el centro Mapuche

Today the program took us to a Mapuche cultural center on the outskirts of Santiago. I think I said it earlier, but it is worth repeating: the Mapuche were the only natives to successfully resist conquest by the Spanish. When I was in Valdivia (formerly Mapuche land) I read that anywhere south of the Río Bío-Bío was considered untouchable by the Spanish because of the fierce determination of the Mapuche to keep their lands and customs. Only in the late 1800s did the Mapuche forge a relationship with the Chilean government. To this day, the constitution of Chile does not recognize the Mapuche as an independent people, despite that fact that 1 in every 30 Chileans claims Mapuche ancestry. This would be an excellent time to discuss the idea of race in Chile, but I will save this topic for another day.

At the center we were ushered into a traditional Mapuche dwelling (the name of which I cannot remember) where we were served "Mapuche cuisine". This consisted mainly of assorted breads and condiments. There were also some small chicken wings, although I have no idea what made them "Mapuche". Then we were shown a documentary on the Mapuche method of solving disputes, and then we were shown Mapuche clothing and jewellery. We went outside and listened to some Mapuche music before leaving.

I was interested in Mapudungun, the language of the Mapuche. The older gentleman who hosted us spoke a few words for us, but then some Mapuche ladies snickered so I can only guess what he was saying about the pale-faced brats from North America. He said that the younger generation doesn't speak Mapudungun, so I suppose the language is facing endangerment.

I forgot my camera today, but my friend Grace took some pictures. When she sends them to me, I'll put them up. For now you will have to be satisfied with this picture of a picture. I took it in a museum in Valdivia and it shows some Mapuche women with a very early model Ford. I thought the combination of automobile and traditional dress was ironic.

la viña Concha y Toro

I have uploaded photos onto the blog! Feel free to peruse older entries to see photos. I have taken hundreds of photos since I got here and had to be extremely choosy in which ones made it to the blog. In most cases the images don't do the places justice, especially in Torres del Paine. You really just have to be there to appreciate it for all it is worth.

Today some friends I've made through the program and I went to a vineyard. It is not far from Santiago, and you can ride the Metro most of the way there. By the time I leave Chile I think I will have a very good idea of how the alcoholic beverage industry operates here as I have now visited two breweries and one vineyard. Concha y Toro is Chile's biggest and most famous vineyard, and their wines are readily avaliable in the USA. The tour included a wine tasting and a free souvenir wine glass. We also were allowed to pick a few cabernet sauvignon grapes off of the vine and eat them. They were very small and extremely sugary. We also visited the wine cellars, where the wine is aged in oak barrels. Afterwards I paid a visit to the wine shop. Sending a case of wine to the USA costs $170, plus the cost of the wine, so I think it's safe to say no one will be receiving a present in the mail anytime soon. I did buy two bottles for myself to keep here in Chile. The total cost of that was about $12.

For those of you who are interested in wine, Chile produces some excellent vintages. Red wine is by far the most popular here, but there are some decent white wines as well. I learned today that Chile is the only country which has never really suffered from the molds and other plagues which can affect the grape vines. Some kinds of grapes were wiped out in Europe due to plagues in the 1800s, and if the exact same varieties had not already been planted in Chile, certain types of wine would not exist today.

Chile benefits (or suffers from, depending on the topic of discussion) extreme geographical isolation. The country is isolated from neighbouring lands by the super-tall Andes to the east, the Atacama desert (the world's driest) to the north, the frozen ice fields to the south, and the Pacific Ocean to the west. These natural barriers have protected Chile's grapes from disease. ¡Salud!

la familia

A thousand apologies. I have had internet access problems lately, and have not been able to update the blog. This is probably the most inopportune time to not update, because I'm sure you are all wondering about the family....

