Un discurso político sin saliva

 I have a month minus three days now left in Chile. It has definitely been a trip that has formed me in someway, although it is impossible to say how exactly at this point. Just as I am writing this blog post it is really hitting me that I won't be in Chile again for a good rato, and that I will be leaving behind some of the most genuine people I have ever met. So all that is pretty sad.

There are somethings that I am definitely looking forward to. They include having a beer with that rude-ass MF Ed Roane, the annual Christmas pie contest, seeing some of my best friends again in California and Minnesota. I can't say that I don't want to go back, it is just that I also don't want to leave. I am in a space between countries.

Last week, or about a week and a half ago we all went to Pablo Neruda's house in Isla Negra. I would give it 7/10. He had a lot of cool stuff, but really nothing of interest. Kind of an oxymoron. The rocky beach was nice, although like many natural spots in Chile it wasn't exactly pristine, there were the obligatory beer cans and dog shit. It was still pretty beautiful. Let me see if I have some picture.

 This week has been a lot more filled with carrete, starting on Wednesday and going to Sunday morning. It was a fun week, but now I really feel it took a toll on my body and my studies. I'm going to have to stay up some nights to finish all the things that need finishing now. That and all the reading I have been doing. Oy. Oh but one cool thing was building cabinets and doing some floor polishing at the Valpo Surf Project. I miss construction actually, and hanging out with the dudes at the Surf Project is always entertaining.

This week we finally get our wine tour, so I am pretty excited about that. You know, I think that instead of writing the rest I'll just give you a paragraph of pictures from these last two weeks. Enjoy.

  Ya so that is about it. I think I am going to go get some shut-eye. The word/phrase of the day today is definitely Estoy reventado. Reventar is to blow out (like a tire) and saying estoy puto reventado is basically saying that I am very tired. But you know who never sleeps? The watchful paloma of Valparaíso. See you next time.

 

13,22 6 de noviembre, 2013

Damn. It is looking like I have to write another blog post. As the last run of my Chile experience is around the corner, I thought I would take the time to reflect on the trip so far, what I have done, and what I have learned. Sometimes cliches are what people want, and right now it is what I want to write about. 

Since the last post, the group has gone to San Pedro de Atacama, which is in the north. Atacama has the distinction of being the driest desert on Earth, which seemed to be an accurate description (in the mornings I would wake up like a dry sponge). The desert was beautiful as well. There were a pair of valleys named Valle de la Luna and Valle de la Muerte which I particularly found pleasant. I have always loved the desert, and the trip was great for me as well because it included a surprise birthday drinking binge. The town of San Pedro de Atacama had some cool things to add to the experience. I bought some presents for people in all of the tiendas de artesanía. One day we went biking up in the desert canyons. All in all, 8/10. Comparing it to Mojave back home though is a bit difficult. I really like going off into the desert with a few friends, or just by myself. If I am unable to be isolated in a desert something is wrong. But that is how I felt at times in Atacama, with the constant tour guide accompaniment and a schedule. Also in some areas, such as Valle de la Luna, you are unable to walk off "the path". This was an affront to me, because to have a path that you are required to take is the antithesis of a fucking desert. But overall the trip was great, great times where had, I met some strange people in dry desert nights, and had a good birthday. 

That was about 15 days ago. Funny how fast time slips through. When we got back from Atacama everyone was ready for a little of the norm. A week after that, some of the group went to Machu Picchu while the rest of us hurriedly got together a camping trip to La Campana. Both trips were enjoyed. My only complaint about the camping trip was that we had to fit 5 guys in a 3 person tent. If I turned to the right, there was a guy breathing on my face. If I turned to the left, there were some feet in my face. I only got 2 hours of sleep that night.

As much as I enjoy the trips, I think I might get more out of just walking the streets here in Viña during a normal week. I remember one time I just sat at a busy intersection by the sea for 2 hours, watching people. You can really pick up the character of a place just by watching its busiest intersection for a couple hours. Sometimes I hate what personal computers and the internet is doing to us, never before has it been possible to be so far from home, yet so close to it. The result is that sometimes we are deposited in this limbo-wasteland where we aren't truly in Chile or the US. Whenever I feel that feeling, I usually go out for a walk. It helps a lot, but I fear for the future. With computers relegating our existence, everyone might become, as I used to say in high school of my teachers, half-a-humans. 

