Monday, November 9, 2015
A measure of relativity.
We were woken by a temblor at 4:45 on Saturday morning.
Mr Tabubil shook me awake - "big one, big one, Get UP!"
BANG! The room shuddered. BAMMOBAMMOBAMMO -
And we were up, half-asleep, my feet tangling in the sheets and I fell, and then we were securely next to the core and Mr Tabubil opened the front door -
"Mr Tabubil! I'm not wearing pants!"
"Does it matter?!"
BAM! BANGBAMBANG - the rattling was tremendous - walls and floors and windows and drawers and cupboard doors going bang bang bang and something in the stairwell slam slam slamming against the walls -
And it eased and i saw the coats next to the door and thought "well that's all right, I can wrap one around my legs -" and
And it stopped.
It was a 6.8, near Ovalle. A very very rattly 6.8. It took us a long time to get back to sleep. Mr Tabubil was woken up again at 7:00 by a nice solid shaking 6.0 and thought "it's smaller than the last one. I don't care." And rolled over and went back to sleep. I didn't wake up at all.
And that was that. We haven't heard a word about it. From anyone. This is the thing that i find most fascinating about living here in Chile, on the edge of the pacific rim. In most of the rest of the world a 6.8 is a respectable quake. Newsworthy. Water-cooler excitement for weeks.
Here, once people were back to sleep, no-one raised an eyebrow. Not on facebook, not between friends or neighbors or colleagues -
Nothing fell over and it's business as usual. Bothered? Us?