Tsunami Alert

waiting for an apocalypse is kind of boring

"god living in Chile right now is like living in an overzealous apocalypse movie script in a cheezy Hollywood producer's rejects pile"

While writing my last post, a hotel admin rep hurried over to where I was sitting in their restaurant (the only one), and at first I thought "Oh shit they've caught me, the jig is up, they've figured out what an opportunistic leech I am. I'm gonna be kicked out of the hotel and I'll have to walk out completely shamed" but no, he was telling me they were evacuating the building because of a national tsunami threat alert. So that was the sense of urgency I felt in the restaurant- it had nothing to do with me overstaying the short welcome my single orange juice order afforded me, but rather the staff thought I didn't speak Spanish and didn't know how to warn me of the impending natural disaster. Looking out the window, they were serious. Swarms of people were hurrying uphill, many worry-stricken on their cellphones trying to get a hold of family members. Just 15 minutes ago Chile's government issued a national tsunami alert after three earthquakes hit Rancagua near Santiago. Since the February 27th earthquake, aftershocks have been a frequent occurrence in and around Santiago. Being further south, well away from the continuing tremors, it was easy to distance myself from that chaos until now.

climbing to safety or to salvation

Like any curious quasi-journalist I followed the mob. They ascended the hills as recommended by the public announcements. Noticing a muddy steep trail that seemed a shortcut, I followed a few others frantically climbing through thorny brush, helping up strangers with trembling hands, being hoisted by a few construction workers with rope pulleys up a slope definitely not intended as an effective tsunami escape route. As we emerged from the foliage, we came upon crowds of schoolchildren, working professionals, construction workers, much of the city, facing the bay partly worried, partly annoyed at the abrupt inconvenience (well, not the school kids). Some groups were huddled around radios, sharing earphones. After a while, the crowd sort of looked like a restless audience waiting for the next band to play on the mainstage, casually chatting with their respecting social circles, waving down old friends, others alone blankly staring ahead with arms folded.

The tsunami was estimated to arrive around 1pm. It was already 1:30 and now that I was at a safe vantage point, with cold, wet feed, muddied shoes, and scratches I was kind of pissed the massive wave didn't come so I could face it with my point-and-shoot. Though many had already returned to their interrupted routines down the hill after the initial panic died down, officials recommended staying uphill until further notice. Since Puerto Montt sits within a bay, with the additional protection of bay islands, the talk is that the risk is low to non-existent.

So I found another hotel uphill, out of harm's way, drinking a coffee, once again a lone customer in an opulent restaurant, enjoying a BeeGees [reunion?] concert on the hanging plasma. Ah ah ah ah stayin' alive.

I hope buses are still leaving Puerto Montt so I can make it to Santiago in time for the Franz Ferdinand concert I've got to cover. How irrelevant press pass freebees (to see a band I don't even like) seem when the whole country is sliding over a submerging geoplate.