Spring: sprung.

Valparaiso, being an old city, a pre-car city, is built the way I like a city to be. That is, human proportioned. Small buildings leaning over small roads, tightly curled in upon itself like a knot of the strings that trail behind us as we live our lives. I could see this being a claustrophobic place for some. For me, though, it is a perfect mix of warm and cold. It is perched, practically falling into, the huge empty horizon line of the sea; a satisfyingly precarious openness. Against the strange and impersonal depths of the ocean, the city feels like a warm buzzing fortress of the quotidian.

It is, perhaps, the most detailed city I have ever seen. This is difficult to explain sight unseen, so I will relay my typical parable on this topic. A month or two ago, a friend had a picture on her camera of this little piece of awesome:



"That is," I said, predictably, "awesome! Where is it?"

"Almironte Montt," she told me, with a 'what is your deal' look....fairly, because Almironte Montt is a street that I walk down, on average, 3 times daily.

So I kept my eyes open the next time. And...I didn't see it. I was actively looking for a 4 foot high stack of televisions with a command printed on them (shut off the television, live your life...I'm sure you figured it out without my brilliant translation aid). Anyhow, not what every average person has in their front patio. Nonetheless, I could not find it. I actually had to call my friend and ask where exactly I could find the televisions on this 4 block stretch of the road that I walk. Why? Because there is just so. much. to look at.

"Did you ever notice," said a Chilean who has lived here for years, "that the upper windows in Plaza Victoria are painted? I never noticed before." And this doesn't make this person spacy. This is just Valparaiso. Every day I notice something that I have been blind to for months simply because I was always distracted by something else just as attention-absorbing (if you happen to prefer trees to forests..although I'll say that the forest here is perfectly worthy of its trees).

So. Going back to the build of the city. In a mostly cement, brick and mortar world, one wouldn't expect too much of a big deal for spring. Furthermore, the winter here is the equivalent of a chilly September day in New England. Having lived in Northwestern Pennsylvania, where spring explodes in a way that makes you fall backwards into a nearby chair (before fading within a week into unbreathing summer), I can say that it's certainly not a fireworks show here. Nonetheless, though, it is an unmistakeable change in the atmosphere of the city that swept in with unexpected force.

The first hint was two weeks ago, when I met friends for dinner and Emma stopped for a minute. "I smell flowers," she said, and we all sniffed around, shrugged, and went off for a jug of fruit wine.

Then, a few days later, all of the cherry trees bloomed. It must have happened overnight. And it didn't knock me over like a NWPA spring does. But it made me catch my breath. Because spring here, like everything else seems to be, is a slow creeping in of details, a subtle colored pencil taken to the edges of the pen and ink sketch.

It's still chilly. And there was a downpour last Friday. But spring is here, and it is brightening the already bright city.

For those who are concerned about me personally, and are noting the timestamp yet again, I can explain that the reason that I am blogging at 2:30 in the morning is because I need a break from this:

Yes, being a Professional English Speaker is not always as glamorous as you never assumed it was. Sometimes I get to stay up all night plotting grids that by all rights ought to be designed by a computer-person, all so that I can ask strangers earnestly if there are any "large changes going on in their life that might be affecting their skin."

Thanks to begrudgingly generous friend Matt for providing me with a surface on which it is possible to do work, and a tasteful environment in which to do so.

About the only thing tasteful about this particular project....