I am living with an abuelita named Nora. She is a woman in her late sixties (I would guess, anyway) who lives alone in an apartment in central Santiago. One of the first things she told me was "I may be old, but I'm not stupid. I'm a modern woman." One thing decidedly not modern about her is her decorating style. The whole apartment is very elaborately decorated with heavy draperies, porcelain figurines, chandelier light-fixtures, and wall-to-wall white carpet. Even my room has a chandelier and a lacy bedspread. It's not the most masculine room in the world, but upon removing the comforter I was pleased to discover a masculine-print sheet set on the bed.

Nora is an excellent cook. She won't stop feeding me. The first night here she made pastel de choclo, which is a very traditional Chilean dish. The best way I can describe it is diced meat with onion, chicken, olives, and pieces of hard-boiled eggs covered with a cornbread-like layer, cooked in a wooden bowl. It is delicious. She has also cooked tortilla española and porkchops, and her side dishes have included tomato-and-avocado salad, fruit salad, and homemade chicken soup. I think I have gained a few pounds since last Friday already. I had to tell her to ease up on the amount of food she cooks. The funny thing is, she drinks tea and eats crackers all day (except at lunch) while she prepares huge dishes for me.

The apartment is on the second floor of a thirteen story building. It has two bathrooms, two bedrooms, a dining room, a kitchen, and a living room. My window looks out towards the back of the building and other apartments. It is very ideally located. I have been walking to the special class the program is putting on for us every day while the other participants have to ride buses and take the Metro. Some of them said they have to leave their houses an hour early, but I have just a 15 minute walk.

El comelibros

I have learnt that "mateo" in Chilean Spanish is slang for "a studious person". I wonder if I live up to that description.

It is raining! Usually the typical weather in Santiago in summer is dry heat, but today is cloudy and cool. I had to break the jacket out.

Photo update on the blog: not until next week. I still haven't been re-united with my computer, which is locked in the program office.

Five and a half hours until I meet the family. I'm really nervous.

Una pista de la familia chilena

Up until this point, I have known absolutely nothing about the Chilean family with whom I will be living. This afternoon we were all given sheets of paper with the addresses of our families, plus the names of the mothers. I found it ironic that only the mothers' names were given to us and not the fathers'. The idea of the domestic and public sphere of the Chilean family seems to be very conservative, and the general rule is that the mother will care more about looking after the children than the father will.

Most of the other kids' families live in the rich eastern suburbs of the city, in places like Providencia or Las Condes. My family lives in the center of Santiago. I think one distinct advantage to this is that I will not have to worry about long commutes to get to class. (Especially now that the implementation of the Transantiago scheme has had severe impact on the punctuality of the city's mass transit system.) Another guy in the program needed to go collect a suitcase from a hostel he had been staying at prior to the orientation, and he invited me to come along with him after we found out that his hostel was close to the address of my family.

The address was an apartment building, and it looks like any other apartment building in Santiago. Someone made a mean joke about me having to sleep on the balcony. Nearby is the Club Hipico, which is Santiago's main horse-racing track. It was something that immediately made me feel at home.

This evening I led a group of people I have met during the orientation to the restaurant where I ate my first dinner in Chile two weeks ago. It is a small place with a lot of atmosphere, and I had decided to try to go there on my last night in Santiago, but unfortunately the couple who runs it are moving to Slovenia next month.

Santiago de nuevo

I seem to have caught a slight cold, probably the result of being cooped up on a boat with 100+ other people for four days. I am letting it run its course, although it is easy to obtain medications over-the-counter here that would otherwise require a prescription in the USA.

The salon cama bus was indeed worth the cost. While the seats did not fold completely flat, it was comfortable enough for me to actually sleep, which is something that does not usually occur in moving vehicles. From the bus station I immediately proceeded to the hotel where the orientation is taking place. It is in a ritzy part of town called Providencia. After two weeks of staying in hostels and boat cabins, it is nice to have a private room with private bath. I am sharing the room with two other guys.

