Día de Acción de Gracias

"Thanksgiving" just doesn't have the same ring to it in Spanish, does it? I hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving doing and eating whatever it is that they like.

Thanksgiving in Chile of course means nothing. It was, however, my last day of classes for the semester. I had two tests to take, and then I went to a TGI Friday's (yes, they have those here) with Christy (in the photo with me) to celebrate. We indulged in their happy hour special and ate buffalo wings. True to Chilean tastes, they were not very spicy at all, despite the waitress assuring us that they were "very spicy". We were skeptical from the beginning, so we weren't shocked or anything.

Despite classes being over, I still have several things to do. I have two semester-long projects to finish up, and a big research paper to write. I also have another test to take. The last thing is due on December 10th, and then I come home on the 14th (arrive in Louisville on the 15th). I can't wait.

Blame it on Rio

Blame it on Rio for this smoker's cough I've had since I got back to Santiago. The proximity to ocean breezes keeps the carioca air clean. My lungs have yet to re-adapt to Santiago's smog-choked atmosphere. They probably won't 'til I'm once again in clean, crisp Kentucky air.

Blame it on Rio for this nice jet-setter's tan I got. I just hope it lasts a while.

Blame it on Rio for my recent lack of enthusiasm for participating in any of Santiago's sparse nighttime diversions. Everything seems really boring after the classy samba club in Rio.

Blame it on Rio for being sick of bland, spice-fearing, carb-heavy Chilean cuisine. Most of the food in Brazil (especially the juices and fresh fruit) was really good and different.

Blame it on Rio for me not having any more money. Plane tix + tourist visa + hotel in Ipanema + weak US dollar = going way over the budget, in a "totally worth it" kind of way.

Blame it on Rio for the purchase of a new bathing suit that I would probably never wear in the States.

Blame it on Rio for me thinking Brazilians are some of the most friendly people around.

Blame it on Rio for me writing this article and instilling within you the urge to go to Rio.

me queda 1 mes

In exactly one month's time, I will be boarding a plane to return to the United States. Therefore I feel a sudden urge to be nostalgic. Here is a list of things (in no particular order, mind you) that I will miss about Chile:

• Cheap, decent wine
• Seeing the Andes everywhere I go
• Cheap, plentiful avocados, to which I am now addicted
• My apartment. Never again will I have such a grand view.
• Alfajores (delicious cookies with dulce de leche)
• Sunday afternoon walks when everything is closed and the city is quiet
• Comfortable beds. I have no idea what it is, but every bed I've ever slept in in Chile has been ridiculously comfortable. My bed at Nora's and my bed here at the apartment are like clouds with headboards.
• The excited feeling I still get when I look at a map of the world and see that I'm at the edge and bottom of it
• Only paying $8 for a haircut

terremoto

News travels fast, doesn't it? I arrived home from class half an hour ago to find three e-mails inquiring whether or not I was okay.

To be honest, I had no idea there was even an earthquake until I checked my e-mail. I felt nothing here in Santiago. Apparently the shaking started when I was on the bus coming home. If I had been at home I probably would have felt it. According to the news, the epicenter was located 1,260km north of Santiago.

Chile is one of the most seismically-active places on Earth. I usually feel small tremors every other week or so. The most powerful earthquake ever recorded on Earth happened near Valdivia, in the south of Chile, in the 1960s. Luckily the epicenter was miles offshore and thus much damage was avoided.

Thank you, everyone, for your concern!

O Rio de Janeiro continua lindo

I'm back from Rio, and I loved it! I don't have any pictures yet because I didn't take my digital camera. I was concerned that it would be stolen, so instead I played it safe and used a disposable camera. I will post pictures as soon as I get them. In the meantime, here are some observations I made about a cidade maravilhosa:

- Brazilians are very friendly and open people, and even more so when they discovered I speak Portuguese. I once read somewhere that Brazilians are some of the happiest people on the planet, and I believe it. People were smiling and laughing everywhere.
- Rio is a very laid-back city. People wear flip-flops a lot, and I never felt under-dressed, even when going out for dinner in jeans and a t-shirt.
- Cariocas (inhabitants of Rio) are beautiful people. They also seem to be very focused on looking good. I saw people jogging, cycling, and rollerblading everywhere. Along the beach there were exercise stations set up. As my travel partner Christy remarked, "I've never seen so many six-packs in one place at the same time."
- Rio is expensive. I suppose you could keep to a budget if you didn't go shopping and didn't have dinner in a restaurant every night, but after 9 months of bland Chilean cuisine and fashion that is stuck in the 1980s, Christy and I indulged ourselves.

¿y por qué no "Louisville" o "Covington"?

This was a box of chocolates I saw in a supermarket in Pucón. I'm familiar with the term "foreign branding", but I don't really understand the connection between Lexington and fine chocolates.

cómo estoy andando

I now only have about 7 weeks left in Chile. My dad and my uncle Jack are coming to visit on December 5th, and we are all leaving Chile together on December 14th. There are still a lot of places that I want to see in Chile, such as the Atacama Desert and Easter Island. Unfortunately, I don't think I'll have time to visit them all. School ends on November 22nd (ironically, Thanksgiving back at home) and then I have two weeks or so of final project presentations and final papers.

Next week I am going to Brazil. A friend of mine who is also here in Santiago for a year and I are going to Río de Janeiro. We leave on Tuesday and return the next Sunday, November 4th. I am looking forward to seeing yet another South American country, going to a traditional sort of beach with palm trees and such, and, of course, practicing my Portuguese. I studied Portuguese for a year back at Georgetown, but I'm afraid I've forgotten a lot of it.

In the meantime, I am enjoying the recently-arrived spring weather here in Santiago. We are now on daylight saving-time and the daytime highs have been in the mid 80s. Finally I can put the scarf, coat, and gloves (which I was wearing even indoors for months thanks to the lack-of-heating situation) back in the closet and wear t-shirts again!

