Palafitos Panorama

Palafitos en Chiloe

Dos Meses en Chile

The rain is falling swiftly on the corrugated metal rooftops. Smoke billows from dozens of miniature smokestacks. Muddy fishermen and seagulls huddle in the mist along the waters edge hoping for a meal. And I hunch over my camera, an umbrella in one hand and the focus in the other. I'm on an island called Chiloe over 1200 kms south of Vina del Mar (my home in Chile) filming one of the most unique places I have ever laid eyes upon. The island of Chiloe (the largest island in South American north of Tierra del Fuego) sits close off the Pacific coast, perhaps a 30 minute ferry ride from the mainland. It's an island of rolling green pastures, misty clouds, old farmhouses, over 150 wooden churches, and palafitos (houses built upon stilts upon the waters edge). Chiloe is famous for its multicolored palafitos which sit high above the inlets to avoid the extreme tide changes. Here fishing is less of a job than it is a lifestyle for many Chiloeans. No matter where you look, you can find dozens and dozens of fishing boats marooned high up on muddy banks. Admist milky colored water and drab gray clouds, the colorful houses, boats, and people stand out.

Chiloean Palafito

Lago Llanquihue Boats

For the past two days I've been filming wherever I can and whenever it's not raining (which has turned out to be very difficult). And when it doesn't stop raining, I film anyways. Mud and water has become a part of my existence since I left Vina del Mar last week. My shoes, pants, and backpack have all become the same color and I'm hoping my family will recognize me when I get home. At this time of the year it seems that South Pacific storms are at full force, at least for the little island of Chiloe. Two days before I was a few hours north of Chiloe (on the mainland) in a town called Puerto Varas. Sitting on the edge of the 2nd largest lake in Chile (Llanquihue), Puerto Varas has a commanding view of the most impressive volcano I have ever seen (Osorno). It looks something akin to Mt. Fuji in Japan. Puerto Varas is also close to the largest salmon farm operations in Chile. Unfortunately at this moment, Chile's salmon farms are battered by disease and many have shut down for the time being or even closed up. But as I traveled around the lake I could still see the farms floating alongside the coast. I also recognized the distinct German influence in the area (germans colonized the south about a hundred years ago). German flags flew from classic Alps-like houses and you could be guaranteed of finding Kuchen (a German pastry on every corner). In a few days I will head north to return home to Vina del Mar. But my few days in the south have shown me what a diverse land Chile is.

Volcano Osorno

Smog Over Santiago

Looking back on the last month I've begun to get a feel for the rhythm of Chile. Everyday I walk out of my home on a winding cobblestone street overlooking Vina del Mar. Dogs fight for scraps of food, old woman with faces two hundred years old stagger up the steep hills, and if you’re not careful you can find yourself tripping over the uneven stones or getting run over by a bus or taxi. During the day you can watch the mist disappear to reveal inexorably tall Andean mountains and cacti in the distance. When walking the streets of Vina your senses are bombarded by hundreds of smells and sounds. Street vendors dressed in running gear jump aboard moving buses to sell the insides of coconuts, popcorn, candy, and chocolate. Blind beggars sit in the shade banging tin cups for money. Collectivos (inexpensive taxis) dart in and out of traffic with suprising speed. All different sorts of breads and meats are cooked and sold along the sidewalk. The fruit and vegetable markets are abuzz with activity at all times of the day. And at night boys play soccer for hours in old clothes and on muddy fields with the lights of the city illuminating the game. Such is the life in a bustling South American port town. At times its been difficult for me to communicate and I find myself out of my element in the big city. But the happiness of the people I have met is what keeps me warm and makes me love this place. Walk into a store anywhere and you will be greeted with a huge smile. Speak spanish to someone and they'll almost give you a hug. When I am with my new family, they care for me as one of their own. Many times we swap jokes until the early hours of the morning. And while, like in Samoa, I am clearly a visitor, the Chileans go out of their way to make me comfortable, happy, and accepted.

Trailer #2

Here is the the latest trailer to my upcoming documentary. Hope you enjoy!

Bienvenidos a Chile

Fishing Fleet in Zapallar

Santa Inez (my home)

Three weeks have passed rather quickly since I arrived to Chile. I've spent a lot of time adjusting to the new culture, practicing my spanish, and filming at the markets, ports, and cultural attractions around Vina del Mar and Valparaiso. At first it was hard to communicate, being that I hadn't practiced any spanish in over two years. But I quickly got up to speed, mostly because few people if any speak english. I ended up spending my first day in Chile down in the filming trenches (so to speak), shooting footage at the Valparaiso fish market. Here fishermen wake up early, around 3 am, jump into their tiny yellow boats and brave the cold foggy waters of the South Pacific. By about eight in the morning they have landed enough fish to sell for the day, having to avoid the large oil and cargo tankers that begin to appear around this time. Using a winch on the end of an old pier, the boats are pulled one by one out of the water. The fishermen then line their boats up in order and begin hawking their catch.