This afternoon consisted of meeting and greeting, followed by a quick talk focused on orienting us with the mass transportation system of Santiago. While I was away from the city for a week, a huge overhaul of the system occurred. Before this overhaul, there were two methods of getting around: the Metro and micros, which were like city buses. The problem lay in two areas: 1) Santiago has the worst air pollution of any city in South America, and 2,000 buses passing down the same street per hour was not helping the situation; and 2) drivers of micros were paid according to how many passengers boarded the bus, so one person flagging down a passing micro was likely to have three or four stopping in attempts to gain his or her ridership. On the 11th, everything changed with the introduction of 'Transantiago,' which is an attempt to integrate bus and Metro into one system, and to eliminate the method of paying the micro drivers by passenger (instead they will now earn a fixed salary.) There have been some major faults in the system, and the topic in general is of much heated debate here in Santiago. Because of a problem with collecting fares on the buses, every trip on a city bus is free until Friday. This should continue to be an interesting development in the near future.

Tonight is a welcome dinner for all of us, and then on Friday we meet the families. I'm getting nervous about that....

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone!

Valdivia

Valdivia is known as the "pearl of the Lake District". I don't have enough good things to say about it; it really is a very agreeable place to spend a few days. Three rivers flow through the city, and it is only about 10 miles from the ocean. Yesterday after arriving, I took a bus to the ocean. It was too cool to think about sunbathing or swimming, but I walked along the beach and then visited an old Spanish fortress on a cliff above the water.

One of the main things to attract me to Valdivia, besides its glowing reviews in the Lonely Planet guide, was the fact that it is home to the Kunstmann brewery, which makes what is widely thought to be the best beer in South America. After the dissappointing visit to the Cervecería Austral in Punta Arenas, I was determined in my cause to visit a brewery. The Kunstmann brand was started by German settlers to the area. This area of Chile has a lot of German influence; even some of the architecture is German-style. The brewery unfortunately does not give tours, but there was a museum and windows where you could look inside the factory, plus a restaurant and gift shop. I bought a t-shirt and ate what was probably the largest sandwich I have ever seen (about the size of a small pizza). All I can say is, I was hungry for something different after three days of boat food.

This morning I visited a local history museum which had a large exhibit on the Mapuche people. The Mapuches were the only natives to successfully resist Spanish control, and until the late 1800s still controlled most of the land in this area. I also visited a modern art museum which had the scariest hands-on exhibit ever. You have to walk through a tunnel which is completely dark, save for a few twinkling bulbs the size of an insect. Then you emerge in a room where the only light is coming from inside pieces of furniture, and then walk past screens airing videos of deserted towns and women with their hair on fire. I was the only person there, which made it even more creepy.

A guy working at the art museum and I had an interesting conversation about Chile, Chilean Spanish, and the name "Valdivia". Valdivia was a Spanish conquistador who was (big surpise) in search of gold. Legend has it that he was so brutal with the natives that they melted a bar of gold and then poured the liquid down his throat, killing him on the site of what is now the city of Valdivia. Even if it's not true, it is a story that is fascinating in a sick way.

The guy (Rodrigo was his name) had Chilean parents but had grown up in Sweden. He referred to Chilean Spanish as "redneck Spanish" and we talked about the culture in general. One thing about Chileans is that they seem to abhor being thought of as trashy or low-class. The worst insults are the ones which suggest a person is poor or a member of the lower classes. Maybe this is a reflection of the fact that Chile has one of the widest gaps between the rich and the poor of any relatively well-developed country in the world.

Tonight I return to Santiago via overnight bus. Travel by bus is very common here, and there is a wide array of classes from which to choose. I am travelling by salon cama, which is considered a luxury bus. The seats supposedly fold almost flat, and there are only 24 seats in the entire bus. It was a bit expensive, but I figure it is well worth it if I am spending 10 hours on the bus in the middle of the night.

el ferry Navimag

I hope no one went through withdrawals during my little hiatus. The ferry did not have access to the internet.

