"Amo, Valparaíso..."

Two Fridays ago, Sarah, Hannah and I were sitting on Sarah’s bed in her house on Cerro Playa Ancha, looking out over the port of Valparaíso through the bedroom window. We tore out a piece of notebook paper, and wrote across the top “Horario de Eventos Culturales de SuperDorks.” Hannah was visiting from Valdivia for the long weekend, and we wanted to make sure that she got the full panorama of what Valparaíso had to offer while she was here. Cultural weekend guide in hand, we jotted down every concert, museum, restaurant and performance (complete with doodles on the side) that we planned to take on that crazy weekend. Four days, fifty photos, and several thousand pesos later, this is where we ended up (also, if you'd like, take a look at the featured album on my photo site):

Just an hour after finishing up our list, the three of us plus Maddie sat around a little table in the corner of Color Café on Cerro Concepción, surrounded by postcards and maps and candy wrappers and pinwheels and ribbons mounted on the collage-like walls. While an old man with an eye patch served us a few rounds of amarillos, kiwi and chirimolla juice, and the best hot chocolate you’ll ever taste, a guy and a girl around my age sat a few feet away and played Chilean folk songs on the guitar. Amazing.

From there, armbands at ribbed tank tops at the ready, we headed to what we now knew to be called PANIKO ROCK FEST. (Fabulous, I know. The K? Fantastic.) This was the result of one of my less awkward Chilean friend conquests (rather than my typical, “Ummmm, hi I’m Laura I like your bag CAN I HAVE YOUR E-MAIL ADDRESS?!” I actually managed to have a legitimate conversation with a kid in my chorus class about his band) and so the group of us went to see them play. The music was good, the name was better, and I scored a few friendship points with Francisco.

Saturday morning. After snagging a $4 bus ticket to Isla Negra, a town about an hour and a half away from Valparaíso, we found ourselves wandering through the house of Pablo Neruda. Oh my goodness, there is no place more wonderful. It’s shaped like a boat, so that tiny wooden doorways open up into wide, round rooms. Neruda collected the statues off the front of boats, and positioned some of them across from each other so they’d fall in love. He had a collection of colored glass and crystal, and he kept the greens and browns on the earth side of the house and the blues and sea greens on the sea side. His desk was made of a plank that washed ashore from the sea. He once bought a giant statue of a horse from a store near his childhood home, then threw a party, requiring that all guests bring presents for the horse. He could see a churning, restless Pacific Ocean from his bed. We spent several lovely hours walking up and down the beach and eating in the fancy adjoining café, but we spent almost as much time picking out posters and note cards with Neruda quotes in the gift shop. My favorite, on a poster that’s now hanging on my bedroom door: “Yo vine aquí para cantar y para que cantes conmigo” – I came here to sing, and so that you would sing with me.

Then it was off to the theater! I live just a few blocks away from the Teatro Municipal de Viña del Mar, so I always take note of the two or three pieces that are put on every weekend whenever I walk past. Saturday night was El Ballet Guadalajara – an explosion of Mexican mariachi music and colorful skirts. Sunday was Teatro Negro de Praga, a traveling black box troupe from Prague that put on an incredible performance that was half mime act, half magic show. We all decided to get decked out for this one, and as soon as we got back, my host family started chasing me around with a camera – “¡Mira! ¡Qué linda, nuestra princesa!” – because they’re adorable.

Hannah still had a few days before going back to Valdivia (a 12 hour bus ride south, yikes!), so we decided to make the most of it. Tuesday was Día de la Asunción, so we all had a day off from classes. A perfect day for a walk through Cerro Bellavista and its Museo a Cielo Abierto – “Open Sky Museum” – which is basically just a neighborhood full of houses and shops that just happen to have murals painted on the sides. I love all the corners and the colors on the hills of Valparaíso. Everything looks like a cubist painting, with the houses all elbowing each other at every angle as they hold fast to the hillsides. After a quick spin in the Ascensor Concepción, a funicular built in the late 1800s that you can ride up the hill for a quarter, we meandered down again, headed home, and said goodbye to Hannah. She handed me another poster that she had sneakily bought for me at the Neruda gift shop. Below a colorful painting of the clotheslines and staircases and rooftops of the city read the line, “Amo, Valparaíso, cuanto encierras, y cuanto irradias, novia del océano” – “I love, Valparaíso, how much you shut in and how much you give off, bride of the sea.”

