Last Wednesday, I unwillingly took part in a typical Chielan experience—I was robbed. I was carrying my cell phone in my sweater pocket at a market, felt a tug, looked down, and had no phone. I went to a mobile police unit, filed a police report, and went home. I am completely fine, no worries, but currently phoneless in Buenos Aires…although I am going to buy a new phone when I get back to Santiago.
We are in Buenos Aires for our last two weeks of the structured program, and it feels more like a vacation than work. We have interesting academic seminars, school visits, and educational excursions—more on those later—but we also have significantly more free time than we did in Santiago. It is really relaxing, and a good break for all of us before our Independent Study Projects begin.
I haven’t taken much time to talk about our group as a whole, although it has been a huge part of this experience. Brief overview: there are fifteen of us, fourteen girls and one guy, from all over the US. Hampshire is the only school doubly-represented (go Hamp!) and, although most go to schools on the East Coast, a few go to schools scattered across the Midwest and West. I feel really fortunate that in a group of fifteen, we all get along well enough to go out to dinner together, or to just hang out after class. I’m so happy that it’s worked out this way—that I feel comfortable with everyone, one-on-one or in a group; that I never feel self-conscious about my opinions on education or politics, even though they differ significantly from others’.
It’s really strange that, on November 6th, I will no longer be in this group to which I have become very accustomed, and that, chances are, I will be spending a significant amount of my ISP alone in Temuco. This is both exhilarating and nervewracking, but probably the best thing that will happen for my Spanish language skills.
Since arriving in Buenos Aires, I, along with other people from the group, have started to notice my English grammar and spelling going out the window. I think in English words but with Spanish grammar, for example: “I will go to the house of Kim at nineteen hours” or something like that. And I think about almost all of my conjunctions in Spanish nowadays—so if I come home saying “entonces” (so, anyway) all the time, please forgive me.
Entonces. If Santiago is a South American version of Brooklyn, then Buenos Aires is definitely Upper West Side Manhattan. There are trees and everyone is thin and beautiful. People always say it is very European, which it is—but it really reminds me of the area in Manhattan by Central Park.
I’m really enjoying living with my new host family—it is the polar opposite of living with Mercedes, but it is good just the same. I am living with a single mother, Andrea, and her nineteen-year-old daughter, Agostina, in a relatively large apartment in a nice area of the city. Agostina is studying musical comedy and circus arts, with a focus on trapeze, and is a lot of fun to hang out with. (Tonight I’m going to her dance class, where I will learn the “Thriller” dance!) I’ve met a few of her friends, who are all really nice, and we went to see some of her classmates in a show the other day—so I feel like I’m experiencing Buenos Aires differently than I’ve experienced Santiago. It is incredibly different living with someone my own age—good different, but it’s not that the alternative is bad.
Agostina and Andrea are both out of the house until pretty late at night, so I usually am the first to get home—which is fine with me, it’s just a big change from Mercedes, who is always around. Also, food isn’t nearly as big of a deal here—usually the family just eats dinner together, at around ten p.m.
That’s pretty much all that is going on these days—although tomorrow we will be going on a very special educational excursion, marching with the Madres de la Plaza de Mayo. We got to sit down for a chat with one of the original founders of the organization yesterday, which was amazing—and I will post about it soon…I definitely recommend reading about them, they are incredible women and their organization is one of the most interesting and influential human rights organizations in the world:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mothers_of_the_Plaza_de_Mayo
http://www.madres.org/ (in Spanish)
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Temuco Reflection
Ever since I’ve known enough to know that Yiddish is dying, I’ve been upset that I have scraped by in life without knowing much more than a schlep and an oy vey. My mom’s parents are fluent, but my mom and her brothers never learned much—and my cousins, my sister and I know nothing. I think the same thing has happened with Mapudungun, the traditional language of the Mapuche people. Parents teach their children Spanish first, because, frankly, it’s more useful in the world—and eventually, the old language is all but forgotten.
