography students).

alejandra in front of one of the colorful windows in Valparaiso


more valparaiso> this was a tiny place where they played sad music and we had coffee and I loved the picture of that woman

Sunday, January 25, 2009

la campagne

There´s definitely a nice vibe here in Santiago, even though the shouting French man skyping at my side - drama baby!- is highly annoying. But it´s definitely a different backpacker scene. I had a wine that was quite agreeable, which I´d grabbed before I had a sense of the exchange rate and it turned out that it´d cost me 2 Euros! Yesterday we went to the Hipodrome for horseracing and got promptly invited to eat, drink, or have basically anything we wanted (a French girl, an Australian-British one and myself). All my horses lost :( therefore I expect LOTS of luck in recompensation! It was pretty cool, and the trip there proved to me once more that I am SO cool when it comes to wandering around in foreign cities (even though I am the only one without any Spanish to speak of). I also acquired a new camera,mainly because my cell phone doesn´t work anymore andI can only deal with a certain number of problems simultaneously... The next day I saw amazingly beautiful pottery at the museum and bought strawberries for 20 cents and finally I went to meet Alejandra, my Chilean friend who I hadn´t seen for five years. by some lucky chance she also just arrived in Chile. On facebook she'd told me to go a certain metro station and call her from there, anytime. I was a bit afraid of how we'd get together, but I did not foresee the chain of bad luck that had me parting at 6 and finally arriving at the house 11 at night... A guy helped me to call Alejandra's parents' house several times but no-one answered. On her French cellphone which I called first from a phone, then from an internet place, "Celia" answered, a repondeur. Skype, for some reason, refuses to send text messages. There was no response to emails or Facebook messages after some hours and now way to reach me, as my phone did not work. I bought a Chilean sim card but my phone was a) dead and then b) did not have reception (and now, still, does not work, even though it's alive and kicking now..). There I was in a mall at a dodgy area of Santiago, it was getting dark and the shops started to close... On the other hand, people were very helpful...

When I got finally picked up and driven to this beautiful place, half an hour outside of Santiago, in Chilean campagne, my French returned miraculously, probably so I wouldn't try and torture people with my pidgin Spanish (which I do anyway). Even though I'm missing out on the whole "bon ben, bref, hein, quoi" spiel that makes the language truly cool, and it IS frustrating to tell a story and to ruin the pointe because one doesn}t remember a basic word like "sick." mais tant pis. My sense of order and perfectionism is having a nervous breakdown, which is probably for the best.

The place is gigantic, more than a hectar of land that the father slowly transforms into a giant garden of labyrinths (5 so far) of wine and roses, trees with automn-red leaves and roses, plans for an amphitheatre, tiny waterways, alleys of eucalyptus trees and roses. The family has suffered under the Pinochet regime; it´s great to see how they've managed to carve out a piece of paradise now. Rodrigo, Alejandra's handsome brother, cooked and showed us his paintings. They have a two funny geese, chicken, self-made marmelade, Chilean food, honey, fresh (scarily warm) milk, eggs etc here (again I realize how much of a city girl I am, almost having had a fit over some chicks) and a tiny puppy that immediately won even my dog-ambivalent heart. I'll post pictures soon, you'll see why... I've almost witnessed the birth of a horse today - bon, the birth was promised to me, but there seem to be complications, anyway the horse is no longer here... I picked a couple of fruits and altogether it was an extremely chilled day with lots of food. I think this week will continue to pass à l'improvisé. I'll try to go with the flow. and check out that horse tomorrow.

Thursday, January 22, 2009

hasta luego

You may congratulate me on my first successfully conducted Spanish sentence! it was "Esta con queso?" (I'm pretty sure this is not how it's written (or said in correct grammar) but the vendeuse got it, and so can you!). The response "no, con pisco" threw me off-track however. pisco? isn't that a drink? Ruling out that one, I thought, fish? piscine, pisces, latin roots etc. I'm pretty sure that's not what I was eventually eating.
Chile, or Santiago, so far is comfortably busy, lively, and scarily flirtatious - what will Argentina be like? I thought the Chileans are the shy ones! Other than that I can't say much, having heroically kept awake for the day but at the price of resorting to zombiesk behavior. The flight was pretty terrible - bad bad Lan! good good BA! The most eventful thing happened at the end of "Horton hears a Who" which I stubbornly watched even though it did not put me to sleep. My perseverance was rewarded by a beautiful rendering of "Can't Fight This Feeling Anymore"! The Karaokniks amongst you will appreciate ... well worth watching!
ps
In case you were contemplating the recent lack of pictures in this blog, my camera turned out to be "beyond economical repair." I feel very resentful against "modern technology" right now. First the iPod and the World Adapter, now the camera. a grumpy nike calls it a day now.. finally..!