Pucón, de nuevo

Last weekend was the study abroad program's semester trip to Pucón, and I decided to go along again. If you will remember, Pucón is the place in the south of Chile where I climbed the volcano back in April. This time I decided to go whitewater rafting instead of climbing the volcano again. As it turned out, no one could climb the volcano because the weather was bad.

I have been whitewater rafting in Tennessee and West Virginia, so the concept was not new. What was new was the frigidness of the river water. All of the rivers in Chile are fed by snow melting in the Andes. They are also very short (Chile is only about 100 miles wide) and very swift. Before getting into the rafts, we were given wetsuits to protect us from the cold. I (perhaps unwisely) sat in the front of the raft. The first rapid we went through was a 4, and I got splashed by a huge wave. The water was so cold that it took my breath away, and when I finally could breathe again, my chest hurt. After that first splash, I got used to the water and it wasn't so bad.

The river was high after days of continuous rain and the fact that it is now spring in Chile, which means that snow in the Andes is melting. One rapid was so strong that we had to get out of the raft and do a portage.

In comparison with my rafting adventures in WV and TN, I can say that the rapids were far more intense in Chile, but we spent much less time on the water (an hour or so compared with all day in the USA). When I think of all the things one can do in Chile, I realize that it really is a paradise for outdoor activities. Where else could you go volcano climbing, whitewater rafting, skiing, mountain biking, hiking, surfing and scuba diving -- all within 100 miles of each other?

un fin de semana en la playa

Two weeks ago, my Chilean flatmate, Francisco, invited me to come along with him to spend the weekend at the beach. A friend of his had rented a house in Los Molles, about 2.5 hours north of Santiago. On Friday afternoon, we piled into Francisco's pickup truck and headed out of town. Francisco's friend's girlfriend was a member of Supernova, a Chilean girl-pop band which had a one-hit wonder about 7 years ago.

Los Molles wasn't anything particularly exciting, but it was nice to get out of the city for a few days. The town was kind of ramshackle and had no frills whatsoever. I spent the days reading and riding a mountain bike around. Francisco and Pop Princess went scuba diving everyday. We had an asado, or a Chilean barbecue, every night.

The pictures are from a bike ride I took one morning. There was a sea lion colony close to the town, but I didn't manage to get a very good shot of them in the water near their rock.

The ocean along Chile's shore is very cold thanks to the Humboldt current. The waves are quite strong as well. Nothing really stands in their way to stop them between New Zealand and Chile. Consequently, a Chilean beach is nothing as idyllic as, say, a Caribbean one. There were no palm trees in the sand at Los Molles, and you'd be freezing if you showed up in a bathing suit. So don't think I spent the weekend sipping piña coladas and getting a suntan!

la visita de mamá

Oh dear, I am a terrible blogger, aren't I? I swore that I would never let another absence in writing go by again, but here it is a full month and half since I've updated. I'll blame it on school, which has been much more demanding this semester than last.

About a month ago, Mom and Anita came for a visit. It was so nice to see familiar faces after being away from home for 8 months! I tried to be a good host, but of course classes took away from my time with them. I did manage to take them to Valparaíso, Viña del Mar, and Isla Negra. Pablo Neruda's third home was in Isla Negra, and now I can say that I have completed the Neruda trilogy, having toured all three homes.

On Sunday afternoon, Chilean mother Nora met American mother Teresa. We had a wonderful lunch prepared by a friend of Nora's. I translated with the help of Natalie, who is Nora's new homestay student.

You'll have to talk to my mom and Anita to find out their impressions of Chile. I was just glad to see someone familiar again.

el día más importante en la historia de Chile

Today, September 11th, is the most important day in the history of Chile.

It has nothing to do with the events of September 11, 2001. No; this story is even older. It all begins in September of 1970. September is an important month in Chile. The winter gives way to spring. Flowers bloom, and birdsong returns again to Santiago. Painful memories are also brought out to air in the stronger sunshine which makes the days longer.

In September of 1970, Chileans elected Salvador Allende as their president. He was a socialist; the first socialist ever to be democratically-elected as president of any country. Many people, the United States' government included, saw this election as unacceptable. From the first day on which Allende took office, plans were already being made to oust him.

That ousting finally occurred on September 11, 1973, in the form of a coup d'etat. The Chilean armed forces, led by Army Gen. Augosto Pinochet, stormed La Moneda (presidential offices) and declared a military dictatorship. Allende committed suicide inside his office.

The military dictatorship lasted until 1990. Thousands of people were tortured, "disappeared", and killed in an attempt to destroy the opposition. Human rights abuses were rampant.

Pinochet died last December, having never been brought to trial for the crimes against humanity his government oversaw. His supporters (and they are numerous here), see him as a savior of their country. They say that without Pinochet, the Chilean economy would be nothing compared to what it is today.

Those who despise him continue to seek comfort and healing. Many still have family members who are missing. They only have their grief left, and find it hard to find closure.

An eerie silence has fallen over Santiago tonight. It is dangerous to be on the streets, especially in outlying neighborhoods where protests are being held. From my bedroom, the nighttime vista is different. Areas of the city that are usually specks of light reaching towards the horizon are dark; the electricity having been cut. The air outside smells faintly of burning tires and tear gas. The lights here have flickered on and off a few times, but are still on.

Morning will come, and all will be normal again. But Chile will still have skeletons in its closet.

la discriminación en Chile

Chilean society is very conservative. Until 2000, no divorce law existed. You could get a marriage annulled, however. When people got married, they would intentionally lie on their marriage license about something so that if and when the time came for divorce, they could say "Look, it says here that María lived at Calle Roble 43, but she actually lived at Calle Roble 44!" The judge would then grant the annulment.

In a country with an economy growing as quickly as Chile's, it is easy to understand everyone's preoccupations with money and obsession with keeping up appearances. Hatred of the poor is rampant in Chile. Chileans call themselves "white" because they abhor the thought of "inferior" native blood running through their veins. I haven't had a hard time here as far as discrimination on appearance goes, but only because I think I embody what Chileans really think they are: fair-skinned, light hair, light eyes. I would like to point out, though, that I stick out like a sore thumb here. Wanting to be something and actually being it are two different things.

