MOVIDIC TO PORT!

There are many ways I could’ve started this post. “Let me tell about the time I went to…”, “It was a sunny day when I…”, “On my last holiday my parents and I…”. Those are only a few examples of an infinite list. 

Now, the reason why I refuse using any of this lines is that I believe the bad luck that has kept me company since I was 0 years old has another use aside making my life miserable; it also gives me the opportunity of telling good stories. Interesting for some and made up for others, but still good.

So, instead of saying “Let me tell you about the time I went to Isla Damas” I will say “Let me tell you about the time a whale's tail almost sinks the boat where I was"

It happened in that moment when you think: “This day was amazing and nothing can ruin it”. But before we get to that part, let’s put some context to all this.

It was 2015 and summer was about to be over. By the time it would happen I would be starting my last year at school, which meant by next January I would be worried picking a career and getting into college. With that in mind, my parents decided now was the time to go to a unique place. And since we were staying at Serena, there were options. After almost a week considering all of them, we decided we’d go to Isla Damas. We thought it’d be fun and beautiful to see. Once we actually reached the place, it definitely didn’t disappoint.

We were almost an hour and a half surrounded only by sea. There was no land to be found in the horizon, although that could be explained by the thick fog around the boat. We couldn’t see past our noses! Although this didn’t seem to bother the “captain”. He kept making his way to Isla Damas, oblivious of the silent panic among the passengers.

After long minutes of wiggling movement and my mother’s grip strangling my hand, we finally reached port. And the moment I stood out of the boat and took in what I had in front of me I knew the travel had been worth it.

Isla Damas is like a little paradise within Chile. A place you would hope to find in Center America or Europe. White sand and turquoise water were welcoming us. There were no many people, so it wasn’t difficult to find a free spot. Sadly, because of the bad weather, we couldn’t go into the water, but being there just sitting with the salty air refreshing our faces was enough. We also learned about the history of the island and what had given it its name. Apparently, and according to what the captain of the boat had told us, if you saw the island’s mountains from the distance, you would be able to make out the profile of three ladies.

After an hour of being there, enjoying ourselves we were told we had to leave because other people were arriving at the island. This was a method to not overcrowd the place. So we took all our stuff, took some last pictures and went back to the boat.

The trip back to the continent wasn’t better than the one we took to get to Isla Damas. If it could’ve been possible, the fog had gone thicker and the temperature had dropped. My dad and I tried to remain calm for my mother’s sake. She looked like fainting at any second. The same despise I feel for highs she feels for water of any kind. So being in the middle of the sea, in this small boat with no coast near wasn’t exactly her cup of tea.

Now, if it would’ve been any other day or if the weather would’ve been any different, we definitely could’ve seen it coming. But again, with the fog and everything even have a clear view of our noses was a hard thing to do, let alone an animal under the ocean. Anyway, by the time one of us spotted the creature, it was too late. This huge tail had appeared out of nowhere. We didn’t have time to let out a scream when SPLASH! it had submerged to the water in two seconds time, rubbing the side of the bout.

Then the Captain broke into laugh saying: “You’re lucky! That almost never happens” Just a side look at the rest of the passenger and you would be able to tell no one shared that opinion.

Long story short, we were back at the continent with no more delays. My mom didn’t let go of my arm until we were far away from the sea and made me promise her almost a hundred times I would never try something like that ever again.

So yeah. That’s the story about how we met this beautiful Landmark at Chile and got traumatized on the same day! 

A HOLIDAY

One of the best holidays I’ve had so far started with me having a panic attack. I know how that sounds, but believe me. This story does make sense once you hear all of it.

Now, to put some context before anything, you need to know two things about me.

One, I’m a big chicken when it comes to try new things. I love my comfort zone. It keeps me warm and safe and sound. Why on earth would I want to leave it? I know what people say about “trying new things” and “getting life experiences”. But to be fair, my sense of adventure (even though I would like to think otherwise) is none; or maybe it’s there, but it’s been asleep for the past eighteen years and I have no problems with it staying that way.

Second thing you need to know about me: I despise highs. It’s not just fear, or respect, but hate. Of course I can deal with common highs as in two-floor-distance-from-the-ground highs, even three-floors sometimes. I mean, I’m not that of a chicken, you know? My problem comes with four floors and more. Again, I know what people say about the beautiful views you can get, and the feeling of freedom, and the postcards, and blah, blah, blah. But here is my deal; how can you be focusing in all those “wonderful” things when you are in a constantly danger of a free fall? Once a friend told me: “Well, you won’t pass from the ground” and that’s the entire point! If I fall, I know there’s something awaiting for me in the bottom. Something cold, and hard. Something that will hurt. I could die! And no, I’m not being dramatic. It can happen, it has happened.