Tradition Chilean Fishing Vessels

The Morning's First Catch

By 9 the market is abuzz with activity. Locals buying fish, fishermen yelling, and workers untangling lines. Dogs run excitedly back and forth between the shellfish stands and the boats and the sea lions clutter the beach barking madly for a meal. For my first day in Chile it was quite an adventure.

Hombres at Work

El Jefe

Woman at Work

I was stunned to find out during one interview that generally speaking most fishermen make around $150 US per month. That's right. Not $150 a day or $150 a week but $150 in a month. This particular fisherman told me honestly that's its nearly impossible these days to make money as an individual fisherman. There is so much competition with foreign Spanish and Japanese trawlers and such a lack of large fish that the industry is nearly sunk. Through missing teeth and sunburnt lips he told me that most of his food comes from whatever is leftover at the market. It was an enlightening but sad first encounter in Chile.

The Market

Shellfish Specialty

Old Boat in Zapallar

I'm glad to say though that although it was sad to hear this one fisherman's story, Chile is alive with friendly people and a willingness to share their culture. Three weeks have passed and I've been invited to homes, barbeques, soccer games, and car races. The family I live with are perhaps the most hospitable, kind people on the planet. They continue to astound me everyday with their selfless and caring ways. They've taken me all over this region of Chile from the dunes and coves to the north to the vineyards to the east. I've gotten a chance to glimpse the great Andean cordillera which I hope to visit sometime soon. I've even walked with crazy winding streets of Valparaiso with its hundred year old ascensores (hillside elevators) and angular houses and I've ridden the convenient but incredibly fast micros (buses). Of all the peoples I have met on my journey so far, I'd have to say that the Chileans have already made me feel more comfortable and accepted than anywhere else. Each day my eyes are opened by how little they have but how much they give.

Tasty Looking Grapes

Samoa Comes to an End

Looking back on my time in Samoa, I would have to say it was a memorable four months. From the wonderful people and unique culture to the stunning beaches and constant sunshine, Samoa will forever be a paradise in my mind. Shooting a documentary gave me the opportunity to meet all sorts of people from spearfishermen to traditional siapo-cloth makers. Traveling throughout the country gave me deeper insight into what is at the essence of Samoa. I remember working on the plantation with my friends, planting taro, cutting down banana trees, and drinking coconuts by the dozen. All the while under a beautiful blue sky and warm tropical breeze. Then there were the moments spent around the bonfire on the beach, listening to homegrown guitar music and swapping jokes and language. I still catch myself laughing thinking about Fao Fao, my best friend/ 4 year old nemesis who followed me around everywhere, copied everything I did, and somehow taught me some amazing dance moves. I recall sitting in the middle of the empty street at night, talking with my adopted brothers Paye and Tuua and watching people of all ages walk by on their nightly jaunts. Then there were the days spent helping the girls with their chores and English, and letting them make jokes about me in Samoan for hours all the while not understanding one bit. Talking with my adopted mom Rosa and hearing her stories from her youth everyday at lunch was perhaps my favorite part of the day. Jumpstarting cars, killing pigs, harvesting shellfish and hunting octopus, wrestling with the kids, cooking palusami, climbing coconut trees, dancing, learning Samoan, running from Fafafines, listening to people sing, and hearing more gossip than I thought a small village could ever produce was just a day’s work in Saleapanga. When I finally said goodbye to all my family’s tearful faces and my plane took off out of the jungle heading for a new continent, it was hard to imagine living somewhere else.

So here I sit, almost two weeks in Chile and well on my way into my third and last adventure. I live in a wonderful little home with a Chilean family who in some ways remind me of my friends back in Samoa. But here there are no coconuts chugging sessions or scores of little kids just waiting to trip you up. Here there are giant mountains and massive deserts. And a new type of people work the land and live amongst the coastlines, plying the waters for a living. Just last week I spent a few hours at the local seafood market and watched through the fog as little yellow fishing boats were pulled out of the sea by their owners who sold their catches along the shore. I also walked the eccentric winding streets of Valparaiso with its ancient acensores (elevators) and Pablo Neruda inspired architecture. And the other day, I was sitting on a three hundred foot sand dune that dumped right into the ocean, an ocean that I had traveled in part, that stretched all the back to the origins of my journey last July when I landed in New Zealand.

