November 1, 2001: Casa de Ciclismo, and Circles Closed (Shauna)

Greetings all!

I am, as per usual, doing well - happy and enthused about what has happened since last "check in" and for what will soon unfold. (Although, I do admit to still being a little frustrated and bummed that I lost my glasses. In the urgency of another person waiting for the shower (and my own mental reminders of "don’t forget your glasses"), I left this important little item beside a sink in a gas station (very clean and welcomed!) where I had showered, and put in my contacts. Officially blind without correction, I am now putting contacts in immediately upon waking and taking them out just before hopping into bed.)  Anyhow! Let me tell you about where I am right now, writing at leisure (i.e. msg will probably be long!) to send later when I have internet connection. 

** Casa de Ciclismo **

5 kms east of Los Andes, Chile 1hr 15min north-east of Santiago (the capital of Chile) 1hr west of the Argentinian border 1hr 30min east of the Pacific Ocean (all times are by car)  

.... I sit at a heavy, dark brown, wood table with an assortment of computer equipment (printer, speakers, video game controls, diskettes, a cartoon rabbit mousepad scratched up from misuse), a spoon from the kids of the household, my book and a coffee mug which says "TechniCal" in big letters, and below "Super Premium Dog and Cat Food" and contains the last remaining drops of my tea. The little red maple leaf in between the blue lettering of Techni and Cal caught my eye yesterday, and my hosts who run a veterinary clinic (Eric, a vet) told me that yes, this is a Canadian company.

If I look straight ahead, into the white wall in front of me, I can lift my chin up and stretch my neck back to see three old bikes hanging on the wall. While one might say "antique", it’s not the description I feel - they look like the majority of the bikes I’ve been seeing since leaving the United States. Except for the small child’s bike. It’s got cracked, hard white rubber tires on heavy spoked wheels. The frame, handlebars and chain are rusted to a deep auburn colour, and I can see the chisel marks in the wooden seat. A white cotton shirt hangs from one of the pedals, and behind its back wheel (to the left) is an orange cycling shirt "Rijwielpaleis Bilthoven" in big bold letters, with hand-printed "Holland" written underneath, along with a small drawing of clog shoes. No doubt a gift from one of the many cyclists who have passed through Eric’s home or vet clinic over the years.

This home and "Casa de Ciclismo" is new, having been built just over a year ago. Built on the foundation of a more-or-less demolished concrete building, it is now a beautiful, rustic home. Much of the dark wood I can see around me and know is above and below me were once part of a long railway tunnel no longer in use that connected Chile and Argentina, through the Andes. 

There’s a strong flavour of the old wood, wrought iron, and books containing images and handwriting of cyclists from years ago ... along with new additions such as the lampshade created by a recent cyclist (using the gigantic old railway "nails") and the new stories in the books already bursting with memories. 

To me, a perfect place to house the comings and goings of cyclists who leave bits of themselves and take the warmth with them as they go - the new and the old, creating and remembering. 

- The first floor is common (i.e. shared) - a large kitchen, a small bathroom with shower, dining area with a huge very heavy and beautiful wood table (built by another cyclist), and a sitting room.  The second floor is the family floor - their bedrooms, and a personal bathroom, along with an open study in which I now sit and type this message (later to go into town and email). 

- The third floor is "ours" - a wide-open space with slanted roof where we can create our own space while here. My mattress is lifted a bit from the floor by another mattress and big blue bedspread, and tucked under one of the eves giving a very cozy feel. I am occupying a nearby wood shelf and all my bags are currently emptied as I sort through and do my "spring cleaning" before going home! 

I very much enjoy, as I know so many other cyclists have and will enjoy, the comfort of this home away from home. We, for a short (or long?) time become  part of the family - contributing to the workings of the house, taking turns making trips to the grocery store and preparing supper. While I’ve only been here a very short time, it seems an easy "routine" falls into place quickly. Take mornings, for instance. Michel (a French cyclist) seems to always get up earlier than everyone - when we come down, the table is completely set for breakfast. Mom and kids go off to work and school, Carter to the nearby workshop and Michel to the Hotel (run by the Mom, Kelo) to fix the pump and me, happy to take care of cleaning up after breakfast before going onto my personal activities - which today includes writing!

