Dispatches from the middle

Day 10: Nibbling my English muffin this morning and cruising for strange and wonderful things, I decided to check out the Atacama Desert (or, rather, various internet-borne representations of the Atacama Desert), a place that has fascinated me for quite a while. And I discovered this – the Mano del Desierto:

I am particularly intrigued by works of art that incorporate landscape – they seem at the same time beautifully and naughtily out of place, and yet perfectly situated, because where else could they be? In 1992, Artist Mario Irarrázabal placed this sculpture in the desert along the Pan-American Highway, 75 km south of Antofagasta. The 36 foot tall hand protrudes from one of the starkest, driest landscapes on earth and is said to express loneliness, sorrow, helplessness and vulnerability. Standing alone and exposed, it reaches beseechingly, but finds, of course, nothing to grasp on to.

Perhaps it’s silly, but I imagine a giant trapped underground, with only his/her hand peeking though the surface. What must it feel like to reach into the desert with only your fingers – unbearably hot in the direct rays of the sun, painfully cold at night. Always dry. Perhaps windy at times, with sand stinging your skin. And what of the tourists? Little creatures scampering around, climbing up your palm and between your fingers. Your hand is alternately sprayed with graffiti and scrubbed clean again. You wait, curious, never knowing what new sensations a day might bring.

Tomorrow, back to running with the Atacama Crossing!