Chikungunya

  Since returning from Chile, several students have been out for days at a time with the excuse that they have Chikungunya, a virus spread by mosquitoes.  My school is out of town a ways in the middle of farmland with several large ponds close by.  With it being the rainy season, the mosquito count has been high, and the blood-suckers are constantly buzzing around my classroom.
  In the middle of a lesson yesterday, one particularly high-strung boy, Sergio, started running around, frantically waving his arms yelling, "Chikungunya! Chikungunya!"  (That's one way to get out of learning.)  There are mosquito bodies plastered to my walls where kids have smashed the lives out them before they could wreak any more havoc .  Needless to say, there is an intense fear of getting bitten.
  The virus became a reality for me when I received this alert from the American Consulate today:

U.S. Embassy Bogota, Colombia

Security Message for U.S. Citizens:  Chikungunya virus in Colombia

October 29, 2014

The U.S. Embassy informs U.S. citizens living and traveling in Colombia of a public health concern regarding the chikungunya virus.  Chikungunya virus is a mosquito transmitted virus recently identified in Colombia and spreading. Symptoms typically include fever and joint pain of the hands and feet that begin 3-7 days after being bitten by an infected mosquito.  Other symptoms may include muscle pain, headache, fever, joint swelling, and rash.  There is no vaccine or medication to prevent chikungunya virus infection or any antiviral medications to treat it at this time.  While deaths are rare, people at increased risk for severe disease include newborns, adults over 65 years, and those with chronic health conditions.  The presentation of chikungunya is similar to dengue.  Citizens are encouraged to seek medical attention if they are showing symptoms, and especially if the fever is over 102 F (above 39 C).  At this time, prevention measures are focused on reducing mosquito exposure by the use of mosquito repellents, covering exposed skin, permethrin-treated clothing, mosquito control measures like emptying water from outdoor containers, and supporting local mosquito control measures.  Anyone sick with chikungunya should avoid mosquito bites to help prevent further spreading of the virus.  Please visit the Centers for Disease Control (CDC) website on Chikungunya virus for additional information.


P.S. I recommend you look up pictures of the rash this virus can cause.  I would post photos, but some people tend to get a little squeamish.  

Santiago

Christy left Santiago late Saturday night, which left me to wander around the city on Sunday.  My favorite part was sitting in a cafe, drinking Lady Grey tea, and eating this delicious triple chocolate cake.  I am craving a slice with a large glass of milk right now but am trying to fend off temptation by just drinking some wine.  Seeing the picture is not helping.

As much as I enjoyed Chile, I was relieved to be home.  Some takeaways on Chile (at least the parts I saw):

1.  It is extremely expensive.  A normal sandwich with no fries costs sixteen dollar.  I do believe I spent almost as much on food as on the plane ticket. 

2.  They have some delicious bread there: crispy crusts and soft centers.

3.  The air is incredibly dry and blows up allergies like no other. 

4.  It reminded me of the United States (not a bad thing but not something I want when traveling to a foreign country).  The only differences I could discern were the lack of free restrooms and the Spanish being spoken.  

Isla Negra

Our last stop before returning to Santiago was Isla Negra, a small, beach-side town close to the resort.  The house of Pablo Neruda was the biggest draw here.  Pablo Neruda is one of the most famous poets in Chile/South America and owned several houses in which people go to visit.  The house in Isla Negra is supposedly the most beautiful, so we ventured off to see it.  

  The ocean view from the house was the most beautiful I have ever seen as the blue in the waters made it hard to look away.  The pictures really don't do the view justice.

Pablo's house was in the shape of a ship; he was obsessed with ships and the sea.  It's ironic that he rarely ever rode on a boat.  If this was my view every day, I could probably become a poet, too.  

Pablo and one of his wives are buried in the backyard, facing the ocean.  At least, they were.  Pablo's body has recently been exhumed to check for signs of homicide.  He died shortly after the 1973 military coup took over Chile and the president/his friend killed himself before being able to be taken hostage.

