Concepcion or Bust! (Chile part II)

I am not sure how or why I trusted him. Could be the despair in his eyes, or maybe when he hold my hand and looked me in the eyes,  even though he seemed worried a minute ago, he realized that I was scared shitless about taking a trip with an unknown bus company (if you don't speak the language and you are traveling in South America for the first time, you should really avoid these buses) to somewhere I have never been before, he told me "Don't worry, I will take you there."

I bought the ticket for a mere 25 dollars, to Chillan, the closest town to Concepcion we could go to. I told him I will be back at 9 pm and left. As I was walking out of the station to take the subway (BTW: I am impressed with Santigo's subway system. Built by French engineers, it is incredibly clean, efficient, and of course anti-sismic) I saw a store that was selling luggage and Ta-ta taaaa sleeping bags! 

Spent the rest of the afternoon at the ONEMI (National Disaster Management Office). The death toll was rising. The warned me about the main highway and told me that there were serious damage on Route 5, and recommended I took enough water and food for the rest of my journey. (Below: photo Pato Guzman, somewhere close to Talcahuano)

I took their advice and went to a super market: the scene reminded me of Miami before a hurricane! People were fighting over cans of tuna, water and soda crackers (comparing to Argentina and Brazil, Chile is much more "northamericanized"), diapers and other perishables. I managed to buy some water, bread and some sort of pate and went back to my hotel, packed my backpack. A Chilean journalist friend was kind enough to lend me a hoodie, a guide book with maps, and suggested I stashed all my money inside my sneakers! 

Back in the subway my heart started to beat a bit stronger first time in days, adrenaline rush was wearing off, thoughts of being robbed or even worst, raped in the middle of Chile started to appear here and there. I walked towards the counter where I bought the ticket and saw Mauricio waiting. He told me that bus wasn't there yet and if we were lucky we would leave by midnight! Cellphone vibrating: a message from the spanish cameraman "Don't worry, roads are messed up, we arrived, use your press card to get in, otherwise it is impossible to enter Concepcion, hurry up!"  

Luckily an old and run down bus approached the terminal and we were told to hop in (and get comfy for a roller coaster ride to Chillan!).  Our muavin (Turkish, person who assists the driver) seemed tired but still in a good mood, announced that our entertainment for the night was Avatar in 2D and we won't be stopping until Chillan under no circumstance due to possibility of loothing, but we should not worry, relax and enjoy the ride! Awesome I said to myself, and due to extreme exhaustion, fell asleep as soon as we left the city limits. 

I woke up with the announcement: We arrived in Chillan, bus station north, please don't leave anything behind! Stood up and searched for Mauricio, he was sleeping behind me, woke him up. He said we will get off at the other bus stop. Sure? This station had electricity and many people inside, he insisted that we had to go to the other one where gipsy buses will pick us up for Concepcion.  Shortly after we were dropped off, pitch dark part of this small town, in front of what seemed to me like a terminal with no lights. I wrapped myself in my sleeping bag, it was cold at 5 in the morning. Mauricio started chatting with another guy who was in our bus earlier, and I tried to communicate by phone with my network for an early morning live report for those who were wondering the situation in Chile. The other guy, whose name is Alexis, told us that a nearby jail was ruined during the quake and approximately 300 inmates were hiding in Chillan! AWESOMEEE. The security guard at the station refused to let us in, but meanwhile a couple came to talk to us, saying they were waiting for a bus for the last 12 hours there and nothing came. I suggested to go back to the other terminal, and see what our options were. They jumped the fence and joined us. Hungry and desperate for a bathroom, we decided to hop on a cab. 