In yesterday's edition of La Tercera, I found these rather unsurprising survey results:

Study reveals that 92% of Chileans consider themselves discriminatory
The principal factor of discrimination is socio-economic level


517 Chileans were asked, "On what basis do you discriminate against other people?"

37% - Being poor
24% - Skin color/physical appearance
9% - Not being well-educated
8% - Being elderly
5% - Being handicapped
4% - Being of foreign origin
3% - Sexual orientation
3% - Place of origin
3% - Being an indigenous person
3% - Being a woman
1% - Being "nobody important"

I say BOLLOCKS to pretty much this whole survey. I don't think people were very honest with their answers. The only thing worse than being poor in Chile is being of indigenous descent. Even today, the cries for more legal protection on behalf of the indigenous peoples of Chile are ignored. The more "westernized" Chileans do everything they can to distance themselves from the inescapable fact that the vast majority of them have some indigenous genes mixed in with European blood. As for the sexual orientation factor; well, Chile is a Latin American country, and while it isn't as "machista" as other nations, the "machista" factor still factors into the Chilean mindset.

While I strongly disagree with the results of this survey, I think it does show how difficult it is for a rapidly-developing society to come to terms with itself. Although Chile's president is a woman and a socialist, women still make on average much less than their male counterparts, and the poor in Chile just keep getting poorer.

Lonely Planet vs. Footprint

Just as there are different sorts of travelers, there are also different sorts of guidebooks. Before coming to Chile, I picked up a copy of Lonely Planet's Chile & Easter Island, which has become my Bible when traveling around this country. This book is ubiquitous. The blue cover is so easy to spot in the hands of foreigners in any touristy corner of Chile, although the title might be different: Chili et Île de Pâques, Chile und Osterinsel, etc.

Before going to Bolivia, I borrowed a copy of Footprint Bolivia from the study abroad office. Footprint is well-known for their iconic South American Handbook, which has been in publication through various editions since 1924. (Francisco, my Chilean flatmate, has a copy of the 1957 edition. Some notable differences between the 1957 edition and the 2003 edition: the inclusion of photographs, and the "telegraph" section has been replaced with "telephone and internet". There is also focus on travel by steamship in the 1957 edition.)

I have chosen to review and compare the Footprint and Lonely Planet guidebooks because they are geared towards the same demographic: a younger, more independent traveler who probably has a flexible schedule and doesn't mind foregoing luxury for a little bit of adventure. Older travelers with a larger budget and people who are on package tours would probably not find either publisher to be as well-suited to their trip as, say, Frommer's. For my comparing/contrasting, I am using Lonely Planet's Chile & Easter Island and Brazil; Footprint's South American Handbook 2003 and Bolivia. For the sake of saving keystrokes, from here on Lonely Planet will be abbreviated to LP, and Footprint to FP.

Size: This is an important factor for people with limited suitcase/backpack space. The LP guidebooks are smaller in terms of page size than the FP guides. I found the smaller size of the LP books less of an annoyance when carting them around in my daypack.
Durability: Older editions of LP advertise the fact that the spine of the book is stitched for durability. I am not sure if the newer editions also have stitched spines. I have opened and closed my latest-edition LP Chile & Easter Island hundreds of times, and the spine has not creased nor has the binding begun to separate from the pages. The FP guides seem to have less-sturdy bindings. My South American Handbook is held together by a rubber band when not in use, and individual pages have begun to separate from the rest.
Practical Info: I find both LP and FP to provide a similar quality and quantity of practical info such as travel planning/logistics and very basic cultural/historical info. Both guides contain a chapter on language with basic phrases and very basic pronunciation help, but I really couldn't say if one book's language section is better than another's because I have not had to make use of them.
Layout: Both guides divide countries/regions by political boundaries, and then separate the sections further by town. Further divisions are by category of services: lodging, restaurants, activities, etc. The LP guides use bold headings in the body of the text to separate sections, while the FP uses headings in the margin of the pages. I like the font of the FP guides better than the LP font; it is easier on the eyes.
Style: LP uses a decidedly more chatty style of writing than FP, which can get annoying. I don't want a guidebook to "chirp" at me; rather, it should speak like an all-knowing entity (think "Mirror, mirror, on the wall") which provides help when necessary but shuts up when not needed.
Rating system: I like the FP system of assigning a letter to each place of accommodation. "LL" designates a very luxurious and expensive hotel, while "G" would correspond with (presumably) a straw mat on the floor and a cold shower. This letter system is much more specific than LP's use of "budget", "midrange", and "expensive" categories. I find LP to usually impart a slightly more detailed description of restaurants and accommodation.
Ads: LP touts the fact that it is ad-free. FP has ads, although they are not intrusive, easy to ignore, and probably comprise less than 3% of page space in the entire book.
Maps: The quality of the maps at city-level is similar in both guides. FP's color maps at national level are far better and far more detailed than LP's black-and-white sketches.
Inside covers: LP incorporates a metric/imperial conversion chart on the inside cover of their guides, as well as a few basic phrases in the local language, emergency telephone numbers, currency exchange rates (probably out-of-date by the time you buy it anyway), and a key for symbols used in the book. FP only decodes their letter rating system used for accommodation and has a table of contents on their inside cover.

I don't really endorse one guide over another, but I am slightly more biased towards the Footprint guides because I like the overall layout and style better. Both books are both well-researched and will serve the more independent traveler well.

a pedestrian's guide to Santiago

"Matt, what is the most annoying thing about Chile?"

Good question! I have had almost 7 months to ponder this. There are many annoying things about living here. Some are annoying on a moral level, e.g. the fact that Chile has one of the most unequal distributions of income in the world. Some are annoying on an organizational level, e.g. the daunting bureaucratic processes that one must endure to accomplish any sort of official task.

However, I will choose to elaborate on an annoyance which I face numerous times a day. The most annoying thing about Chile is the fact that Chileans have no idea how to walk in public.

