El Temblor

It was a horrible night. My Chilean parents had entertained friends until 1 a.m. I, however, went to bed at 11:30 p.m., hoping for some respite from the noise in the kitchen, on the other side of my thin bedroom wall, and a horrible sinus headache. Propped up with pillows, I could sort of breathe, but the position greatly increased the pain in my extremely sore shoulders and neck. So I went back to lying flat and not being able to breathe.
           

I finally fell asleep around 1:30 a.m. out of pure exhaustion only to wake up again at least twice during the night because I either couldn't breathe or my head hurt.
           

So at around 8:15 a.m. when I woke because my window and door were vibrating, I was not pleased.
           

“Oh, stop, stop, please," I mumbled to myself, thinking either a big truck passing on the street outside or one of my Chilean sisters stomping around upstairs was causing the noise.
           

About two seconds later I realized that while my windows vibrate occasionally, the very heavy door never does. At the moment I thought, "I think this is a temblor..." my bed jerked a few inches to one side then the other, as if it had just ridden over a big wave–in the ground.
           

I lay in bed with eyes wide open, listening to a dull roar, just barely audible, fade into nothing. After a few minutes of wide-eyed staring at the ceiling wondering if anything else was coming, I thought to myself,
           

“Ok, ok, I'll get up already..."

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Very few shared my fascination with the temblor since they happen all the time in Chile. They are small tremors, not nearly big enough to be considered earthquakes. Chile hasn’t had a significant earthquake in many years. Even though temblores are common, I had been there nearly five months before I felt my first temblor in May. There had been others, but they had happened in the mornings as I rode the micro to class, and I didn’t feel anything. Despite its frequent occurrences, I was completely fascinated by the idea of the ground moving–I’m from Mississippi–we don’t have earthquakes there. Unsurprisingly, I found that my family was just as intrigued by tornadoes, something that never happens in Chile, but is relatively common where I live.

Even though, no one was really surprised by the temblor that morning, many people listened to my story, with a half smile at my childlike fascination, and in turn told me what they were doing when the ground decided to jump. Some family friends had been jogging, my Chilean dad had been working out back, and my Chilean sisters had slept through it. Though it only lasted for a few seconds, that Saturday morning temblor stayed etched in my memory reminding me that in a foreign country it’s not just the culture that’s different.

May 16, 2009