If Hell is dysentery in Plato in 105 degree heat with toilets that don't flush, then Heaven is the small town of Valdivia balanced on a mountain top in the cool clouds with a beautiful church and free wifi in the park and temperatures in the comfortable 70s.
Also, it is full of butterflies.
We climbed 900 meters today to get up here, which is like stacking the Cornell Hill atop itself 5 times and then inserting it into an oven. We climbed enough elevation so that when I opened my bottle of aloe up here it went "psst!" from the change in pressure.
Climbing up the mountain, using the lowest gear I had, in full sun with no breeze and little shade: I don't know that I have ever sweat that much (and this is coming from a sweaty epoch indeed). We created no breeze, as we were crawling barely faster than parked cars. My clothes were sopping, I was blowing a collection of droplets off my nose every 20 seconds, and I was extremely grateful for my eyebrows.
Do you know the biological significance of eyebrows?
To keep sweat from dripping directly into the eyes.
I knew that with the gain in elevation we would eventually bike ourselves out of this oven but it took a lot of faith to keep powering upward. But about 600 meters up we reached thicker clouds and the stew-like air began to imperceptibly thin out.
I felt Not Hot for the first time since riding this bicycle here.
I write this from a third floor balcony hotel room in Valdivia; I feel like we are in a tree house. A rainstorm is dancing in the streets currently and we are relaxing in this sound, relishing the lack of Corazon Music.
Again, excuse me as I yammer on about how much we love this town. It amazes me how it seems to be built on the vertical, soft mountain peaks rising from all views around it. The red roof of the church serves as central gaze point, and the town square below is filled with children popping wheelies on bikes, teenage lovers holding hands, and old men waiting with their taxis. The three story homes and hotels surrounding the square give all of this a nest-like feeling. Once the travel writers put this in a guide book, it will be a total tourist destination. It is just that charming.
But for now it is only us and all the people who live here.
So for all the toilets without water, and the ear-rending Corazon Music, the insurmountable heat, and the hotel rooms so small we can't walk past each other, we push through and then find glorious gems like this town and this tree house room. Pleasures are richer in this context.
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