Ok, let's dive deep. Here is a questions that was brought up yesterday in my literature class: are people in the US more isolated then in other parts of the world? Is our society sick with suspicion and white picket fence seperation? Are we more selfish, and afflicted with unspoken sorrow? I don't know. Sometimes I feel scared, because my answer to those questions is I don't care. 

What else can I talk about? My viewpoint in chile has definitely changed from one of a newcomer, like Jack in A Nightmare Before Christmas singing "What's This! What's This!" to one of a veterano. I am still no Chilean, culturally-wise, I think that it would take years to be that. I have noticed that there are two sides to a country, the superficial and the deeper. The superficial is tricky because sometimes it is easier to take it as the deeper. What do I mean by this? For instance, in the US, to take all the commercialism on the streets as the actual culture, and to not look deeper and ask why it is that way would just be looking at the superficial. That is ultimately the hardest part, to see something ugly in another culture and to stop yourself from just assigning it to "them." At the end of the day, we truly are all the same, and the things that manifest these ugly parts of a culture are the things to try and understand. 

Aside from all these ruminations, I think the important thing to realize is that the world is homogenating into something strange. The US definitely had a large role to play in this, but what we created I do not think we can control. Globalization is scary and will hurt a lot of people, but there is no stopping it, it has already gestated. The only option is to continue to look towards the future. As we embark on our long sojourn into the unknown, I am reminded of a didactic passage from the Sirens of Titan by Kurt Vonnegut Jr. It occurs at the very beginning of the book, before all the confusing chaos, told by the sympathetic narrator of the future:

"Mankind flung its advance agents ever outward, ever outward. Eventually it flung them out into space, into the colorless, tasteless, weightless sea of outwardness without end.

It flung them like stones.

...

The bounties of space, of infinite outwardness, were three: empty heroics, low comedy, and pointless death." 

Sorry, I am really not pessimistic, I just know that humankind's learning curve isn't going to straighten anytime soon. Toodle's! I'll write more later.

PS. Almost forget my word of the day section. Today's phrase is "saltar la cola/saltar la fila." For a long time, every time I would go to the neighborhood "OK Market" there would be this old lady who always tried to cut the line. Here I would be, patiently waiting in line, in Gringo fashion, when in comes Abuelita I-don't-give-a-shit-about-the-rules" and tries to just go straight up to the register. Let me tell you something. Order, Laws, Social Constructs. That is all that separates us from the apes. Long story short how to say cut the line or YOU CUT THE LINE YOU OLD HAG in Spanish is NOT cortar la linea, it is saltar la cola. Man, I miss the desert already...

PSS. That's a llama skull

La Querida Locura de los Buses

Ok I have been wanting to do a post about this since I got to Chile. After living in Chile for more than a week, I think any Gringo would start to see the great idiosyncrasy which is the busing system here in Chile. Many a time, in the midst of almost crapping my pants as a bus takes a sharp turn at 72 KM/Hour, I have thought to myself how strange it is that the buses are the fastest vehicles on the road. As I have spent more and more time on the buses, experiencing every sort of head-scratcher moment you can think of, I have come to understand the chaos of the system, and maybe even have started to love it. 

So here is the main issue with busing in Chile. It is a commission based system. Each bus "chofer" (so ironic that Chileans use that word to mean driver, since in English (chauffeur) it is used to describe a prim and proper car handler, and here it is used to describe asshole maniacs) gives out tickets to each passenger when they board, depending on where they are going to. At the end of the day, based on the number of tickets given out, that bus driver gets his bonus commission. And this, coupled with the questionable driving practices already common in Chile, creates a special kind of public transportation insane asylum.

Basically because of the commission system, the buses race each other for commuters. And I don't mean like race each other nicely in their own lanes. No. The buses here will cut off cars, almost hit people, and use their horn to bully their way to the finish. During rush hour, buses won't even stop to let you off if your stop is one that is not crowded with people that will board. Instead the bus will just slow down enough for you to jump out of the moving vehicle. But the most obvious result of this rush is the speed at which the bus goes. You almost always have to hold on to something. Imagine this, a beat up Mercedes bus driven by a man with a bad attitude, who has one hand on the shifter and another on the wheel, driving faster than all the cars on the road, going about 90 KM/Hr in the city. Now imagine the road packed with these things. The poor cars don't even get to relax for a second. On all sides there are psychopathic bus drivers honking their horns at you, tailgating the living shit out of you, driving around like this was bumper cars at the county fair. And in all this racing, sometimes the bus driver decides he should try to get to a different stop first. Thus the reasons why the buses sometimes don't even take established routes. Also they don't stop if it is rush hour, and you are the only one at the stop, it just isn't worth their time.

