Foggy day

Yesterday, a mystical fog enveloped the entirety of Valparaíso - all its hills, shore, and city. Everything seemed to move slowly as I gazed out the window. Fog has that effect, I guess. I grudgingly got up, feeling the effect of the fog already, and headed once again to Santiago, this time for a meeting with a doctor of Servicio Medico Legal in el Ministerio de Justicia (Ministry of Justice). There was another visitor from the US there, a forensic investigator from California who was helping the ministry with forensic work left over from the Pinochet era (with the desaparecidos during the dictatorship). Even though I desperately wanted to drill them on their work, I was there for another issue altogether.

As I headed out of the ministry building after the meeting and made my way through crowds of people to get to the subway, I ran into a large gathering that proved to be formidable to pass. I looked up and realized that a huge crowd had formed under an overhead, public TV screen that was broadcasting the soccer match between Chile and Denmark. The entire crowd (which blocked the automobile street) was hushed as Chile took control of the ball. Whispered gasps and hushed claps were silenced by the invisible power of the crowd. I shook my head and continued winding through statue-still people to get to the subway. I didn't want to stay when the game would end for fear of the inevitable stampede.

The bus ride back to Valparaíso was oddly tiring - it only lasted a bit over an hour. When I got to Valparaíso, it was drizzling, so I decided to take a micro back home instead of weathering (haha...) the 30 minute walk. I had forgotten that the streets were often one-way in the city, and by the time I realized, I was already well on my way up Playa Ancha. I desperately hoped that the micro would make a sharp U-turn at the university, but I was in no such luck. The micro wound all the way around Playa Ancha, the biggest hill in Valparaíso. As I wiped the dew from the micro window, I noticed that I had a panoramic view of the entire bay. The view was phenomenal and eerie. The ocean seemed to diffuse into the sky, its location a forgotten remnant of the place where the horizon used to be, now nothing but a blur. The only thing visible in the far distance was the perpetual circling of the lighthouse beam, its ray cycling like clockwork. It seemed like a scene from a movie, and I don't mean the cheap horror film type that Baltimore would remind one of but the independent film type that would be inspired by Virginia Woolf.

Just before twilight, and 30 minutes after I boarded the micro, I was finally on my way back down the hill. I caught a glimpse of the bay again, and realized that the heavy fog, still wrapped around the entire city, gave Valparaíso the feeling that it were floating in air. Neither water nor air were distinguishable, and just then, I understood, on a minute scale, how this city was able to inspire the poetry of Pablo Neruda.