It’s been a while since I told you about Chile, where winter is winding down and flowers have begun to bloom and where yesterday wasn’t Labor Day. My mom visited last week with her sweet beau, Bill. She’s been here once before and seen most of the sights, so this time we could just hang out, walk the neighborhood with Ruby, and talk, talk, talk… the things we would do if she were always around. The things that mean much more because there are usually 6,000 miles between us. When I realized I’d likely only see my mom twice this calendar year (and I only saw her once last year), I honored the occasion and took time off from my current freelance projects (one of which, Yellow Brick Runway, where I’ll be interviewing photographers, designers, and other fashion industry professionals, just launched… be sure to check it out!).

 

 

It was nice to get out and about again. For our big excursion of the trip, we rented a car and drove out to Isla Negra, one of the three houses the famous Chilean poet and diplomat Pablo Neruda built. One is here in Santiago and the other is out in our port city of Valparaíso, but many say Isla Negra tops the rest.

 

 

It’s hard to disagree… it sits on bluffs overlooking the Pacific. It’s designed to resemble a boat and a train. It’s where Neruda loved and wrote in his trademark green ink and kept the majority of his books, though they are now shelved in La Chascona, his Santiago home, for better protection from the elements. It was where he was sitting when a wooden cellar door washed in. “Look, the sea has delivered me my desk,” Neruda said, or something along those lines, after he and his third wife, Matilde, rescued it from the waters. It’s where they chose to be buried side by side, succulents rooted in the dirt covering them, the sea at their feet. Even Ruby came along, and we all got an outdoor table under the sun at the cafe next to the house. It was one of those perfect days.

 

 

Back in Santiago, I took her to Barrio Italia, a neighborhood I discovered only after her last visit and which, both of us being Italian, I’ve been eager to take her to since. We explored alleyways and ducked into shops and stopped for coffee and gelato. As always, we collected hearts for Lorenzo.

 

 

It was also nice for Ryan and I to see our home through others’ eyes. Living here, we sometimes miss the wonders of it when we get bogged down in the day-to-day. But it is safe and clean and modern and convenient and booming. And when the city overwhelms, you don’t have to go too far to find open roads and, eventually, blue waters.

 

 

Of course, we did our fair share of lounging with Ruby, then took her to Parque Bicentenario, where the grass had just been cut and stained Ruby’s feet green as she ran around and around and around and made us laugh.

 

 

What else did we do? We ate a lot of good meals, played Uno and Dominos, baked a frittata, did some shopping and other girly things. For ten days, we just were, and it was lovely. Now, it’s back to the routine: writing and editing, walking the dog sola, and seeing my mom along with so many friends and loved ones over Skype rather than right here in my living room. Even after two years of expat living, it’s still a little strange that many of them will never really share in our lives here because we live so far away. When someone you love comes to town, it’s nice to remember how easy it is for all those miles to disappear for a little while.