10.7.10
"How do you measure a year in the life?"
“Five hundrend twenty five thousand
six hundred minutes
Five hundrend twenty five thousand
moments so dear
Five hundrend twenty five thousand
six hundred minutes
How do you measure, measure a year”
-"Seasons of Love:" Rent
The measurement of time is clearly objective. Sixty seconds comprise a minute; sixty minutes comprise an hour and so forth. Yet, the way we perceive the passage of time is entirely dependant on our experiences. An hour spent languishing in a boring science lecture certainly feels significantly longer than one spent laughing with friends over a steaming cup of coffee.
Thus, it seems somewhat inaccurate to state that I have now officially been living in South America for a year. After all, any consider this unit of measurement as being a long stretch of time and I feel as if I only just arrived. Although my perspective, hopes, and dreams have been completely transformed by the abroad experience, I would not even blink if someone suggested that I had actually just boarded the plane a few weeks ago.
Units of time, therefore, seem like a rather frivolous way to quantify this past year. Yet, as an overly-organized individual, I feel the need to neatly categorize it in some manner, so I've turned to the lyrics of “Seasons of Love” as a means of finding the answer (clearly, I cannot deny the influence that the incredibly talented singers from Tufts-in-Chile have had on me).
Could it be in DAYLIGHTS? From the 19 hour days we enjoyed while trekking through Torres del Paine to the agonizing sunburns resulting from the powerful sun in Paraguay, the light of day always brought adventure.
Or in SUNSETS? The setting sun did not, however, signify much as the nights similarly brought much laughter as I my two left feet struggled to dance salsa.
Or in MIDNIGHTS? Given that the nightlife in Santiago has barely begun when the clock's hands meet at the twelve, I often watched the day technically begin while chatting with friends about topics such as the mysterious lack of a “linea 3” on the metro and the sociological reasons behind just about any phenomenon ranging from the lack of social mobility in Chile and the United States to our choices regarding who to date/marry.
Or in CUPS OF COFFEE? While these conversations never proved dull, I certainly needed to inhale coffee in order to study for my classes, from which I often gained insight into both the designated topic and Chilean culture.
Or in INCHES? Unfortunately, as a student interested in a variety of fields and enrolled in an interdisciplinary major, my class selection generally involved spending too much time crammed into the metro traveling between campuses. The opportunity to study at the different campuses was, however, in itself advantageous as I saw the very different attitudes and beliefs held by the majority of students within various departments at the same university and between the student bodies at two of the largest universities in the city.
Or in MILES? Although I oftened complained about the commute to class, these trips were significantly shorter than those necessary to arrive at my various internships revolving around topics as varied as environmental justice, property law, and education. Once again, the time spent in the sweltering metro proved worthwhile however. Without a doubt, the opportunity to conduct English workshops / substitute teach / monitor the computer room at a school for marginalized youth who have been excluded from the mainstream school system proved to be an eye-opening experience that reconfirmed my hopes to someday teach abroad regardless of the constant obstacles faced in the classroom and drastically changed my perceptions on education in both Chile and the world. Not to mention the inspiration that I drew from the spirit and resilience of some students at the school.
Or, as a devoted runner, maybe I should define miles in terms of the miles of roads explored as I ran in both the stifling heat of Paraguay and the frigid Andean air near Las Trancas.
Or in LAUGHTER? While I would love to measure a year in laughter, the amount of time spent laughing at my own blunders would be impossible to calculate. Who knew that “estar en rajas” does not necessarily mean go to sleep due to exhaustion? I certainly didn't.
Or in STRIFE? Luckily, I barely ever needed to raise my voice, let alone fight with anyone in Chile or Paraguay. Paraguay has, after all, been affectionately dubbed the land of friends.
Should I choose one of these terms to describe my year? No. Each of the concepts accurately describes a portion of my experience this past year, but none of them actually embody it as a whole.
Infive hundrend twenty five thousand
six hundred minutes
How do you measure a year in the life
How about LOVE?
Given the importance of family in South America, many question how I can spend a year away from my parents. While I miss them, the answer is simple; I have found the love and support of innumerable other individuals who have made this year absolutely unforgettable. From my incredible Chilean host family who has treated me like a daughter ever since our first meeting at Laurita's baptism to my Paraguayan co-workers who adopted me over the holidays, I have never lacked the love of a pseudo-family.
And, if the language barriers proved overwhelming, the Tufts-in-Chile crew really did turn into a family as Katrina recently noted. While I am sure we will continue to spend time debating mundane philosophical topics,baking (250+) cookies, or showing off on the dance floor in Boston, I already miss your smiling faces.
