Adonde fueres haz lo que vieres: La subida de la cruz

Let me start by saying that no amount of words, and no words in particular, could ever express the experience of this weekend, so here is a play by play with no embelishments and some photos to walk you through the subida de la cruz. On Saturday the family had their annual celebration of the cross, and it was every bit as fantastic as they had made it out to be. The week went by in a flash, with everyone running around preparing every last detail for the party, relatives arrived from around Chile and Peru and the house filled up with people, food, beer and flowers. Saturday morning I headed to Lluta with the family where we met up with others who had been there since Thursday and Friday (there were three women hired to help cook, along with Yaya and the women from the family).

Martina, Camila and me headed to Lluta

Matias and Yayo preparing the candles, Claudia blessing the crosses

Scarlet Tanager, they migrate from the USA to this region

The hill, on the right

Dinner

Martina, Camila and their cousin Rocio

The altar

The men were finishing the final touches on the torches that would light the path, building firework stands and drinking beer, because what better time to pop the first top but before 9 am? At around 10 we made our first trek up the hill to set up the torches to light the path at night, decorate where the crosses would be placed, set up the generator to power the lights and to take up case after case of beer. If there is one thing you can count on at a Chilean party it is that there will never be a shortage of beer nor grilled meats. One man climbed with all the tiki torches tied together around his neck, another with the generator strapped to his back, others with beer cases balanced catiously on their heads, some with decorations and me with a couple of gallons of oil for the generator. I never cease to be amazed at each person's ability to make it to the top, let alone weighed down by absurdly heavy and awkwardly shaped necessities. We spent a couple of hours at the top, and naturally had to break into the night's beer supply. Because one had exploded on the hike up and obviously we had to drink the rest to find the broken can...but seriously. Logic. Around noon we headed back down, though a few of the guys stayed at the top claiming that they needed to fix a few things, but definately just finishing the beer. By the time we reached the bottom, friends and more relatives had arrived, by the end of the day there was about a hundred people, and the women were busy cooking and preparing their specialty cocktails.

Fireworks stands

Starting the first ascent

Torches and generators

Decorating and setting up

Martina posing and climbing with Camila

Vladimir arrived with some friends of the family and the priest who would conduct Mass at this time. Lunch was accompanied and followed by more drinking and music, gossip sessions and countless introductions. The altar with the cross was blessed and Mass was set up. Before beginning the priest did ask that everyone leave their beers and food in the back before devoting this time to God. Wah. After what felt like hours of sitting and standing and sitting and standing and singing and hand holding and kissing your neighbor, the service was over and everyone went right back to their drinks.

Mass

Sunset from the house

The band which accompanies the cross up the hill at night was set to arrive at 7pm, and at around 5 a small group of men went up to restock the beer supply, light the torches and candles and start the generator. Along with cell phones these men brought walkie talkies. And at about 5:30 messaged to say they had forgotten the 'key' for the machine. And Vladimir and I had to take it up. By this time the sun had set and the wind had started and the torches really didn't light anything for us. Not to worry, Vladimir had a head lamp, which he shared after I apologized for laughing at it earlier. At the top we waited. And waited. And then waited some more. Nothing is ever on time in Chile, the band arrived at 7:20, which is amazing, and then proceeded to have a small concert. While we watched and froze from the top. A little after 8 everyone arrived at the top, the crosses were placed in their stands where they will remain until this time next year, a fire was built, right next to the firework stands, the fireworks were lit, while we all stood next them, the band played, everyone danced and drank and danced and drank for a couple of hours (Yayo and I danced in an absurd fashion that caused everyone to stop, watch and take our photos) until the elders who could not make the hike walkied to say that dinner was ready, and the drunken, dark descent down the hill began. Yayo took my hand and proceeded to more or less surf down the hill, he is the happiest human being I have ever met and to watch him sand surf after we'd both had a countless 'few' was the funniest thing I have ever seen in my life. The band slipped and stumbled down with their instruments, no one could see anything and somehow everyone made it back down to the house without injury. At the house everyone was served dinner, a whole pig (Martina had taken me to see a pig in the morning and confused because she couldn't find it...probably because it was being prepared for dinner), slabs of barbequed beef, chorizo, hot dogs, potatoes, bread, rice, beans, veggies and the most wonderful Peruvian sauce made with eggs and peanuts (two things that shouldn't complement each other but magically worked). At this point a second band set up and played, yes, there were two bands hired for the event, one cumbia band and one traditional for the ceremony, and people started dancing. I was lucky enough to be asked to dance by the drunkest of invitees, something that once again people stopped to watch and photograph, and then I headed back out front to the BBQ and with Vladimir and some of the family friends until Boris called everyone back inside to dance. Obligatory. My previous dance partner was replaced by an old man who had shimmied at me earlier, the cutest little boy (who when he arrived ran up to me to say hello and waited for me squat down and kiss his cheek, all the while puckered up to kiss mine), Vladimir, Yayo and a student's father. The bands took turns playing until 3:30 in the morning, and Boris danced through the crowd placing beers into any empty hands, proudly smiling and stumbling all the while (he is the one who brought this tradition back and the whole family adores him for having done so, as it Claudia's family cross). After the bands stopped, Boris gave a speech, we ate some sandwiches and whatever else could be scronged up to fill our hungry bellies, and around 4 went off to bed. Vladimir and I had the pleasure of sharing a room with my shimmy obsessed dance partner, the world's loudest snorer, who between his snores and his eroctic sleep conversations, allowed me almost zero shut eye. I gave up before 8 and decided to help clean. Everyone was a little quieter in the morning, and Sunday found my house full of sore, hungover people, all of us in jammies with our hair doing whatever it wanted. Conversations were minimal. We left with my family at around 11 am because some of the relatives had to catch a bus back to Iquique. This meant that the back was full of luggage and coolers, Claudia and Boris in the front, Vladimir, myself and Tia Puala in the back, with four kids on our laps. Nine people in a vehicle designed for five, and with nowhere to put our feet without stepping on something. When the police drove past it was our responsibility to shove the kids heads down so it would appear legal. A sight that was almost as funny as Yayo surfing down the hill. I am so grateful to have had the chance to be apart of this tradition, just as beautiful as the people who hosted us.