A Giant Pool

On the top of Christy's list of things to see in Chile was the largest pool in the world.  The San Alfonso del Mar Resort is only about sixty miles from Santiago; the pool covers 20 acres of land and holds about 66 million gallons of seawater.  Thankfully, we stayed during the off-season so only had to book one night instead of the usual three.  

Our cozy apartment was a welcome sight after another overnight bus ride and a long day of sightseeing.  We made it just in time to fix some hot tea and view the sunset.  

Do you see the lit-up pyramid below with two smaller pools beside it?  That's the jacuzzi area.  Now, I would just like to point out that this is Chile's spring, and the air is nippy, even downright cold by the ocean, so a dip in the Jacuzzis sounded ideal.  Fourteen dollars later (eight to get in and six for a swim cap), we were thawing out while the stars lit of the sky.  

Besides two ladies working the desk, we were the only girls in the entire place.  You'd think this would be a great opportunity to meet some guys, heh?  Yeah, no.  Although we met every single guy, but one, working and visiting there that night, none were up to our standards.  There was a 27- year-old guy (with a nine-year-old kid) still plugging away at his Master's after five years (not working for three of those); a 19-year-old pool cleaner who doesn't like school, and a gay couple coming to destressify.  Fun to talk to but absolutely no potential.

Luckily, we had something even better than guys: wine and chocolate! It was the perfect way to end the day.

Pisco Elqui

Are you in the mood for a mystical experience?  Well, head to Pisco Elqui!  That's right: this sleepy town has everything to heal your soul and transcend you to other worlds.  Of course, that's not what Christy and I were looking for, but we did get in some great relaxation.  

In order to get to this desert pueblo in between the Andes Mountains, we took a seven-hour overnight bus ride from Santiago to La Serena, then another two-hour ride to Pisco Elqui.  Just imagine how we smelled when we arrived at the hostel at nine in the morning.  Thankfully, our room was ready, so we threw our bags in, drank some hot tea, and started our exploration of the town.  

In the hour we walked around (that's all it takes), we saw maybe five people out and about.  Five people! And some of them could've been repeats!  Luckily, we ended up finding a horseback riding tour that we booked for the next day.  Plus, we toured a pisco plant.  Pisco is a strong liquor both Chileans and Peruvians drink and is what this valley is known for.  

The next day, Leo, our guide, drove us up the mountains a ways to ride the horses.  As Leo was showing us how to control the horses, his started trying to buck him off and continued to do so for the next two hours.  Christy's horse was big-time cautious and wouldn't go over the bridges without Leo guiding it.  Mine, on the other hand, was okay to lead when Leo's horse was having issues and crossed the bridges with my encouragement.  What can I say?  I'm a natural!

We pretty much traversed through rocky, dry terrain until we came to the river and had a snack before turning back again.  Unfortunately, we didn't get to gallop, but it was a different part of the valley to see, and it felt good being on a horse once more.

The garden area of the hostel was our favorite part.  There were hammocks scattered about, birds chirping, flowers blooming, and a gentle breeze to lull us to sleep for our afternoon naps.  Plus, the greenery here was a welcome sight.  Pisco Elqui is a desert, and I don't mean the pretty type of desert that surrounds the Phoenix area.  I mean the ugly, barren-type of desert that sucks all the moisture out of your body until you're a walking bag of wrinkles.  (Can you tell I've gotten used to the Cartagena humidity?)  

That night, we laid outside watching the stars pop out until the full moon dominated the sky.  The first shot is with my camera; the second is with the hostel owner's.  Quite a bit of a difference, no?

Our final day there, we rented a couple mountain bikes to ride the eleven kilometers to Horcon, an extreme hippie village that gets by on its artisan skills.  It's a good thing we didn't know about the "hills" we had to climb.  Best....workout....ever.  After browsing the shops (and noticing a funny smell), we grabbed a bit to eat and started the journey back.  Boy, was this time around easier!  We were flying down the road at an alarming rate most of the way.  In fact, I had my brake on the entire time for fear of a painful death.  