I have just over three and a half months left to my trip and I couldn’t be happier with what I’ve seen, filmed, and learned. Now that I am well past the halfway point, I have begun thinking about home again and all the family and friends that I miss dearly. I look forward to seeing you all very soon and I hope that you will check in to my blog a few more times before this August for some more Chilean adventures, photos, and videos.

Ciao!

Latest Photos

Tana and Afa hanging out

Classic Samoan Thunderstorm

Harvesting on the Reef

4yr old Fao Fao himself (Samoan legend) and my best friend

First Month in Samoa

Its been almost one month since I arrived in Samoa and what a month it has been. I left Auckland on the 8th of December on a crowded flight with expatriate Samoans returning home. The atmosphere aboard was enlivening, just about everyone was excited about arriving. Women wore flowers in their hair and men wore lava lavas which are very colorful and long (like wearing a towel). After a bumpy flight we arrived to pouring rain and sweltering heat. Walking out of the plane was like being dunked in a hot tub. Even though I was in shorts and a t-shirt, I was dripping within minutes. Falealo’lo airport was tiny. We walked down a set of old stairs from the plane and across a tarmac surrounded by green, verdant jungle. Grabbing a taxi, I headed into downtown Apia, about a fifty minute drive from the airport.

My first few days I spent in Apia, getting my bearings and trying to figure out how to avoid the torrential rainstorms that seemed to appear out of nowhere and leave just as quickly. More than once I was soaked walking the fruit splattered roads of Apia. The largest town in Samoa, Apia has a population of 40,000. After a few days in town I had had enough and so took a wild bus ride to the south coast. Its about a two hour drive across the mountains. Covered in jungle, huge banyan trees, and waterfalls, the Samoan highlands are impressive considering the tiny size of the island. Once across, the simple two-lane road winds its way along the coast and through village after village. The majority of Samoans live along the coast, making a living from family-owned plantations. Papaya, mangoes, pineapple, taro root, coconut, breadfruit, and wood are common harvests. There is also a lot of subsistence fishing. You can find people fishing the reefs daily, either walking out with nets or speardiving. Most Samoans live in simple houses which don’t have walls but columns. As you drive by you can see all the belongings of a home. My favorite time of day to drive by is around noon when everyone takes a nap in the shade to avoid the intense heat. If you were new to Samoa you might be worried because bodies just litter the sides of the roads. When not sleeping or working, most Samoans hang out on the roads, waving as people go by. The buses are also an experience in their own right. Huge and painted in tons of colors, each is unique and belongs to its driver. Every bus has a slogan on either the front or the back. My favorites still are “Why Me,” “Bring Them to me Alive,” “Who’s Next,” and “Bon Jovi Express.” You almost always share your seat with a few other people. One of my favorite things about Samoa is the fashion. Traditional fia fia dresses are incredibly beautiful and ornate with inlaid flowers and designs of all sorts.

Anyhow, my first ride to the south coast was an experience. I was headed for the beach fales located on the eastern end of the south island. Fales are traditional thatch roof dwellings with intricate palm-frond sides which you can tie up during the day or let down at night for privacy and protection from the rain. The floors sit about three feet above the sand to avoid extreme tides from the nearby sea. The best part about fales is that you can see and hear the ocean at night and during the day you jump right out into the sand. If you want to live on the beach a Samoan fale is the absolute best way to do it. I ended up meeting a young guy named Va’a, who was twenty-two and ran Fao Fao beach fales, a collection of fales on the beach with a huge open fale restaurant, shop, and performance fale for weekend fia fias (dances). Va’a and his extended family live across the road from the beach and are wonderful hosts. Fao Fao is located in the village of Saleapanga, about 5 miles from the eastern end of the island. Fao Fao fales is an awesome way to experience tropical beaches while retaining a connection with traditional Samoan life. Much of the food that is prepared comes from the local plantation, you share many of the same facilities with the local families, and after a while become friends with just about everyone from the smallest toddlers to the eldest chiefs. I’ve found my behaviors, attitude, and daily schedules mirrors Samoan life more and more. I sleep during the hottest hours, wake up early before the sun rises, and go to bed well before ten. I too spend time just watching cars go by or waves slide by and in many ways I enjoy the simple life that exists here.

To be continued . . .

My Kiwi Adventure Comes to a Close

West Coast Jungle

I'm sad to say it, but my time in New Zealand has come to an end. Looking back on my four months in Aotearoa I can't believe that I managed to shoot more than 20 hours of film footage, complete many interviews, and meet with dozens and dozens of Kiwis interested in sustainable fisheries. It's been a whirlwind tour across both islands from the glaciers and fjords of the South Island to the rainforests and volcanoes of the North Island and I'm a little tired just thinking about it.