Furthermore, this systems has become so evolved it needs a hierarchy. Because during certain times of the day there are more people at certain stops, the bus driver needs someone to keep tabs on his position so he can out-maneuver the competition. Who does he get to do this? The Sapo (toad). 

Sorry but I need to make a quick side note to better explain the sapo. I swear one of the weirdest things about Chile is its large economic sector of useless jobs. First you got the neighborhood parking attendants who make sure all the bad drivers in Chile don't hit other cars when they park, and who moonlight as car washers and stoop guards. Then you get the army of dog shit picker uppers whose main task seems to be to clean the streets of the large amounts of dog turds left from the masses of stray dogs. After that there is the run-of-the-mill gypsy trick peddlers, who will walk into the street and twirl fire for you. And of course the crap-sellers, who peddle you popsicles or plastic card holders for your IDs. Really the list goes on and on. And then there is the sapo.  

So the sapo has his little notepad and Fannie pack. He uses the notepad to record the time and the number of all the buses that have passed, and he uses the stylish Fannie pack to collect the coins the bus driver will toss his way for his work. How it functions is like so: a bus driver will arrive at a stop and honk his horn. The sapo will come up to the window and shout/tell the bus driver what his current positions is. Then the bus driver usually gives a thumbs up and burns rubber to get to the next stop. During the night, when the traffic is less and the bus driver actually need to gather people to board his bus to get commission, the bus driver employs a person I like to call Asshole #2 (the bus driver usually takes first place). This secondary type of sapo rides with the bus, and gets out at stops and verbally assaults people to inform them of where the bus is going, then gets back on. The main job of asshole #2 is this, to gather up the sheep at the stops and shove them on the bus, of course using only his words. So like an Australian Shepherd, asshole #2 will bark and run around to push the herd onto the bus. I have also noticed that #2 has some kind of secondary function because he or she (I have actually seen women in the position) will occasionally make shady phone calls, or record something in a notebook.

So speaking of assholes, I guess I should explain why I dislike most of the bus drivers. Well the fact is that they treat their customers like cattle. If a bus is full, the driver will yell at you to move back. If their is absolutely no space, rest assured that the yelling will continue regardless. A result of the commission system, a bus driver will pack his bus until people are standing on the boarding stairs. If an old women refuses to be backed like a sardine, the bus driver will continue to yell at her. No mercy. Another reason why the bus drivers aren't that morally upstanding is the fact that some will lie to get their commission. "Does this bus go to here" "Oh suuuuurrree buddy, get on" (time passes) "Umm did I miss this stop" "We don't go there idiot,hhahahaha" Or sometimes it is this scenario. "Hello Senor bus driver, here is my student ID that ensures I get half off on the price." "No, you pay full price" "But here is my ID, look." "Okay but school should be over by now" "No it is not" "Okay well I don't see a backpack so I don't think you are going to school" "I'm going to fucking school man" "Okay well you are in Valparaiso and that card will only work in Vina" "Fine just take my money, I've got better things to do than argue over 20 cents"

Of course it isn't just bad things, although all the above might speak to the contrary. One of the coolest things about the buses here are how they are decorated. Each driver get almost complete freedom it seems like to decorate his bus how he wants. I have seen buses decked out with Jesus' faces everywhere. I have seen buses with fuzzy die. I have even seen a batman bus, with a giant batman symbol on the back of the bus. Along with the physical decorations, there are also some buses who will play a certain radio station. So you get the 80's American pop buses, or the reggatone buses, or even the classic ranchero music buses. It is always entertaining when you get on a bus with a unique music taste.

