Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Information about Chimbote



In case anyone is interested in reading more about Chimbote, below is the link to the Wikipedia site giving basic information.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chimbote

Some of the basic stats are that it is on the Pacific Coast, it is Peru's largest fishing port and about 75% of all the fishing industry comes from Chimbote, it has a population of over 300,000, and the weather stays pretty mild between mid 50s - high 80s depending on the season with very little rain fall.

I also found a few facts from the Catholic Diocese of Pittsburgh that has a foundation set up in Chimbote:

Chimbote, Peru, is a desert town of 350,000 people who exist in great poverty under the shadows of fish-processing plants, the chief industry, and a smoke-belching steel mill that operates without benefit of environmental and safety regulations - a perpetual health hazard.

Chimbote is found approximately 250 miles north of Lima, the nation's capital.

Chimbote was at one time a honeymoon resort of 25,000. Now, it is considered one of the most impoverished cities in the country.

South America's third largest country, Peru ranks fourth in population.

Spanish is the official language, with Quechua and Aymara as semi-official languages.

Inspirational Poem

So I thought it would be good to include the poem that inspired the blog title and mentality for the posts that will come. Below is Antonio Machado's poem: Caminante no hay camino.


Caminante no hay camino
por Antonio Machado

Todo pasa y todo queda,
pero lo nuestro es pasar,
pasar haciendo caminos,
caminos sobre el mar.

Nunca persequí la gloria,
ni dejar en la memoria
de los hombres mi canción;
yo amo los mundos sutiles,
ingrávidos y gentiles,
como pompas de jabón.

Me gusta verlos pintarse
de sol y grana, volar
bajo el cielo azul, temblar
súbitamente y quebrarse...

Nunca perseguí la gloria.

Caminante, son tus huellas
el camino y nada más;
caminante, no hay camino,
se hace camino al andar.

Al andar se hace camino
y al volver la vista atrás
se ve la senda que nunca
se ha de volver a pisar.

Caminante no hay camino
sino estelas en la mar...

Hace algún tiempo en ese lugar
donde hoy los bosques se visten de espinos
se oyó la voz de un poeta gritar
"Caminante no hay camino,
se hace camino al andar..."

Golpe a golpe, verso a verso...

Murió el poeta lejos del hogar.
Le cubre el polvo de un país vecino.
Al alejarse le vieron llorar.
"Caminante no hay camino,
se hace camino al andar..."

Golpe a golpe, verso a verso...

Cuando el jilguero no puede cantar.
Cuando el poeta es un peregrino,
cuando de nada nos sirve rezar.
"Caminante no hay camino,
se hace camino al andar..."

Golpe a golpe, verso a verso.