Let me say first that I was more than happy to leave Puerto Natales. The wind was literally driving me crazy. It was such a strange little town, and since everyone there was a tourist, everything was very expensive. I spent my last afternoon there killing time in a café/bookstore, sipping a Coke whilst reading a Lonely Planet guide to Peru. The background music was bluegrass. I excitedly asked the employees where it came from, and they said an internet radio station. I think I managed to convey my enthusiasm and shock over hearing bluegrass music in the far reaches of the globe!

The ferry was scheduled to leave Puerto Natales at 9.00pm, but in classic fashion we were not allowed to board until sometime after 1.00am. I immediately went to my cabin (shared with three other people; a couple from Denver and a guy about my age from Switzerland) and went to sleep. At about 8.30 the next morning I was loudly awakened by an announcement in poor English: "Well, passengers, now breakfast being served in da dining room". It was the first of many of those announcements. They woke me up every morning.

The ship was the M/N Puerto Eden. It had four decks and I estimate there were about 130 passengers on board. The route we took was straight up the coast of Chile from Puerto Natales to Puerto Montt. Puerto Montt is usually regarded as where "civilization stops and Patagonia begins". In the three days we spent on the water, there was exactly one town between the two terminals. Most of the voyage was in sheltered channels, but a half day was spent on the open waters of the Pacific and the Golfo de Penas (which ironically translates to "Gulf of Sorrows"). This was the area of concern for seasickness. The Golfo is pretty notorious for bad weather (although after having day after day of what I would consider to be bad weather in Patagonia, I wondered what the Golfo could possibly throw at us that would be worse) and it was recommended that all passengers take a motion sickness pill before the ship entered its waters. As it turned out, we had great weather almost the entire way up the coast. The sea was like glass it was so calm. The top deck of ship turned into a makeshift beach resort as people lay out in the sun on towels. As we got farther and farther north, the air turned warmer and that godforsaken wind howling up from Antarctica died down. The crew let us walk on the bridge of ship whenever we pleased, and it was nice to stand there by the instruments, watching the blip move on the radar. I have to admit, though, that I got a little itchy to push buttons and therefore had to watch my time spent on the bridge. I don't think the captain would have been to pleased if I had grabbed the lever and pulled it from "full speed ahead" to "stand by".

The bad thing about the ship was the other passengers, and I don't mean people: I mean animals. Several trailers loaded with horses, cows, and sheep occupied the rear portion of the ship and after three days whenever the wind would blow from the rear of the ship I would feel nauseous. The days passed very slowly. I soon finished the only book I had brought with me to read and tried to find other ways to entertain myself. I made friends with a couple from New Zealand who shared a nightly bottle of wine with me, and I met a guy from the USA who now lives in Santiago and who had done a study abroad there, too.

The ship stopped at Puerto Eden, the only town between Puerto Natales and Puerto Montt, on Saturday morning for an hour. Since there was no dock big enough for the ship, we were ferried to shore in local fishing boats. The town of Puerto Eden has probably no more than 100 residents, and it occupies one of the wettest spots on earth. Mercifully, the sun was shining when we went ashore. The streets of the town are made of boardwalks; there are no automobiles. Most of town's residents make their living by catching crabs and fish from the channel, and by selling trinkets to visiting ferry passengers. I took an academic interest in the town, as it is home of the last native speakers of Kaweshqar, a native language now facing extinction. Some signs in the town were in Spanish and Kaweshqar, but I was unsuccessful in finding anyone speaking the language.

The vistas from the ferry were pretty. One evening the boat went very close to a glacier, and I also saw a few volcanoes (not erupting). I also saw the occasional dolphin and whale in the water. By the third day, I was starting to get antsy and I was more than ready to disembark when we arrived in Puerto Montt this morning.

I took a bus three hours north to Valdivia, where I am now. It is a lovely small city, and I shall comment more in my next post. This week reality sets in: Wednesday I have to be back in Santiago for orientation to begin.

Parque nacional Torres del Paine

Thanks for your comments, everyone! I didn't know some of you could speak Spanish (hahaha).