Not to mention the countless other friends that I've made along the way. Whether playing soccer, checking out photo exhibits, chugging (too many) cups of coffee, bringing Mexican food to Chile, etc., these individuals have made this past year absolutely incredible. While I may not see some of them again, they will always stand out in my memories of my time spent in Chile and Paraguay.
So. Given the number of people who have impacted my life, I think it's fair to say that the only way to measure the year is to....
MEASURE IN LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE.
24.6.10
Chi-Chi-Chi. Le-Le-Le. VIVA CHILE!
When the semester first began, the entirety of Chile stopped momentarily to mourn the victims of the terremoto that shook in the nation in late February. Now, as the semester rolls to a close, the country is once again collectively pausing. This time, however, it is a much more joyous occasion: the World Cup. As Chile is in Group H, "La Roja" (as the squad is affectionately known in Chile) has only played two games and has won both.
Even more interesting than the 1-0 wins versus both Honduras and Switzerland is the raucous environment that consumes the center of the city on gameday. Hundreds congregate at La Moneda to watch the game on a big screen. Actually, watch is a bit of an understatement; in addition to watching, everyone screams, sings, jumps, etc. It almost constitutes a workout.
Moments after the final whistle blows, all begin marching towards Plaza Italia, or the center of the city. Not only do the hoards from La Moneda make their way to the square, but those from all corners of the expansive metropolis join them. Once in the plaza, it's a celebration that gradually devolves to mob violence and destruction; the damange to the city after the win against Switzerland was surprisingly widespread. What will happen if the revelers leave the game angry?
Although it often doesn't seem like it, life does go on away from the pitch. We study; we dance; we chatter; we laugh. We also have to begin the dreaded process of saying good-bye to the city, friends, and Chilean families we have come to know and love. Whether joking with the six other Tufts students at the official "despedida" last weekend or handing in a final paper in a class that has challenged and amused all semester, our time is here is all too quickly coming too a close. Last December, the semester students complained that it seemed as if their time in Chile had only just begun. Well, seven months later, I honestly feel the same.
Even more interesting than the 1-0 wins versus both Honduras and Switzerland is the raucous environment that consumes the center of the city on gameday. Hundreds congregate at La Moneda to watch the game on a big screen. Actually, watch is a bit of an understatement; in addition to watching, everyone screams, sings, jumps, etc. It almost constitutes a workout.
Moments after the final whistle blows, all begin marching towards Plaza Italia, or the center of the city. Not only do the hoards from La Moneda make their way to the square, but those from all corners of the expansive metropolis join them. Once in the plaza, it's a celebration that gradually devolves to mob violence and destruction; the damange to the city after the win against Switzerland was surprisingly widespread. What will happen if the revelers leave the game angry?
Although it often doesn't seem like it, life does go on away from the pitch. We study; we dance; we chatter; we laugh. We also have to begin the dreaded process of saying good-bye to the city, friends, and Chilean families we have come to know and love. Whether joking with the six other Tufts students at the official "despedida" last weekend or handing in a final paper in a class that has challenged and amused all semester, our time is here is all too quickly coming too a close. Last December, the semester students complained that it seemed as if their time in Chile had only just begun. Well, seven months later, I honestly feel the same.
6.6.10
Loving Our Messy and Dysfunctional World
“I tend to like messy dysfunctional countries where people are passionate about things.” - Anthony Bourdain
For the past several days, this phrase from an interview with this outspoken food critic has resonated in my mind. It isn’t particularly eloquent nor provocative; yet, I cannot forget the words as they speak to many of my more recent experiences in Santiago.
Generally speaking, Chile should not be considered a “messy” or “dysfunctional” country. As discussed in previous posts, it boasts a flourishing economy, reliable infrastructure, and many of the other hallmarks of a “developed” country. Yet, a surprisingly large proportion of the population does not have access to these institutions (Chile does, after all, boast on the largest gaps between the rich and the poor in the world as measured by the GINI index). The differences between the resources enjoyed by those living in generally wealthy neighborhoods and those relegated the poor communities on the fringe of the city continues to shock me whenever I venture to either my internship.
Despite my anger at the inequalities facing my students, I eagerly look forward to my treks to the school in La Granja each week and I love every moment that I spend there. The poverty, disparity, and challenges obviously enrage me, but students‘ energy and curiosity continues to inspire me. Whether working 60 hours a week at Lider (which is owned by Wal Mart by the way)or trying to raise a child at fifteen, the students somehow manage to confront these challenges without forgetting to laugh or losing their curiosity about the world around them.
