Art, Eggs and Emilio

6/14-6/17
Valparaíso
Valparaíso,

how absurd
you are,
what a lunatic,
crazy port,
what a head –
rolling hills,
disheveled,
you never
finished combing your hair,
you’ve never
had time
to get dressed,
life has
always
surprised you,
death has awoken you,
in your nightshirt,
in your long johns,
flecked with color,
naked,
with a name
tattooed on your stomach,
wearing a hat,
the earthquake seized you,
running
crazed,
you tore apart your fingernails,
your water and stones
moved of their own accord,
the streets,
the sea,
the night,
you have been sleeping
in the earth,
tired
of your voyages,
and the land,
furious,
threw up its waves
more tempestuous
than a storm at sea,
the dust
covered your eyes,
the flames
burnt your shoes,
the firm
bankers’ houses
quaked
like wounded whales,
while above
the houses of the poor
fell
into the void
like imprisoned
birds
who, testing their wings,
fall to the earth.

Soon,
Valparaíso,
sailor,
you’ll forget
your tears,
you’ll return
to building up your houses,
painting your doors
green,
your windows
yellow,
you will transform
all of it
into a vessel,
you are
the patched prow
of a small,
brave,
ship.
The tempest is crowned
with sea foam
your ropes that sing
and the light of the ocean
makes shirts
and flags quake
in your endless swaying.

You are
a dark
star
from afar,
in the heights of the coastline
shining
and soon
you will surrender
your hidden fire,
the winding
of your mute alleys,
the confidence
of your movement,
the clarity
of your sailing.
Here is where I end it, this
ode,
Valparaíso,
small
as a discarded
undershirt,
draped
in your ragged windows
cradled in the ocean
wind,
drenched
in all
the sorrows
of your land,
receiving
the dew
of the seas, the kiss
of the broad, furious ocean.
that, with all the force it has,
striking your stones,
could not
topple you,
because on your southern chest
is tattooed
the fight,
the hope,
the solidarity
and the happiness
like anchors
that resist
the waves of the earth.

Pablo Neruda.
Translation credit.

How does one summarize Valparaíso?
An artist’s-maize of hills covered in dirty-raw beauty.
Nothing besides Pablo Neruda’s poem could summarize this city; nothing but the snapshots captured in the short amount of time spent there…

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FullSizeRender (95)Our friends Haleigh and Ashley joined us for our Valpo adventure and we happened to meet the most memorable character named Emilio, a Valpo-native, who gave us his first-ever (we are almost positive) wine tour through the Casablanca Valley. He was all-around just a great person. This blog goes out to Emilioooooo (!) and the incredible place he calls home.

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