Cold Coffee & Beer - II

I pick up my bag from the carousel as I cant wait to rush out of the airport.
I take a glimpse at the baggage tag just to make sure.

' Nombre: Ms.Maria Isabel; Vuelo: Antofagasta - Iquique'.

Iquique had always been my secret hideout whenever reality took its toll on me.
Ever since I passed out of university, my father would try his level best to hand me the reins of his wine business which was a million dollar empire. On the other hand, I couldn't care any less. The only way I could slip away from the monotony was to abscond to Iquique under the pretext of pursuing an internship, which seemed like a promising excuse even for the 14th time.

Iquique was unlike any other metro city. The mineral rich region of the Atacama desert is a home to numerous miners and the seaport is ever a welcome destination for barefoot surfers and anyone who enjoyed an overdose of sunshine.

My cab driver takes me straight to Zofri which is the commercial duty free zone of Iquique.
I step out of the taxi hoping to see a new signboard at 'Den De Miguel', the local bar which could give a tough competition for the Shrieking Shack in Harry Potter.

Despite the dilapidated state of the hangout, this was one place in Iquique I practically lived.
Old man Miguel who runs the place is a bit hard of hearing with his sight so impeccable that he cant tell his coffee from rum. Yet the warmth of his 'fatherly' attitude which doesn't involve pestering me to clean my room brings me so much peace.

I settle down with my beer when I suddenly spot this guy making his way to the bar stool.
He ambled his way across the creaky floor, scratching his petite goatee which I bet, did not enjoy considerable grooming for a long time. His dark skin tone was a clear give away that he was from the warmer tropics adding to the fact that he wore a dirt brown jacket in the peak of summer. He towered as he sat down on the bar stool with his forehead almost touching the overhead lamp which brightly lit his moist skin. The rugged bloke, then cleared his throat, pointing his eyes of innocence at the waitress and ordered in the most benign tone,'Cold Coffee, please'.

Not that I am a big fan of Mills & Boon series where a girl goes head over heels in love with a guy who is invariably portrayed as 'tall,dark and handsome', but I cannot fathom to explain why I felt this jolt of thunder when he shot me that look from the corner of his eye. Not once, not twice but THRICE. He was certainly bad at being discreet, that's for sure. But there isn't a woman I know who wouldn't enjoy the kind of attention he spared.

He left without saying a word though, except for the small talk with Miguel, whom I dragged to a nearby table and interrogated his whereabouts. His name was Shiva or at least that is what he called himself. Seems as though he is a seafarer and his ship is alongside the Iquique bulk loading terminal. His time at Iquique however, was limited and his ship had to depart in a week. My heart sank as I ran out of the bar, looking for him in the local market. No luck. He had disappeared like a poltergeist on a foggy night.

Wait..why am I even doing this?

I come back the next day hoping to slosh down the turbulence in my heart.
Before I could even consider the possibility of searching for his vessel in the port, the wooden floor begins to creak in response to a familiar visitor. Shiva was back.

"OMG..ITS HIM", was something I did not scream. I had to play it cool, you see!

He ordered for the same cold coffee, shot me those very same looks and left precisely the same way as he did.

There was a weird ecstasy in his trickle drops of attention.
The eloquence of his silence conveyed far too many words than any string of cheesy pick up lines.
Waking up to a new dawn had never been so wonderful as I would run to Miguel's and wait for him all day long.

Alas, my insatiable hunger had gotten the best of me. I finally decide to open the Pandora's box.
I walk up to him as he wipes his lips by the edge of his sleeve. I clear my throat to mumble in my best possible tone and the most eloquent of English.

Hii..I see you come here since few days. Where you from?


He looks at me with a gaze any woman would die for.

(To be continued)

Cold Coffee & Beer - I

Pick up slack on spring lines,Shiva - NOW. Vessel all fast 0830 hours!!!
 
My Captain from Syria was steaming like a kettle on the walkie takie.
We were racing against time. The weather couldn't have been better at the seaport of Iquique (Chile), which is otherwise bone-chilling during winters. The Cirrus clouds were just about enough to add a tinge of white in the brightly lit sunny sky.The sheltered waters of the port lay still and calm, tempting any gangster to dump a weighted corpse for the mere pleasure of enjoying the parabolic ripples float across the surface of the water. But even Paradise cannot tempt a seafarer to enjoy its serenity. Not when you have to load 30,000 tonnes of copper ore in less than a week.
 
Once cargo operations commenced, I slogged like a blood hound for the rest of the day, as I saw granules of ore slipping out of the grasp of the colossal grabs which were loading our cargo holds.

It was 1600 hours, when I stepped out of the gangway to go ashore for some fun. The stevedores gave me directions to a local bar which was a prime hangout for seafarers going ashore. It took me barely 10 minutes until I reached an old wooden shack.