To succeed, these students must employ the passion described by Bourdain in the aforementioned quote. Absolutely nothing will be given to them. Similarly, children from more privileged backgrounds earn their achievements, but don’t quite need the same spirit. It’s almost as if the wealthier students are running the 5k on the track; your muscles scream in pain and it takes effort, but it’s a controlled, planned trek. Those from more marginalized communities, on the other hand, are competing in the 5k cross country race. Rather than a smooth, predictable surface, each turn can bring another mountain, some unexpected roots, or a small river. Given the route, they need a certain passion and spirit not always found in other communities and, like Bourdain, this attracts me to communities that may not always be considered developed.
That being said, however desirable this spirit, it should not need to exist and the global community must begin to address the disparities between the wealthiest and poorest neighborhoods in Santiago and the world. Such passion can obviously grow without such deprivation.
*********************************************
When not teaching English, my days have overflowed with both the routine and some extraordinary opportunities. Classes consume most of my week, although I still find time to pretend I can salsa, meander through the city in my running shoes, devour too much white bread and palta at the nightly once, and laugh with friends. I cannot believe that I only have a few short weeks left with them (although it is not “if I return” it is “when I return“…just to clarify).
And interspersed amongst the habitual activities are the extraordinary ones (although I would argue that the daily routine may in many ways prove more memorable). A few weeks ago, I represented Fundación Paraguaya at a conference on multi-dimensional poverty held in Santiago. Several experts debated what it means to be poor (consensus…it isn’t just economic. duh), before assessing various means used measure it around the world that can be applied both objectively and across cultures. The speakers hailed from bodies as varied the United Nations, the Chilean government, and TUFTS UNIVERSITY. Well, Fletcher. But that’s part of Tufts…right?
I’ve also had the chance to escape the city and explore the Chilean countryside. A friend’s professor recently commented that all of Chile’s development is centered around it’s highways (which obviously run from the north to south given the country’s geography) and this is understandably true. Stepping away from the highways is like stepping back in time; the countryside is truly another world and unsurprisingly a much less developed one. On a recent Tufts trip to Coinco and Donihue, we explored much of this countryside and took part in traditional crafts such as chamanto weaving and the baking of pan amasado. While the artisan work proved interesting, the devastating wounds left on these communities from the terremoto remain some of my biggest memories. Walking around Santiago on a daily basis, it is easy to forget the disaster that rocked Chile only a few months ago. Yet, for many living in rural communities especially in the south, the devastation is a daily reality. Hundreds, if not thousands, are still without homes as the winter rains have begun to roll in (and those living in temporary houses have unfortunately discovered that temporary housing does not necessarily denote a roof that doesn’t leak or good construction).
The countryside isn’t devastated in its entirety however. I also spent a weekend in the Termas de Chillan, or an exclusive ski resort area nestled among some Andean volcanoes. We arrived a little to early to do any skiing, but did enjoy the exquisite views and the first snow fall of the season. Although it is cold in Santiago, it never snows so it was nice to enjoy some of the powdery white fluff that I avoided by spending the northern hemisphere’s winter in the steamy tropical heat of Paraguay.
Pictures, have of course, been posted on Picasa…po.
And a quick note regarding my lack of posts: I’m simply too busy and given the rapid decay of my English skills lately, it isn’t quite as easy for me to write in English anymore. Some things, such as terremotos and palta, that never really affected my life in the USofA have forever been converted into Spanish concepts for me!
For the past several days, this phrase from an interview with this outspoken food critic has resonated in my mind. It isn’t particularly eloquent nor provocative; yet, I cannot forget the words as they speak to many of my more recent experiences in Santiago.
Generally speaking, Chile should not be considered a “messy” or “dysfunctional” country. As discussed in previous posts, it boasts a flourishing economy, reliable infrastructure, and many of the other hallmarks of a “developed” country. Yet, a surprisingly large proportion of the population does not have access to these institutions (Chile does, after all, boast on the largest gaps between the rich and the poor in the world as measured by the GINI index). The differences between the resources enjoyed by those living in generally wealthy neighborhoods and those relegated the poor communities on the fringe of the city continues to shock me whenever I venture to either my internship.
Despite my anger at the inequalities facing my students, I eagerly look forward to my treks to the school in La Granja each week and I love every moment that I spend there. The poverty, disparity, and challenges obviously enrage me, but students‘ energy and curiosity continues to inspire me. Whether working 60 hours a week at Lider (which is owned by Wal Mart by the way)or trying to raise a child at fifteen, the students somehow manage to confront these challenges without forgetting to laugh or losing their curiosity about the world around them.