This may seem contrite to you. In Kentucky, there is actually a verb for walking aimlessly at a slow pace ("to mosey"). Some odd alteration of genetics (probably from my mother's side as she likes to walk) has made me a naturally quick walker. In addition, my time spent on the East Coast has taught me that those who "mosey" lose the "survival of the fittest" game.

I used to assume that people in cities always walk quickly. I also assumed that urban pedestrians had some sort of internal "radar" hardwired into their brains. This radar would allow them to to anticipate the movements of other pedestrians, to execute swift overtaking of slower walkers without bumping into others, and to time their pace so that a red light would never be encountered. Well, you know what happens when you assume. I couldn't have been more wrong about the average Chilean pedestrian. Imagine the most countrified person, ever, being kidnapped from their mountainside shack and then being released at the corner of 52nd Street and Madison Ave. in Manhattan. They would probably walk slightly faster (and with a little more purpose) than the average person in Santiago.

This is a daily account of walking in Santiago: I am in a hurry. I need to walk two blocks from my apartment to the Metro. I step out of the elevator and and immediately am tackled by some old lady with shopping bags who refuses to give me courtesy of stepping out of the elevator before she gets on. I push my way through her bags, only to find a traffic jam at the door of the building. There are two doors, but everyone is lined up at one. It doesn't occur to anyone to just go open the other door for themselves and bypass the line. On the street, a group of ugly teenage girls, dressed in the emo-style which is so fashionable here, is taking up the entire sidewalk. I must step into the street to pass them. Up ahead is a middle-aged man who is the only person around for yards. I move to pass him also, but at the last minute he decides to walk diagonally and crashes into me. I groan and move ahead. The entrance of the Metro is in sight. At the top of the stairs the woman in front of me walking at an acceptable pace suddenly STOPS completely (the cardinal sin of urban walking; automatic damnation to the fiery flames forever) , causing a chain reaction. I crash into her and almost shove her down the stairs. She mutters something about me having no shame, but I'm already halfway down the stairs, leaving a dust trail. I pass my Bip! card and go through the turnstile, only to almost run head-on into someone walking up the down side of the staircase. This is despite the fact that there are signs everywhere asking people to "walk on the right". Vehicular traffic moves on the right in Chile, so this is not a new concept.

I suppose that my frustrations and my walking style come from cultural differences. In Chile, no one is ever in a hurry. Being an American, I am usually in a hurry, even if it is only imagined. I once said that I would never become Chilean in my drinking habits; well, I won't become Chilean in my walking habits, either. If you see a green-eyed lightning bolt racing down Avenida Providencia, that's me. And if you really want to make my day, position yourself directly in front of me, and then stop as though someone tore the batteries out of you. I'll give you one of those push starts that people use on cars. Maybe I should have saved the "Royal Bitch" picture for this post.

clases

Now that the semester is in full swing, I will update everyone on the class situation. I have four classes in total. Two are at La Universidad Pontificia Católica de Chile, one is at La Universidad de Chile, and one is through the study-abroad program.

- Spanish Phonetics & Phonology. I am (I think) one of two foreign students in the class. There are about 25 Chileans. I have had some exposure to the subject before, back at Georgetown, so I'm not too worried about the level of difficulty.
- Spanish of Chile. I am the only gringo in this class. It is going to be very hard, but should be very rewarding. Chilean Spanish is weird; centuries of isolation have made the dialect very different from surrounding countries'. This class aims to analyze the dialect spoken in Chile.
- Sociolinguistics. This class is important to me because it is my field of interest within Linguistics. Again, I have had some exposure to the material before so I am not that worried about it. I think the final project will be difficult, though.
- Human Rights & Historical Memory. This is the class with the study-abroad program. It focuses on the military dictatorship headed by Gen. Pinochet from 1973-1990. This time period is without a doubt the most controversial factor in Chilean politics, even today. There were lots of human rights abuses during the dictatorship (people were tortured, murdered, and "disappeared" - read: flown out over the Pacific and thrown out of the plane.) I know that this class will be very emotionally intense (I still get very angry about the effect of Pinochet on Chilean society today), but the professor is excellent and I know that I will be glad I took the class.

I am also filling two evenings a week teaching English at a language institute. I kind of accidentally fell into the job, but it will provide some pocket money and the chance to add international work experience to the resume.

This semester will be busy, but the time will probably pass very quickly. It's hard to believe that I have been in Chile for 6.5 months, and only have a little more than 3.5 months left.

In other news, I daresay that spring is on the way. The forecast for the next few days is ample sunshine with temps reaching 70F. Nights are still cold, though.

PS If anyone finds a bottle of "Royal Bitch" wine, let me know.

el secreto del pan amasado

Below is an excerpt from an e-mail I sent to my friend Amy. Chilean cuisine was something of a mystery to me before coming here. I would have never guessed that bread is such a staple in the local diet.

"Chileans looooove bread. They eat it with
every meal. On occasion, Nora would buy this delicious
bread called "pan amasado". It was my favorite because
it tasted so good and had a delicious soft center.
When I moved into my new apartment, I went grocery
shopping and bought 2 rolls of pan amasado. Then my
friend Liz came over and I offered to make her a
sandwich. We talked about how good pan amasado is, and
then Liz said, "too bad it's made out of lard". I was
nearly hysterical. "What?!?!?" I screamed. "Lard?!?!?"

Needless to say, I am glad that Nora only bought pan
amasado on occasion and not everyday, like Liz's host
parents did. Otherwise I would probably weigh about 10
pounds more and have no idea why, because Nora never
told me the dirty little secret of the pan amasado."

el nuevo departamento

I've been here for a month now, so it's about time you all see photos. I feel really lucky to have found this apartment. It is in an excellent location and is very spacious for a Chilean apartment. My bedroom is easily three times larger than my old one at Nora's, and I now have a built-in closet instead of an armoire. The hot water comes from a boiler and not a calefont, which means scalding hot water without having to traipse barefoot into the kitchen to light the pilot. I'm a big fan of hardwood floors, and we have them throughout. There is also a small balcony, and twice a week we have maid service. All this and I pay about a fourth of what I would pay for a similar situation in Washington DC.

