And thus I found myself in a wetsuit jumping off a 40-foot waterfall with a little Frenchman that may or may not have been part frog. For those who do not know, I have an aversion to jumping off of things into water. It's the feeling of falling. I really, really dislike the feeling of falling.
"Come on!!" said the Frenchman, "launch from zee rock! Come!"
And I did, much to my own dismay and exhilaration. In the midst of a steady spring downpour I closed my eyes and leaped, falling down and down into an icy pool. I bobbed to the surface and then prepared myself to repel down a legitimately huge cascade, which I did while the volcanoes watched, peeping their snowy faces through the rain.
In Puerto Varas we were also witness to a marauding Andean Condor. We were rambling about on the slopes of the Osorno Volcano when this bird of immense proportions circled us so closely that we could hear the wind whistling through its feathers. After I was certain that the bird's intention was not to claw out my eyes, I began to understand why people worship the condor.
Later, while walking down the sunny streets of Puerto Varas, Nathaniel and I discussed our upcoming move to the island of Chiloé. Work with snails was rumored to be a part of the farm job we were taking on the island, but I didn't really believe it. "Nathaniel," I said, "if we really do have intimate contact with snails at this Chiloé place we should put them on our faces. Pinky swear?"
I don't know exactly what inspired me to say this, but, to Nathaniel and me, the pinky swear is sacred.
On Friday afternoon a bus dropped us off on the Chiloé coast in a rainstorm, and by Sunday we were massaging snail bellies. Inés, the owner of the farm/restaurant/hotel where we are working, also makes and sells snail-based cosmetics. It was our noble task to clean filthy snail habitations and otherwise commune with our new mollusk friends. This is just one of our many jobs at Inés's, which have also included making marzipan, painting, moving firewood, pouring cement, and cutting Styrofoam with hot knives.
I don't like oysters, but I do like the spectacular sunsets that unfurl on rain-free evenings. Everything turns purple, and Nathaniel and I have far-discussions as the algae oxen bring home their last cart-fulls of algae. Is every story some iteration of One Great Story that infinitely repeats? What does it mean to have a moral compass? How should we think about the laws of nature? Is enlightenment related to mollusks? What the hell are we going to do with our lives once we get back to the Northern Hemisphere?
Of course, as always, the answers remain elusive. At least for me there's reverence embedded in the questions, and their daily asking seems right, even if intellectual 'progress' infinitely repeats like the One Great Story that I'm not sure I believe in.
Anyway, it's been beautiful. I thought I'd list a few extra links here at the end for those who are interested:
Our Most Recent Picasa Web Album
The YouTube Video of the Condor Sighting
Nathaniel's Awesome Blog
Slide Show of People Canyoning Where We Canyoned