To succeed, these students must employ the passion described by Bourdain in the aforementioned quote. Absolutely nothing will be given to them. Similarly, children from more privileged backgrounds earn their achievements, but don’t quite need the same spirit. It’s almost as if the wealthier students are running the 5k on the track; your muscles scream in pain and it takes effort, but it’s a controlled, planned trek. Those from more marginalized communities, on the other hand, are competing in the 5k cross country race. Rather than a smooth, predictable surface, each turn can bring another mountain, some unexpected roots, or a small river. Given the route, they need a certain passion and spirit not always found in other communities and, like Bourdain, this attracts me to communities that may not always be considered developed.
That being said, however desirable this spirit, it should not need to exist and the global community must begin to address the disparities between the wealthiest and poorest neighborhoods in Santiago and the world. Such passion can obviously grow without such deprivation.
*********************************************
When not teaching English, my days have overflowed with both the routine and some extraordinary opportunities. Classes consume most of my week, although I still find time to pretend I can salsa, meander through the city in my running shoes, devour too much white bread and palta at the nightly once, and laugh with friends. I cannot believe that I only have a few short weeks left with them (although it is not “if I return” it is “when I return“…just to clarify).
And interspersed amongst the habitual activities are the extraordinary ones (although I would argue that the daily routine may in many ways prove more memorable). A few weeks ago, I represented Fundación Paraguaya at a conference on multi-dimensional poverty held in Santiago. Several experts debated what it means to be poor (consensus…it isn’t just economic. duh), before assessing various means used measure it around the world that can be applied both objectively and across cultures. The speakers hailed from bodies as varied the United Nations, the Chilean government, and TUFTS UNIVERSITY. Well, Fletcher. But that’s part of Tufts…right?
I’ve also had the chance to escape the city and explore the Chilean countryside. A friend’s professor recently commented that all of Chile’s development is centered around it’s highways (which obviously run from the north to south given the country’s geography) and this is understandably true. Stepping away from the highways is like stepping back in time; the countryside is truly another world and unsurprisingly a much less developed one. On a recent Tufts trip to Coinco and Donihue, we explored much of this countryside and took part in traditional crafts such as chamanto weaving and the baking of pan amasado. While the artisan work proved interesting, the devastating wounds left on these communities from the terremoto remain some of my biggest memories. Walking around Santiago on a daily basis, it is easy to forget the disaster that rocked Chile only a few months ago. Yet, for many living in rural communities especially in the south, the devastation is a daily reality. Hundreds, if not thousands, are still without homes as the winter rains have begun to roll in (and those living in temporary houses have unfortunately discovered that temporary housing does not necessarily denote a roof that doesn’t leak or good construction).
The countryside isn’t devastated in its entirety however. I also spent a weekend in the Termas de Chillan, or an exclusive ski resort area nestled among some Andean volcanoes. We arrived a little to early to do any skiing, but did enjoy the exquisite views and the first snow fall of the season. Although it is cold in Santiago, it never snows so it was nice to enjoy some of the powdery white fluff that I avoided by spending the northern hemisphere’s winter in the steamy tropical heat of Paraguay.
Pictures, have of course, been posted on Picasa…po.
And a quick note regarding my lack of posts: I’m simply too busy and given the rapid decay of my English skills lately, it isn’t quite as easy for me to write in English anymore. Some things, such as terremotos and palta, that never really affected my life in the USofA have forever been converted into Spanish concepts for me!
4.5.10
La Llegada del Otoño
Although the temperature has soared recently, fall has certainly arrived in Santiago. Golden leaves sparkle in the sunlight and their fallen counterparts make a delightful crunch as I jog through the city. Outside Santiago's confines, the plump fruits and vegetables wait to be plucked off the vine.
A few weeks ago, Tufts-in-Chile students had the opportunity to help with the harvest at Vina Casas del Bosque located in the beautiful Casablanca Valley. Although we did each fill a few baskets, I think we may have done a slightly better job sampling both merlot and sauvignon blanc grapes than actually filling our crates. And we didn't stop gourging ourselves when we left the fields as the Tufts program treated us to an oversized lunch and far too many glasses of wine after the tour.
While the most enjoyable part of the day was definately the harvest experience, it was vaguely uncomfortable as actual laborers toiled only a few rows away. I have no reason to believe that they are mistreated or underpayed, but I highly doubt their job is desirable. After all, they most likely work long hours in the sun while bent over. Thus, it seems a little odd that a groups of relatively affluent tourists flock to the vineyard to mimic (dare I say mock?) their experiences. Not sure why, but the entire tour seemed to belong on the website entitled "The Stuff White People Do."