I mean with everything insane about the busing system, I guess I have started to love it. There is nothing more fun than catching the bus winning the race to Valparaiso in the middle of the day, going probably at least double the speed limit down the twisting beach road. If you catch that bus, you are assured to get there faster than any car could take you. And after a long night, when all you want to do is get into your bed, that bus comes up, asshole #2 yells at you to get on, and you are on the fast track to sleep and comfort. It is like Darwin said, survival of the fittest. If I had a broken leg I probably would have trouble jumping off the moving bus. So it is lucky that I don't. Each moment I have gained from taking a dangerously quick bus definitely will pay off in the long run. I am sorry old ladies, there are always order-in services.

And I will end this horrendously wordy post with another cat picture. I like to call it "Catitude, talk to my ass, cause the face don't want to hear it" Till next time. (This post doesn't have a phrase because it is a normal post dude, next one will have a phrase)

 

Pucon, the endless night, pottery, and bad habits

Well, I'm sorry it has been a while since my last post. Once you get out of the blog lifestyle it is difficult to reintegrate back into it. A lot has happened between blog posts, but I don't really feel like elaborating on it all. So the short version is that we went to Pucon to engage in nature sports, then had a week long party called Fiestas Patrias, and then started going to the beach and making pottery. It's a hard knock life. Not everyone is born with a silver spoon up their butt okay. Some of us have to climb from the bottom, and take advantage of the vacation aspect of a study abroad trip. Although this has clearly been the easiest semester I have had since the 9th grade, I wouldn't say that the atrophy of sitting around and enjoying Chile is all for vain. There is a lot of learning going on okay. Just not of the "traditional" sort, where you actually have to spend time trying to learn something. What I have observed is that learning in a foreign country is a lot more osmosis then learning Chemistry is. Most of the time the longest lasting lessons are the ones I just kinda pick up, whether that relates to language skills or understanding the culture. 

Oi, well I am continuing on my quest to meet more Chileans. Last weekend I ended up hanging out with only Chileans one night. I met them through the host sister of a girl in our group, and one actually spoke fluent English because he lives in the US, and considers himself American. One funny thing I have noticed is that for smaller parties, Chileans like to talk about culture, politics, etc. much more than Americans (its okay, I can use that word because it is an all English blog). At least in comparison to most of my conversations back home. I guess in Chile there is still so much to discuss. Forty years after a military dictatorship, the people are still trying to figure out what their government means to them. That and (a portion of the population) trying to deny that the dictatorship happened, which just creates all sorts of psychological pathologies. Parent wants to preserve image of Chile, denies torture camps during the dictatorship. Child, senses parents are lying to themselves, starts to be disillusioned but doesn't know why. That type of thing. It would be hypocritical to say that we don't have that kind of thing in the US, its just a different type. I guess all societies are deranged in their own special way.

Ok I guess I can talk a little about Pucon since it was so awesome. Pucon is a town south of Vina, covered in forest and kinda feels like a Colorado ski resort. The group split up again to go to different hostels, both of which were really nice, and it was a fun time had by all, I think. The best part was when we climbed Volcano Villarica. We almost made it to the peak, but an electrical storm hit and we had to sled down the volcano very fast. That was the funnest part for me. The other group made it to the top, but really who gives a shit about the other group. Not me (bastards). It was still sweet. 

We also did some other stuff in Pucon. We went hydroplanking or something, which was basically rafting in your own personal buoy. That was pretty fun too. Then we went to some hot springs. That was 7/10. There were all these little snot-nosed brats around ruining the vibe. Still 7/10 though.

Then after Pucon we came back to Fiestas Patrias, the endless night. I call it that because I think I woke up at 2:30 PM everyday and stayed out until 5 or 6 AM every night. This went on for about 5 days. It was a cornucopia of fun. I had a list of food and drink to try during the festival, which culminates in big fairs with food, game, and dancing booths in both Vina and Valparaiso. I think by the end I had crossed everything off my list but a drink called the Promo, and really that was just a rum and coke, so I basically tried everything. Good kabobs. I would give Fiestas Patrias 8.5/10 

It certainly felt like a while by the time we got back to school the next week. Fiestas Patrias had given me probably 5 pounds, a loss of 5% of my brain mass, and a smoking habit, but I still found myself wishing that the ferias would stay open just a couple more days. That Friday we went to the pottery town, which was also fun. The town definitely had the feel that it was founded on pots and pottery. We also had the opportunity to make our own little works of art. I made my host-dad an ashtray and I also made a mini-Ari. Mini-Ari was the spitting image of yours truly, but sadly now he has been deteriorating and only has one ear left. But HE will forever be with me, in my corazon. Okay no point to lie on a blog, I actually threw him out two days ago. But I definitely took a picture, which I will attach to the end of this post.

