Living here in Portillo is a trip, a place full of contradictions. The spectacular scenery, world class freeride terrain for skiers and snowboarders and fully serviced hotel in the heart of the Andes. However this is also one of the passes between Chile and Argentina, this picturesque place is a thoroughfare for trucks transporting all kinds of goods. Its a hostile place with the road being subject to closures frequently due to the winding switchbacks that lead up to the border. The parked up trucks display the amount of traffic that passes through on any given day navigating the pass.
The border itself is a ramshackle warehouse of a place. Similar to a lot of the buildings in these mountains it looks temporary, subject to movement both by mother nature and man. This living so close to a border in a man made utopia is quite surreal, the road provides a reminder to the real, the world that operates away from here. For those not from here the road is understandable whilst the resort is itself a heterotopia. A yellow hotel built within a South American country for those who have the money to enjoy the finer things in life and privileged enough to be able to ski.
I am sure it will be a time in my life that I will make me question daily where I am. The idea of only knowing what is beneath your feet and not really knowing what the next step will bring. This borderland seems to be less certain maybe similar to the buildings the ground is less certain or not as comprehendible.