Perhaps the biggest surprise that awaited us in Chapod was the lack of traditional Mapuche culture that we had been learning about for weeks. We had been told that our host parents would speak limited Spanish, that Mapudungun would be their first language; we had been prepared to eat typical Mapuche foods, particularly lots of pork and lamb; and we had learned a bit about the Mapuche religion, which is very interesting (more on that later.) However, we arrived to families who no longer know Mapudungun, cook similar food to our host families in Santiago, and are devout Evangelicals.
The Evangelical Church came around a few generations back, and my family swears that it rid the community of some of its biggest problems, including effectively eliminating alcoholism in Chapod. But, with it went the Mapuche religion, and later Mapudungun. Kids now are scraping by with a mari mari (hello) and kofke (bread.) They learn English as their second language in schools, because it’s more of an asset in the global community than their own language. What will their kids have, if this generation is getting by with so few words? Probably the same as my kids will: a memory of a language so far past it seems almost irrelevant.
I see this as a net loss. But I am an outsider, so who am I to judge? I never saw the old ways, so how can I know if I’m idealizing them?
My host dad, Raul, is the principal of the elementary school we visited in Chapod, and a devout Evangelical. The family said or sang grace before all meals, and everyone was very involved in the Chapod’s one church. My host mom, Luci, like most of the women in the community, doesn’t work. My host sister, Mabel, is thirty-two and in her third year of university in the city of Temuco (where she studies music,) and she is very nice and friendly. My host brother, Ruly, was very interesting to say the least. He’s twenty-eight, and also in his third year of university, studying theater. He is one of the founders of a national theater company that educates youth about the four most present indigenous groups in Chile: the Penhuenche in the East, the Picunche in the North, the Huilliche in the South, and the Mapuche in the West. He’s also in a band called Kechu Werken with his cousins, the youngest of whom is thirteen years old…they do covers of Chilean music using traditional Chilean instruments.
In the traditional Mapuche religion, there are two main forces present: el mapun, or the energy of the cosmos, and el chen, human energy and will. Both are present inside each human being, and both have a side that is male and a side that is female. In the Mapuche faith, woman came before man, and thus has a certain power—and 90% of Mapuche religious officials are women called machi, who are healers.
Taking this into account, I was shocked to find a very strong machismo attitude and an everpresent feeling of antifeminism while in Chapod. For the first time in my life, I was very aware of being in a “woman-in-the-kitchen, man-in-the-workplace” culture—and not only this, but a society where the man is valued more than the woman.
They start young. Annick, Lizzie, and I taught an English lesson in a fifth grade classroom of four students—two boys and two girls. The girls said close to nothing throughout the class, while the boys were clearly more animated and charismatic. The girls were shy, reluctant to share their opinions, and hesitant even when asked direct questions. “What do you want to learn about today?” Shrug. We talked about animals. “Do you have cats in your house?” One word answer.
In my family’s house, I saw it as well—my host mom was very timid, and barely spoke above a whisper to anyone. I rarely saw her outside of the kitchen or dining room, except when she was outside collecting eggs from her hens. It was clear that my host dad had all the power in their relationship, and he would oftentimes speak for her. While my host brother and host sister both attended the same university, Ruly lived in Temuco during the week, while Mabel commuted to school every day so she could be home to help her mother with the house.
In the community, even during program-sponsored activities, I saw even more. One activity we partook in was a game of palin, a traditional Mapuche sport which is kind of like field hockey. After everyone from SIT was given sticks, community members, including kids from the school were invited to join…but only males were given sticks. We were then asked to team up, and a ten-year-old girl, Carolina, who I had been talking to asked if she could be on our team, to which I said of course, although we didn’t have a stick for her. So I played for ten minutes or so to be polite, and then I asked Roberto if I could give Carolina my stick so she could play. He kind of shrugged, but gave me the go-ahead…so I gave her my stick and she played in the game.