Wow! That's all I can say about yesterday's visit to Torres del Paine. After seeing everything, I can only hope that one day I will be able to return to do the whole nine yards: camping, hiking, etc. The park has it all: wildlife, lakes, rivers, mountains, glaciers, waterfalls, and more. The famous 'torres' are mountains with a tall and slender shape, like towers. Unfortunately they were obscured by clouds for most of the day, but I caught a brief glimpse of them in the afternoon. The lakes were the most beautiful I've seen. All the water comes from glaciers, and the color is exactly the same as the blue of the Caribbean Sea. I really can't describe everything I saw...you'll have to wait for the pictures to see. The entrance fee to the park is a bit steep, but worth every penny. I only had to pay the price Chileans pay because I could prove to them that I'm now a legal resident of Chile. So I probably saved at least $20 that way.



One disappointing thing about the tour was that we spent a lot of time in the van. The park is huge, and so it took as much as 45 minutes to go between sights. Another reason to take your time and spend a week there, I guess.

On the way to the park, we stopped at the 'Cueva del Milodón', which, despite its being a National Monument, was a little tacky. In the 1880s, a German pioneer discovered the skin of some prehistoric animal in this huge cave. It turned out to belong to the milodón, which was a huge furry animal which sort of looked like a mix between a bear and a sloth. The cave itself was enormous, but only consisted of one large room. (This Kentuckian was none too impressed with the cave...Mammoth Cave beats them all.) The remains of the milodón are in some museum in England (something the Chileans are not too happy about) so instead a life-size statue of it had been placed in the cave. It was kind of hokey.

The weather here is crazy. You literally go through 4 seasons in a day. It rains, then the sun comes out, then it rains again, then the sun comes out, then it hails, then the sun comes out again. All the while this gale-force wind is constantly blowing off the water which forces you to break out the gloves and hat. If it weren't for the wind, the temperature would probably be around 50ºF or so, but the wind makes it feel like it's about 35ºF. So much for summer! I am so glad I sprung for this windproof jacket in Chicago. It really has lived up to its claims that it does not allow wind through the fabric, even at 50+ mph.

Puerto Natales is kind of a hick town. There's nothing to do here if you're not headed to the parks. The ferry leaves tonight at 9.00pm, but until then I have nothing to do except have some dirty laundry washed (self-service laundromats do not exist here; instead, they do it all for you) and buy some snacks/motion sickness pills for the boat. With the way this wind is blowing, I think it's safe to assume some nausea will strike. I'll have 48 hours between getting off the boat in Puerto Montt and having to be back in Santiago, so I'm going to try to research where to go in that brief period. I am looking forward to returning to the heat of Santiago!

I doubt the boat will have internet access (and if it does, it will probably be prohibitively expensive) so this will probably be the last entry for a few days.

Puerto Natales

I left Punta Arenas this morning for Puerto Natales, a three hour bus ride to the north. When they first arrived, the Europeans named this area "the land of giants." I think I'll call it "the land of rainbows." I saw four today, and one of them was the only perfect rainbow I've ever seen - you could see both ends touching the ground.

The penguin colony yesterday was great, but it was so cold. There was a stiff breeze (40-50mph with heavier gusts) blowing off the water the entire time. I would not like to be a penguin! It took about an hour and fifteen minutes to reach the colony from Punta Arenas, and most of that drive was down a gravel road cutting through some of the most desolate landscape I've ever seen. Imagine rolling land with no trees; just a light brown-green covering of grass and very low shrubs here and there. Trees couldn't grow there if they wanted to; the wind's far too strong for them to take root. Way off in the background (probably 50+ miles away) you could see the shapes of mountains. Every now and then I'd see a ñandú, which is, in addition to being possibly the most fun word to say in Spanish I've encountered yet, a small rhea-like bird that eats the grass.