Three kilometers from town, my left pedal came off...the whole pedal, including the arm.  My riding days were over, but I was still able to coast a bit here and there.  It's a good thing I have long legs and can propel myself along while sitting on the seat.  

Glorious Wine!

Our first priority in Chile was to sample the wines.  Thankfully, there are quite a few wineries on the outskirts of Santiago that are easily accessible by public transport.  Our first stop was Cousino Macul Winery, where Alvaro, a personable young man studying to be a sommelier, showed us around.  

My favorite wine sample was actually the Rosé.  Did you know the Rosé here is made of Cabernet Sauvignon grapes but has the pink color because the grape skins are taken off earlier in the process?  It was quite smooth with a floral bouquet and hints of summer fruits.  I ended up buying five bottles of assorted wines, two of the Rosé.

Our good friend, Alvaro, told us a strip mall with places to eat was just a short hop, skip, and a jump from the winery, so we picked up our bags and began to walk.  The sun was blazing overhead as we traipsed along dirt paths at the side of a busy road.  Five bottles may seem light, but when you're in the middle of nowhere with rope handles cutting into your hands, they suddenly weigh a ton.  A couple miles later (maybe a little less), we finally stumbled upon the mall with very few choices in terms of eating.  I must say, though, that my BBQ chicken sandwich from Domino's Pizza hit the spot.  

We finally made it to Aquintania, a boutique winery with a beautiful backdrop of the Andes Mountains.  I enjoyed these wines quite a bit more than Cousino Macul, but the prices were a wee bit higher, so I settled for just four bottles.  

Can you say torture?  Carrying those pain-inducing bags all around the metro and back to Jessica's nearly killed our hands but boosted our camaraderie as we stopped every hundred yards to readjust the bags and crack jokes.

  

The Run

On the fourth of October, Christy and I took a red-eye flight to Santiago, Chile to spend the week.  We landed around six in the morning and were able to make it through immigration and customs in a fair amount of time before heading to Jessica's house (Christy's friend).  Donning our running attire, we made it to the starting gate on time.  Jessica had already planned on doing a 5k for Women's Health and invited us to join.  

There was a festival feeling in the air as we met up with several teachers that live in Santiago.  Although not my best time for running 3.1 miles, I excused myself on account of my lack of sleep and the traffic jam of runners in the beginning.  

Since Jessica and Christy walked most of the way, I had a chance to grab some free goodies and look around.  

One of the best parts was suddenly seeing a huge mob gathered around this small stage and dancing together.  Supposedly, before and after every run in Santiago, they do a pre- and post-stretch to music.  It reminded me of some of my zumba moves.  

The Shower

This past weekend, three friends and I drove to Barranquilla to see the Carlos Vives concert and shop. We left right after school and made the two hour drive to El Prado, our hotel.  As most people know, I very rarely stay in anything nicer than two stars; it just adds to the experience.  This hotel had five stars posted outside, but it was probably closer to a four.  (That's right: I'm now a hotel snob.) This is what I get for traveling with rich-minded girls.  Elizabeth and I shared a room at the very end of a long corridor.  

After eating pizza and touching up our makeup, we headed out.  The pre-act was supposed to begin at seven and Carlos Vives at nine.  Maybe I should preface this by saying the people here love Carlos Vives.  Here is a peek at what he can do:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CJ_zRSv3Hr8&index=1&list=AL94UKMTqg-9BHMEp0bVKNNrD-pN7vbQjd

I actually enjoy his music, but it's not my all-time favorite.  Leah, on the other hand, has already been to one of his concerts and was really looking forward to seeing him again.  

