This picture was taken in Chile at a fishing village called Los Vilos. The area is a bit touristy, but still maintains the local feel. It is a small town on the Pacific ocean.
There were small, worn, bright colored boats anchored everywhere around the fish mongers. The fish monger village was teeming with fish sellers, and fish catchers, and tourists, and locals, and cats, and birds. The energy there was inspiring.
Fish mongers would yell at me when I passed by, trying to entice me to buy their squid, scallops, dorado, and other ocean fish. They would take the barrels of fish from the fisherman and plop the catch on the newspaper-covered stands. Sometimes the fish would still be alive. Then they'd take their large cleaver-like knives and with one fell swoop...."whop!" The fish's head would separate from the body. Most times it would fall on the ground next to their stand and the cats would fight for the spoils, fighting off the pelicans and sea gulls from above.
This fish monger village was chaotic, messy and full of energy. It was the antithesis of where the old sailor was selling his Aceite de Lobo at the end of the pier. He was calm and peaceful, quiet and timeless. I asked him what Aceite de Lobo meant and he said "It means oil of the wolf". I replied "There are no wolves in the sea." And he said "Yes, the sea lions are the wolves of the sea."
I bought some of his oil and this memory. I still have the empty small coca-cola bottle on my trinket shelf. It reminds me of peace, agelessness, and wolves.
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