At the penguin colony we had to get out of the van and walk down a boardwalk. There were two watchtowers spread about, and by the water there was a lean-to constructed so that you could watch the birds on the beach through slits in the wood without them seeing you. They were Magallanic penguins, and very small. The babies were born months ago, so mostly they were just standing around trying to get out of the wind. Some were molting, so there were tiny feathers flying around in the wind. I had never seen a penguin before, except in a zoo, so it was an exciting experience.

I have booked a day tour to go to Torres del Paine National Park tomorrow, which is supposed to be the best national park in South America. There is a hiking circuit there that lasts 6 days, but as I don't have the equipment nor the time I will have to skip out on that. Maybe some other time...apparently it's the only serious way to see the park, but I suppose seeing it for one day is better than none at all.

Rumours have been flying around ever since I was in Santiago that the ferry I am scheduled to take on Friday out of here has been cancelled. Some people said they heard there was an accident. I never got an e-mail from the company, so I went down to the office this afternoon to make sure everything was still okay. Let me just say that I feel lucky. Something happened with the regular boat, and a smaller boat has had to take its place. The problem is, the smaller boat has to run two routes, so half of the voyages on the route I'm on have been cancelled. Mine was not. Since the boat can't hold as many passengers, some have been forced to cancel their trips. I wasn't weeded out in that group. A bonus is that I get a cabin on this boat as opposed to the dungeon berths I would have had on the other ferry, all for the same price. So I feel very lucky indeed!

Punta Arenas, día 2

What a difference a day makes! The streets of Punta Arenas have come alive! Seriously, I thought I had entered a ghost town yesterday afternoon, but around 6.00pm people suddenly started appearing out of nowhere and wandered the streets, browsing the shops and ducking into restaurants. I thought that since I am so far south, the sun would set at midnight or something, but it got dark around 10-ish.

Yesterday I noticed on a can of Cerveza Austral (the preferred beer around here) that the plant was in central Punta Arenas, and that you could stop by to see it. This morning after breakfast I set out for the brewery. It was in the middle of a residential neighbourhood (imagine having a beer brewery as your next-door neighbour). There was a gated forecourt where a truck was being loaded by forklifts and something that looked like a front door to an office, but there was a heavy chain blocking off the steps. I walked around the plant and heard bottles clanging furiously inside. A man was painting a wall, and I asked him about the tours. "Go through the gate into the forecourt," he said. "They'll let you in." I somewhat awkwardly opened the gate and a guard came out of a shack. "Visit? Go inside and ask for González," he said. I went into what turned out to be an office and asked if González was there. A woman came out from an office and said that the plant was closed to visitors until next week; would I be staying in Punta Arenas until then? Absolutely not, I thought. (There is not enough in this town to keep a person occupied for a week!) I was unable to persuade her to let me see the plant. I overheard two men at a desk debating whether or not I was English or American. I left quickly, and walked back down to the commercial part of town.

Last night I went for a walk on what was probably the grossest beach I have ever seen. Punta Arenas is too cold for sunbathing and swimming, which is probably a good thing as there were lots of dead birds washed up on shore and a rusty-looking pipe containing god-knows-what heading out into deeper water. Some large freighter vessels were anchored a little ways off-shore, and a small cruise ship was docked at the pier. Most of Punta Arenas' waterfront is occupied by a naval base, and I think the Chilean naval academy is here.

I have seen more national flags flying here than I did in Santiago. Because of the isolation from the rest of the country (one cannot drive from here to Santiago, or anywhere north of here, really, without going through Argentina - a boat or plane is the only way to head north and stay in Chilean territory), I assume that the flags serve as visible reminders that this is indeed Chilean territory, and any land-hungry Argentines should know this. There also seems to be a small facet of people wanting independence from Chile here. The region's flag is everywhere, too, as are bumper stickers and shirts proclaiming "The Independent Republic of Magallanes".

There are lots of stray dogs in Punta Arenas. These aren't just mutts, either; I have seen purebreds mixed in the lot. They roam the streets barking at each other, and occasionally manage to hump one another. The macho society of Latin America must think neutering a dog is a sacreligious idea. Trashcans along the streets in Punta Arenas look like wire baskets atop poles - this must be to keep the dogs out.