And the view! We live on the eighth floor of a thirty-story building, and from my bedroom I can see a park with a fountain, downtown Santiago, and some of the Andes. The bottom picture is the view from my bedroom.

All of my flatmates are very laid-back twenty-somethings. I think we are all very similar people. My Chilean flatmate is doing a master's in international business at the University of Chile and working for CEPAL, the UN-affiliated economic committee for Latin America. My Canadian flatmate is working for Human Rights Watch and going to Harvard next month to start a doctorate. My German flatmate is, like me, a foreign-exchange student here. She is studying organic farming.

While it was a good learning experience to actually live in a Chilean household, I am enjoying being independent again and I think this semester will give me the chance to experience another side to living in a foreign country.

¡nieve!

Last night, it started snowing. And I don't mean a flurry; it was a legit snow shower. What's more, it was sticking to the ground. I had just finished watching "Thelma & Louise" on TV when one of my flatmates told me to look out of the window. The Chileans were freaking out. It is not uncommon for the eastern neighborhoods of Santiago to get a light dusting once a year, as they sit at a higher altitude next to the cordillera. My neighborhood, Providencia, had not seen snow in something like 30 years.

This snow just adds insult to injury. While Kentucky bakes under a heat wave, Santiago is going through its coldest winter in 40 years. The palm trees here are just devices for mockery. I actually saw some with snow on them today, but didn't have my camera handy. The photo was taken this morning from my apartment. The snow was gone by afternoon, but it sure looked pretty while it lasted. The hill is called Cerro San Cristobal and it effectively sits right in the middle of the city. An older lady told me that she had never seen it covered with snow like this before.

Vocabulary lesson of the day: in Spanish, children (and adults, too, if they're from Santiago) build monos de nieve ("snow monkeys"), not hombres de nieve.

el futuro de Bolivia

I've enjoyed every place that I've visited during this year away, but Bolivia will, I think, stick out a little more in my mind than the others. It is a country with a troubled past (it holds the world record for most coups d'etat; I can't remember the official count, but well over 100 in the last 100 years) and a very unclear future. Today in La Tercera, one of Santiago's dailies, there was an article quoting Evo Morales (president of Bolivia) as saying that "In 10...15...20 years, Bolivia will be better than Switzerland." Considering Switzerland is one of the world's richest countries with a very high quality of life, and Bolivia is, well, pretty much the exact opposite of that, the statement is a little difficult to take seriously. Morales probably chose Switzerland as a comparison with Bolivia because it, too, is a land-locked country.

As the "capital city debate" continues, so do economic problems and growing movements within the country for autonomy. I arrived in Bolivia just as the official rate-of-inflation had risen from 0.65% to 2.68%, and Mauricio was always quick to point out that most of the economic growth in Bolivia today occurs in the eastern lowlands around the city of Santa Cruz, now Bolivia's largest city and far away from La Paz in terms of geography, culture, and wealth. The wealthier eastern region, along with the Amazon-basin in the north, feels the need to distance itself from La Paz. I never heard the word "secession" used, but perhaps this will be a word heard in Bolivia a few decades from now.

"I don't have hope for Bolivia," Mauricio told me one day as we discussed the state of his country. This was one of the saddest things I have ever heard someone say. No matter how dissatisfied I might feel about certain aspects of my own country, I always have hope for America. For someone to admit they don't have hope for their country is, to me, like saying they don't have hope for themselves or for their countrymen. But I suppose some of Mauricio's countrymen have failed the rest of Bolivians through their corrupt governments. Mauricio is moving to Barcelona next year, and I wonder if he'll ever go back to Bolivia to live again.

Check this BBC article out to get another perspective. I hope to visit Bolivia again one day only to find it looking at a more optimistic situation.

Bolivia part 4: Lago Titicaca

Bolivia is a land-locked country. In the late 1800s, Chile fought Bolivia and Peru in the War of the Pacific. Chile won, and took over administration of land bordering the Pacific Ocean which Bolivia had previously controlled. Relations between Chile and Bolivia are still sour to this day over this fact. In fact, there are no official diplomatic relations between the two countries.

After the War of the Pacific, Bolivia opted to keep its naval forces in operation and moved the entire regiment to Lake Titicaca. It is the world's highest navigable lake at over 12,500ft ASL. It is an easy day trip from La Paz, and one Sunday Mauricio took me along with another friend to its shores for lunch.

The poverty of Bolivia is very evident driving along the altiplano towards the lake. Most of the houses are made out of earthen bricks, and the towns sit baking under the high-altitude sun. The soil is very poor, meaning that food cultivation is limited to potatoes. Vans packed with people on their way to/from La Paz speed down the straight, flat highway which is miraculously paved.

The lake was a beautiful sight. Its waters are very blue, and in the thin air the contrast with the brown earth is startling. We ate lunch in a restaurant on the shore, and then hired a boat to take us out on the water. I did not know that the lake is actually two lakes connected by a straight. The lake straddles the border between Peru and Bolivia. The Bolivians kept talking about how dirty the Peruvian side is: "Titi for us, Caca for them," they laughed. ("Caca" is Spanish for "crap".)

Bolivia part 3: Coroico

It was last November when I saw this article on the BBC's website (for some reason the text doesn't show; click "Printable version" to read the article) about the World's Most Dangerous Road. Very intrigued, I showed the article to Mauricio, who laughed. "Oh, the Yungas road," he said. "Yes, I've driven down it many times." Driven down it? Many times? I knew that if I ever went to Bolivia, I would have to see this road for myself.

You might be happy to know that we didn't actually drive down the road. Less than a year ago, a new, $100million+ road was completed that is much safer than the old one. We whizzed down to Coroico, the subtropical town only 60 miles from La Paz, but 2,000m lower. Even the new road can't escape the fact that one descends over 2km vertically in only 100km horizontal distance.

Coroico is a nice town, but I'm not sure it would be worth risking your life to get to if the old road were still the only way to get there. It is located in the Yungas region, which has some of Bolivia's most fertile farmland. It is strange, though, because the Yungas is very hilly. It looks similar to Appalachia. The locals have managed to farm using terrace-style landscaping. The area is home to a lot of coca plants, but the US government has pressured Bolivia into eradicating a lot of coca farms in its "War on Drugs".

