More Bumbling

June 23, 2005

Tomorrow, well for you all, is Sebastian's birthday, and as we are planning it, I'm being the party pooper and writing this to you all because when I think of partying, I think of my crazy Berkeley drunks. Well, mostly the guys because here, when someone asks you, "Aye, copa de vino?," I'm still used to absently saying, "Eh…no, gracias." Heads pop up again and they say, "Khushbu, copa de vino? Copa de vino?" They're difficult people here. Well, I had to write because I though you all would appreciate the diversity of this apartment. I'm staring out of the living room window at Cerro Santa Lucia and I can see the huge statue of la virgen, Sandra's watching Lord of the Rings, Sebastian is guzzling wine, and Parker is chatting on AIM.

Well, tons of things have happened since the last time I wrote. It's been a month. A bloody month. I only have two months left. NO. FAIR. I feel like throwing a tantrum. Ok, well, maybe after I write this. Anyway, I went to the Chile v. Venezuela, and let me tell you, it is an EXPERIENCE. ¡Chi-Chi-Chi Le-Le-Le. Vi-Va Chi-Le!

The weather is sporadic and sometimes it is freezing, sometimes it is raining, but mostly, it is just smoggy. However, today, as the first day of winter, was the best day I've seen since I've been here. The sun was so bright that Nathan and I went all the way to the Plaza de Armas for lunch. Sebastian took Sandra and me to one of the clubs in Las Condes by the edge of the mountains a few weeks back, and let me just say that I love having someone who works for tv production as a roommate. For the first time, no 80s music (well, not solely). There was actual hip-hop, and of course, the required reggaeton. Speaking of reggaeton, Astrid, Sonja and I met the reggaeton boys ( the cover band for daddy yankee – gasolina and lo que paso, paso guy). The thing with famous people here is that they aren't celebrities. They're just neighbors. We've walked by soap stars, seen the "Chilean Idol" perform at Blondie's…But yeah. Sorry if this isn't too eloquent. I can't think of words in English anymore and I am distracted by tomorrow's planning.

Also, since it's been a month, I've been thinking of people. Strangely, I think of Berkeley quite often. Not that I don't miss the beaches of Carlsbad, but Berkeley has become home. More than anything, it is the friends. My psychotic and amazing roommate calls, probably hoping to talk, but instead, has to listen to me babble and tell her everything that I've done, eaten, and seen in the last 48 hours. Then Da-VEEK-a calls between her busy schedule of spilling chocolate milk and watching 5 hour long videos on the fun stuff that smart people do, and I can't wait to see her. And I remember the emails I got from the Berkeley people (AND Parool and Brian) asking me if I was OK after the earthquake, and I know, I just know that I miss you all a ton. You know when Joe emails you to see if you're still alive, then wow, it must be a big deal. Good thing Iquique is about as far from Santiago as SD is from Berkeley. But yes, thanks. It's nice to know your friends think of you when you might be dead. Funny how Lalani was first to check in. ;-) I was actually watching the videos today of the Boys' Bhangra (deadpan voice: yeah, jaaaaaaaaaaames), Mira's Raas, and Annie's rendition to "I will always love you" when I started to feel guilty. Whenever something happens or I see something, I either call or email Dayna or Berkeley people. I think I am not thinking of the girls from home so much because I haven't seen them for a while, and because of the certain issues. Yet, as I watched Annie singing in her opera voice to some Whitney Houston hit, I know why I try not to think of them. I haven't seen my best friend in six months, and when we used to spend summers together, it's really tough. I keep comparing people I meet to her, Macaire, Heather, and Jewelie. Damn childhood friends. Damn childhood.

Every time someone asked me what I wanted to be when I was five, I always said, "president." There was never talk of doctors, astronauts, sailors, and princesses. If there was one thing I was sure of, this was pretty much it. Over the course of the next decade and a half, I pretty much forgot about that idea, except to fight with Sean about which one of us would win in the 2020 election (Let's not kid ourselves, but I mean…*cough*). Then, Sergio, my boss and executive director of AI in Chile, reminded me at the end of the day on Tuesday. We were talking about what I had to do before June 26th – International Day to commemorate victims of torture—and to go along with the tactical campaign against torture against the US holding facilities (which is one of the teams I'm running). After he told me the tone that my letter to the US embassy had to be in, which other NGOs I had to contact, and the testimonies I had to gather, he turned away only to turn back to me. Now, Sergio is very amable (I use the Spanish word because I feel the English version just isn't the same), but he rarely jokes. I mean, who can joke when we have 20 teams working with human rights and everyday someone who has been abused, tortured, or victimized shows up at the door and asks for help? Anyway, he turns back to me to tell me that I'm going to be the contact name for all of this, the press, etc.; Of course, I'm very proud and nod my head with a "oh yeah, I'm so good" look.

All of a sudden, I hear him laugh. Then, "Olvidale de ser presidente."

Today, the Comision Etica Contra la Tortura turned in an informe against the Infome Valech in front of the Palacio de la Moneda – Where Lagos works/lives (I think lives, not too sure, though). I put on one of those sacks that said Tortura Nunca Mas and shamelessly passed out flyers the way I've learned from three years on Sproul. Random people would stop, take one, and turn back to say to me, "You know what? I was tortured." About half the people that walked by, told me they were tortured once in their lives. People I would have never guessed, people who blended into the "cowards" as one man called the people of Santiago because they pretended to ignore Pato as he gave his speech. One man showed me his arm and the remnants of his hand, while telling me that he had hoped for so much more in Lagos, but not much has changed, except that the rich keep getting richer.