Bridal Journey

October 4, 2009

Heed the date: two months since we started to Chungará! Cheer the sexy trail of heavenly tulips! At first Eros opening a golden morning in Coquimbo; then acting in joyful artfulness by night in Bahía Inglesa. The morning after dazzling along the coast by the Pacific, blessing our dinner in Balneario Flamenco at the solitary shore full of flashing shells. Then Caldera and Chañaral glittering in the blue and splashing mist and foam in the wind. Leaving the Ocean, faraway, a glimmer of the lunar land of giants by the National Park Pan de Azúcar. At noon musical euphoria by the Mozart piano concertos rendering a glorious entry into the Desert of Atacama. Finishing a rich day comes the night of the goddess in Antofagasta, grand performance on luxurious stage! Then the long crossing from the Pacific up to the High Andes via Mejillones and Tocopilla, reaching the Milky Way scintillating just for us in La Tirana. The morning after rehearsal of the video camera at the Matilla Church (Oasis of Pica), and soon crossing the Pampa in fantastic colors in the middle of the Desert mastering filming you. At noon the spectacular crossing of the breaches approaching Arica. And the day after our great objectives: Socoroma, The Payachatas, Cota-Cotani, Parinacota and Chungará.

This crystalline morning at the feet of the Andes transfigures in another at the Eclipse Restaurant in the Altiplano on the way to Chungará, where we taste again the grand coffee of the universe under intensely blue sky. Feeling the fresh wind whirling around us, making you so greatly attractive in your red silky dress and disturbingly alluring by your flying gold hair, I revive the pure sentiment of glee, the joyful enthusiasm and the spirit of adventure on the roof of the World living again the happiness, the ecstasy, and the dizzy bliss of love.

Angel of Atacama, the six days from August 4 to 9 formed our planetary path to Chungará, crossing all along the Desert of Atacama for our love ritual at 5000 m altitude. Despite the cold at the Lake yielding your purple kiss, our celebration was very red later in Calama! Your fascination is not cruel as that of Parinacota, nor as the Chungará’s painful splendor, but loving beauty across the continents, which is your spell of seduction.

My reveries conjure magical nights: one finds us in Chillán lighting up passion on the way to Frutillar. Another is philosophical at the bank of the Lake Llanquihue returning from Chiloé. Another advances in soft pink lingerie on Valdivia igniting volcanic Eros. One sighs saying “Pane Bože” ending the exultant Prague Symphony in the Samsung. Another is dark under the Polar Wave searching for a shelter by the Lake Villarrica. One revives my sweet emotion returning from the Astronomical Observatory of La Silla. Another lights the joyful arm of the Milky Way illuminating our daring crossing of the Desert of Atacama. One very tender in Arica precedes our ritual at Chungará (August 9, 1999), greatly celebrated later by mirrored Eros in Calama.

I set about this letter during our adventures by the Great North; in our refined beds, all of them but mainly those of Aránzazu, Pucón and Calama; in the Andes when you were skiing; and in the universe full of your light. I wrote it with infinite affection during 41 days and nights, dissolving my words into your soul for when we are again so far away. I greet you with sublime hope of transcendental love. I was writing this letter every instant of our union in the tangible world, in the real time of ecstasy. I wrote it at the Pudahuel Airport when you arrived in a halo of fantasy; at the seaside in Viña del Mar; in the night of dancing at the Bibi’s party; in our luxurious bed at the seaside in the Holiday Inn Hotel in Antofagasta, when you were setting up the clock forever; in Valle Nevado, Portillo, Chillán, Pucón and Calafquén; in the journey from Pucón the wonderful evening of your confidences; in the car every pink-violet dusk returning from skiing. I did it crossing the Desert of Atacama in the sunshine, or in the scarlet sunset or under the Milky Way; in Pica, Socoroma, Parinacota, Chungará, San Pedro de Atacama, El Tatio and Valle de la Luna (Moon Valley); in Iquique by the sea splashing thunderously; at the House of Pablo Neruda in Isla Negra; in our kitchen filled with our mutual affection; in the hypermarket Jumbo and the cinema; at home during your receptions to Bibi; in the sunny interior yard when you were recovering from the flu; in the Metropolitan Park strolling by the palm grove; in the Oceanic Rendez-Vous Restaurant our last evening in Viña del Mar; and everywhere every minute of our blessed second honeymoon.

I remember when you left Chile on September 18, Chile’s birthday. That morning the Chilean flag waved at the home entrance when we were leaving for the airport. It was one year after our adventures by Chungará and San Pedro de Atacama, El Tatio, Moon Valley and the Gran Salar de Atacama, preceded by our bridal celebration in Calama (farewell to your non-granny state!). Today I watched on TV a documentary about the province of Parinacota (Socoroma, the Payachatas, Putre, Cota-Cotani, Chungará) showing our trail from Arica by the Ocean up to the Lake Chungará in the High Andes. I revived with great joy our saga, regretting so much not to have returned this year to the Moon Valley, as we had planned. I mostly miss the renewal of a new red-silk fantasy by the Great North, especially by the Pacific! Staring at the plated photo frame in my kitchen’s shrine I fantasize about it. Panimávida and the Northern Pacific show fascinating facets of my Moravian gem. We should return to Chungará to renew our vows, though minding this time a little more Socoroma! Are we already too “mature” for the attempt? If we have kept our pledge, liking and fidelity, we deserve the legend. In any case, the dreamy South, which you still do not know properly, could be a good alternative, but I want to embrace you once more in the wind of stars under Milky Way in the House of Souls.

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