I met a girl in the hostel from Germany who has just finished a semester of study in Santiago. It is nice to have someone I can ask questions about what I am about to experience when I go back to Santiago.

This afternoon I am going to visit a penguin colony. I think tomorrow I shall head for parts elsewhere...Punta Arenas is quickly running out of things to offer.

El fin del mundo

I am now further south than I will probably ever be again. Punta Arenas is the name of the town, and it is the southernmost 'city' in the world. There are other towns further south than Punta Arenas, but they are not as large (145.000 people here.) I am closer to Antarctica now than I am to Santiago. Punta Arenas is not on the island of Tierra del Fuego, but you can see that island from the waterfront. Here it is cloudy with a sprinkle of rain, and the temperature is about 9°C (it was about 30°C in Santiago). It was amusing to arrive at my hostel and find the estufas (space heaters) running. People are walking on the streets in gloves, hats, and jackets. I had heard that the wind was fierce here, so I made sure to pack a windproof jacket.

Today is Sunday, which means almost everything is closed. The streets are mostly empty and very quiet. Supposedly Punta Arenas has very exciting nightlife, but I am not sure whether I believe that or not. I guess that anything would seem sedate after the last four days in the hustle and bustle of Santiago. The flight here was three hours. You could cross Chile going east-west in a plane in about 20 minutes, but it would take about 6 hours to cross it north-south. The geography of this country is crazy.

The architecture here in Punta Arenas is largely utilitarian and only the churches really look Spanish. I assume the winters here are harsh and elaborate buildings with large windows would not be economical in the climatic conditions. I have never been to Alaska, but I picture an Alaskan town to look very much like Punta Arenas. The landscape around the town is mostly barren, with a cover of brownish-green grass.

Back to yesterday's events in Santiago: Rome may have seven hills, but Santiago only has two. (However, Rome lacks the ever-present Andes lurking in the peripheral vision of every pedestrian in Santiago.) I have now conquered them both. Yesterday I took the funicular up the Cerro San Cristóbal. The ride made me a little uneasy. I did not see any sort of mechanism to prevent the car from rolling backwards down the tracks and crashing into the station should the driving mechanism had given out. The thing was built in 1925, and it creaked and jerked the whole way up. Halfway up the hill, the lone track briefly split into two so that a car coming down the hill could pass us as we climbed. However, the timing was off and our car was forced to stop to wait for the descending car to reach a certain spot so that both cars could pass at precisely the same moment. It was a bit hair-raising, to say the least, but the view from the top made it all worth it. A statue of the Virgin Mary is atop the hill, and a shrine had been erected.

I also visited two museums yesterday: the so-so Museo de las Bellas Artes and the phenomenal Museo Chileno de la Arte Pre-Columbiano. It was hands-down the best museum showcasing exhibits of Native America that I have ever been to. I saw mummies from pre-Incan times, and there was an interesting exhibit on Andean peoples headdresses. Most of the artefacts, despite being more than a thousand years old, were in such good condition that I thought surely they must have been reproductions.

Some people from the hostel and I went to dinner last night at a steak restaurant. I had not eaten steak in at least a year, and in general do not care for it, but the meal I had last night would probably have made a vegetarian reconsider their dietary choices.

Saque un número...

Okay, so here's the deal with the photos on the blog: they won't appear until at least the 14th. That's when I am reunited with my laptop and camera cable. Until then, I guess I will have to "paint with words" or something like that. Not that I could do most of the things I've seen justice with words; I'm no Charles Dickens (or perhaps, more appropriate to my geographic location, Pablo Neruda).

I felt proud of myself today after tackling the bureaucracy - the Chilean "man", if you will. I could not, however, have done it without the advice I received in the program office. They told me exactly what I would need to obtain and what I was to do when I got to the various offices.

