Dear Chile,
Before I landed within your borders, I had heard many people wax eloquent about the beauty of your mountains, forests, rivers and lakes. And no doubt, I was awed by their beauty too.
But I had no idea that it would be the beauty of your people that would really overwhelm me.
While quarantining in a drab hotel room in Santiago, the nurse who came for one of many precautionary Covid tests, told me that quarantine could be really isolating, gave me his card and told me to call him if I felt like I was losing my mind.
On my birthday – spent in quarantine on Robinson Crusoe Island – a passionate diver baked me the most delicious vegan chocolate cake, without ever even having met me!
A young conservationist from the island shared with me the profound responsibility she feels to protect the island’s fragile, rare, endemic ecosystem – and her dream to travel solo someday too.
Many, many islanders shared their life stories with me, but one let me in to a dark, personal part of his life. To bear witness to someone’s journey, on the other side of the world, in a language that isn’t my own, is perhaps the most humbling part of travel.
Creativity and art flow in many people’s blood across the island and continental Chile, but a long time resident invited me time and again into his idyllic home, poetic world, art collection and fascinating stories. Every conversation made me want to learn more Spanish, so we could have more profound discussions.
Knowing how hard it was to find lunch on the island – with most restaurants closed during the pandemic and shops usually out of basic supplies – a sweet island family often invited me to share their family meals: garbanzo (chickpea stew), lentejas (lentils cooked Chilean style), stirfried veggies with rice, vegan desserts and much more.