I still feel weird about it. I feel weird that I asked and feel weird that I had to ask. It’s another big who am I question: Who am I as some gringa feminist, educated at a private college in the United States, raised in a completely different world, to come into Chapod, Chile and give a little girl a palin stick?
Don’t get me wrong though, I had an excellent time in Temuco. It was refreshing to be back in the countryside, to breathe fresh air, and to play soccer in a field where, every once in awhile, a pig would wander by. And, even though I witnessed a lot of things I perceive as negative, I think I’ve gained a lot of insight into a world that I had never even heard of before two months ago. Net gain? Maybe.
Learn to Count to Ten in a Dying Language (Mapudungun 101):
Kiñe - 1
Epu - 2
Küla - 3
Meli - 4
Kechu - 5
Kayu - 6
Regle - 7
Pura - 8
Ailla - 9
Mari - 10
Favorite Photos from Temuco:
Perhaps the biggest surprise that awaited us in Chapod was the lack of traditional Mapuche culture that we had been learning about for weeks. We had been told that our host parents would speak limited Spanish, that Mapudungun would be their first language; we had been prepared to eat typical Mapuche foods, particularly lots of pork and lamb; and we had learned a bit about the Mapuche religion, which is very interesting (more on that later.) However, we arrived to families who no longer know Mapudungun, cook similar food to our host families in Santiago, and are devout Evangelicals.
The Evangelical Church came around a few generations back, and my family swears that it rid the community of some of its biggest problems, including effectively eliminating alcoholism in Chapod. But, with it went the Mapuche religion, and later Mapudungun. Kids now are scraping by with a mari mari (hello) and kofke (bread.) They learn English as their second language in schools, because it’s more of an asset in the global community than their own language. What will their kids have, if this generation is getting by with so few words? Probably the same as my kids will: a memory of a language so far past it seems almost irrelevant.
I see this as a net loss. But I am an outsider, so who am I to judge? I never saw the old ways, so how can I know if I’m idealizing them?
My host dad, Raul, is the principal of the elementary school we visited in Chapod, and a devout Evangelical. The family said or sang grace before all meals, and everyone was very involved in the Chapod’s one church. My host mom, Luci, like most of the women in the community, doesn’t work. My host sister, Mabel, is thirty-two and in her third year of university in the city of Temuco (where she studies music,) and she is very nice and friendly. My host brother, Ruly, was very interesting to say the least. He’s twenty-eight, and also in his third year of university, studying theater. He is one of the founders of a national theater company that educates youth about the four most present indigenous groups in Chile: the Penhuenche in the East, the Picunche in the North, the Huilliche in the South, and the Mapuche in the West. He’s also in a band called Kechu Werken with his cousins, the youngest of whom is thirteen years old…they do covers of Chilean music using traditional Chilean instruments.
In the traditional Mapuche religion, there are two main forces present: el mapun, or the energy of the cosmos, and el chen, human energy and will. Both are present inside each human being, and both have a side that is male and a side that is female. In the Mapuche faith, woman came before man, and thus has a certain power—and 90% of Mapuche religious officials are women called machi, who are healers.
Taking this into account, I was shocked to find a very strong machismo attitude and an everpresent feeling of antifeminism while in Chapod. For the first time in my life, I was very aware of being in a “woman-in-the-kitchen, man-in-the-workplace” culture—and not only this, but a society where the man is valued more than the woman.
They start young. Annick, Lizzie, and I taught an English lesson in a fifth grade classroom of four students—two boys and two girls. The girls said close to nothing throughout the class, while the boys were clearly more animated and charismatic. The girls were shy, reluctant to share their opinions, and hesitant even when asked direct questions. “What do you want to learn about today?” Shrug. We talked about animals. “Do you have cats in your house?” One word answer.