When not frolicking in the countryside, I spend most of my time absorbed in schoolwork and internships, much as I would if I were at Tufts during the fall semester. This semester, rather than focusing on environmental justice, my internship involves education in Chile. I'm working with Sumate, a group dedicated to providing children from marginalized backgrounds with an education capable of allowing them to leave poverty.
Once a week, I meet with a few students in the "Becas Ed. Tec. Superior" program and provide English tutoring. This initiative provides youth from impoverished families with the tools needed to attend technical colleges and learn skills that will lead to well-paying jobs. Not only does the program give them financial assistence, but it also includes mandatory workshops and tutoring services. This, I believe, proves key in ensuring that most of the recipients graduate from their respective schools. Many of the students come from families without the cultural capital to navigate the system; with the help of Sumate, they will be given some of the resources children from more priviledged backgrounds often take for granted.
In addition to tutoring these students, I also teach English workshops at Escuela Hogar de Cristo as part of the "Reinsercion Educativa" program. This school accepts students who are, for whatever reason, no longer involved in the mainstream system. For instance, many of the girls have children and other students previously dropped out of school. Even after only a few visits to the school, it has become clear that these workshops will be both the amongst the most challenging and enjoyable projects I have undertaken while in Chile.
Although I may occasionally be a workaholic, I still do find time to relax. I've even taken up a new sport: soccer. Well, not quite new, but I haven't played in years. And I am, of course, still rocking out at salsa lessons, spending time with friends, and enjoying fall in Santiago!
A few weeks ago, Tufts-in-Chile students had the opportunity to help with the harvest at Vina Casas del Bosque located in the beautiful Casablanca Valley. Although we did each fill a few baskets, I think we may have done a slightly better job sampling both merlot and sauvignon blanc grapes than actually filling our crates. And we didn't stop gourging ourselves when we left the fields as the Tufts program treated us to an oversized lunch and far too many glasses of wine after the tour.
While the most enjoyable part of the day was definately the harvest experience, it was vaguely uncomfortable as actual laborers toiled only a few rows away. I have no reason to believe that they are mistreated or underpayed, but I highly doubt their job is desirable. After all, they most likely work long hours in the sun while bent over. Thus, it seems a little odd that a groups of relatively affluent tourists flock to the vineyard to mimic (dare I say mock?) their experiences. Not sure why, but the entire tour seemed to belong on the website entitled "The Stuff White People Do."
When not frolicking in the countryside, I spend most of my time absorbed in schoolwork and internships, much as I would if I were at Tufts during the fall semester. This semester, rather than focusing on environmental justice, my internship involves education in Chile. I'm working with Sumate, a group dedicated to providing children from marginalized backgrounds with an education capable of allowing them to leave poverty.
Once a week, I meet with a few students in the "Becas Ed. Tec. Superior" program and provide English tutoring. This initiative provides youth from impoverished families with the tools needed to attend technical colleges and learn skills that will lead to well-paying jobs. Not only does the program give them financial assistence, but it also includes mandatory workshops and tutoring services. This, I believe, proves key in ensuring that most of the recipients graduate from their respective schools. Many of the students come from families without the cultural capital to navigate the system; with the help of Sumate, they will be given some of the resources children from more priviledged backgrounds often take for granted.
In addition to tutoring these students, I also teach English workshops at Escuela Hogar de Cristo as part of the "Reinsercion Educativa" program. This school accepts students who are, for whatever reason, no longer involved in the mainstream system. For instance, many of the girls have children and other students previously dropped out of school. Even after only a few visits to the school, it has become clear that these workshops will be both the amongst the most challenging and enjoyable projects I have undertaken while in Chile.
Although I may occasionally be a workaholic, I still do find time to relax. I've even taken up a new sport: soccer. Well, not quite new, but I haven't played in years. And I am, of course, still rocking out at salsa lessons, spending time with friends, and enjoying fall in Santiago!
14.4.10
La Búsqueda de un Campeón
Sports are often touted as a tool to unite warring factions within a society. While there are countless examples both affirming and refuting this conclusion, many arguments ignore a fundamental problem. Many sports transcend cultures. However, countless others do not. It would be very difficult, if not impossible, to unite two cultures on the field if one side finds the sport absolutely incomprehensible.