There wasn't a whole lot to do in Coroico. It is mainly just a place for wealthier residents of La Paz to spend a weekend relaxing. The hotel had a pool and a fantastic view, and one morning Mauricio and I drove to some waterfalls.

Bolivia part 2: Rurrenabaque

When you think of Bolivia, what comes to mind? I always associated the country with the Andes and the altiplano, the flat plains at high altitude. Did you know that 2/3 of Bolivia is tropical lowland? Did you know that Bolivia has Amazonian rain forest?

I arrived in Bolivia on a Wednesday, and by that Friday I was on the go again. Mauricio and I flew to Rurrenabaque, a town of about 10,000 in the north of the country. It is only about 120 miles from La Paz, but worlds away. Here the climate was tropical and humid, and we were only about 700ft above sea level. We flew on the airline operated by the Bolivian military, TAM (not the same as the TAM which had a plane crash in Brazil around the same time as my trip!) It was a really old Fokker turboprop. The landing strip at Rurrenabaque was made out of grass. After getting off the plane, I could see tree-covered hills and hear the sounds of mysterious insects and animals in the surrounding jungle. It was the perfect introduction to the Bolivian Amazon Basin.

Our hotel in Rurre (as the locals call it) was on the edge of the slow-moving and wide Río Beni. It was a 10-minute walk to the center of town, or you could also take a motor-scooter taxi for the equivalent of $0.25. The town was everything you would expect a Latin American jungle town to be: laid-back, humid, lots of buildings made from wood and palm fronds, friendly people, and cold beer. Mauricio casually mentioned the name of a college friend who lived in Rurre to a hotel employee, and 10 minutes later, we were in the hotel's van chasing down the friend's truck. That's how small the town was. We ended up making several friends in Rurre who showed us overwhelming generosity, including inviting us over to dinner one night. (If anyone who reads this eventually finds themselves in Rurre, ask around for "Gigi", one of the town's more infamous residents.)

I read that 15,000 tourists a year visit Rurre, but I think that this number will double if not triple in the next 5 years or so. A new, paved runway is being constructed. The town is near to two national parks: Madidi and Río Yacuma. Madidi is home of tropical rain forest. To get to it, we spent 3 hours traveling upriver in longboats cruising past scenery reminiscent of that movie Romancing the Stone. Once in the park, we hiked, looked at plant life, swung on vines across rivers, and chased wild boars. We also fished without poles; Bolivian-style is with a hook at the end of the fishing line, nothing more. Jaguar live in the forest, but I only saw some footprints. Madidi has more species of birds than anywhere else on the planet. We saw some macaws in their natural habitat.

Río Yacuma is a wetland that is home to large number of species of animals. I can't really even begin to count the number of species I saw during our 3-day camping trip there, but they included: caimanes (a type of alligator), capybaras (the world's largest rodents - surprisingly cute), small monkeys, lots of birds, tortoises, flamingos, the beautiful roseate spoonbill, and an anaconda!

To get to the campsite, we had to drive for 3 hours and then go upriver for 2 more hours. Bolivian roads are HORRIBLE. Only 4% of roads in the entire country are paved. Everything was covered in dust when we finally got to the river. On the morning we were to return to Rurre, it rained heavily. The boat had no cover, so we had to sit in the rain and bail it out for the entire two hours to the road. The road was even worse in the rain. All that dust was now mud, and we almost got stuck several times. The grass landing-strip in Rurre was a lake after the rain, and all flights were indefinitely suspended. We ended up spending an extra day in Rurre waiting for a flight out. There are worse places to be stuck waiting for a plane.

La Paz has high-altitude mystery, and lowland Bolivia has tropical romance. The sunsets were amazing, and the diversity of wildlife was incredible. I only hope that the Bolivian government continues to protect its natural resources and ensures that tourism to the area remains responsible. There is a lot of money to be made, and in a cash-starved country like Bolivia it would be easy to ignore nature in order to make a few bucks.

Bolivia part 1: La Paz

Wow, mom! I have never been higher before than I was in Bolivia! (Hahaha...at one point I was almost 16,000ft above sea level.)

Flying into La Paz was strange. The city is so high that the airplane hardly has to descend to land. The city is probably the most dramatically-located in the world; it fills an entire canyon from floor to rim, and spills over the edges out onto the altiplano. When you're standing at the top of the canyon, you're much higher than the tallest skyscrapers down below. At night, down in the canyon, the lights of the buildings going up the sides meet the stars in the sky. It is really a surreal setting for a very mystical city.

My first day in La Paz was spent taking it easy in order to avoid the malaise of altitude sickness. I think that the pills I took helped a lot, but I still got a headache. I lay down to take a nap and experienced a strange sensation; it was almost like I was suffocating very slowly. I felt better after the nap and the mug of coca tea that Mauricio's mom gave me. It had real coca leaves in it, which was kind of exciting. Please note that coca leaves do not produce the same high that cocaine does. The leaves must go through a very complicated chemical process before they are turned into cocaine.

La Paz is, of course, the capital of Bolivia. However, the actual capital as defined by the constitution is Sucre, a city located elsewhere in Bolivia. Naturally this presents a unique situation: the legislature and the president's offices are in La Paz, while the judicial branch of the government is in Sucre. Lately there has been talk of uniting all the branches of government in Sucre, thereby stripping La Paz of its unofficial status as capital of Bolivia. Mauricio thinks that this is a ploy by the government in order to divert people's attentions from the many problems facing Bolivia that are not being solved. During my time there, a cabildo, or open-air town meeting, was called. Over 1 million residents of La Paz took to the streets (peacefully) to show their determination to keep the government in La Paz. Everywhere you looked, you could see signs and banners proclaiming "¡La sede no se mueve!" ("The seat of government won't move!")