In my family’s house, I saw it as well—my host mom was very timid, and barely spoke above a whisper to anyone. I rarely saw her outside of the kitchen or dining room, except when she was outside collecting eggs from her hens. It was clear that my host dad had all the power in their relationship, and he would oftentimes speak for her. While my host brother and host sister both attended the same university, Ruly lived in Temuco during the week, while Mabel commuted to school every day so she could be home to help her mother with the house.
In the community, even during program-sponsored activities, I saw even more. One activity we partook in was a game of palin, a traditional Mapuche sport which is kind of like field hockey. After everyone from SIT was given sticks, community members, including kids from the school were invited to join…but only males were given sticks. We were then asked to team up, and a ten-year-old girl, Carolina, who I had been talking to asked if she could be on our team, to which I said of course, although we didn’t have a stick for her. So I played for ten minutes or so to be polite, and then I asked Roberto if I could give Carolina my stick so she could play. He kind of shrugged, but gave me the go-ahead…so I gave her my stick and she played in the game.
I still feel weird about it. I feel weird that I asked and feel weird that I had to ask. It’s another big who am I question: Who am I as some gringa feminist, educated at a private college in the United States, raised in a completely different world, to come into Chapod, Chile and give a little girl a palin stick?
Don’t get me wrong though, I had an excellent time in Temuco. It was refreshing to be back in the countryside, to breathe fresh air, and to play soccer in a field where, every once in awhile, a pig would wander by. And, even though I witnessed a lot of things I perceive as negative, I think I’ve gained a lot of insight into a world that I had never even heard of before two months ago. Net gain? Maybe.
Learn to Count to Ten in a Dying Language (Mapudungun 101):
Kiñe - 1
Epu - 2
Küla - 3
Meli - 4
Kechu - 5
Kayu - 6
Regle - 7
Pura - 8
Ailla - 9
Mari - 10
Favorite Photos from Temuco:
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Time
I don’t understand time, and I never have. One day twenty-four hours go by so slowly that it is hard to focus, other days speed by so quickly that I don’t know where the time went. Sometimes it’s a combination of the two. But twenty-four hours never feels like exactly twenty-four hours. I’ve never looked at a week and said, “That felt like a week.” There’s always a modifier—“That felt like a long week,” “That week felt like two days,” “I can’t believe how slowly that week went by!” It’s always been “Why is time going so slowly,” or “I can’t believe how quickly time has gone.”
I can’t believe how quickly time has gone. I have been in Chile for over six weeks, now. The first part of our program is finished, and with it our Spanish classes, our seminar at Universidad Alberto Hurtado, our first practicum, and the significant portion of our Santiago homestay.
Tonight, Geoff’s family hosted a big fiesta for all of the students and their homestay families. It was really wonderful to finally meet everyone’s families—and was great to converse with new people—new patient people—in Spanish. And of course, because we’re in Chile, there was a dance party in the backyard—complete with Chilean, American, and British music (at one point “I Wanna Hold Your Hand” by the Beatles started playing), a conga line, and plenty of energy.
Tomorrow night, we leave for Temuco. We will be staying in a community called Chopod, living with one other student and a Mapuche family who may or may not have electricity or running water (and definitely don’t have internet…which will probably be my biggest struggle.) We will be attending workshops on intercultural and bilingual education, human rights, and the Mapadungun language. I am so excited for this portion of the trip—although I hear they eat even more in Temuco, and are still offended if you don’t eat everything. But I am very excited to get out of the city, and be back in the country—fresh air sounds fantastic. Below is a map of Chile—Santiago is in the second red area, Region Metropolitina, and Temuco is in the ninth region (Araucania.)
Also tomorrow night—Daylight Savings Time. As of right now, Chile is in the same time zone as New York, but beginning tomorrow we’ll be two hours apart (New York moves forward, Chile moves back.) As I said, I don’t understand time.
I can’t believe how quickly time has gone. I have been in Chile for over six weeks, now. The first part of our program is finished, and with it our Spanish classes, our seminar at Universidad Alberto Hurtado, our first practicum, and the significant portion of our Santiago homestay.