Prior to this weekend, I would have argued that few sports could overtly offend. Yet, after attending the Chilean National Rodeo this weekend, I can see how some pracices could prove utterly incomprehensible to foreigners. The goal of the sport seems to be to steer a cow into the wall and urge your horse to kick it until it falls to the ground. When it rises and runs, the horses and riders repeat the process. It seems barbaric, at least to my sensibilities as a resident of suburban Massachusetts.
In all fairness, I understand why many of the Chilean fans enjoyed the sport. Living and working on farms, cow herding is a way of surviving. Animal cruelty is, after all, a concept that only certain demographics can actually adhere to without greatly disrupting their lives. The rise of the sport and its continued support are certainly reasonable in this context.
But, I'll be honest, I won't be attending anymore rodeos either. I can understand the sport, but I will never enjoy it.
Some sports, however, seem to have more international appeal. Prior to the rodeo, I attended the Santiago Marathon. Although I do often see other runners on my daily jaunts through the city, runners are not nearly as common in Santiago as in the United States. People find it surprising that I run 10 kilometers a day (mas or menos); and it's even more unbelievable that I enjoy it. Yet, the sport is becoming increasingly widespread, as evidenced by the fact that the marathon sold out, albeit only a couple days before the starting gun went off.
Regardless, the event was certainly nothing like the marathon in Boston (which is a significantly smaller city); I stood only a few hundred yards from the starting line, but was entirely alone. Almost no other fans ventured out of their beds to cheer. Moreover, some of the athletes seemed to have had a hard time waking up as well, countless arrived only seconds before the start and some did not make it downtown until quite a bit later (it was timed by a chip, so I guess it doesn't matter).
Regardless of the contrast, the marathon made me miss racing. In a future blog, look for an update on the contrast between road races in the USA and Chile...from a competitor's perspective.
Pictures have, of course, been posted on Picasa.
Prior to this weekend, I would have argued that few sports could overtly offend. Yet, after attending the Chilean National Rodeo this weekend, I can see how some pracices could prove utterly incomprehensible to foreigners. The goal of the sport seems to be to steer a cow into the wall and urge your horse to kick it until it falls to the ground. When it rises and runs, the horses and riders repeat the process. It seems barbaric, at least to my sensibilities as a resident of suburban Massachusetts.
In all fairness, I understand why many of the Chilean fans enjoyed the sport. Living and working on farms, cow herding is a way of surviving. Animal cruelty is, after all, a concept that only certain demographics can actually adhere to without greatly disrupting their lives. The rise of the sport and its continued support are certainly reasonable in this context.
But, I'll be honest, I won't be attending anymore rodeos either. I can understand the sport, but I will never enjoy it.
Some sports, however, seem to have more international appeal. Prior to the rodeo, I attended the Santiago Marathon. Although I do often see other runners on my daily jaunts through the city, runners are not nearly as common in Santiago as in the United States. People find it surprising that I run 10 kilometers a day (mas or menos); and it's even more unbelievable that I enjoy it. Yet, the sport is becoming increasingly widespread, as evidenced by the fact that the marathon sold out, albeit only a couple days before the starting gun went off.
Regardless, the event was certainly nothing like the marathon in Boston (which is a significantly smaller city); I stood only a few hundred yards from the starting line, but was entirely alone. Almost no other fans ventured out of their beds to cheer. Moreover, some of the athletes seemed to have had a hard time waking up as well, countless arrived only seconds before the start and some did not make it downtown until quite a bit later (it was timed by a chip, so I guess it doesn't matter).
Regardless of the contrast, the marathon made me miss racing. In a future blog, look for an update on the contrast between road races in the USA and Chile...from a competitor's perspective.
Pictures have, of course, been posted on Picasa.
31.3.10
Por Lo Menos No Estoy Cubierta en Pintura
Something's afoot in Santiago. Swarms of individuals covered in paint have taken over the streets asking for money. Yet, they are not ordinary beggars; they laugh constantly and almost all seem to be between 18 and 20 years old. Who are they?
They are the mechoneos--or first year students--at most universities throughout Santiago. While in the United States any activities that remotely resemble hazing are strictly forbidden, Chile freshman receive a very public welcome.Upperclassmen shred their clothes and cover them in paint, tuna, pig guts, confetti, etc. Then, they are sent into the streets to beg for coins. It sounds awful, maybe even traumatizing.
On the contrary, most Chilean upperclassmen remember the experience fondly. There is, apparently, no better way to unite a group of new students and create enduring friendships.
And so, amid paint-splattered and foul-smelling freshman, my next semester in Chile has begun. Like last semester, I'm taking four classes along with a graded internship. Unfortunately, they happen to be located in five different spots throughout the sprawling city, which means that I either need to buy new "walking shoes" or prepare to spend hours languishing on public transportation. Pucha.
