Chile’s True
Colors
Three days of music, dancing,
barbecues and shows, while red, white and blue flags brightened city streets,
honoring September 18th, Chile’s Independence Day. Lines of cars and
buses filled the roads out of the city – to the coast, to the countryside. Like
many others, though, we stayed in town. Hubby needed some down time after his
long flight home from Italy. Some stayed in town to settle their nerves.
Two days before the celebrations
began, this land performed true to its geography. I was sitting home alone at
my computer (hubby was en route in the sky somewhere) when the shaking began. A
strong sideways movement (8.4 at its epicenter) that seemed endless. I held onto my desk and waited it out. An
hour later, another one. I went to get a flashlight, just in case. Fortunately,
no damage, just pictures rocked askew on the walls. Immediately, a text message
from my Brooklyn-er son. I assured him all was well. The next day a flood of
emails from concerned friends in the States.
On the second day of the
festivities, I suggested to hubby that we go with friends to the “fonda”, a traditional Independence week
fair. Everyone who hadn’t gone out of town was there. Families with children
and their dogs dressed in traditional costumes.
Exhibits and traditional dancing and games attracted others. We
headed to a large field ringed by bleachers to watch a demonstration of the
Army’s Hussars Death Squadron, attired in pre-independence uniforms, bearing
spears and mounted on handsome black horses. Their skills and precision drew enthusiastic
applause. Once again I lamented that I’d never had the opportunity to learn to ride
those magnificent creatures.
Selling beef jerky and "cuchuflí" Chilean sweets |
Stiff and sore from the long stretch
on hard bleachers, we headed for the exit gate, as new arrivals poured in. We’d
immersed ourselves in Chilean traditions and were ready for the comforts of home,
the start of spring in two days – and a series of ongoing aftershocks.
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