So ya that is the extremely condensed and abridged version of what I have been doing for the last month. This trip is a blessing and I am thankful for it. So this week I will be leaving you all with the phrase "la hora del cuete." Now I am still trying to understand this one more clearly. I think it means the time when everything comes together, but without the positive connotation. So it's more like when the shit hits the fan, but that isn't exactly it either. So it is a hybrid of when the shit hits the fan and when everything comes together, so basically just the time when everything collides. I think literally "cuete" is like a bottlerocket. Anyway I got to go practice Spanish in some cafe somewhere so I will leave you with this beautiful picture of mini-bur (mini-Ari). Till next time, chao

  

Equilibrio

¿Qué onda amigos?

I sincerely hope you are all doing well. I think it has been about a week since my last post, so I figured it was time. I am hoping to keep this one short because Moe's probably has my schop's waiting for me. For those who don't know, Moe's is a bar on the north side of Viña that is within easy walking distance of about 4 people, me included, who go there during the week to unwind. It is a Simpson-themed bar, and when I say that, I mean that it has a few murals of Homer and Moe with mis-proportioned features. I have been telling people that I want it to turn into my version of the "Cheers" bar from the TV show, but really I just tell people that cause I like to act like a clown. So far the friendship between me and the bartenders consist of a "¿Cómo estás?" Not a situation where "everybody knows my name."

Well it has been a little more than a month in Chile and I feel pretty good. I have reached the point where I am getting used to living down here: getting used to throwing used toliet paper in a little bin by the seat, getting used to almost getting hit by cars, getting used to the sentimentality of Chileans, getting used to eating late, and speaking Spanish. Now I feel pretty comfortable. I just hope that this feeling doesn't make me self-content to the point of not changing my routine. 

School has been constant. Not sure what else to say about it. I have one, maybe two, classes I like. I wake up everyday at 6AM to browse the Internet for an hour and get ready for receiving an education. The best times of the day for me are when I get to have lunch/speak with my family and when we go out a little later in the night (not that we go out every night). Usually how I feel I did on my Spanish determines how I feel about the day. When I feel I speak well for the day, I feel good. And when I feel I speak badly, I feel bad. 

Wellpo, I can't think of anything else to really talk about....So....word of the day. This one I kinda enjoy, "ya po, al tiro" (really I'm combining two here). Ya po is like the Mexican "orale," which is kinda like let's go. But I feel like ya po has more force to it, more of a whip type of feeling. You know what I mean? Like ya po, vamos! Al tiro is basically used to say immediately, right now. So combined, with a little bit of dragged out inflection, it is like "yaaaaaaaapo, al tiro, al tiro, vamos." I like saying it to people on the bus when they take too long to move. Sí po, that is about it. The girls are getting free sushi and mojitos tonight for being girls, so off we go to Moe's..."sometimes you want to gooooooo, where everybody knows your name!" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h-mi0r0LpXo

The United States is an Endeavor, Chile is a Country

So I guess I am going to be keeping with today's theme of slacking off. So far today I wrote 3 letters to personals back in the states and also sealed up a full set of Chilean monedas for MANKUUU in Minnesota. So now instead of finally starting the reading or something I am going to type out a blog. But it is not going to be about the title, I just thought of that when I was going to type out this blog. The idea is a bit amorphous right now, but it seems like the rich white men who started our country did so out of an idea for a country, not an identity. Proof of that is all the royalists sonsofbitches who fought against the revolution; they still felt British. This contrasts with something like Chile, where I feel like it is the identity that formed the country. But I don't know. 10 years ago I was still wetting the bed. 

Anyway I don't want this post to be about that kinda stuff again. I would much rather just list off anecdotes or something like that. It seems more fun.

Last week and this weekend have been really great. Just really swell. And I am not even being facetious. The week was cool: I got to talk more to Chileans, I went to a Pablo Neruda poetry-set-to-music concert (which sounds lame but was pretty good), went to another classical guitar concert, and had some nice jogs on the beach. Thursday night was awesome, I was able to float on a buzz for a good while, traveling to a night club in Valparaiso, before I reached that point I always seem to reach during any night out where I become cynical. Still had a lot of fun. Then Friday I think all I did was walk A BIT hungover to the beach and sit there for three hours. Watching the waves.

