On the Move

For those of you who don't know who the Chilean poet Pablo Neruda is, here's a quick summary: Nobel Laureate for literature, very wealthy, and former senator and diplomat with three houses. You know, like all poets. Our group had already visited one of his eccentric houses in Valparaiso a few months ago. But this past weekend we headed to Isla Negra, arguably the most famous of the three (although you probably still haven't heard of it). It wasn't as exciting as I had hoped, and we couldn't take pictures inside the house, though practically everyone else did. I merely bring it up because he did have some insane views of the ocean.

View from the beach below Neruda's house

Chiseled Neruda with his large house in the background

It does, however, provides an awful(ly seamless) transition into what I was actually excited about.Where Neruda had a plethora of housing options (he should try signing up for housing at St. John's), my host family and I were about ready to abandon our solitary abode. This isn't to say we were living in the street, but it was definitely time to move since it was clear that any repairs would require a process I've found to be common here: seemingly very inefficient while at the same time not being very thorough, and taking forever to accomplish. Multiple light fixtures were broken, cupboards were falling apart, electrical shortages were common, and our faucet was leaking from the handle so badly that we needed to weigh it down with cartons of milk to stop the flow.

When I first arrived in Chile back in August, my host family informed me that we would be moving at the end of the month. When that date came and went, I was told it was because the sellers hadn't yet found or finalized their next home. Even later, in October, it took a few weeks for my host mom to sign all the documents necessary to move. I found the whole delaying process very indicative my previously mentioned revelation.

Finally, on the November first we moved, and it apparently took all the saints to do so (holiday joke bonus). So I did what any good son, biological or hosted, would do: I packed all my things, grabbed my backpack and went off to hike La Campana (see previous post). And thus, my last steps from that humble two story closet were taken, tearfully and longingly I assure you. After our hike, I returned the next day to an apartment complex having to explain to the doorman that I did indeed temporarily reside in said establishment and was not merely a backpacking vagrant-gringo trying to score a comfy nights sleep. Although, to be honest, that's all I had my mind on at the time.

View into my glorified new closet

Worth the view, I think. You can see where we simply knocked out the balcony separator to create more living space

I found out that, although things like clothing, cars and many groceries can be comparable in price or even more expensive here in Chile, rent seems to veer towards the cheaper end of the spectrum. This 3 bedroom, two bathroom apartment with separate storage and underground parking comes in at around $770. Now, I'm no real estate expert, but that's less than what two Johnnies pay to share a 10 x 15 foot dorm for their first two years. I guess nothing says community living like a concrete cell!

Anyways, this new place has (almost) got it all. Yes, my room is smaller, but hey I have a bathroom, which means no waiting for the unpredictable morning schedule of my host brother every day. Yes, many of the light fixtures still don't work, but with the sunset over the skyline a nightly occurrence I think I'll live. Sure, water leaked from the toilet in my room from day one, but I find delight in testing the plumbing at the university instead. And no, I don't have a mirror, but what with the growth of my hair (dare I say, mullet) and my failing Noshavember, that's probably for the best.