As you can imagine, the ghost town Chillan was not the place were you can hail one, we waited for a while, but finally something that looks like a taxi stopped and accepted us and our bags.  He was really nice, Becker, the cabbie, told us that no buses were going towards Conce. but we could get food at the station for sure. That is when I decided to stop with the public transportation and asked him how much it would cost to go by cab to Concepcion: "Oh! a lot, a lot, like 80 dollars!" Done. I told my travel buddies then that I was a journalist, and I could pay this amount if they want to came along, they could and I was not going to wait any longer for another bus. Mauricio and the others kept telling me that was a lot of money and I should wait for the bus, I told them that due to the curfew even if they took the bus, they won't be able to reach their families or whatever is left from them before the night falls, so finally they said yes and accepted my offer. Becker told us that he needed to change his car, and pick us up in 30 minutes from the station, where we can freshen up and wait for him. 

The distance between Chillan and Concepcion is a mere 70 kms. We left the station around 9 am, and hit the road in daylight. The route 5 that connects the entire country from north to south, and as I was told, busy with trucks and buses 24/7 was empty and ruined. We had to drive very slowly, and carefully. As we took the last curve, through the pine forests and eucaliptus trees (it was a creepy trip, yet the area is incredibly picturesque and green) we saw the long cue of cars, buses and vans on the side of the road, waiting for the soldiers to open the gate to the city. Becker aimed to get in line when I told him to continue to the front, where with my press pass we will be able to enter before these people. I knew for sure I could go in, so could the driver, but I was not sure how I was going to convince chilean army that the rest was a part of my team. Rodrigo, who speaks english could pass as my translator, his gfriend could be my assistant and Mauricio and Alexis would pass as cameramen. 

We reached the beginning of the huge line, and stop at the order of a group of armed soldiers. I got out of the car and show them my identification and they escorted me to the commander's desk. The permits were issued then and there, with no serious registration. They asked how many we were and everybody's identification. I used Rodrigo as if I did not speak a word of spanish, and registered everybody, while chatting with the teniente who was telling me he visited Turkey, and how much he liked it etc. The other soldier was a bit  more suspicious due to the fact that at one point I answered without waiting for the translator!

The nice soldier, told the other one to sign and let us go, so did we! (As I was leaving the desk, he told me I was responsible for my "crew" until 12 pm that day, until the end of the curfew). 

Back to the car, which broke down (we had to push it and hope it will start) everybody was joyous. We showed the pass and entered Concepcion, but what we saw was much worst than I imagined. The city looked more like a war thorn city than an earthquake zone. Trucks full of soldiers, tanks, more soldiers, and deserted streets with damaged buildings, scared people peeking through their windows (if they had any), as we drove through the main avenue towards the press camp.  

(photo: Pato Guzman, Concepcion during the day)

Santiago de Chile: After the world's 8th strongest earthquake (Part I)

It was 7 in the morning when my phone rang on Saturday. I was so out of it I did not even recognize the voice of my boss who was letting me know that a massive earthquake shook neighboring Chile. He told me to wake up, wash my face and drink warm milk as I sounded like a beaten down transvestite after a week of cigarette smoking with my best friend (note to oneself: stop smoking asap).

I managed to do all that, and turned on the tv, internet, and tried calling Santiago.  There were initial reports from the capital, but nothing from its almost-epicenter, the second biggest city of the country, Concepcion. Hit by a 8.8 richter scale earthquake for almost 2 minutes! This was going to be a major catastrophe, I told myself, and remembered the earthquake I have lived through in 1999 back home. 40 thousand death, and that only lasted for 45 secs.

I started working right away, first images were scary and immediate tsunami alert was issued as the epicenter of the earthquake was actually in the middle of the Pacific ocean. And yet the tsunami destroyed further the coastal towns of Chile, tens of fishermen villages dissapeared in front of us. At the end of the day, Chile was facing one of the worst aftermaths of a disaster, not so many casualties but millions of dollars of damage. We decided that I needed to go there asap.

As I was calling to find out if I could get a ticket to Santiago, they announced that the airport had structural damage and that it was going to be closed until further notice.  My travel agent suggested going to Mendoza ( I always dreamt of going there for a weekend to taste wine) and finding there a vehicle to cross the border. I had no choice but accepting it, and booked a ticket for sunday morning.