But on Saturday I went to Renaca with Craig and we walked on these large sand dunes that surround the city. It was getting pretty dark, but we were still able to crawl to the top of the largest one, where we found the perfect place to sandsurf with a good boogie board or something (tires had been put on the edge down the dune just for that). Navigating back through the dark dunes and drunken Chilean highschoolers, we found a sushi place in Renaca and had some top quality fish with some nice warm Sake. It was muy caro but I didn't care, I think it was worth it. Had a peanutbutter cheesecake for dessert. MMMMMM After that we went to Agustin's house and met some Chileans with whom Agustin's dad was trying to set up Agustin with for some odd reason (although he keeps telling him he has a girlfriend). It was a strange situation but I had fun. JJ kept looking at me like I was embarrassing myself when I was rapping 2pac with one of the girls, but it was still fun. (BTW Matt Rogo, if you are reading this, Azealia Banks is huge in Chile for some reason)

After that a group of us walked out to the Pacific and had a bonding moment. Not going to elaborate. Then today has also been pretty chill, writing letters and such. I mean what more can I ask for, I am truly thankful for all that I have in my life right now, and the clarity that I feel I can exist with. 

Well that is about it. Nothing super crazy to report. I am going to end this post with a phrase that has given me a lot of trouble because my host family uses it nonstop in a semi-condesending way. The phrase is "te fijas" from the verb fijar which literally means to attach. But the Chilean modismo means like "do you see/ do you get it" Literally I think what they are saying is "does it stick to you." Or maybe "do you stick to yourself" or "do you stick it to yourself"... I don't really get it, but it fits with this pic. Same tv in the living room has color. Te fijas? Ya me neither.

 

Osito and the Traveling Circus

    I figured I should probably write this post now. We are heading to Serena (up North 5 hours) tonight and won't be back until Sunday afternoon. Although the bus tickets are bought, the place we reserved dropped us from the roster, presumable because we were 12 loud gringos, so as I write this there is a frantic search for a new place. I ain't sweating it much though, because I don't do that outwardly. I usually freak out after a situation occurs, so I will probably be freaking out when we actually get to Serena. And usually I will freak out about something miniscule, like forgetting my sunglasses. It will suck that I haven't done any reading or summaries for the university but, no me importa. Va a mierda

    The last week here has been a little disorienting. When I first got here, there was an initial impact that lasted for about 8 days. Now it has worn off a bit, and I am starting to furnish myself some little habits. They help a lot with getting yourself more comfortable in a different place, but they really can cage you in too. Especially when the habits center around the other gringos. I think next week I am really going to try to switch some of them. Every missed opportunity sits on my shoulder and spits in my eye. I mean, I don't think I will have a chance like this trip again.

    More advice for study abroad: when you get an opening into the culture, take it. Most times you will be unprepared or uncomfortable, or unsomething. But this is the exact time to nut up. Call me cliche for saying this. And call me cliche for saying that. But if you don't nut up at that exact moment, it will be lost. I can count at least 5 times that happened this week, and I was just too uncomfortable to do anything. 

    So going with that, the phrase this week is more like a verb and it is aprovechar. It means to take advantage of. But not necessarily in a bad way. Aprovecha la situacion. Take advantage of the fact that you are in South America, in Chile, with Chilean people, speaking Spanish, getting in Scooby Doo level adventures, and all of that. The times in which I actually have, those times have been the most memorable of the trip thus far. Don't let new things intimidate you, face them straight. Like how this little girl confronted this puppet. Right in its face. No fear.

God I hope we get a place to stay by the time we get to Serena.

    

Who are the United States of America

...

Ya this post is going to be deep and probably make little sense, so if that isn't your scene thanks for attempting and I will see you later.

I was thinking today a lot about who we are as Americans. It is a little clearer to me already, just being in Chile for a week or so. I think the name of our country is pretty funny; kind of a misnomer, like the Holy Roman Empire, which was neither holy, Roman, nor an empire. 