Here’s the whole poem, for those who’d like to give it a shot:

Amo, Valparaíso, cuanto encierras,
y cuanto irradias, novia del océano,
hasta más lejos de tu nimbo sordo.
Amo la luz violeta con que acudes
al marinero en la noche del mar,
y entonces eres -rosa de azahares-
luminosa y desnuda, fuego y niebla.
Que nadie venga con un martillo turbio
a golpear lo que amo, a defenderte:
nadie sino mi ser por tus secretos:
nadie sino mi voz por tus abiertas
hileras de rocío, por tus escalones
en donde la maternidad salobre
del mar te besa, nadie sino mis labios
en tu corona fría de sirena,
elevada en el aire de la altura,
oceánico amor, Valparaíso,
reina de todas las costas del mundo,
verdadera central de olas y barcos,
eres en mí como la luna o como
la dirección del aire en la arboleda.
Amo tus criminales callejones,
tu luna de puñal sobre los cerros,
y entre tus plazas la marinería
revistiendo de azul la primavera.

Que se entienda, te pido, puerto mío,
que yo tengo derecho
a escribirte lo bueno y lo malvado
y soy como las lámparas amargas
cuando iluminan las botellas rotas.

The weekend ends there, but the stories don’t. I’ll be updating again soon :)

Aprovechar

Apologies, this post is in Spanish. I wanted to record an incredible conversation I had with Luís as accurately as I could, trying to imitate the way he talks. It started out as a really illuminating political discussion, which slid into a discussion of family values and learning and taking advantage of life experiences. I've translated the very end of the conversation at the bottom, for those who don't have a working knowledge of Spanish.


“¿Y tú lo crees?”

Le miré a Luís, un poco asustada. Acabé de mencionar el ataque terrorista que el aeropuerto en Inglaterra había prevenido.

“Pues, sí…”

“No. No se puede destapar una banda de terroristas tan rápido.”

Ah, eso. Había averiguado que él no tuvo ninguna fe en las políticas antiterroristas de Bush. “Debes hablar con mi pololo,” le dije. “Él le odia a Bush, y siempre está cuestionando todos esos asuntos.”

“¿Sabes que cuando quemaron los torres gemelos, nadie afuera de los Estados Unidos creyeron que estaba verdadero?” añadió él. “Y mira, la destrucción que sucedió después, a causa de Bush. Y ahora hay odio por todo el mundo.”

Miré alrededor. El resto de la familia ha salido de la cocina, y ahora me enfrenté a una discusión política, en un castellano rápido y farfullado. Le respondí, titubeando un poquito, “Es una cosa mala, también, por que hay tanto antiamericanismo, aunque la mayoría de la población no está de acuerdo con Bush.”

“Pues, se sabe que no es la gente, es el gobierno. Y mira eso, creo que el problema es en su sistema de elegir el presidente. Él que tiene dinero, él puede gastar dinero en una campaña, y él puede ser presidente. Sí, po.”

Él dio un suspiro, y continuó.

“Un país con tanto dinero debe ayudar al mundo. Pero mira como lo gasta – en guerra.

“Oye, mira Cuba. Después de la revolución cubana, los Estados Unidos lo bloquearon, y ¿qué pasó? Mucha gente murió de hambre. Crecía la prostitución. Cosas malas.”

Ah, pude comentar en esto. “Sí, pues, durante la Guerra Fría, los Estados Unidos se pudieron en contra a todo lo comunista, y entonces, apoyaban los golpes de las peores dictaduras," dije yo. "Y entonces en vez de comunismo, impuso fascismo.”

“Sí, mira, habían golpes por toda Sudamérica. Bolivia, Ecuador, Perú, Brasil, Paraguay, Chile...para que los Estados Unidos pudiera aprovechar de sus recursos. Y así ganaron mucho dinero, po. Y a ti, ¿cómo te ha ayudado? ¿Has gozado de eso dinero? No, po. Solamente algunos.