Admittedly, I knowingly ignored location when choosing my classes. I could spend all of my time on one campus, but then I wouldn't be nearly as excited about my classes this semester which include "La Ciudad y el Futbol," "Enfrentando la Pobreza," "La Politica de los EEUU hacia America Latina 1865-1990" y "Discursos Artisticos y Formas Politicos en America Latina." I have yet to choose an internship, although I have decided I would like to work with an organization tackling poverty using a multi-dimensional approach.
In addition to the subject matter, my assortment of classes proves interesting due to their varied locales on various campuses throughout the city. This semester, Tufts students have the opportunity to take classes at La Universidad de Chile and La Universidad Catolica. Although considered to be similarly competitive, the two institutions could not be more different.
As noted last semester, La Universidad de Chile has a distinctly leftist vibe at all its campuses. The most extreme, Macul, could even be considered somewhat anarchist. Political grafitti splatters the campus and (violent) protests and clashes with the police are not uncommon.
On the other hand, la Catolica reminds me of Tufts in that almost all purport to have strong political views, but very few actually act on them. Even the main campus resembles Tufts; dozens of buidings are nestled amid grassy lawns on whichs students study or recline in the sun.
Why study at two universities? Why endure long bus rides in order to traverse between classes? Although I often complain about the trips, the chance to experience Chile from two different perspectives is definately "vale la pena." At La Chile, I have to step outside my comfort zone and study in a still slightly unfamiliar environment, At La Catolica, on the other hand, the classes tend to be more challenging (in my admittedly limited experience) but the environment is eerily reminiscent of home.
Tufts and La Catolica are not, however, the same institution nor are they in the same hemisphere. After a few more weeks of classes and a few more hours spent on campus, I'm sure the differences will be more clear. At the moment, they do seem alike, but that's not necessarily a bad thing either.
They are the mechoneos--or first year students--at most universities throughout Santiago. While in the United States any activities that remotely resemble hazing are strictly forbidden, Chile freshman receive a very public welcome.Upperclassmen shred their clothes and cover them in paint, tuna, pig guts, confetti, etc. Then, they are sent into the streets to beg for coins. It sounds awful, maybe even traumatizing.
On the contrary, most Chilean upperclassmen remember the experience fondly. There is, apparently, no better way to unite a group of new students and create enduring friendships.
And so, amid paint-splattered and foul-smelling freshman, my next semester in Chile has begun. Like last semester, I'm taking four classes along with a graded internship. Unfortunately, they happen to be located in five different spots throughout the sprawling city, which means that I either need to buy new "walking shoes" or prepare to spend hours languishing on public transportation. Pucha.
Admittedly, I knowingly ignored location when choosing my classes. I could spend all of my time on one campus, but then I wouldn't be nearly as excited about my classes this semester which include "La Ciudad y el Futbol," "Enfrentando la Pobreza," "La Politica de los EEUU hacia America Latina 1865-1990" y "Discursos Artisticos y Formas Politicos en America Latina." I have yet to choose an internship, although I have decided I would like to work with an organization tackling poverty using a multi-dimensional approach.
In addition to the subject matter, my assortment of classes proves interesting due to their varied locales on various campuses throughout the city. This semester, Tufts students have the opportunity to take classes at La Universidad de Chile and La Universidad Catolica. Although considered to be similarly competitive, the two institutions could not be more different.
As noted last semester, La Universidad de Chile has a distinctly leftist vibe at all its campuses. The most extreme, Macul, could even be considered somewhat anarchist. Political grafitti splatters the campus and (violent) protests and clashes with the police are not uncommon.
On the other hand, la Catolica reminds me of Tufts in that almost all purport to have strong political views, but very few actually act on them. Even the main campus resembles Tufts; dozens of buidings are nestled amid grassy lawns on whichs students study or recline in the sun.
Why study at two universities? Why endure long bus rides in order to traverse between classes? Although I often complain about the trips, the chance to experience Chile from two different perspectives is definately "vale la pena." At La Chile, I have to step outside my comfort zone and study in a still slightly unfamiliar environment, At La Catolica, on the other hand, the classes tend to be more challenging (in my admittedly limited experience) but the environment is eerily reminiscent of home.
Tufts and La Catolica are not, however, the same institution nor are they in the same hemisphere. After a few more weeks of classes and a few more hours spent on campus, I'm sure the differences will be more clear. At the moment, they do seem alike, but that's not necessarily a bad thing either.
