Second Week Ramblings

June 8, 2005

It's been about a week and a half. It feels like a lifetime. Not in a bad way, though. In a way that makes me think that I could get used to life here, and that I could live here. It's strange that places feel like home so fast. I think that it may because most of us are college students and the last three or four years have been everywhere and nowhere. Upheavals, changes, and well...more change.

Santiago isn't very different than the states. As we took the metro to the escuela militar and then the bus to Las Condes to one of themillion malls, we could have been anywhere in the world. And thatreally bothers me. I want to live in a place unscarred by the monstersof the so-called cosmpolitization and globalization. It's quitedisturbing stepping off a bus and diving head first into a side of amall filled with a Starbucks, Tony Roma´s, TGI Fridays, Dunkin´Donuts, and a 8 screen move theatre. For people who are insanelyprotective and proud of their culture, history, and lives, that sightwas insanely disappointing. At times, it seems that Santiago has beenhit even harder than Europe. Not seems. It is true.

However, the people make up for it. I've finally found a departamento,and I love it. I'm gad I waited it out because it is right in the CentroCentro of Providencia. I know that makes little sense but if you lookat a map of the city, it's split up into four major parts --el Centro(the old Centro), Providenca, Las Condes, and Vitacura. The latter twoare more residential, and the ´´new rich. ´´ Providencia hold thebusiness center, most of the shops, tons of buildings, andrestaurants. That's where most students and foreigners stay. No manypeople from Las Condes or Vitacura venture into the old Centro, but Inever know why. There's a gorgeous park, cerro Santa Lucia, plaza dearmas, museum of fine arts, and it has an actual ´´Santiago´´ feel toit. I love going there at night, sitting in a cafe, drinking some kindof leche de fruta (banana milk is AMAZING) and watching people. Forpeople here though, they think I'm strange. Like I've said,togetherness is a very large part f the culture, a large part of life.Every time I go into a cafe, and just sit down, no one ever comes overto give me the menu, and I always get upset because I think that it isbecause I am a foreigner. But that isn't the reason; I should havemore faith in people. It's because they think that I am waiting forsomeone because no one ever goes anywhere here alone. Well, hardly.This should say so much about people because they never want anyone tobe alone. Solitude is a sign of...something very un-Chilean. (note:never say ´´chilayan´´ like we do. The real way you're supposed to sayit is ´´chile-een´´)
Obviously, I'm very ´´un-chile-een.¨´ However, I've been able to getaway with it many times, and the times I don't I've learned a greatanswer to the question asking me where I am from. I always say ¿quepiensas? because the answer ´´estados´´ doesn't generate too great ofa response. however, the great thing for me is that no one believes mewhen I say that. Every single person I meet insists that I amBrazilian. I've quit arguing; why argue with something that gets mefree cab rides, jewelry, and food? I really enjoy being Brazilian.I'm actually thinking I may change nationalities if this is a precursor to the real deal.

Of course, I could never do that. Why, you ask? Well, I was greatlyreminded of why exactly I love India when I went out for Indian foodwith a few people. If I couldn't be directly connected to Indian food, I would die. Naan n Curry could learn a few things from this place. Of course, it wasn't good as Mom's cooking ( shout out to my momma–actually, only in theory. I would never send this to my mom). I mean, I was a little disturbed about the Chilean woman walking around in a Punjabi and putting chanlos on all the girls, but hey, that aboutsums up our culture, right? My favorite part, though, was the music.They had mostly old stuff, which of course, reminded me of the timeswhen I was little and used to wake up to my dad serenading my mom inthe kitchen. When I started to get sad though, Lagaan{s soundtrackcame on and ´´Radha Kaise Na Jhale´´ blasted from old crusty speakersand I thought of my little Radha. (insert: awwwwwwwww).

I haven't been feeling homesick at all because of the constant floodof emails, regular calls form the parentals, and of course, phonecalls from Rad and Devika, which make my day. There{s no time to thinkabout being homesick because I{m in the office til 5 or 6 everyday andthen life continues. Tonight, a few people are taking me to a nationalgame between Chile and Venezuela. Fútbol. Is. HUGE. More so thanEurope or even England. Forget Arsenal and Chelsea. While it's nothingcompared to Brazil, ¡Viva Chile!

I know I haven't spoken much about work, but that´ because I don'tknow exactly what to tell you. Do I tell you that working on campaignswith comision etica contra tortura is mind-boggling? Do I tell youthat attending press conferences makes me even more excited to be ajournalist? Do I tell you that some get to see things people willnever imagine or hope to see in their whole lives? For example, theintern from Holland is going to la Colonia tonight with a senator. LaColonia is a German community in the south that is closed off toanyone who is not a part of the community. During the Pinochet regime,backpackers, travels, etc were known to disappear around the area.Also, the leader of the cult, Paul Schafer, used to abuse and torturelittle kids in the community. However, La Colonia was left alonemostly because political dissidents we re tortured and killed there.Also, they had a hospital that was funded by the community government,and for that reason mostly, no one bothered them. It still thrives tothis day even though Schafer was captured in Argentina (I think) a fewmonths back after being on the run for seven years. No one is allowednear there without special permission, so I am insanely envious.Nathan is working on a photo ad music exposition that, if theofficials approve it, will be displayed in the metro. Within twoweeks, his photo exposition about gun control will be seen by over amillion people. The opportunities we have are amazing. I{m trying toput together a special report on torture after the end of thedictatorship for government and human rights officials.

Well, when we're not doing that, we are going to go to the Andes for aski trip in two weeks. This weekend, we might be going to Valparaisowith Javier and his friends. I barely get to sleep because when wecome home, people are going out and so I end up going out at 3:00 A.M.and don{t get in on the weekends till about 8 or 9 A.M., which,insanely is normal (and a bit early) time to get in. I love going out,but what I miss the most is having girl friends. All the friends I'vemade so far are guys and it{s a bit strange to go out with six guys toa bar on Saturday night. However, it is not polite to say no when youare invited out ( I learned the hard way and made an enemy). So lastweekend, Tim, Charlie, Nick, Matt, Gonzolo, Francisco and went out andoh, boy, was it special. Drinking a pisco sour with six rambling guysis interesting. And when they try to talk to you and spill your drink over your purse (TWICE), life is grand. But no, they are nice people.

The hectic running around has finally wound down as I moved in to myapartment yesterday before work and I love my apartment. It's a fourbedroom with a DVD, TV, computer, fully furnished living room,kitchen, washer, dryer, books, artwork, etc. The owner does not livethere, but instead there are the four of us. All students: Parker isfrom Santa Cruz, Sandra is from Germany, and Sebastian is from Chile.There are no rules, everything is paid for in the $115 a month that Ipay and someone comes to clean every week. We go out together, party,and just watch the telly like one big happy family.

Although, if it hasn't been noticed, I spend my time in a bubble awayfrom the reality of Santiago. I hate being a foreigner and living alife so different to most of these people. I hate walking down thestreet when I am in the old Centro and seeing a man that looks like mygrandfather in a bright orange suit sweeping leaves off the sidewalk.Or I hate seeing men that look like my father or my uncle cleaning outthe trash bins. It's not fair that I get to experience more of theircountry than they do. It physically makes me ill to see them pickingup my trash and waving goodbye telling me tat they'll be heretomorrow. This is the one time in the world I really wish for thetacky world peace, just like a Miss Universe.