Iquique is not the kind of a place where you would find people flauting their Gucci's or girls feeling breathless without a prada. The place had a peace and quiet of its own, with the local folks living their lives as simple as it could get. As I sat on the bar stool and ordered for a cold coffee, I felt this pulsating urge to lock my eyes on the girl across the table as she licked the froth off her lips while sipping on her mug of beer.
Her brunette hair was a perfect blend to the wooden decors in the backdrop. An ebony black t-shirt draped her voluptuous curves as magnificent as the Cordilleras. Her denim skirt was the last piece of jigsaw that completed her persona with her chestnut brown eyes.

I tried not to give her the awkward stare and focused on sipping my coffee. A near impossible feat!

As much as I tried, It was a rather herculean task to walk up to her and offer her a drink. Apart from the excuse of being exceptionally shy, I tried not to ruin the perfect moment of having the pleasure of being glued to her presence. In all probability, this was the first and last time I could be looking at her.

I finish my drink and walk out before taking one last look at her.

I visit the same bar the following day having promised myself to get sloshed until I - WAIT A MINUTE!!!
She was right there. Sitting at the very same spot she was chilling out. With a woman like her, who needs intoxication?

I ordered the same damn cup of Cold Coffee that was sure to keep my eyes wide open. The drill however, wasn't any different. I would look at her from the corner of the eye, just like how Agent Ethan Hunt would do so while tailing a suspect. It felt so fulfilling already!

The same routine continued for the next few days until I asked myself while sipping my coffee, "Is there a chance she is actually waiting for me every single day just to get a glimpse of me?".   
I almost spat my coffee in laughter realizing how crazy a thought it was. Of course I don't mean to say I look obnoxiously ugly, but I am no prince charming either. Besides what are the possibilities of a charming and destructively hot latina to be hung up on an Indian seafarer whose current attire makes him look like a runway prisoner?

I wipe the coffee off my lips when suddenly -

Hii..I see you come here since few days. Where you from?

It was her!!!
I lock my gaze into her eyes as my pupils automatically focus into hers.

(To be continued)

Sleepless in Santiago

Pablo Neruda never had a place in my head. I only have a vague memory of reading his poems in grade 10. FYI he’s a Chilean Poet who...ummm...wrote poems :P!

But this piece of trivia is more than enough to start an hour long gossip with a Chilean who is ever bubbling with warmth.

Chile, a land of pristine beauty sprawled across the west coast of South America, is a traveller’s delight indeed. Mineral rich deserts in the north, fertile farmlands coupled with beaches for tan-maniacs in the centre and an archipelago of virgin lands in the south, is a visual blessing. Your belief in a supreme creator grows tenfold.

Having broken my shoulder, I found myself walking in the lively streets of Valparaiso, the cultural capital of Chile known for its crystal clear beaches and the ever beautiful women who inhabit them. I am not talking about the likes of the girls we drool over in FTV. You begin to perceive womanhood in a different light. Their curves would only seem to be chiselled by the hands of god. Their blood red lips would jinx you to oblivion even before you are held in mesmerism by the allure of their ‘Gracias’.

It was 2130 and being the loner I was, I decided to settle down at the local beach. I stopped to ask somebody for directions when I see this young maiden pushing her bicycle on the sidewalk. Her woollen gloves were a perfect match for her brunette locks with a yellow top, as brilliant as the midnight sun. She gave me directions to the beach and I soon found myself sitting beside her in the invigorating shores of Valparaiso with a couple of stray dogs to give us company. I put my jacket around her, for the sea breeze had begun to tickle our necks. We spotted a colossal gas carrier out at sea, brightly lit as if Cinderella was coming onboard. I pointed at Clean Energy laying afloat at the horizon and told her that was where I belonged. Being a clear night for the better, I introduced to her, some of my faithful companions, who had always come to my aid in the high seas – Betelguese, Bellatrix and Al Nilam of the Orion constellation.

The 2 of us, under the dome of southern declination stars, from completely different walks of life, spoke about the sanity (or insanity) of majestic elephants walking in Indian streets followed by the woes of our personal lives, till the wee hours of midnight.

‘Good bye’, I said as I walked her to her apartment and carried on to my hotel where I was crushed by the claustrophobic walls of my room.

Day break had cracked through my window soon enough.
I set off early to the hospital to bid farewell to the pretty nurses who cared for me especially Paulina the curly molly who could never bear to see as much as her patient’s hair undone and the Nutritionist Maria Isabel who could enslave a man into shackles of allure just by pronouncing her name (Ok I wanted to hit on them 1 last time!).

I go back to my hotel to see my agent waiting for me.
Amigo, I take you Santiago. You fly in 4 hours.

I hop into the car with my luggage. Within minutes we are on the highway with lush greenery and vineyards on either side. I try to catch up on some sleep preparing myself for the long flight.
Flashes of memories tease me to stay back. The vibrancy of Valparaiso had haunted me indeed.
Before I could rest my eye lashes close, my agent shakes me awake.

‘Here you go Amigo. Buen Viaje. Get well soon’

I proceeded to collect my boarding pass that said ‘Santiago-Sao Paulo’.
I spent my last few hours in Santiago - Sleepless, as the aircraft flew across the Andes.