Thursday, March 24, 2011
One year ago at this time I was somewhere on Easter Island, constantly damp, swimming in warm clear water, picking up hitchhikers, smoking joints on horseback and galloping across the lava fields on the deserted north shore, or tumbling down the unpaved road, avoiding wild boar.
If you can get there, you MUST. Its microscopic. Its authentic. Its beautiful.
While I was there I met a 20 year old whose father owned the first car. Now they have a paved road, and when I was there, they were building a nice hotel. As it is now, theres one paved road, one unpaved, and the entire north half is inaccessible by anything other than a horse. When planes land a couple times a week, all the hotel owners go to the airport, and try to get you to get in a car with them and take you to their place. The shower might only work for 30 seconds, you might have a kitten infestation, and you'll probably meet interesting people who have made a stop on the island as part of a grander journey. Its fantastic.
Six hours from Santiago, and six from Tahiti, its truly in the middle of nowhere. Looking down from the airplane as you come upon it, its like a movie.
It feels a little like LOST, and ever since I've left, I've wondered if I'll be able to find my way back.