Aeroparque (Buenos Aires's national flights leave from this airport) was packed with journalists when I arrived. Boxes of equipment waited to be checked in, tired european and american men tweeted, texted and screamed at times to the Aerolineas Argentinas personnel who as usual took their time. It was almost entertaining to me to watch people who have to idea how things worked in this continent. I walked through the mess, found the empty first class counter,  smiled and asked how the person on the counter was that morning and checked in right away to the first plane to Mendoza.

As we were waiting to board the plane, I saw a group of guys with camera bags speaking in proper Spanish. I asked if they were going to Santiago as well and how they were going to manage it. Their leader said they were a production team that rented their services to journalist, in fact they were just coming back from Haiti and introduced me to 3 Chileans he met that morning who wanted to leave immediately, we made an agreement to rent a car together and cross the border.

Mendoza was waking up to a hot and dry day, as usual, just like I thought it would be.  While waiting for our vehicle (all rental cars were out so we opted for a local guide and his jeep), all I could see was vineyards and Andes Mountains behind them. Martin, our guide/driver picked us up soon after and we hit the road. He kept mentioning that it is going to be a tough trip due to damaged roads up in the mountains and that he had no idea what was waiting for us across the border.

Andes Mountains form a natural border between Chile and Argentina. They are the world's longest continental mountain range, over 7000 km long. We crossed first the occidental and then the oriental cordillera to reach Santiago, we drove past the highest peak of the range, Aconcagua Peak (6962 mts), which was covered with snow even in the middle of south american summer. As Martin foresaw, the highway was totally damaged and it was packed with trucks as the only way to enter Chile was throught the Los Libertadores border.

It took us 7 hours to make a trip of 380 kms. Border patrol was really nice to us, and made our passing pretty fast and painless--Martin told us that usually they check every pocket of every corner of suitcases. They told us that there was no electricity in most parts of the city and to be very careful of the people who were attacking vehicles and houses.

The road was pitch black but the full moon above us helped. Not even the Chileans recognize their country. We were driving very carefully. Every once in a while we saw bong fires and people with sticks and baseball bats, protecting their streets. As we entered a neighborhood to drop the guy who just had a baby a week ago, his middle class neighborhood that did not have almost any damage looked pretty much like a movie: a group of armed guys running after a bunch of kids who tried to rob the small supermarket, followed by sirens, screaming women and children (have you seen the mexican movie La Zona? very much like that). We dropped him and continue to the city. We were the only car in the road, Santiago was deserted, war like.

Thanks to my trip companions I found a hotel that had an available room, with electricity and internet. There were many people sleeping in the lobby, kids crying, waking up screaming with fear of another earthquake. It was not a nice site. Recepcionist told the that the only available room was on the 17th floor ! I went upstairs, took a shower and lay down but could feel a bunch of aftershocks so wore my shoes and clothes on--in case I needed to run out of there!

Monday morning we shoot our first live story from the center of town. The spanish camera crew was installed there and my network arranged us to meet up and send my first story about the situation in Santiago. I worked all day long, saw a couple of seriously damaged buildings, but mostly it seemed like Santiago was recovering slowly from the quake.  Meanwhile in Concepcion people were desperate to get food and water, and protection from others who loot stores and houses, as well as approximately 350 inmates who escaped prison. Due to social unrest, the president decided to send troops (10 thousand) to Concepcion and started curfew from 6 pm to 12 pm everyday.

The main highway that connects Chile also was in bad shape and after the curfew alert, all the bus companies cancelled their trips down south, Taxis were asking an arm and a leg to take me there, I was desperate to get out of Santiago, that's when I met Mauricio. He was at the bus station, trying to get to Conce, his family lived in a nearby town and he was not sure how they were. He told me that he heard of a pirate bus service for tuesday night and he convinced me that we would get there, sooner or later.