Comes in Waves

"Grant me freedom to enjoy this night
And I'll return to you at break of light
For the wanting comes in waves."
--The Decemberists

There is a strange feeling of dispossession that washes over me from time to time, and often leaves me perched as though on a rock surrounded by the coming tide. It is not what could be called home sickness, because I have no physical home that I miss, only people. I have only ever been away from my country before on travel, always with the intention of returning to Georgia, to Atlanta.
However, this time is very different, because I don't know if I ever will be "home" in Atlanta again. I'm starting to doubt it. Yet, there is a disconnect that my brain has yet to fully process between how my life was, and what it is now. How there is no other home but where I am now; no other room, no other possessions. Calama is my home now, and my soul does not seem content to accept that reality (can you blame it?) If I leave, when I leave, it is always to her dusty calles that I shall return, for months more yet. And then, what comes after? Ah, to even think of after Chile leaves me feeling so strange that I try never to entertain such thoughts. I might not even live that long. "Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?" I believe, as it is written, that the Lord God has a plan for me, one that I seek and attempt to be obedient too, and what's more, to desire. Hence my presence in this sprawling desert hamlet. However, when I am honest, I realize my heart seems to want something else and I'm having trouble with reconciliation.

It helps to get out of town.

Friday May 14th I finally did leave Calama for the first time in two weeks to visit the coastal city up north of Iquique. Once a part of Peru, Iquique was essentially stolen by Chile during their war with Bolivia and her ally Peru in a conflict known as La Guerra del Pacifico. In fact, the entire north of Chile was once Peruvian or Bolivian territory, including my new hometown. On the 21st of May the nation of Chile will celebrate this fact on the anniversary of the Combate Naval de Iquique where a wooden Chilean corvette was crushed by a Peruvian ironclad. The battle was a complete loss for Chile at the time (they lost a ship along with 135 men. Peru lost one man. One.) However, the admiral of the Chilean ship, Arturo Prat, died so "gallantly"that his story rallied the youth of Chile to the fight, ultimately leading to Chilean victory. A movie was recently made about the event and it is the most expensive Chilean film production to date. It opens next week. Here is the trailer:



Iquique is full of history, but more importantly it is filled with beautiful beaches where surfers flock year round to enjoy the consistent swells. The beaches were what Ryan and I were most interested in as we headed five hours by bus to spend the weekend in a beach-side hostel with Mike, the surfer from New York. He was already in town when we arrived, having come up from his post in Taltal to buy a surf board and break it in. Thus the three of us had a small reunion in the lovely humidity (I was soaked in seconds, so unused to the moisture in the air as I have become.) We ate seafood and enjoyed the beach. Mike surfed. We all made new friends as the hostel was full of other surfers and, for some reason, at least six unassociated Dutchmen. One girl, Puck, spent the weekend hanging out with us as she was traveling alone and would be leaving on the same bus for Calama as Ryan and I on Sunday, bound as she was for San Pedro (por supuesto.)

It was cloudy most of the day on Saturday, which was a disappointment that kept me from entering the beautiful, crystal blue water. However, the sunset was so spectacular, and the weather so balmy that I really couldn't complain at the end of the day. Also, in a bit of divine providence, we missed a pair of days in Calama that saw freezing rain and power outages due to 100km winds. It ended up being a most fortuitous decision to go to the beach.


Sunday saw Mike gone early in the morning as he had a ten hour ride back south to Taltal. Thus, Ryan, Puck and I walked to the celebrated Mall to poke around and have some chow. Like every major store in Chile modeled after a North American counterpart, the mall was utterly redundant; its two floors populated by no less then ten different shoe stores.

By Sunday I was happy to be back in Calama, with my new family. They make this endeavor worthwhile, and actually have me looking forward to coming "home" whenever I am away. It has almost been two months now, and the States is feeling farther and farther away. So many people worried that when I left I wouldn't be coming back. I now have a sense why.