Editor's Note: Will O’Donnell is currently studying abroad in Viña del Mar, Chile, aproximately 500 kilometers from the epicenter of the earthquake that struck Chile on Jan. 27.

The media has been inundated with reports of Saturday’s earthquake in Chile and warnings of the tsunami threats within the Pacific Rim. In an effort to avoid needless repetitions (as well as comparisons of the post-quake experiences of Chile and Haiti that are flooding the pages of various publications), I’d like to confine the content of this column to the personal experiences of several friends and myself during and after Saturday’s disaster.

I woke up to a slight shudder sometime between 3:35 and 3:40 a.m. I bemusedly got out of bed, expecting little more than one of the frequent tremors I’d heard about. But the shudder crescendoed into a strong and rhythmic swaying and, finally, a violent shaking. It was like being trapped in a paint-can mixer. The lamp in my bedroom fell to the ground and the desk in my bedroom was knocked onto its side. I heard the toilet lid crash onto the bathroom floor as water sloshed onto the tile. I was thrown from side to side, hitting both of the opposing walls in my room. The shaking wound down to a series of low, rumbling shudders. I walked out into the living room and saw the knocked-over chairs, fallen ashtrays and broken dishes. The whole experience had lasted maybe 90 seconds. I shouted to make sure that my roommates were uninjured, then ran into my room to check my phone. It was 3:40 a.m.

We dressed quickly and gathered identification, keys, cell phones and whatever cash was lying around. From the emergency staircase outside the apartment building we heard shouts, car alarms and hundreds of barking dogs, but saw very little. Apart from a handful of lights powered by emergency generators, the city was completely dark.

We descended the 15 flights to the ground floor where the building’s porters and maintenance crew were surveying the foundation for cracks with hand-held flashlights. We sat outside the gates of the building and tried to call some friends who had been at a nearby discoteque, but cell phone services appeared to be down. The only news anybody had was the obvious: There had been an earthquake.

Down the street, crowds of (mostly drunk and cheerful) people flocked from the Quinta Vergara, the site of the annual International Song Festival, which had apparently been interrupted by the earthquake. Amidst the revellers, however, there was a smaller and more focused minority who either purposefully ascended the surrounding hills or got into vehicles and headed inland. My roommate, a Spaniard who likewise had never experienced an earthquake, reminded us of the possible threat still posed by a tsunami.

We trudged up into the hills where we decided to wait for the next two hours. After boredom and early-morning cold eclisped our desires to play it safe, we descended the hill. About halfway down I received a phone call from one of my friends who had been at the disco. We decided against returning to our apartment and opted instead to meet at the house of a mutual friend. It would be safer, we thought, to sleep on the second story of a house as opposed to the 15th story of our building.

Outside the house we met with a neighbor who had heard the details on the radio. The epicenter had been close to Concepción, where it is now estimated more than 700 people died. Viña del Mar and Valparaíso would most likely be without water, gas and electricity for the next several days. Luckily, Viña del Mar fared rather well; the majority of the damage consisting of broken windows, twisted concrete and a few cracked foundations. Only five deaths and 10 to 15 disappearances have been reported in the fifth region of Valparaíso. Réplicas, or aftershocks, could be expected for the next 20 days to two months. Already there have been some 57 reported aftershocks, most of which we have been able to feel all too well.