Tonight, Geoff’s family hosted a big fiesta for all of the students and their homestay families. It was really wonderful to finally meet everyone’s families—and was great to converse with new people—new patient people—in Spanish. And of course, because we’re in Chile, there was a dance party in the backyard—complete with Chilean, American, and British music (at one point “I Wanna Hold Your Hand” by the Beatles started playing), a conga line, and plenty of energy.
Tomorrow night, we leave for Temuco. We will be staying in a community called Chopod, living with one other student and a Mapuche family who may or may not have electricity or running water (and definitely don’t have internet…which will probably be my biggest struggle.) We will be attending workshops on intercultural and bilingual education, human rights, and the Mapadungun language. I am so excited for this portion of the trip—although I hear they eat even more in Temuco, and are still offended if you don’t eat everything. But I am very excited to get out of the city, and be back in the country—fresh air sounds fantastic. Below is a map of Chile—Santiago is in the second red area, Region Metropolitina, and Temuco is in the ninth region (Araucania.)
Also tomorrow night—Daylight Savings Time. As of right now, Chile is in the same time zone as New York, but beginning tomorrow we’ll be two hours apart (New York moves forward, Chile moves back.) As I said, I don’t understand time.
Monday, October 5, 2009
Horseback Riding through the Andes
This weekend, I, along with six others from my program, went horseback riding through the Andes Mountains. Throughout the climb, I felt both powerful and small, very connected to the world and very disconnected from it, homesick and at home. It's been over five years since I last rode a horse, and the trail was difficult, but look at the view:
(Photos taken by Kim--I'm the one in the gray sweater)
Other than horseback riding, this weekend was great--the seven of us rented a cabin in Cajon de Maipo, a town about an hour and a half outside of Santiago, in between two of the Andes Mountains--and we cooked American meals, relaxed, and talked all weekend. It was good to take a break from the city, as well as take some down time (last weekend we didn't really have much, because of our excursion to Valparaiso.)
My only regret is that I didn't spend my last full weekend in Santiago with Mercedes. Next Saturday we leave for Temuco, and I am nervous about my new homestay family. Mercedes has been so wonderful, so kind and loving, that I feel like I am part of a new family in Chile, but this is not a consistent feeling among my friends. Some haven't been this lucky--it's not that their homestay situations are negative, but they're not necessarily positive either--and I am not looking forward to walking away from this cozy environment into a new one, which, chances are, won't be as comfortable.
But, I went horseback riding in the Andes this weekend. So things are good.
(Photos taken by Kim--I'm the one in the gray sweater)
Other than horseback riding, this weekend was great--the seven of us rented a cabin in Cajon de Maipo, a town about an hour and a half outside of Santiago, in between two of the Andes Mountains--and we cooked American meals, relaxed, and talked all weekend. It was good to take a break from the city, as well as take some down time (last weekend we didn't really have much, because of our excursion to Valparaiso.)
My only regret is that I didn't spend my last full weekend in Santiago with Mercedes. Next Saturday we leave for Temuco, and I am nervous about my new homestay family. Mercedes has been so wonderful, so kind and loving, that I feel like I am part of a new family in Chile, but this is not a consistent feeling among my friends. Some haven't been this lucky--it's not that their homestay situations are negative, but they're not necessarily positive either--and I am not looking forward to walking away from this cozy environment into a new one, which, chances are, won't be as comfortable.
But, I went horseback riding in the Andes this weekend. So things are good.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Catch-up!
I realize that I haven’t been posting as frequently as intended, and thus haven’t had time to write about a lot of important things—so this is essentially a catch-up post…
Fiestas de Patria
Fiestas de Patria, the Chilean Independence Day festivities, basically consist of a full week of festivals, parades, and parties, which were fun, but very tiring. Tracy and I went to one of many military parades over the weekend, where Michelle Bachelet, the president of Chile, led all of the armed forces in a march around Parque Bernardo O’Higgins:
Everyone gets very into Patria; municipal schools and public universities are closed for the week, asados (barbeques) are on every corner (barbequed pork is the “official” food of Patria), kids and families dress up in traditional costume. Mercedes loves Patria, and we went to a fonda (fair) to watch the National Cueca Competition:
It surprises me that people who went through such horrible things at the hands of their country are still so patriotic. Mercedes proudly displays the Chilean flag on her balcony; it is the largest present in the apartment complex.
