Los retratos de una vida.

“Are we to paint what’s on the face, what’s inside the face, or what’s behind it?”
- Pablo Picasso

The In-Between.

After reaching the two-week mark, I'm starting to notice a slight shift in my perception of life here. While Santiago remains an immense, unconquered maze of new discovery, certain faces, places, and daily habits have started to become much more comfortable and familiar. But while the house has started to feel more like home and certain rituals have become routine, I feel this overwhelming sense that I am somehow living in the present while my heart is still so firmly attached to the past, as though I haven't necessarily embarked upon a new chapter of life here, but rather, that I've left and entire story unfinished and am now scrambling to begin another. I'm sure this is all just part of the process of acclimatization, that eventually things will begin to feel more normal but for now I seem to let my thoughts drift back home just a little too often. And if I try to concentrate on the here and now, I see only an obscure and dauntingly vast expanse of time ahead of me.

This is, of course, not to say that I haven't been enjoying myself here. Quite the contrary, in fact. I fill my days alone here with little excursions into the city, running, writing, reading in the shade of the apricot tree in the garden, working on my CV and drafting motivation letters, experimenting in the kitchen, and loosely sketching out plans for weekend trips to La Serena, Valparaiso, Mendoza and Buenos Aires. G and I also enjoy the occasional dinner out or drinks in the city with Sebastian & Co., have discovered that the best and cheapest coffee to be had is at the literary cafe in Parque Bustamante (definite favorite), and have a whole host of interesting things which we want to check out in the coming weeks, including the largest exhibition of Picasso prints in the world(!) in Providencia.

No, life is certainly good here. It's more than that, really. Maybe it's simply a question of letting my heart catch up, of not expecting too much too fast, of accepting certain inalienable truths. No one ever said this would be easy and the beginning is always the hardest part anyway. I just hope that the amazement and wonder with the new won't eventually wear off and leave me standing there watching my footprints disappearing in the sand behind me without being able to see the path ahead. Only time will tell, but I get the distinct feeling that, more than anything, it's going to be up to me.

Old faces, new places

I ventured down to Lastarria last night, which is a beautiful neighborhood near Universidad la Católica, to meet up with an old acquaintance from college for drinks. Jillian first came to the city on exchange back in 2008, fell in love with a Chilean boy and eventually made the jump across the Atlantic to start a new life here with him. She now works for the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and as I'd hoped, has blossomed in her 2.5 years here into a savvy Santiaguina with lots of tips and insider knowledge on how to find ones way. We grabbed a table on the terrace of Casa Lastarria and poured our hearts out over cocktails, ceviche, empanadas and, in true Dutch style, patat met mayo. It was lovely, not only to see a familiar face here, but also to feel so open and relaxed with someone I'd never really spent all that much time with before. It felt like meeting up with a good friend that I'd simply lost track of for a few years.

Monumento Iglesia de la Vera Cruz (Barrio Lastarria).

It's a wonderful thing to be able to listen to impressions of a place from someone with a shared cultural vantage point. Putting experiences into context becomes a lot easier and it's also vaguely reassuring to know that certain perceptions were actually spot on and not just figments of my imagination borne out of insecurity.

For example, within the first days here I had noticed that Chileans seem to do a lot of staring. Not necessarily in the rude, leering sense of the word, but certainly allowing their gaze to rest upon you for extended (and sometimes uncomfortable) periods of time. Granted, I notice it a lot more when in the company of G, but then again a nearly 2-meter tall, blond, blue-eyed Dutchman seems to attract attention just about anywhere outside of northern Europe. But even without him in tow, I often find myself meeting eyes with someone in the metro or passing by on the street, only to lose the staring contest after a few seconds. I found it all a bit disconcerting in the beginning, as back in Amsterdam you basically have to stand on your head, naked and with a whistle in your mouth to draw even a casual second glance.

Las Primeras Impresiones

It's been just over a week now and we've seen, tasted, and experienced much more than we could have imagined before leaving. In fact, I can hardly believe that just 10 days ago, we were stuffing our belongings into boxes, tugging on our winter coats and running off to the post office in Amsterdam.

We arrived last Friday night after a 28-hour journey through Germany, the Dominican Republic and Panama and were greeted at the airport by Simon, G's new employer and the head of the new project he's going to be working on at OAN (el Observatorio Astronómico Nacional). He drove us right to our new place in Las Condes, which is a posh suburb in the north-east of Santiago. The house is situated at the foot of a hill known as Cerro Calán and hence just a 10 minute walk from the observatory. It's also enormous by any standard and even more so because it's just the two of us here, but we're very comfortable and have quickly gotten used to enjoying the use of our garden, the enormous terrace which gives us a beautiful view of the city, and the spacious living room complete with two big, soft couches which we usually crash onto at the end of the day and heave a sigh of contented exhaustion.

Abajo del Cielo Abierto

This is a city to be taken in sips, rather than the frantic, thirsty gulps it's sprawling massiveness and undeniable liveliness inspire. From the arid vistas and gated villas of Las Condes we wind our way slowly toward her center, stopping frequently for small, exotic treats and long pauses in the sun. Fresh ceviche from the market at Los Dominicos, sticky sweet mote con huesillos in the park near Santa Lucia, unfamiliar tastes that tantalize our tongues and sights that widen our eyes. On la Plaza de Armas it seems that life from all corners has congregated to while away the seemingly endless Saturday hours, to bask with utter reciprocity in the delicious simplicity of doing absolutely nothing. The purple of the flowers on the trees dances vibrantly against a deep azure blue sky while the sounds of music, laughter, clicking chess pieces and scattering pigeons fill the air. And all around it seems as though a thousand stories from either side of the Mapoche spin together to form this colorful, dissoluble tapestry that is Santiago. I close my eyes and inhale deeply, hoping to take even a fraction of this vitality into me, then exhale again and smile at the stunning, nearly inconceivable notion that this is home.