When we arrived at the stadium at 7:20, there was a mile-long line to get into the VIP section.  We had a bunch of rambunctious teenagers behind us, which surprised us as we thought most people would be middle-aged.  Boy, were we wrong.  The line moved along slowly, and after half an hour, we were halfway to the entrance.  It was about this time that the clouds broke open and rain fell.  At first, it was just normal rain.  Men came out and started selling either garbage bags or ponchos and asking five bucks a pop for them.  Great business strategy.  Agreeing that most rain only lasts for less than an hour in Colombia, we decided against getting any covering.  That is, until the coulds started dropping buckets, and my straightened hair was no longer recognizable.  Christy dealed with a guy so we could all have ponchos for three dollars apiece.  The man helped me put mine on over my soppin' wet clothes, and it was just in the nick of time.  For the rest of the evening, the rain never stopped and sometimes fell so hard that it felt like I was being beaten.  

With just about everyone wearing a white, cone-shaped poncho, it looked like a meeting with the Klan was getting ready to start.  People were jovial, though, with the camaraderie of being in a miserable situation together.  

Picture this: Hundreds of cattle being corralled through a small gate...with stairs leading down into the pen...blinded by bulky, white, plastic bags billowing all around.  Put in small lakes and muddy walkways, and you have us entering the open-air stadium.  

We found an open, grassy area to stand and wait.  As the rain fell, we were soon sinking into the wet earth.  Ironically, the cheap

 tickets were the only seats in the place, and the stands were covered.  Those people had it good.  

Has anyone ever seen The March of the Penguins?  Do you recall when all the males would huddle close together with their eggs on their feet during the brutal winters?  That's how we were.  Several people had already started the festivities with their liquor bottles and shot glasses.  I give them credit: by drinking the night away, they definitely would have had to use the unlit port-a-potties.  That's not so bad, right?  Yeah, until you wade through the river to get to the johns with who knows what floating in there.  I decided to hydrate myself later.  

As the hours passed, there wasn't much to do but people watch and hope lightning wouldn't cause my sudden death.  Not to keep referencing movies, but I know most of you remember In Search of the Castaways (Well, maybe not you, Mama and Dad, because for some reason, you were always "out" when we watched it.).  The French-accented people were singing in the trees, cooking bird eggs and having a jolly good time.  All of a sudden, a huge storm came, and we all learned how to tell how close lightning is.  That's all that kept going through my mind while getting drenched and viewing these spectacular displays of lightning zigzagging across the sky.  At first, the storm was right over us, and the boom of thunder made everyone jump and squeal a bit.  Eventually, it moved further along to terrorize some other pour souls.  

Have I mentioned the concert was supposed to start at nine?  Ten o'clock rolls around, and some guy gets on the stage and lip syncs two songs.  Perfect.  Carlos should be on stage soon.  Instead, they play with the lights for a while, turn on some dancing music, turn off the music, play some ads on the screens, and finally, throw some balls into the crowd.  They definitely know human nature, as those balls kept everyone busy for another 15 minutes.  The geniuses next to us caught one and used it as a chair for a while.  I'll admit it: I was a bit jealous.  

At this point in time, we had been outside for four hours getting drenched and pruny.  The lightning had returned in full force, and we were beginning to think it might be more than a little stupid to stand under it.  (Leaving the stadium, there was a fallen tree, and there wasn't enough wind to justify it just tipping over.)  Leah wanted to stay, so Christy suffered with her.  Covered in mud, Elizabeth and I hopped in a cab and headed back to the hotel.  We just couldn't see the point in waiting any longer for a man that we were not madly in love with.  

The best part of the trip had arrived.  For the last two months, I have only taken cold showers.  Most of the time I don't mind them as it can get pretty warm here.  That night, though, I savored that hot water and really allowed it to thaw me out.  It was beautiful.  

The rest of the trip was nice but nothing really noteworthy.  A buffet breakfast, hanging out by the pool (I should've brought my goggles!), shopping at a Costco-type place, heading home during a spectacular sunset, and getting eaten alive by mosquitoes while dropping Elizabeth off.  All in all, a good trip.    

P.S.  Leah was not impressed with the concert, couldn't see much (the screens were small), and thought the last one was much better.