Ya I'll give you that we are states and that we are in the Americas, but we aren't that united. And really that is the most distinguishing aspect to the name. If we were just called the States of America it would be a pretty weak name. So it suffices to say that the united thing is pretty important. Yet when I look around the US, we seem pretty divided. Look at anything in the states and it is easy to see. Politics, race, economics, etc. In Chile there is more of a common motion, maybe forged out of the dictatorship imposed traumas of Pinochet. In Chile I have yet to feel the majority-minority complex that almost invades our lives in the US. People work and walk together, and no one needs to separate, even though Chile is a very diverse country. 

At any rate, the community is stronger here, as a nation, then the United States. Yet somehow, we in the United States seem more nationalistic. Whatever the reasons, the concept of a division is at the forefront of the American psyche. There is always an Us and Them. 

On an even more basic level, we don't trust each other. You don't trust me, and hell no, I don't trust you. Some of us are too busy conquering our little piece of the American dream that has been handed down to us to trust a neighbor whose needs might differ from ours. Others are just in a cave. And still others, like the MinnesOtans, are in islands of community, unaware of the chaos that surrounds them. I don't know. I said that this crap is hard to understand. It's the feeling of a nation.

On a completely unrelated note, classes are going pretty well. I have one teacher who has a bit of a complex, but hopefully she will be satisfied with repeating her soliloquies and leave us poor students alone. Pshhh. Trying to tell me what it means to be Californian. That's what happens when you were born in an ivory tower. I'm not saying she is stupid, cause I think she is a good teacher. But she definitely is of a bullshit type.

The only thing better than the classes is the fact that I get to take a siesta everyday. And my underwear gets ironed. Let me tell you, this is the life. I don't know what I was thinking living like a cockroach in the United States all these years. Ok, its true I kinda miss the states, but I'm not going to let that detract from my nice ironed underwear. Ok.

SO the phrase from this post is going to be "tomar once" which literally means to take 11. It is a way of saying you want to have a small, tea type, meal with some snacks and stuff. So instead of eating dinner at 9PM everyday, I told my host mother that 3/7 days I want to "tomar once" instead. Going with the living-the-life theme, here is a pretty picture of the ocean from the beach at Vina. Bueno.

 

Las aventuras del osito

I never understood the value of a blog as a way of expressing your state of mind during something like a study abroad term. If all you wanted to do was write entries about the impressions you have walking around the street, why not just write them down in a journal. A blog only seems necessary if you are pining after advertisement dollars or something like that. But seeing as everyone is doing some blog and seeing that it could potentially act as my required diary of the experience, vamos. It can't be a bad thing, right?

My first impressions of Chile are varied. I'll give them a point on the whole take-your-time-living-and-not-waiting-in-line-at-Starbucks-and-tweeting-about-your-love-for-Game-of-Thrones thing. But I think I need to subtract at least half a point for the how-they-almost-kill-everything-that-moves-when-they-drive thing. Well that may be a little bit of hyperbole.But they definitely drive with a certain controlled chaos. I have already lost count of the times where I winced at a could be car accident. 

Chileans themselves seem very nice for the most part. They took the European sense of living in the moment and they shed the European sense of look how my shit doesn't stink. This makes a nice combination. I also feel like Chileans have a certain accepted vision of the world that is much more realistic than most Americans. I was talking to my host family's son about the student protests going on in Chile; he works in academia. The answer he gave to the question of whether it was a good or bad things was in the middle. He said that although the students may not see the full picture, the protest is a good thing because the movement's heart is in the right place. I rarely hear a moderate opinion from an American. I feel like in our country we are forced to pick a side, and not just politically. I think that we are a very divided country in more ways than that. To tell the truth I am still finding my way around the fact that I am in a different country for an extended period of time. So you don't have to listen to the bullshit that I am spreading now.

I'm thinking I can end each one of these posts with a parting phrase and a picture. So this week my parting phrase will be "no me acuerdo" because I have been saying that a lot. It means I am not sure. That can also serve as a diagnosis of the time I have thus far spent in Chile, I am not sure what it means, I have yet to make anything of all the cool and strange things that I have seen and felt. It is a mystery, like this big rock head. Hasta mas tarde

 

Un retrato chingón, güey

In the words of Noe, my Mexicano construction superviser

Oh my goodness, güey.

Pásame la chingadera.

And so begins this blog, fck peer pressure