"Today, I will go to Limache."

This is what I said Tuesday morning at 8am.

What is Limache? Well, that was the question. The metro goes to Limache (direcion Puerto o direcion Limache, those are your options, there is only one line and it leads to Limache). Every day I see dozens of buses going to Limache. What is Limache?

On Monday I had insomnia. Around 5:30am I decided to pour a glass of red wine in the thought that it might put me out. I had a bit of it and then fell asleep. I woke up around 7:00 and realized that the lights were still on and my glass of wine was more than half full. Being half asleep I solved this problem as follows: 1. Put out light. 2. Chug remainder of wine. 3. Go back to sleep.

The fact that I was most likely a bit drunk when I woke up an hour later probably contributed to my grand desire to see Limache. So I got out of bed, found that I was conveniently still half dressed (I'm always organized in small ways like that), combed my hair, brushed my teeth, got my jacket and hit the road. This being Chile, the metro was shut and no one knew why. So I jumped on a bus, handed over my 700 pesos, and went to Limache.

It took a bit over an hour. Limache turns out to be a town to the northeast of Valpo, close to the coastal cordillera. It was very beautiful there--I am still not sure if I saw a lake or just a valley full of fog, but all in all the views were a nice change from crowded Valpo.

When I got off of the bus, however, I had a realization. Limache at 9am, like all of Chile at 9am, is a ghost town. Nothing really opens here until mid-morning. So I was kind of at a loss once I actually arrived. My plan had been to sit down with a coffee and read, but that was not going to work out for me. I wandered around a bit in the streets which were empty and full of closed stores. I went into a bakery and bought a piece of bread. I went to a minimarket and got a breakfast Pepsi (mmmm) because I couldn't find a coffee shop. Then I just got on another bus and headed back to Valpo.

The day was absolutely beautiful. The sun was out, the temperature had to be in the high 70s, and there was a really lovely warm breeze. So I got off the bus in Vina and walked back along the coastal walkway. This is something that absolutely everyone should do, probably once a week. I have not felt so slap happy in love with life in ages. I put some ambient music on my headphones. I jumped up and down off of benches, leaned over railings, danced a little bit, spun a little bit......think "opening scene of Sound of Music" meets "crazy woman in the street."

Here are some views of the city that I love, I love, I love, I love:

My Valparaiso. My beautiful, beautiful city. It is a wonderful thing to be able to look at a place and just feel your chest fill up.

Here is a poor lobo marino who can't figure out how the other guys got up there:

He was circling around at the base for a good ten minutes. He'd circle back, dive, get up speed, jump....and belly flop. Personally I'm with him: how did they get up there?

This is a shrine by the train tracks about halfway back to Valpo. For a woman named Margarita. A shrine like this makes you stop. You can't help it: did she jump? If she did, why? What Anna Karenina is this? Or did she fall?

There was a similarly fascinating shrine on the beach in Horcon. It was large, a driftwood sculpture with rocks and offerings and plaques. It was for a 23 year old woman and a 4 year old child, I believe. I didn't have my camera. With both, it catches you so suddenly. A beautiful day walking by the water and then in the middle of the bright sun this little monument to unexpected death. Shrines are not put up for the naturally fallen, after all. When you see a shrine you know that something out of the ordinary has happened, relatives were called and shocked, police came. Generally you can guess: shrines by the roadside, for instance, are sad, they catch your notice, but you have an idea of the situation. But this woman with the train; the young mother and her daughter....? .....her niece? Who was it? Did the child fall into the sea, did the girl die trying to save her? Did they go in together for fun and get pulled under by a rip? You can almost imagine them walking along holding hands on the hot sunny sand and a giant, animate wave reaching out over the beach and pulling them in....

But, you cannot spend your whole day contemplating shrines. It's a guilty feeling, walking away, going back to being happy like a little kid and laughing when the wind puts sand into your eyes. But you do. I do.

Here is a piece of grafitti which I assume is by the same artist who did the piece at the top of this blog:

Finally, at the end of it all, I bought a coffee and look what my change had to say:

Well what do you know. My money says good things are on the way (love and work, to be specific). I'm not quite sure how to interpret that symbolism so I'll just let it be and say, "Well thank you, Sir Luca, I certainly hope so."