Anyways, after this quick Monica 101, you are probably guessing most part of the story. Just imagine how I felt when my parents told me we were going to Valdivia in a freaking plane! It was like it they would’ve thrown me out of my beloved comfort zone, chosen one of my biggest fears, mixed it all together and put it in a card that read “Happy Holiday!” Well, it didn’t just felt like that, it was exactly that! Except for the card part, that was a metaphor, but the rest was true.

So we packed all the things we will be needing (while I was still trying to convince my dad that a car trip of seven hours couldn’t be that bad and failing at the same time), got ourselves into my uncle’s van and drove all the way to the airport. By that time all the hopes of changing my parent’s mind where lost, buried, and burned. Luckily, up until the moment my uncle parked, I was feeling fine. Not spectacular, but fine.

Then I got out of the van.

That’s how this story starts. Yep, that’s the panic attack. Told you it made sense, although it really didn’t? Even I can see how stupid it was to be all shaky and crying in front of so many people from so many places. I mean, I hadn’t even seen a plane taking off or anything. It would’ve made much more sense for the panic attack to come once I was actually inside the plane, not out! Funny thing, I didn’t feel scared for the rest of the trip. Definitely nervous, but it was a level I could handle. I even sat next to the window!

The next hours came and went. I got some reading done, took a bunch of pictures and slept a little. This situation did not change my relationship with highs. I still hate them. But it taught me there’s some of it I can work with.

Ok! So, after this long, long intro (sorry not sorry) I can finally talk to you about my holiday.

Being in Valdivia for me was like being in an entire different world all together, and I’m not exaggerating. I think this impact on me was because I’ve lived my entire life in Santiago and a have the vivid image of concrete when I think of it. The image of smog, of River Mapocho being almost dry. So when I get to this place, whit green all over it, with this huge and beautiful central river, I’m most definitely stunned. Even the people were great! If you asked someone “Where is X Street?” they didn’t look at you like if you were going to rob them or something. They replied you politely “This is here, and that is there”.

Other reason why I enjoyed being there so much was because of the different backgrounds you could find. You had forest on one side, beach on the other and the city in between, like a perfect popurri of everything.  We met the historical Fort Niebla, and bought a tour to the islands Corral and Mancera. If I’m remembering correctly, we stayed for two weeks, so we had enough time to do everything we wanted.

And yeah… that’s my favorite holiday so far.

PS: I know I wrote a lot of words, but in my defense the instructions said “At least 250 words”… they didn’t include the maximum and I tend to take instructions literally… so yeah…

SOMETHING YOU FEEL PASSIONATE ABOUT (free post)

“Kell wore a very peculiar coat”.

That first quote was the one that introduced me to a place some knows as heaven and others as hell. For how I see it, it has a little of both. A place where forming bonds with anyone is a dangerous thing, because they’ll probably end up dead. A place where the rules we know are bent and even broken, so anything is possible. Here, you’ll laugh, you’ll hate, you’ll ugly cry, you’ll want to kill and hug everyone at the same time.

This place is called High Fantasy.

Now, this term can be applied when you’re referring to movies, TV shows, graphic novels, books, etc. I’ll just focus in the last one.

In case you don’t know, High Fantasy is a subgenre of Fantasy. Its main characteristic is that, in difference with Urban Fantasy or Low Fantasy, the entire setting of the story is an imaginary world that has nothing to do with our reality. A clear example of this would be The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien.

I now, it sounds amazing. And most of the time, it is.

This type of stories have a really special place in my heart. They give you the opportunity of unplugged from routine. You can dive into this new world where, again, everything is possible. You can be a pirate, or a dragon master, or a royal member. You get to fight the bad guys, go on adventures to distant lands, meet the stories about kingdoms, about wars, about magic. Even now, just writing about this is sending chills up to my arms. Because, come on. Who doesn’t want to be a wizard? Or control elemental magic? Or fly in the back of a dragon?

And even if you’re not interested in any of that, there’s so much more High Fantasy can offer you. Like politic organization, which is always an interesting aspect a book can offer you. Or the social problems within a kingdom. Or how the renegades act against it. After all, even when is a new world built from scratch it will have problems to deal with. Problems that sometimes we can see reflected in our reality.

And because not everything can be sweets and rainbows, there’s a risk in this. As I said before, going into this genre is a dangerous thing to do. It might sound dramatic, but trust me, I know. Because High Fantasy’s authors like to write about this amazing characters you most definitely will fall in love with just so they can crush your hopes and heart at the end of the story. For some reason, they love to kill their own characters and make us feel miserable. I’ve been through a lot of griefs, and they are not fun. So beware.

Going back to the line I started this blog with, it is the first quote of A Darker Shade of Magic by V.E. Schwab. The book that introduced me to this new genre and made me fall in love with it.