“Toda capitalista. En el sistema de educación, ¿qué se enseña? Cómo se puede salir de una empresa con un cheque en la mano. Es un sistema muy egoísta. La educación no tiene que ser así. Puede ser para el progreso de una comunidad. Pero no es así.

“No hay ninguna cosa buena. Todo malo. Ojala que alguien en tu generación pueda cambiar cosas. Pero cuando pasa, ya no voy a estar aquí, po. Sólo podemos hacer que podemos durante nuestras vidas. Y nosotros, ¿qué podemos hacer?”

Le esperé.

“Amarse. Quererse. Estar con la familia. Apoyarse. Es la única cosa que puedes hacer.”

Durante cada pausa en la conversación, me miró con un cariño sabio, sus ojos arrugándose con la tristeza de años. Al principio, me sentí que tuve que añadir algo en estas pausas. Ahora, supe que no tuve que decir nada.

“Tú tienes mucho orgullo de tu familia – de tu padre, de tus hermanas – eso es una cosa muy buena. Ojala que cuando tengas hijos, tú puedas entregarles lo que has aprendido. Sobre compartir, sobre amarse como familia. Eso es lo que es importante.

“Y tú,” me miró con una sonrisa. “Tú eres una persona muy observadora. Lo he notado. Prestas atención a todo. Tú vas a aprovechar de tu tiempo acá, o sea, de todo el tiempo de tu vida. ¡Sí! Tú no aprendes para aprender. Tú aprendes porque te gusta.

“¿Sabes cómo lo sé? Mira, te estoy mirando ahora, y tus ojos brillan. De verdad, brillan con felicidad. Y no es la primera vez que lo he visto. Es como se puede ver directamente a tu alma.”

Yo sonreí, me ruboricé y murmuré algo de ser un libro abierto y llevar mis emociones en mi cara, pero él sólo me miró.

“Vas a aprovechar, mi hija. Vas a aprovechar.”


The very end of the conversation, after a long discussion about Bush, war, and capitalism:

"There's not one good thing. It's all bad. Hopefully someone in your generation can change things. But when it happens, well, I won't be here. We can only do what we can during our lives. And what can we do?"

I waited.

"Love each other. Be with our families. Support each other. That's the only thing you can do."

During every pause in the conversation, he looked at me with a wise tenderness, his eyes wrinkled with the sadness of years. At first, I felt like I needed to add something in the pauses. Now I knew that I didn't need to say anything.

"You are really proud of your family - your father, your sisters - that's a very good thing. Hopefully when you have children, you'll be able to hand down what you've learned. About sharing. About loving each other as a family. That is what's important.

"And you," he looked at me with a smile. "You're a very observant person. I've noticed it. You pay attention to everything. You're going to take advantage of your time here, and all of the time in your life. Yes! You don't learn just to learn. You learn because you like it.

"Do you know how I know? Look, I'm looking at you know, and your eyes are shining. Really, they're glowing with happiness. And this is not the first time I've seen it. It's as if you can see right to your soul."

I smiled, blushed, and mumbled something about being an open book and wearing my emotions on my face, but he just looked at me.

"You'll make the most of it, my daughter. You'll make the most of it."

Pausing on a Sunday

First, more fun with Chilean slang:

fome - boring
¡al tiro! ("to the shot") - right away!
¡al seco! ("'til it's dry!") - drink it all!
ramo ("branch") - course or class
hacer una vaca ("to make a cow") - to chip in money for something

After a weekend salsa dancing with the girls in a discoteca, walking up and down Viña with Felipe (my new Chilean friend who I just met through a language interchange program), wandering through streets that were colorful with the balloons, bubbles, and pinwheels of El Día de los Niños ("Children's Day"), and sharing a four-course Sunday meal and several cups of tea with my host family and their relatives, I'm ready for classes to start. I'll be up bright and early tomorrow morning to start navigating my way through the complicated week ahead.

