Highlights of Spring Break in Chile
Day-By-Day Highlight Breakdown
February 28th: On my first day on Easter Island, I treated myself to a delectable açaí bowl that perfectly captured the island’s vibrant spirit. The rich, purple açaí base was smooth and refreshing, topped with an array of colorful fruits like sliced mango, fresh strawberries, and coconut. A sprinkle of granola added a satisfying crunch, while a drizzle of local honey gave the bowl a hint of sweetness that tied everything together. Sitting under the warm sun with a gentle ocean breeze brushing past, I savored each bite, feeling both energized and connected to the island’s natural beauty. It was the perfect start to an unforgettable adventure.
March 1st: I peered over the rim of Rano Kau on Easter Island and was astonished by the unique landscape. The crater was massive, with steep walls leading down to a patchwork of small lakes and green vegetation at the bottom. The view stretched out to the ocean in the distance, where the deep blue water met the sky. A light breeze moved through the grass around me, and everything felt peaceful and wide open. It was a simple but unforgettable sight.
March 2nd: I came upon fifteen Moai statues lined up on their stone platform, each easily towering over me at about ten feet tall. Seeing them in person hit me with a mix of excitement and curiosity—I couldn’t help but wonder who built them and why they still stand so quietly after all these years. The light breeze and open grass around them made the whole spot feel laid-back yet full of history.
March 3rd: I sat at a wooden table by the sea with a plate of fresh sushi in front of me. The tender salmon and crisp cucumber rolls tasted even better as gentle waves lapped the shore. A salty breeze carried the ocean’s scent, mixing with the soy and wasabi on my plate. I watched fishing boats drift along the horizon and felt completely relaxed, enjoying great food and the endless blue water.
March 4th: I was wiped out after the long trip from Easter Island to Santiago, so I ducked into a Chilean McDonald’s and ordered a hamburguesa triple queso. The three layers of melted cheese oozed over a hot beef patty nestled in a soft, toasted bun, and each bite was exactly the cheesy, salty pick-me-up I needed. With every mouthful, I felt my energy come back just enough to make it to my bed and fall asleep.
March 5th: I wandered through Valparaíso’s winding streets, where every alley was painted in bright hues of teal, pink, and mustard. Colorful murals and rusted balconies stretched up the steep hills, framing views of the harbor below. With my camera in hand, I paused at every corner—snapping shots of graffiti-clad staircases, brightly tiled doorways, and locals chatting over empanadas at sidewalk cafés.
March 6th: I teamed up with Brianna to perform our rap by a stunning glacier lake in San José de Maipo while Dr. Polack filmed us. The ice-tipped peaks rose behind us, and a cool breeze off the crystal-blue water kept us energized as we moved through our verses. We laughed between takes, thrilled by how the dramatic landscape brought our project to life—and grateful for Dr. Polack’s steady hand behind the camera.
March 7th: I rode the tram down from the top of San Cristóbal, feeling the breeze on my face as the city stretched out below. Red-tiled roofs, winding streets, and patches of green slowly came into view, with the Andes rising far off in the distance. The steady clatter of the wheels and the open air made the ride feel easy and relaxed, and I took in the sweeping view, trying to catch every detail before we reached the bottom.
March 8th: On our last day, Brianna, Anna, and I decided to try an advanced hike in the Andes mountains. As soon as we reached the base, we realized how tricky it was—the loose gravel and steep incline had us slipping with almost every step. After a few tries and a lot of frustration, we admitted defeat and gave up before the real hike even started, choosing instead to enjoy the mountain views from solid ground.
Sound Collage of Chile
During my time in Chile, I put together a sound collage that captured some of the most memorable parts of the trip. I recorded everything from the crunch of gravel underfoot in the Andes mountains to the sudden blare of an ambulance weaving through the quiet streets of Easter Island. I also caught the laughter of my friends during our hikes and the steady breeze rolling off the Pacific. Each sound felt like its own little snapshot, capturing the real, everyday energy of the places we visited.
One of my favorite recordings came from our attempt to hike in the Andes, where the uneven gravel made us slip at the base of the mountain. Another came from Easter Island, where an ambulance siren briefly broke the peaceful, laid-back atmosphere of the island. These sounds, though small, told a bigger story about the contrast between the busy city life of Santiago and the quiet, open spaces of Easter Island. Listening back, I could almost feel the cool mountain air and the warm island sun all over again.
The sounds I captured became one of the highlights of my trip because they brought all the places we visited back to life in a way that photos couldn’t. Walking the streets of Santiago, exploring Easter Island, and even slipping on mountain trails—all of those moments had a soundtrack that made them feel real and vivid. Every time I listen to the collage, it reminds me not just of what I saw, but of what it felt like to be there, experiencing all the different sides of Chile.
Highlighting Chile through Color
Traveling to Chile felt like stepping into a painting, each region a different brushstroke of wonder. The Andes were the bold, textured strokes of oil paint—thick with majesty and raw presence. I remember standing in the crisp morning light, surrounded by towering, snow-capped peaks that cut across the sky like a serrated edge. The cold air clung to my skin, and the silence held a weight that made the mountains feel alive, as if the entire range were watching, waiting. It was a landscape painted with palette knife precision—harsh, dramatic, and unforgettable.
Valparaíso, in contrast, was watercolor chaos. Its hills spilled over with color, every building a splash of bright blues, yellows, and pinks that ran together like paint bleeding on wet paper. The streets twisted like curling brushstrokes, pulling me through alleyways filled with murals and graffiti—art that felt both rebellious and tender. Music echoed from open doors, mixing with the scent of the sea and fresh empanadas. There was movement in every frame, like the painting itself couldn’t sit still. I felt like a figure sketched quickly in the margins—blurry but undeniably part of the scene.
Then came Rano Kau, a landscape so surreal it belonged in a surrealist dream. The crater lake shimmered like a mirror turned upward, reflecting clouds that seemed painted in with a fine-tipped brush. Ancient stone figures watched from a distance, timeless and still. The brushwork here was delicate—moss-covered stone, gentle waves, and a wind that hummed through the grass. Time softened at the edges, and I felt suspended in a frame of greens and blues, held gently between land and sky. In Chile, each place was a painting I could walk into—and I carried their colors home with me.
