La ciudad abierta de Ritoque

On the third day of the trip, we all decided it was best to take a break and relax, so we had a day off to be tourists and explore Valparaíso and it's surroundings. Early in the morning, Antonia (our trip planner and guide) took us to Ciudad Abierta de Ritoque, which translates to "The Open City of Ritoque." Ironically, the entrance was closed with coded gates and only a few people were allowed inside at a time. Basically, Ritoque, also known as Amereida, is like a big experimentation field for architects mixed with a purely poetic conception and lifestyle. Everything there is born from some form of poetry.
Regardless of how impressive the buildings were, how exclusive it was that we actually managed to get in, or  how knowledgeable our guide seemed (the guides were college professors who lived there), the place had an odd vibe. It was empty, cold, quiet, still, it almost seem dead. Not a soul could be seen outside even though it was a beautiful sunny day. It was closed off to the world, how could it be called an open city when only 14 families lived in it and you couldn't move in unless the entire community agreed? How open can it be if the gates are locked and the code changes every day?
Along with this rises the big question, what is art? Is it a closed off city that calls itself open or relaxing at the beach with friends, like we did afterwards? Is art supposed to make you feel at home? Is art supposed to make you feel uncomfortable? Maybe art is feeling something out of the ordinary, whether it makes you feel out of place or believing life is perfect for a couple of hours.