Sunday, January 18, 2009

randomness

I feel personally persecuted by the radio programming. Obviously this is a narcisstic projection. All of New Zealand must be craving schmalzy songs. Here's some of the recent fare: Do you really want to hurt me / Nothing compares to you / In too deep / waterfalls / The Joker ...

I just finished one of the weirdest books I've ever read: Gore Vidal's Myra Breckinridge. The most inspiring aspect in this 1960s sex-change, sex-fantasy, man-to-woman-to-man book is the protagonist's attempt to describe any moment in exactitude.
So, I'll try to emulate this and use you as guinea pigs (I admit I'm a little bored right now).

At Coromandel Island:
It is warm, even sunny, showers come and go. (I cannot count the number of times I've heard the hilarious statement that in New Zealand, you have all four seasons in one day.. yawn...) The wind disturbs any serious enterprise, like a kid that keeps trying to play with you long after you've told him you're busy (sorry - metaphors are actually forbidden in this, but it's hard not to..). My skin is dry and scarred from scratched sandfly bites. Altogether I don't feel particularly charming & I'm surprised that people insist on talking to me.
Palm trees. Public toilets that close at 5pm (but free toilets, free water everywhere). No spiders. No rubbish, no noise. Sometimes I think everyone here is on dope. (On the other hand, they all have road rage.) Just think of the endearing explanation on the sheet for the Tongariro Alpine Crossing: "Please do not walk too close to the edge of the Crater because if you fall in you will not come out." What's that about, huh? I do need some more clarification on this point..
Tried to take out a bike, but the chain broke. tried to go to the Hot Water Beach but there is no returning bus. Horserides don't start from Thames, and no treks are leaving. I considered going fishing, except it sounded depressing in my current mood. I wish they had a shooting range here, that is still on my list.
These houses here in little towns and the stories they are telling, stories I can't read. They have palmtrees, but no stones in their walls. The streets are wide, the houses flat, it's a frontier feeling. Architecture like I imagine the American Midwest: Towns made for cars. Big signs, spacious parking, junk food. Nothing invites you to linger. Come to shop, comfortably, and leave quickly please.
Within two minutes outside of town, paradise lies before you.
Like the tiny, tidy bushes and miniature trees of toy trains at my grandmother's attic, grazing sheep and cows blown up, softly undulating hills and mindboggling Greenness and Peace. The sky's grey, and decorative as ever.

Meeting people who also go cruise supermarkets at night. Meeting "Peter Pan", a charismatic brown-eyed, blonde-dreadlocked, androgynous looking and possibly French (the combination!)woman. I lost sight of her in the hassle and before I could further inquire, but her mate gave me a ticket with an untouched account of time on the internet.

Thursday, January 15, 2009

Time to-o say good-bye..

.. or soon it'll be anyway and thus time to draw a resume of New Zealand.
For starters, Kiwis are the nicest people on the planet, period. Notwithstanding age, gender, ethnicity, regional differences

On the christchurch airport today a reddish New Zealander was favorably impressed by what he interpreted as my need for potassum ($1.5 airport bananas baby). I chatted somewhat absent-mindedly with him until I surprised mayself with a timid "Are you a pilot?" Turns out, he was even MY pilot. This made up for Qanas latest rule of harrassment: No hot drinks when boarding the airplane. Guess where they put that sign, befor or after the airport cafe... I think I have spent way too much time in airplanes, pondering questinos such as: Is it psychologically playing to our authoritarian impulses when they say that "the captain" has switched on the fasten seatbelt sign?

About Christchurch I can't say much: As I felt somewhat lowbeat, my main projects were repeated visits to the movies and the Art Galleries. Art is very comforting. There was even a quite hilarious moment when the guide - female, fiftish, determined smile - insisted on questioning people aon a "Rorschach test" painting. To my filthy mind it looked quite obviously like a female netherlands (and had been weaved-painted by two feminist artists of the 1970s). Judging from the general shuffling of feets, clearing of throats and other gestures of compensation, I wasn
t alone with the impression.
In the background, an incomprehensible art work combined a sweet Southern Gospe.l with a "Hello. I'm John Wayne" loop. Oddly comforting as I walked on the "Tasmanian wood", as I'd been illuminated, attempting and failing, to renew my appreciation of the floor, or floor in general. Why the hell does it matter it's TASMANIAN? It really really looked just like wood.

