The Earth Parts, II

We left off on the corner of Antonio Varas and Providencia. The cupulo of the Cathedral strewn to pieces, shattered as if a dismayed wrecking ball had snuck up upon it and smashed its bells into silence. Oh my god... Now, if this were any normal moment, there's no chance in hell a person could stand in the middle of Avenida Providencia and survive- it is one of the busiest thoroughfares in Santiago, a loud mess of cars, buses, drumb-bangers, prostitutes (at night, and of course, on my street corner), motorcycles, etc. But that night, this particular night the earth parted, there were what seemed to be hundreds of people wandering, shocked, scared, dazed in the middle of the street. Cars were halted, everyone gaping at the fallen idol-- my first sign of the gravity of what had shaken us.

But we have to keep moving. How are we going to get home?? For those of you who are interested in cartographic evidence, this is the distance we transversed in our attempt to get from A to B ASAP. It was not a short (or pleasant) walk (in sand filled ballet flats). Essentially from the metro Manuel Montt to the Estadio Nacional. Totally different comunas. What would normally be about a half an hour bus ride. We walked. Walked so fast. Did not stop. Slowed down, yes, attempting to overhear the news on various portable radios. Yes, to rubber-neck at damaged homes, buildings, restaurants, walls. Damaged people.

Nothing physical, no, but people of all ages-- most in pajamas, sitting, standing, pacing on the lawn of their apartment buildings, shaken, battered by what had just occurred. Grandmas, babies, mothers with children in their arms. Fear in everyone's eyes. Concern and uncertainty emanating from every face we hurriedly passed. At one point, I hear someone running behind us. Usually, on a normal non-quaked evening, that spells danger. Someone is going to rob you. Run up behind you and grab your purse. That was probably the most asustada I felt all night. Nearly broke poor LL's hand/wrist/arm. But the young guy sprinted past us, didn't look back. The robberies hadn't yet begun...

For the sizable distance, we arrived in (personal estimation) about 45 minutes to LL's house as the sun was forcing its first rays upon us-- lifting up the comforting curtain of darkness and ocular oblivion. Without the sun, the cracks and breaks are less noticeable...

LL tears open the gate, opens the front door and immediate starts yelling his brother's name. Tom and I stand, tired, exhausted. His yells start to get more and more desperate as he begins to realize that his brother is no where to be found. Yelling, running through every room in the house- LL is panicked. We begin to notice that the insides of the home appear as if it has been robbed. Furniture displaced. Drawers opened, dishes fallen, broken. LL's brother appears... walks unphased through the front gate. Poor kid was alone sleeping, the EQ stuck, and subsequently left the house to check damage. But was OK. Walk to the upstairs bathroom-- everything on the floor. A million little nail polish bottles strewn about the tiles-- a rare sight in what is usually a freakishly tidy house (in comparison to mine).

Turn on the TV. The destruction floods our eyes. The information, facts are overwhelming. It was almost 6 in the morning. Had to sleep. Exhausted.

Wake up often. Wake up to the news. Wake up to the worry of what my parents must be thinking. Wake up to more tremors that leave me nearly in tears, rushing out of the bed and downstairs-- where I come to see LL's pool half empty. Backyard tsunami.

Sleep, contact family, sleep. Eventually we get Chinese food. I eventually go to my house. I knew it would be a mess only because I have open shelves in the kitchen. Sure enough all the bottles fell, creating a stinky explosion that, after seeing various images of the damage in the south, I was more than happy to clean.

The rest of the weekend, and week for that matter, was a blur. I felt like a zombie. I semi-forced LL into staying with me at my apartment because I was still so scared of the aftershakes that haven't stopped rattling the Region Metropolitana and surrounding areas.

Basically- we were so lucky. So f-ing lucky. People lost their lives, their homes, cars, their family. Some people in the southern regions that were more strongly affected are still without water, light, or communication. Entire communities have disappeared. If the only thing I lost were condiments and part of my sanity, I'll go ahead and count my lucky stars. We were so lucky. So, so lucky.

Stay tuned, yet again, for part III-- reflections, thoughts, etc... There'll be no shortage, that's fo sure.