The Road South to Otago

It's a bit crazy to think but the last 3o days have seen more traveling than the first three months combined. After saying goodbye to my wonderful host family in Christchurch where I spent a good portion of my time on the South Island I headed down the Otago coast and crossed the Southern Alps picking up the last of my footage in Dunedin, Queenstown, and the West Coast. I was met with a barrage of rain, snow, and wind during my brief few stint through these very southern parts, even though it was spring and the flora and fauna were in full bloom. After passing through the coastal city of Greymouth towards the north end of the West Coast I returned again to Nelson where I conducted a few last minute interviews and meetings with my remaining interested parties. Luckily, the day before my ferry to Wellington, the sun finally came out and I was able to take a brief jaunt to the world renowned Abel Tasman National Park where I caught a few fish for dinner and took a much needed nap on a golden sand beach. During my few days in Nelson, I was also blessed to run into my closest friends from Christchurch would happened to be traveling through as well. We built a fire on the beach and watched as the tide slowly washed it away before saying our goodbyes.

Good Friends

My ferry ride across the Cook Strait was uneventful and aside from an interview and meeting with the Seafood Industry Council and NIWA, I barely lingered in Wellington. After leaving the perimeter of the city and headed back towards the West Coast, I was again greeted by torrential rainfall and for the next few days I lived a very wet and miserable existence plagued by more mosquitoes than I ever thought existed. Eventually I found my way to the Coromandel Peninsula towards the tip of the North Island where I met with a Bowdoin couple and filmed a bit more footage. After sitting in my own personal saltwater hot-tub at Hotwater beach (a geothermally heated beach) I finally I arrived in Raglan and was afforded a chance to unpack my bags, wash my clothes, and empty the sand out of my shoes.

As I finish this last post from New Zealand my mind is already wandering back to the breathtaking vistas I filmed and hospitable Kiwis I met. From a friendly fisherman at Opito Beach who offered me a fresh fish he had just caught to all the roadside fruit and honey vendors who were always happy to chat about anything, I have to say I've never met a more friendly or laid-back group of people. And remembering the mountain peaks, glacier-fed rivers, golden beaches, waterfalls, and lush rainforests, its possible I've not seen a more beautiful landscape in all my life. Sure, it hasn't all been a breeze, I've broken camera gear, lost footage, twisted ankles, and ruined more clothing that I thought possible. But despite these few bumps, the road through New Zealand has changed my life for the better and left me with memories that I'll never forget.

West Coast Fox Glacier

So, my dearest friends and family, as the holiday preparations begin back home, I'm heading off on a new adventure, to the tropical islands of Samoa. Chances are I'll be decorating a palm tree with coconuts this Christmas instead of a pine tree! I miss you all and will be sure to write again soon. In the meantime I wish you all a very happy holidays.

Fading Into the Blue Trailer #1

I'm excited to say that I've just completed the first trailer for my film!!! I've uploaded it for the time being to YouTube as I'm still working out a few kinks to get it on my blog. Click on the title above to navigate to the page. If your computer can handle it, click on the option to "watch in high quality" as I posted an HD version. Hope you enjoy and I look forward to any comments you may have.

October: 100% Pure New Zealand

Less than a month has passed since my last blog post but I barely know where to begin. Seasonly, New Zealand has blossomed. Trees adorned with flowers ranging from exotic purples to violent yellows litter the land like an impressionistic painting, young animals frolic across the rolling green hills, and the dark clouds have withdrawn from the coasts revealing an ocean brimming with life and color. For weeks I have traveled daily with my camera fully assembled in a duffel bag at my side, too afraid to be caught staring at a perfect scene without camera in hand. Roadside fruit and vegetable stands have popped up like weeds after a rainstorm and friendly smiling people abound. The Kiwi motto of "100% Pure New Zealand" seems to have finally come true.

My film has entered a new season as well. I have slowly removed myself from the quagmire of pre-production and incessant phone calls and transitioned to full-time filming and editing. It has been a welcome change and one that keeps me constantly invigorated, albeit slightly sleep-deprived. Most days find me shooting interviews or canvassing the landscape and small townships with my camera in tow. My first stop after I left you in Nelson as of my last post, was Wellington where I met Dr. Phil Heath of the National Institute of Water and Atmospheric Research. My arrival to Wellington was predicated by a long but stunning ferry ride through the magnificent Marlborough Sounds and across the wild and windy Cook Straight. A clean city of 200,000, its white walled houses are tucked into the green hills of the North Island. I must say of all the cities I have every visited, it ranks as one of my favorites both in beauty and personality.