Sickness and Homesickness
I’ve been feeling kind of sick lately, which has put a damper on things. I’m exhausted most of the time, which is problematic when I want to go out at night and explore the city, but all I can do is sleep! Plus, a lot of things are going on at home and at Hampshire that I wish I could be there for—as in, protesting the prospect of Hampshire College turning into “Hampshire University” straying away from liberal arts education, as well as just really missing my friends and family a lot. Skype is great, but it’s hard to not be able to give people hugs through the computer. Don’t get me wrong, though—I’m having a great time here.
Valparaiso
Valparaiso is, without a doubt, the most colorful city I’ve ever seen. Murals adorn every wall, and the colors are reflected in the ocean and beautiful beaches. The people even wear more color than they do in Santiago!
(Alex surrounded by murals)
Our group visited two schools in the Valparaiso area—both municipal schools. The first we saw was an all-female technical school, Liceo Tecnica Feminina, where students complete a general track the first two years, and select one of five foci the last two: childcare, senior citizen care, design (like graphic design, but most of the time computers aren’t used), textiles (essentially sewing), and cooking. (Childcare and cooking are the most popular.) Of the 1,100 students in the school, 100 are mothers and 60 are currently pregnant. We spent a lot of time talking to students in the childcare program (four of the twenty-five or so students in the room were mothers, one seventeen-year-old had two children already) and discussed post-graduation goals, life in Valparaiso, and got many suggestions on what kind of food we should eat while there. I spoke in detail with four students, Tamara, Alexandra, Isabel, and Anjelica, who all said that they were happy to attend Liceo Tecninca Feminina, although some mentioned disappointment that the school wouldn’t prepare them for university (the school does not offer the standardized testing necessary for university acceptance, nor does the curriculum cover all of the material required, due to technical programs.) Tamara and Alexandra both wanted to be preschool teachers, and Isabel and Anjelica were interested in careers in education, as well. They had each spent a week working in a special school for children with autism, and had enjoyed that—Anjelica wanted to work there for awhile after she graduated in December.
The second school we saw was a municipal elementary school in a rural town an hour outside of the city. What surprised me the most was the contrast between this school and the rural schools I had seen in Nicaragua. I guess I had a preconceived notion of what education in rural farming communities was—but this school was actually very “modern.” They had an abundance of materials, innovative special education integration programs, school gardens, and small class sizes (16 students in a class with one professor, although the levels were mixed (first and second grade in the same classroom, third, forth, and fifth, etc.)) Even though we went to the school on a Saturday, three students and one alum (who was now in high school) came to talk to us, and all were very happy with the school. The principal was very welcoming, and took us on a tour of the school’s five classrooms, explaining along the way different types of intelligence, how the school has no violence, and how every graduated student is bussed, for free, to the closest high school a few towns over.
High Holy Days in Santiago
On the morning of the parade in Parque O’Higgins, Tracy and I went to Rosh Hashannah Services at Comunidad Isrealista Sefardi de Chile, a conservative Sephardic synagogue in a Santiago suburb. When we arrived at the gate, a security guard started talking to us, and we explained that we were exchange students who wanted to attend services for Rosh Hashannah. He then began to interrogate us: When did you get here? How long are you staying? Where are you from? What is your home synagogue? What movement? etc. We handed over drivers’ licenses, student ids, and cell phones (so they could confirm Tracy’s homestay.) Two women, who breezed through security with tickets, apparently complained to the president of the congregation that there were two gringas outside who weren’t being let in, and she came outside to chat with us. She was really kind about the whole ordeal—she explained, slowly enough for us to understand, that this was just a security precaution and she didn’t want us to feel unwelcome. As they were scanning our IDs, we talked for a bit about what we were doing in Chile, our home synagogues, and the fact that she was the first female president of the synagogue, where women still can’t read from the Torah. All in all, this ordeal took about forty-five minutes, but it was worth it—the president then walked us into the synagogue, helped us find seats, and invited us back for Yom Kippur.