I really liked the indigenous presence in La Paz. Many Aymara women still wear traditional dress, which is patterned after the dress of the noblewomen of the Spanish city of Toledo in the 1700s. Their outfits include a pollera, which is a billowing skirt usually of bright colors, a big shawl, braided hair, and a bowler hat. They often have a big strip of fabric slung over the shoulders and back which they use to carry things in, such as groceries or even small children.

La Paz has a very distinctive energy to it. Maybe it's the thin air and intense sunshine of the high altitude, or maybe it's the indigenous influence. Whatever it is, I find it very easy to use the adjective "mystical" when referring to the city.

una nota breve

I miss my visitor! It was nice to finally be able to show someone what my life has been like for the last 5 months. I hope that others will follow Eric's lead and come for a visit!

Classes are over, and most of my gringo friends have returned to the USA. On Saturday, I said goodbye to Nora (not in a bad way; I had always planned to spend the 2nd semester on my own) and moved into a new living situation. I am living in an apartment with three other people: a Chilean, a German, and a Canadian. The apartment is really, really nice and when I have more time I will post pictures of it. Let's just say for now that I have been lucky enough to have not one but two million-dollar views in my life: the Potomac and the skyline of Rosslyn from my room at Georgetown, and the Santiago skyline/the Andes/a park with a huge fountain from the current apartment.

I will not be posting for the next two weeks because tomorrow I leave for Bolivia! Last semester at Georgetown, I was paired up with a guy from La Paz for a language-exchange. I helped Mauricio with his English, and he helped me with my Spanish. Now I am going to visit him, and he has very generously offered to take me around Bolivia in the safety and comfort of his Nissan X-Terra.

For a little background information: La Paz is the highest capital city in the world (11,000+ ft ASL). Altitude sickness is a real possibility. In order to attempt to prevent this, I have started taking acetazolamide, which effectively turns your blood slightly acidic, which allows it to absorb more oxygen. One possible side effect is "temporary impotency". Bolivia would be a horrible place to go on a honeymoon.

So far I have been pretty good about avoiding cravings for American products not available here. A few months ago, however, I was jonesin' for a Dr Pepper. They're not sold here, of course. But today I went to Jumbo (a big-box Chilean retailer) and found a whole section of imported American products that were part of a special sale. They had Dr Pepper for $0.90 a can! I bought two and rushed home. Then I remembered that this altitude-sickness medicine I'm on alters one's sense of taste, especially of carbonated beverages. So the Dr Peppers are waiting in the fridge for when I get back.

Bolivia sounds like it is going to be amazing, and I will have plenty of pictures when I return!

Guest Blogger: Visitor from Philadelphia

You may be wondering, where in the world is Matt? He's still here in Chile, but he's been very busy giving me tours of his beautiful/smoggy city and gorgeous countryside. He has granted me permission to post an entry regarding my own travels and impressions of Chile - or as I like to call it, the Kentucky of South America. (Why? Because everyone's just that friendly.)

I arrived about two weeks ago (I'm departing later tonight) in the cold and windy Santiago. I have to say that Matt prepared me for the cold weather, but I had sort of "forgotten" what winter was like as we had been enjoying 90 degree weather in Philadelphia the past few days. In any event, I bundled up upon my arrival. Although Matt periodically had to attend class or do homework (I can attest to the fact that he is still a good student), he was able to show me all around the city.

I met Matt's Chilean mother of whom he has previously spoken highly. She is indeed wonderful. Very kind and welcoming.

Santiago is a very interesting city. I didn't have many preconceptions about the city, but I guess I was surprised by how large and cosmopolitan it is. I guess I shouldn't've been, but alas, I was ignorant. Right now, it's sunny and 65 degrees. And in this weather, I think I would be happy to whittle away a few months.

Unfortunately I do not have a lot of time to recount details from all of our travels, but here are just a few highlights:

• Museo de Bellas Artes - small, but definitely worth seeing!
• TranSantiago - Matt was not exaggerating. Disaster.
• Bars, restaurants, and cafes too numerous to mention individually except BlueBird (for rescuing my bag and camera) and Café de las Artes cause we went there a lot.
  
• The Zoo - yeah, well, it had a great view of the city.
• Vicuña - Matt and I traveled here over the weekend. It epitomizes "quaint, latin pueblo." Great helado, cool observatory, and a pisco plant tour which was brief but fruitful (read: free samples).
• Serena - Everything was closed both times we went there (on the way to Vicuña). We had a truly mind-blowing mall experience (you can see a hot new Toblerone ad above in which Matt plays the self-absorbed, desperate house-husband).

Thank you, Matt, for a wonderful time in Chile and for letting me post some final thoughts about your (temporary) adopted country. Oh, and in case you're wondering, his Spanish is really good now.

Regards,
Eric

la estufa

This is the estufa. I love it, despite its dangers, for the fact that it is the only heat source in apartment. It consists of a metal structure about two feet tall which houses a tank of some sort of flammable liquid gas (looks like a propane tank to me, but I don't really know.) A hose delivers the gas to a place at the bottom of the metal screen, where it is ignited. There is a strange sort of filter-type insert within the estufa that seems to absorb the flame from the pilot and burns extremely slowly, emitting heat. It really doesn't put out that much heat; you have to be standing right next to it to really feel anything. After you leave it on for a few hours, the room temperature becomes bearable, although it's far from being toasty. You can't leave it burning all night, because there is a risk of poisoning from the gas. When the tank is low, you can really smell the gas. For the same reason, you really shouldn't use it in an enclosed space, so it sits most of the time in the hallway of the apartment. The study-abroad program gave us air monitors which sound the alarm if the gas leaks. So far, mine has never beeped, so I suppose our estufa is working properly.

In other news, the rain finally came. It rained for almost 48 hours straight. The downside to this is that Santiago's streets do not have storm drains.

Oh, and I would never attempt to bribe a carabinero. They're very honest and uncorrupted.

Día del Patrimonio

A few weeks ago, Chile celebrated "Día del Patrimonio". It is a day where the public can tour all the government buildings. This, to me, is one of the great things about a democracy, and it is a shame that a day like this does not exist in the United States. Transparency is an important element in a democracy, and I sometimes feel that this is ignored in my home country.

