The Quake
Read Part 1 here
Is that a train? The sound of rattling metal was filling my head. It must be very close because the house is starting to shake...
“Earthquake?”
Realization hit as the cat awoke from his slumber and took off across the rooftops. The shaking intensified and I realized the sound I was hearing was the entire city bumping into itself. Thousands of buildings were swaying in their foundation, playing a spine-chilling melody.
Neither of us moved. If I had even attempted to stand I would’ve been knocked right back down. My stomach flipped as the deck bowed and turned into a wave. It groaned a creepy accompaniment to the symphony of doom the city was intoning. A hundred thoughts were swirling inside my head. How structurally sound is this patio? Is the entire city about to crumble? Do earthquakes usually last this long? Wow, it feels like it’s getting stronger. How big does an earthquake have to be to produce a tsunami? I glanced at J. He was not blinking. I wanted to say something but my mouth couldn’t find any words. The quaking was intensifying, I was sure we were about to slide into the sea.
As the earthquake reached it’s highest frequency, I was struck by an epiphany. The seismic effect had suddenly illuminated the fragility of my existence on earth. Mother Earth giveth, and Mother Earth taketh away. We are only ever in control of our reactions to the things that happen within our perception. Bill Hicks had it right, life is just a ride. It’s an up and down, hold onto your butt because the tectonic plates a thousand miles below you just shifted and released a pulse of tension ride. We have a choice, to fear the ride and all its unknowns, or to embrace the moment and find something in it to love, because at any time the ride can end. So hang on, throw your superficial worries about things like money and status overboard and enjoy as much as you can before it’s time to depart. These inescapable thoughts were liberating and I smiled in spite of the present threat to my life. It was four long minutes before the earth shuddered to a halt. My heart rate slowed and I slid out of the existential cloud. “Woah.”
Paul stuck his head out the window and asked if we were ok, he told us that was the longest earthquake he’d felt his entire time in Chilé! "Nothing to worry about though, unless you hear the sirens." As if on cue, the whole city erupted with a repetitive, whining noise. It came from all directions, it came from our phones.
Tsunami, tsunami. Encontrar un terreno elevado de inmediato
Tsunami, tsunami. Find high ground immediately.
Assuming we’d never see the hostel again, we grabbed what we could and threw it into our backpacks. In the lobby we rejoined Paul and once all the guests were gathered we headed down the stairs. The sun had set and the dimly-lit streets were packed with evacuees. The city of Valparaíso sits at sea level, surrounded by forty-two cerros. The entire city was heading for the hills.
“Run, stay behind Paul.” Weaving in and out of large crowds, I followed Paul who seemed calm and clear on where to go. There were thousands of people around us. I saw children clinging to their mothers’ hands, people in wheelchairs pushing themselves towards the hills ahead and elderly couples strolling along looking serene and seasoned. Eventually we reached a wall, alongside which was a set of stairs that went straight up the cerro.
At a leisurely pace, climbing Cerro Baron is an arduous task. Looming over us were hundreds of stairs which we took at a sprint. After a few minutes I was feeling the burn.
“I need a minute!” I panted.
Completely winded and more than a little nauseous, a minute was all I had before we continued upward. We had out paced Paul and our fellow hostel mates as we dashed upwards. We clambered over broken stairs and dodged little old ladies tottering up the ancient hill. Spurring us onward were thoughts of the sea rising behind us. My only previous experience with tsunamis were horrific YouTube videos of the ocean swallowing entire cities and everyone in them. My legs felt wobbly but adrenaline fueled my climb. J was firm but encouraging whenever I would lose steam, “You’re doing great! Keep climbing.” All sense of time disappeared, it could have been fifteen minutes or fifty before we stopped on a corner. We saw no-one we recognized and after a quick survey of the street we realized we had reached the top. J pulled out his phone while I doubled over and heaved. It was a lot of stairs.
Unable to get a data connection on the phone, we paced the street corner. Going back was out of the question. None of the buses streaming by were interested in adding two more to their crowded compartments. Wanting to retain our high ground we stayed at the top of the hill, pondering our next move. Just as we were about to sit down and wait out the night, someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around and faced a small woman. She was touching my arm and smiling kindly. She gestured to us and we followed her through the door we had been standing just outside of.
As the door closed we were plunged into quiet darkness. We walked down a hallway that opened to a shadowy garden. In the corner we entered a little living/dining room and sat down on the couch. Though our conversational Spanish was barely a week old we took a figurative sledgehammer to the language barrier. The woman who had brought us in introduced herself as Carmen and the bouncy man next to her was her husband German. We introduced ourselves and explained our recent arrival in Chilé and that neither of us had experienced anything like this before.
It was explained that the neighborhood we had chosen to evacuate into was a dangerous one, especially for tourists… at night… during a crisis. Oh. Luckily for us, we had been rescued! Carmen and German, both retired medical professionals, live in this home with four generations of their family.
An offer was extended for us to stay the night and we graciously accepted. We experienced the epitome of hospitality and kindness, my faith in humanity was greatly bolstered. Mattresses and blankets were brought into the living room for us. After assuring Carmen that we were indeed very comfortable, she said goodnight and we were alone.
Several quiet minutes of reflection later, I recalled what we had been discussing right before it all began. “How did you know?” I asked him, astounded. He looked back at me, equally perplexed. We laughed. Suddenly everything seemed funny and that sense of freedom came back to me. We were alive, nothing else mattered.
We laid down to sleep, still in giggly shock over our experience. J checked the time on his phone then looked at me. “Oh, and happy birthday!"
The seismic effect as observed from space.
Thank you for reading! Look for the conclusion to the story in The Seismic Effect: Aftershocks coming soon. Follow the action @ sightseeingearth.com