Getting into the synagogue for Yom Kippur was much easier—they remembered us, and let us and our two other friends breeze through security. The Kol Nidre service was beautiful and incredibly moving. The rabbi began by asking us to put our arms around the people next to us, and there was something really special about having one arm around Susannah, a college student from the US, and the other arm around a random middle-aged Chilean woman, while the rabbi sang the blessing over the talit. The music was incredible—there were no instruments involved, just voice—and the rabbi and three cantors sang everything in a four-part harmony (with help from a choir during Kol Nidre.) I don’t consider myself to be a very religious person, but it was very comforting to be sitting five thousand miles away from home, singing songs I’ve grown up singing, in a language that isn’t English or Spanish, even if I don’t believe in all of the words.
Those are pretty much the big things that have been going on here. Tonight, Mercedes and I made strawberry jam and are going to begin a new puzzle of Pablo Neruda’s house in Valparaiso (I didn’t write about that before, but we went to La Sebastiana, and it was beautiful—by far my favorite of Neruda’s houses!) We have a lot of adventures planned for next week, which I’ll write about as they come along. It’s hard to believe that our time in Santiago is almost up—we spend most of October traveling, and then I’ll be spending most of November in a rural community in Southern Chile. Then December will roll around and I’ll be coming home. Time is going so quickly, and so slowly at the same time!
Fiestas de Patria
Fiestas de Patria, the Chilean Independence Day festivities, basically consist of a full week of festivals, parades, and parties, which were fun, but very tiring. Tracy and I went to one of many military parades over the weekend, where Michelle Bachelet, the president of Chile, led all of the armed forces in a march around Parque Bernardo O’Higgins:
Everyone gets very into Patria; municipal schools and public universities are closed for the week, asados (barbeques) are on every corner (barbequed pork is the “official” food of Patria), kids and families dress up in traditional costume. Mercedes loves Patria, and we went to a fonda (fair) to watch the National Cueca Competition:
It surprises me that people who went through such horrible things at the hands of their country are still so patriotic. Mercedes proudly displays the Chilean flag on her balcony; it is the largest present in the apartment complex.
Sickness and Homesickness
I’ve been feeling kind of sick lately, which has put a damper on things. I’m exhausted most of the time, which is problematic when I want to go out at night and explore the city, but all I can do is sleep! Plus, a lot of things are going on at home and at Hampshire that I wish I could be there for—as in, protesting the prospect of Hampshire College turning into “Hampshire University” straying away from liberal arts education, as well as just really missing my friends and family a lot. Skype is great, but it’s hard to not be able to give people hugs through the computer. Don’t get me wrong, though—I’m having a great time here.
Valparaiso
Valparaiso is, without a doubt, the most colorful city I’ve ever seen. Murals adorn every wall, and the colors are reflected in the ocean and beautiful beaches. The people even wear more color than they do in Santiago!