Anyway, New Zealand. Too windy. Most stuff is gluetenfree, there is much diasabled access. Everybody's taken care of, those with special needs, the drug addicts, a diaper changing room. Birds that cannot fly are decidedly funny. "Consent is sexy" on a Wellington toilet. Overall, definitely a place where I could live (and improve my personality). That is, if I'd come to terms with the generally extremely slow pace - that which most BPs find so awesomely charming, so "relaxed" - In all likelihood it'd drive me insane and into depression. Or I'd just get used to it.

Monday, January 12, 2009

Nature Overdose

all these new humans on earth, how confusing... happy birthday lasse! hoch sollst du leben!!
I am happily hiking in New Zealand's north of the southern Island, from the Golden Bay to Abel Tasman. After a more brutal Queen Charlotte Trek - 30km on day 1, 23 painfully ascending km on day 2, and 28 on the last day -, I seemed to have gotten the true taste of bootcamp rice (with beans on the good days), and chlorine water in the morning ;) seriously, it's just so beautiful!
only my camera decided to stop working altogether at teh beginning of hike 1, which kinda sucks.
The second hike, which I just finished, is one of the Great Walks, in the Abel Tasman National Park, and judging from this Great Walk, it's worth doing them all. Golden beaches, the sea in all kinds of blue, the north island on the horizon, farn and deep forest all around. The watertaxi back showed us baby seals and grown-up ones playing in the water. There are, thankfully, no spiders in NZ to speak of, and generally not much nasty animal life, apart from sandflies. And, of course, the bastard opposum who ate our bread. I screamed at night because I thought it was coming in the tent. they are just totally indifferent to human presence... Much unlike the annoyed Midget Penguin on Trek 1, who hurried back into the bushes upon being discovered and encircled by about four flashlights. At night I was freezing - basically, I discovered there's something wrong with me because I get uncomfortably cold within a minute: from "oh the sun is kinda hot" to "where the fuck is my friggin sweater" in under 40 seconds. And here it's mostly both: lovely sunshine, after misty and mysterious morning greys, beautiful skies all along, but quite a bastard wind.
Now, for refreshment and replenishing, I'm back in the hippie town Takaka. Takaka is close to "pupu springs" and the next town's called mopipi. it's like a four-year-old was allowed to choose the names... It's a very chilled "town." Occasionally you drive past places where they sell fresh fruit - pick your own berries... pick your own seafood... fish your own salmon ...

Thursday, January 1, 2009

Yawn

.. good morning everyone.. Or should I say: Ladies, good evening. Gents, good morning...
well, I had taken all these pretty notes on the landscape of New Zealand, the houses and the stories they tell, patati-patata, but I'm not sure I'm up for that (I'm not sure you wanna hear it ;). therefore, I'll do what I do best: random waffling.
Wellington, where I am now, is windy and famous for its cafes; Mainly, there is one street that doesn't follow the "Gloria Jean" trail. two of their individual and sweet coffeeplace even looked fucked up Berlin-style. I got homesick for our sweet stinky grungy city for the first time.. The newspapers are abysmal. I'm trying to develop a theory on this: is this the secret to Kiwi happiness and their amazing un-aggressiveness? Does that come from being so detached from the rest of the world (after a repeated search, I did find a "world" section), unlike the hyperactively nervous Europeans?
New Zealand is still amazing to me. Every piece of land is tidied and dolled up, the whole COUNTRY looks like a Lenne garden, a romantic English pasture, a Scottish moor. soi wild soi gentle: always beautiful.
In Napier, slow town at the ocean (with a pebbly beach and stunning views) this neatness applied even to the buildings. Napier is part of the NZ winetrail (so you know what I've been doing..); its other tourist attraction are the "old" houses (almost 80 years!) in Art Deco style. Kiwis seem quite proud of this "heritage" thing. The 100-year-old bathing house in Rotorua which is now a museum was intermittendly used as a nightclub, as the guide disdainfully explained. must have been a heck of a nightclub.
The only drawback so far is the fact that theplace is crawling with young narcistic Germans: Man spricht deutsch. people don't evenbother trying to include the sparse non-Germans (mostly Asian chicks with sparse English). Hopefully, our presence won't spoil the insane hospitality here. When the bus back into town (from wineries at the other end of Napier town) failed to stop for me, within five minutes two people had offered me a ride. "Kindness to strangers" fast became a hot contender for my New Year's Resolution Top Five (I'm not done yet). how are yours doing? happy new year...