First, I had to register with the national police. This required taking the Metro to a part of the city I had not been to yet and crossing the filthy Mapocho River, its grey/brown waters swirling furiously in its concrete channel as it still possessed the speed gathered from its run out of the Andes. At the police station, I had to pay a fee (800 pesos; not even 2USD) and was given a number. I sat down and watched as numbers appeared on a screen. I only waited about 15 minutes before it was my turn. I was given a form to take to another office in another part of the city to obtain my national ID card.

Alas, I was not finished at the police station. A careless immigration officer had failed to stamp my passport with the official date of entry stamp - something absolutely necessary to obtain the national ID card. I had to get my passport stamped, so I took yet another number and waited and waited and waited. I chatted with a Peruvian living in Santiago who had worked in various Peruvian embassies around the world. He seemed to be something of a savant when it came to cars; he claimed to be able to tell a Ford from a Chevy from a European car based upon the sound the engine makes. He lamented over the fact that most new cars now sold in Chile are of Asian origin, and told me that he thinks Ford makes the best cars.

After about an hour of waiting, I finally got the passport stamped, a process which took about 1 minute. Then I had to frantically rush to get to the Registro Civil to file for an ID card. It was already past 1.00pm and the office closed at 2.00. I made it on time, only to find a line much longer than the one at the police station. I took a number - C61- and waited. Soon 61 appeared on the screen, but then I noticed it was B61, not my number. A hundred people were waiting before it was to be my turn! A girl about my age and her mother started talking to me. They must have felt sorry for me, because the girl gave me another number they had (C22). Apparently the system worked liked this: you took a number, then someone else who had been there before you gave you one of their numbers (they had probably taken two by accident), then you passed your original number to someone else, and so on. I waited about an hour with the new number. Thank god I had gotten the passport stamped, as that was the first thing they asked to see. I have to go back in a few weeks to pick up the card when it is ready.

Now I understand why there are shops advertising fotocopias everywhere. People have to make copies of everything to satisfy the bureaucracy. I would have thought the carbon copy was a thing of the past until coming here, where even the purchase of a bottle of water will get you a carbon copy of the receipt.

I wish I could put photos up now so I could show you what a "monkey puzzle" tree looks like. It looks as bizarre as it sounds.

Bienvenido a Chile

Wow. Too much has happened in the last 24 hours to write a blog entry instead of a novella. First and foremost, I made it. I am in Santiago, staying at this hostel which is appropriately named in hippy fashion the "Happy House Hostel". It looks like it used to be an old mansion, but has been very meticulously restored. The Lonely Planet guide did not lie about this one.

After a very long (9.5 hours) and thankfully uneventful flight, I arrived at Santiago's modern airport. From there I took a taxi to the CIEE program office to drop the big suitcase off. I got my first intro to Latin American "circumstance-based" culture at the entrance to the building. The security guard told me that everyone who worked inside was on vacation. I knew this was not true as I had been in contact with the office staff personally and was told I was more than welcome to drop in the office to deposit my luggage. I kept explaining to the guard "Exchange student office, exchange student office!" but he would not let me in. Finally, he asked me whom I needed to see, and it clicked....aha! Name names in Latin America, and ye shall get far. When I stated the name of the director of the office, it was as though I had waved a magic wand. I was let through the gate and personally escorted to the office.

In the office, I recieved a crash course on Chilean bureaucracy. Tomorrow I have to go register with the national police and file to obtain my national ID card. The woman at the office wrote everything down that I need to do, but she kept mentioning things like "long line" and "100 windows, none of them labelled". Great. I think this shall be an adventure.

I walked around this afternoon and was quickly reminded what heat feels like. The sun was beating down on me all day and so I had to buy some sunscreen. How strange it is to be wearing shorts in February! I saw the Plaza de Armas (main plaza in the city) and climbed Cerro Santa Lucía, one of two hills in Santiago that are parks. The view was amazing....the Andes on one side, the coastal range on the other, and skyscrapers in between.

I promise that pictures will come soon to the blog. Now I need food.