Inside Out

After 6 hours on the bus (including the 2 hours at the border control stations, that's right, one in Argentina and further down the road, one in Chile), I have departed Argentina and am now back in Puerto Natales, Chile. This is the last portion of my trip, the present to my self for having come this far, (see www. remota.cl ). I don't normally play like this, this is far grander than a beach house for a birthday weekend. I could celebrate my birthday 4 times here.

Remota is a concept hotel at its best, with lake and mountain views, gourmet meals and endless copa de vino. and excursions included. The building, at least in my interpretation, with its rhythmic, angular floor to ceiling windows, segmented by black timber, resembles a glacier crushing upon itself towards the lake. Grass covered rooftops and rough hewn wood timbers suggest a green element to the design. But sitting at lunch, admiring the view of Torres del Paine across the lake, watching the grass bend and shudder in the wind, and the lake peaking white caps, what struck me was the silence. After a week out there, here I am inside, in the comforts of luxury and I can no longer hear or feel the Patagonia wind I've become accustomed to. The roof isn't going to fly off, the walls don't amplify the weather outside. It is as though I've suddendly become deaf. And can no longer breath. The air inside has no scent, no temperature, no humidity. No movement. All the movement is out there. And out there is where I prefer to be.