Here, from my perch on the second floor, I can look left and out a huge window. Almost three meters long, and maybe a meter and half high, it takes in a spectacular vista of a green valley and mountains which start only a kilometer away. The ones furthest away are black with the tell-tale white streaks of snow. I know that just behind one of the closer mountains is a peak I can’t see. In a few days, I will cycle in the direction of the mountains, over the pass and into Argentina.

** Circles Closed **

Cycling from the Panamericana to Los Andes, there was a little part of me wondering how I was going to locate the Vet clinic, and hoping Carter and Cristian (who I knew only from stories and photos) were going to be around. But, most of me was lost in the greenery, sunshine and beauty of the day and wishing I didn’t have to share it with all the traffic! I was reminded of cycling along the coast of the US in the climate and in counting the seconds when there was a lull in traffic - wooohooo! 30 seconds with no car. What a difference from the more recent passage through the desert of Bolivia into Chile!

* About 10 kms from Los Andes, I hear a shout "Shauna!" and immediately dismiss it. My name is rare in these parts. When I hear my name again, from behind me and slightly to my right, I turn my head in surprise to see a young man with a long black ponytail cycling to catch up to me. A little stunned, I stop. It’s Cristian. He’s seen my photo in ones sent from Ecuador. He’s the son of the family I stayed with in Quito.

* I cycle past a French restaurant, and into the lane of the Casa de Ciclismo. "Llego la Shauna!", or translated "Shauna’s arrived!" I recognize Carter immediately - he looks verrrrrry much like his twin brother Brad. The two of them cycled together from their home in Washington State through Mexico, then flew to Peru and cycled to Tierra del Fuego and back to here. Carter stayed to apprentice with a very talented Swiss carpenter here, while Brad is cycling north toward home and is currently in Guatemala. I met Brad in Quito, where we "lived" in the same household for about a month while I was still recouperating from my accident.

* Above in the third story window, a head stuck out the window to look down. I recognized the face and blond ponytail immediately to be that of Jeff - a cyclist I had only heard about and seen in photos. He’s one of the only cyclists that passed through the same border between Ecuador and Peru... and through places like the small town, Perico, where Mama Aurelia created a Peruvian flag and I played my first game of volleyball since who knows when... and Jaen, where there are over 2000 crazy taxi-motos buzzing like a swarm of insects. Anyways, cyclists being such novelties, Alex (Ecuatorian cyclist with me at the time) and I heard of Jeff continually. And, here he was! Good to know him in person and swap stories.  

* About 5 minutes after my arrival, a water fight began. Just as I was mumbling something like "well, I’m safe" under my breath, a big bucket of water soaked me from head to toe - and that was it! With Carter’s welcoming shot, the kids - Cristian and Sebastian - decided I must be okay and I was fair game to the water balloons they had skillfully hidden all over the property. Taking off my shoes before they got more wet, I grabbed a bucket and after some chases on slippery grass found it easier to toss an already soaked and laughing Sebastian into their small swimming pool. Sebastian and Cristian are the sons of Eric - whom I met and "lived" with for a month in Quito. He’s cycling with Brad (see two bullet points above), and this is his home in which I am staying. 

* Inside the house, safe from the water, Kelo greeted me but didn’t accept the currently very wet hugs I wanted to pass along from Eric. Kelo is Eric’s partner, mother to the boys, and mainstay to the home, clinic, and a hotel she owns and runs in a town 16 kms away. 

Later, showered and dried, Kelo offered the Casa for me to invite my childhood girlfriend, Lorena, to visit... Friday, Nov 2, ...one of my most important "circles" soon to "close".