(Alex surrounded by murals)
Our group visited two schools in the Valparaiso area—both municipal schools. The first we saw was an all-female technical school, Liceo Tecnica Feminina, where students complete a general track the first two years, and select one of five foci the last two: childcare, senior citizen care, design (like graphic design, but most of the time computers aren’t used), textiles (essentially sewing), and cooking. (Childcare and cooking are the most popular.) Of the 1,100 students in the school, 100 are mothers and 60 are currently pregnant. We spent a lot of time talking to students in the childcare program (four of the twenty-five or so students in the room were mothers, one seventeen-year-old had two children already) and discussed post-graduation goals, life in Valparaiso, and got many suggestions on what kind of food we should eat while there. I spoke in detail with four students, Tamara, Alexandra, Isabel, and Anjelica, who all said that they were happy to attend Liceo Tecninca Feminina, although some mentioned disappointment that the school wouldn’t prepare them for university (the school does not offer the standardized testing necessary for university acceptance, nor does the curriculum cover all of the material required, due to technical programs.) Tamara and Alexandra both wanted to be preschool teachers, and Isabel and Anjelica were interested in careers in education, as well. They had each spent a week working in a special school for children with autism, and had enjoyed that—Anjelica wanted to work there for awhile after she graduated in December.
The second school we saw was a municipal elementary school in a rural town an hour outside of the city. What surprised me the most was the contrast between this school and the rural schools I had seen in Nicaragua. I guess I had a preconceived notion of what education in rural farming communities was—but this school was actually very “modern.” They had an abundance of materials, innovative special education integration programs, school gardens, and small class sizes (16 students in a class with one professor, although the levels were mixed (first and second grade in the same classroom, third, forth, and fifth, etc.)) Even though we went to the school on a Saturday, three students and one alum (who was now in high school) came to talk to us, and all were very happy with the school. The principal was very welcoming, and took us on a tour of the school’s five classrooms, explaining along the way different types of intelligence, how the school has no violence, and how every graduated student is bussed, for free, to the closest high school a few towns over.
High Holy Days in Santiago
On the morning of the parade in Parque O’Higgins, Tracy and I went to Rosh Hashannah Services at Comunidad Isrealista Sefardi de Chile, a conservative Sephardic synagogue in a Santiago suburb. When we arrived at the gate, a security guard started talking to us, and we explained that we were exchange students who wanted to attend services for Rosh Hashannah. He then began to interrogate us: When did you get here? How long are you staying? Where are you from? What is your home synagogue? What movement? etc. We handed over drivers’ licenses, student ids, and cell phones (so they could confirm Tracy’s homestay.) Two women, who breezed through security with tickets, apparently complained to the president of the congregation that there were two gringas outside who weren’t being let in, and she came outside to chat with us. She was really kind about the whole ordeal—she explained, slowly enough for us to understand, that this was just a security precaution and she didn’t want us to feel unwelcome. As they were scanning our IDs, we talked for a bit about what we were doing in Chile, our home synagogues, and the fact that she was the first female president of the synagogue, where women still can’t read from the Torah. All in all, this ordeal took about forty-five minutes, but it was worth it—the president then walked us into the synagogue, helped us find seats, and invited us back for Yom Kippur.
Getting into the synagogue for Yom Kippur was much easier—they remembered us, and let us and our two other friends breeze through security. The Kol Nidre service was beautiful and incredibly moving. The rabbi began by asking us to put our arms around the people next to us, and there was something really special about having one arm around Susannah, a college student from the US, and the other arm around a random middle-aged Chilean woman, while the rabbi sang the blessing over the talit. The music was incredible—there were no instruments involved, just voice—and the rabbi and three cantors sang everything in a four-part harmony (with help from a choir during Kol Nidre.) I don’t consider myself to be a very religious person, but it was very comforting to be sitting five thousand miles away from home, singing songs I’ve grown up singing, in a language that isn’t English or Spanish, even if I don’t believe in all of the words.
Those are pretty much the big things that have been going on here. Tonight, Mercedes and I made strawberry jam and are going to begin a new puzzle of Pablo Neruda’s house in Valparaiso (I didn’t write about that before, but we went to La Sebastiana, and it was beautiful—by far my favorite of Neruda’s houses!) We have a lot of adventures planned for next week, which I’ll write about as they come along. It’s hard to believe that our time in Santiago is almost up—we spend most of October traveling, and then I’ll be spending most of November in a rural community in Southern Chile. Then December will roll around and I’ll be coming home. Time is going so quickly, and so slowly at the same time!
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