(Above are a few photos of yours truly)

My trip to the aquaculture research facility in Mahanga Bay, Wellington, was stimulating and eye-opening. Dr. Phil and his counterparts were actively growing and researching the Paua, a large shellfish native to New Zealand waters. Their research provided the Paua industry with better methods for creating economically and environmentally sustainable Paua farms. Before interviewing, Phil showed me around the facility, noting the many breeding pools and cages full of young and mature Paua shells (some as tiny as pin heads and others as large as my palm). Most interesting was how they had engineered a way to grow Paua with white bottoms and without losing the blue character of their shells via a combination of clean tanks and certain vegetable based foods. The best part was watching Phil pluck a mature Paua from the tank and hold the creature on his hand until two tentacles peered out from under the shell.

(Paua Shells on Display at a farmer's market)

After my tour around the facility, Phil graciously answered my questions regarding the sustainability of aquaculture. He made enlightening comparisons between terrestrial and water based farming arguing that while our culture will accept thousands of hectares of cow farms, a few Paua or Salmon farms will stir the general public into a frenzy. He furthered his argument by talking about the difference between the conception of public and private space and how in essence, we as a society view the oceans as public space . . . thus explaining our misunderstanding of aquaculture. It was an interesting discussion and one that I hope you enjoy in full when the film is finished next year.

I could have spent much more time in Wellington but business beckoned me back to Nelson and after a quick meeting with The Seafood Industry Council where I briefly interviewed for their magazine about my project, I took an incredibly bumpy and rainy five hour ferry ride back to the South Island. There I met with Chris Choat of Aquaculture New Zealand who put together an interview will the local paper, the Nelson Mail, as well as two shoots with King Salmon and Marlborough Mussels (aquaculture operations based out of Marlborough). Needless to say I worked straight out for a few days, riding out on boats to the farms, filming tons of salmon and mussels being harvested, and interviewing many people. Now that I've finally gotten a chance to sit down, take a deep breathe, and reflect back on the last few weeks, I couldn't be happier with the progress I've made. The friendly and accommodating people I've met, places I've been, and action I've documented have made October a month to remember.

North to Nelson

Regrettably, my time in the small fishing village of Kaikoura eventually came to an end. Duty called and new shoots beckoned me northwards towards Nelson and the Marlborough Sounds at the tip of the south island. As I passed snow-flecked mountaintops and steel-grey rivers frantically dumping their glacier-melt into the deep coastal waters of the Chatham Rise and Bounty Trough, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness. Something about Kaikoura's constant weather, the slow pace of life, and the ocean air reminded me of my hometown Carlsbad, back in San Diego. But Kaikoura was already rapidly receding into the distance and I slowly turned my thoughts northward.



Before this gloomy spell could overtake me and blossom into homesickness I emerged out of the verdant green winery region of Blenheim and burst onto the Marlborough Sounds. And what a sight it was! With crystalline blue waters, golden sand beaches, bright skies, and friendly people, Nelson was a cinematic jewel. Not to be caught with idle feet, I immediately proceeded into downtown Nelson and met up with my aquaculture contact to talk about the operations based in Nelson. Salmon, pacific oysters, and the world-renowed greenshell mussel were some of the main exports. Needless to say we had a long chat about sustainability, aquaculture, and what it meant for the future of fishing around the globe. In the end I told them that I was most interested in documenting and displaying what sustainability actually looked like in practice. I imagine for most of you, myself included, sustainable fisheries seems a murky and sometimes fishy sounding proposal. I mean, what does sustainability actually look like in action? Some of my following questions related to environmental impacts, wild stock assessments, regulations, health inspections, the "organic-ness" of the product, handling, processing, etc. In the end it was important that I got a good grasp on how "sustainable" these fisheries were before I shot any footage.


After the meeting we set up a few shoots for the coming week. I was pleasantly surprised that the aquaculture operations didn't use water pesticides or antibiotics and secondly, each mussel, oyster, and salmon was handled individually as it came out of the pens. In fact, they said that to farm mussels all they did was set up ropes anchored to the bottom of the seabed and the mussels grew themselves, content in the clean and warm waters of the Marlborough Sounds. Of course a gross simplification of the process, it was still a miracle that pollution was one of their only main concerns, and a small one at that.

(above are screen-shots from my doco. footage)

Phewww! It was a lot to take in and even more to ponder. Yet I found my thoughts lingering over that conversation later the same evening as I sat atop a hill overlooking Nelson (a hill which was the geographic center of New Zealand in fact). I couldn't help but wonder, what did this mean for my documentary and what role would aquaculture play in 21st century ocean management?