21.3.10
El Año del Verano Interminable: Perfecto
Growing up, summer vacation generally lasted for about two and a half months. College generally allows for longer breaks, but we're still back in the classroom a mere 3 and a half months after finishing our last finals. Luckily, summer in Chile has proven even longer. Although the circumstances around this prolonged break are certainly not ideal (La Universidad de Chile sustained some pretty significant damage during the quake), it has given us ample to time to reacquaint ourselves with Santiago and explore previously undiscovered corners of the city. Whether hunting for Chilean attire in the blur of colors that is Patronato, devouring exotic flavors of ice cream at Emporio de la Rosa (Chocolate Pepperocino or Miel del Ulma anyone?), jogging along El Rio Mapocho, or making homemade french fries, the added weeks without much work are certainly appreciated.
While I love the city, I've also enjoyed the chance to escape the endless cement grid on occassion. A couple weeks ago, most of the remaining Tufts-in-Chile crew reunited and hopped on a bus to Algorobo and spent a day on the beach. Unfortunately, the cloudy weather wasn't ideal for sunbathing and sloshing in the waves, but it did allow us to spread across the nearly vacant beach to toss a frisbee around (or, more accurately, try to throw it) and listen to Kamillah and Katrina strum on the guitar.
Even activities considered more "American" can prove to be interesting cultural experiences as well. In an effort to stimulate the economy after the earthquakes, most cinemas are offering significantly cheaper tickets. Obviously, we couldn't resist the opportunity to see "Valentine's Day" or "El Dia de los Enamorados." Although a relatively predictable romantic-comedy, it was definately an enjoyable film if only because of the vast quantities of Tufts merchandise in Jessica Biel's office (she's attended Tufts for a year before dropping out to pursue a film career) and some sizzling social commentary (let's be honest, we go to Tufts. Of course, we love that stuff).
It was also an incredibly interesting look into Chilean culture. Although most movies and television programs in this country have been imported from the United States, it was soon clear that some of the jokes just don't translate. Frequently, my "gringo" friends and I would be consumed with laughter only to realize that we were the only people chortling in the relatively crowded theater. And I promise the jokes were actually funny in an American cultural context. Some subjects, especially homosexuality, are still somewhat taboo in Chile and the related storyline just didn't seem to amuse most of the audience. Interestingly, many criticize the American media for exporting its values (I wouldn't call them American values) around the world, yet it seems as if many of these ideas remain foreign in Chile and most likely in other places across the globe.
Anyways, summer looks like its about to draw to a close. Classes in the majority of faculties at La Chile begin tomorrow and, combined with my two classes at La Catolica, I'll finally have a full schedule. But, I'm not too worried, we're in Chile. I'm sure we'll find more time to go to the beach.
While I love the city, I've also enjoyed the chance to escape the endless cement grid on occassion. A couple weeks ago, most of the remaining Tufts-in-Chile crew reunited and hopped on a bus to Algorobo and spent a day on the beach. Unfortunately, the cloudy weather wasn't ideal for sunbathing and sloshing in the waves, but it did allow us to spread across the nearly vacant beach to toss a frisbee around (or, more accurately, try to throw it) and listen to Kamillah and Katrina strum on the guitar.
Even activities considered more "American" can prove to be interesting cultural experiences as well. In an effort to stimulate the economy after the earthquakes, most cinemas are offering significantly cheaper tickets. Obviously, we couldn't resist the opportunity to see "Valentine's Day" or "El Dia de los Enamorados." Although a relatively predictable romantic-comedy, it was definately an enjoyable film if only because of the vast quantities of Tufts merchandise in Jessica Biel's office (she's attended Tufts for a year before dropping out to pursue a film career) and some sizzling social commentary (let's be honest, we go to Tufts. Of course, we love that stuff).
It was also an incredibly interesting look into Chilean culture. Although most movies and television programs in this country have been imported from the United States, it was soon clear that some of the jokes just don't translate. Frequently, my "gringo" friends and I would be consumed with laughter only to realize that we were the only people chortling in the relatively crowded theater. And I promise the jokes were actually funny in an American cultural context. Some subjects, especially homosexuality, are still somewhat taboo in Chile and the related storyline just didn't seem to amuse most of the audience. Interestingly, many criticize the American media for exporting its values (I wouldn't call them American values) around the world, yet it seems as if many of these ideas remain foreign in Chile and most likely in other places across the globe.
Anyways, summer looks like its about to draw to a close. Classes in the majority of faculties at La Chile begin tomorrow and, combined with my two classes at La Catolica, I'll finally have a full schedule. But, I'm not too worried, we're in Chile. I'm sure we'll find more time to go to the beach.
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