I do not know where I was if I was sleeping if I was dreaming
or imagining that you were speaking in the imperfect tense in a distracted way about what was important but I remember that I was existing without delay it was perfect
Je ne sais plus où j’étais
si je dormais
si je rêvais
que tu parlais
d’un air distrait
de ce qui comptait
Andes, October 2018, canon, ©Sylvie Gé
Crossing the Andean Cordillera by bus will remain etched in my memory as a great moment. On the Chilean side, the majestic icy peaks make us feel the power of nature. On the Argentine side, all the shades of green and yellow intertwine.
The crossing between Santiago and Mendoza was to last seven hours, but extended from eight thirty in the morning to seven in the evening. The mileage is not very high, but we must deal with the delays due to the blockage of the road and the Argentine customs (in a huge hangar). After a long wait, while the customs officers pass the luggage through the scanner, four suitcases are exposed (while all the other passengers look from behind), customs officers examine the « guilty » suitcases in front of everybody (not recommended). Waiting a few hours before the road is finally free seems to bother only us. The other passengers, imperturbable, wait patiently. A few hours is nothing in this part of the world. The road is sometimes closed for days and the cars just line up waiting for everything to calm down. The wait was well worth it. I will never forget.