First, we visited the presidential offices, known as La Moneda. "Moneda" is Spanish for "coin", and before it housed the executive offices, the building was a mint. It is a fine example of Spanish colonial architecture. We saw lots of elegant meeting rooms and the area where the president receives visitors, but the actual office of President Bachelet was closed. I came to Chile wanting to at least catch a glimpse of the first female president in Chilean history at some point during my year here, and a few weeks later I actually did see her exiting a building. The police would not let me go nearer than half a block, however. I was amused to see that she rides around in a Peugeot instead of a BMW or a Mercedes.

Within La Moneda, I posed for a picture with a member of the guards. The police in Chile are called "carabineros" and their uniforms are the same color green as the guard's. Speaking of cars, I also saw the old presidential vehicle. It's an old Ford Galaxie convertible.

Later we toured the Banco Central de Chile (pictures were not allowed) and the Santiago Stock Exchange (seen in the last picture). With the Chilean economy growing as quickly as it is (6.6% last year), this place is probably pretty busy during the week.

In response to a comment made by Gary, the picture from yesterday's entry was taken from the patio of La Moneda, facing Santiago's main thoroughfare and the buildings housing the Ministry of Defense.

cómo sobrevivir un invierno chileno

Winter is not Santiago's best season, for a variety of reasons:

• The smog is AWFUL. When you're feeling cold and melancholy, a sight of snow-capped Andes might cheer you up. The Andes, however, are never visible through the pea soup that has blanketed the city. Only rain clears the smog away, and (this is no exaggeration) it has rained exactly THREE times since I arrived here in February! Never before have I wished for a rainy day so much!
• Very few buildings have central heating. This means one must dress in layers at all times. Wearing coats, scarves, and gloves indoors without removing said garments upon entering is definitely en vogue here. Some relief from the cold is provided by the estufa, but the ridiculousness of this device merits a separate entry. Let's just say for now that it does not win the household safety award with its tank of gas hooked to it. A disagreeable side effect of this constant state of chilliness is that the bed is the only truly warm place in the house, which makes it VERY difficult to get up in the morning.
  
• Basic health knowledge is vastly different here. Everyone worries about having enough clothing on, but no one seems to be aware of what germs are. People cough and sneeze everywhere without covering their mouths. No one washes their hands in the bathroom. Nora is sick, and she blames it on the fact that the house of a relative she visited was "too warm inside". I watched her drink tea this evening, only to wash the cup in COLD water. I rewashed it in scalding hot water when she left the kitchen. No wonder everyone's sick. Cold water for dish-washing? Sneezing all over everyone in public? This goes far beyond layering one's outfits, I'm afraid.

There is nothing worse than being chilled to the bone, only to look out the window and see a palm tree. The weather is anything but tropical right now. I have to keep telling myself that it's not that cold out; rather, because there is no respite from the cold it feels worse than it actually is. Daytime highs have been in the 50s, and at night is has been in the 30s.

I hope you all are enjoying the Northern Hemisphere summer!

Nora

You all have been (justifiably) asking me for a picture of Nora. Here it is. As you can see, she is a short lady. She likes flowers a lot, and asked me to take this picture of her while we toured the presidential palace (entry to come on that).

Mendoza

top: cars lined up at the Argentina-Chile border high in the Andes

second: Plaza España in Mendoza

third: skyline of Mendoza

bottom: sign at Chilean side of the border


Two weeks ago, I went on a spur-of-the-moment trip with two friends to Mendoza, Argentina. It is medium-sized city (smaller than Louisville but larger than Lexington, I would say) on the opposite side of the Andes from Santiago. Mendoza is in the middle of Argentina's wine country. It also lies in the rain shadow of the Andes, which means that it is in the middle of a desert. You wouldn't realize this, however, because the wide boulevards are shaded by enormous sycamore trees. They are watered by small canals which line the sides of the streets. In any other city these canals would quickly be filled with trash and maybe sewage, but Mendoza was impeccably clean.

Argentina is synonymous with quality beef, and I ordered a steak on the first night. It was really good, but I think the steak I ate here in Santiago on one of my first nights was slightly better. The accompanying wine (a Malbec, one of my new favorites) was local and very good. All this plus dessert ended up costing about $10. It is shocking how much cheaper Argentina is compared to Chile.

Another nice thing about Mendoza was that every square in the town was filled with artesans selling their wares. They set up shop on the weekends and stay until well after dark. You could buy everything from leather goods, wine, mate gourds, chess sets, and jewelry. Bargaining is a must, of course.

I wanted to do a "bikes-and-wines" tour, but the only fully free day I had was Sunday, and the tour was not given then. Shame. But on second thought, trying to ride a bicycle from vineyard to vineyard AND getting free samples at each stop might have proven to be a bit dangerous and difficult. Especially since they're not stiff on the free samples here.

As the crow flies, Mendoza is probably a little more than 100 miles from Santiago, but since one must drive through the lone pass in the area through the Andes, the trip takes about 8 hours each way (this includes waits at the border, which were abnormally long due to the apparent exodus of the entire upper class of Santiago in their own cars for the long weekend; I saw one of those new Jeep Commanders and if neither money nor concern for gas mileage/the environment were concerns, I'd definitely "get me wunna'them"). The actual border is crossed via a 2km long tunnel at an altitude of roughly 10,400ft. The Chilean side is accessed by a series of switchbacks going up the mountains, all without guardrails. I was a little nervous as the huge bus I was on took up every inch of pavement as it rounded the corners. On the Argentine side the landscape quickly goes from snowy-white to desert-brown as you enter the rain shadow zone.

I got a kick out of the last sign on the road as you leave Argentina. Instead of something along the lines of "Gracias por su visita - República Argentina", it reads: "¡Islas Malvinas son argentinas!" ("The Islas Malvinas belong to Argentina!"). If that doesn't make sense to you, think of a war fought in 1982 between Argentina (which lost) and the UK over two tiny specks in the South Atlantic called the Falkland Islands. I hope an Argentine never reads this; they'll kill me.