Since the international students are not part of any set academic track, it's a little bit complicated to register across disciplines for courses, so we end up showing up to tons of classes, pick and choose the ones we like, and then sign up officially at the end of the month. Monday's candidates are History of Chile, Chile in the 19th Century (I'm going to see which one I like better), and Choral Practical (which I'm really excited about, since it's singing + Latin American culture, although I'm not sure if I'm eligible to take it). They're all in different buildings spread out across the two cities (in castles, on hilltops, near plazas - I feel like I'm navigating a misty medieval world) so there's a good chance I'll get desperately lost by the end of tomorrow. *gulp* Wish me luck!

A Full-Fledged Update! (whew!)

Hello everyone!

This is my attempt at one sweeping post to try and cover what I’ve been up to during my first two weeks in Chile. I’m sure I’ll forget about a million things, but if you’re not totally overwhelmed by this whopper of a post, keep coming back for everything I forgot to write before (hopefully next time in smaller doses!)

Dad and I arrived in Santiago on the 24th, although it seemed like the language transition took place as soon as we stepped on the plane. My Spanish was put to the test when I had to talk to the passport official about visa registration at the international police office, purchase a cell phone and figure out the unique calling card system, talk to a banker about the best way for me to access money in the states from here, not to mention carry on airy conversations with waiters and cab drivers. I’m pretty sure Dad was impressed, although he got to use his trademark phrase, “¿Dónde está la biblioteca?” when we found the National Library of Chile. After a few days at Hotel Fundador and a couple of nice meals, the best one at a seafood restaurant called Aquí está Coco, Dad saw me off and I joined the Middlebury group for a celebratory dinner on the town and a trip to the three-day orientation.

Orientation was a blessing; first of all, because I had an opportunity to meet other students also studying in Chile and get a lot firmer handle on what we’d be facing, and secondly, because we were in the gorgeous town of Los Andes, nestled in the foothills of (you guessed it) the Andes. Between sessions where we learned about the Chilean academic system, government, and culture, we climbed the cerros all around the hotel. On one incredible night, about twenty of us scrambled up with flashlights, then lied down and stared silently at a sky full of stars, breaking the silence only to gasp at the shooting stars that soared by every few minutes. I wrote a paper freshman year on how the Andes are intertwined with Latin American religion, before and after the Spaniards came. I’m beginning to understand why.

After a few days in the Andes, the group was dispersed across the country, and just ten of us headed off to Valparaíso. My goodness, this city is called Chile’s most culturally distinctive city for a reason. The best way I can describe it is as a city of thousands of colorful houses tumbling down steep hills into the Pacific Ocean. It was a real challenge getting the car up some of those hills – many even have “ascensores” or elevators on the outside which you can ride to the top. Museums and theaters pop up everywhere, and there are lots of outdoor fruit, vegetable, antique, and craft markets worth exploring. The city is connected by the “micros” (buses) that run twenty-four hours a day, but are still pretty confusing to me. I’m only beginning to get my bearings in Valparaíso, since my house is in the neighboring Viña del Mar, which is more of a tourist city full of shops and beaches. I’ve already spent plenty of time walking back and forth from the Plaza de Viña to meet other girls in the program, shop, eat out, and explore.

As far as the family I’m living with, they’re simply wonderful. They are an older couple – Juana and Luis – and their two daughters in their 30s – Nancy and Juli. And, my goodness, they’re all such teddy bears. They’ve taken to calling me “Laurita,” although more often it’s “mi amor,” “mi reina” (my queen), “mi hijita” (my little daughter). I’ve spent a good amount of time with them this week, since my classes haven’t started yet, and they’ve been such a help in making me feel comfortable here. Whether it’s having discussions about religion’s influence on politics with Luis or talking about the differences between Chilean and American food with Nancy, I’ve definitely started to feel at home.

The Spanish here, though, is pretty crazy. Chilean Spanish is famed for being extra fast, for dropping consonants everywhere (“para todos” becomes “pa’ to’”) and being full of local slang or “chilenismos.” A boyfriend here is called a “pololo” instead of a novio, to chip in to buy something is “hacer una vaca” (to make a cow), and you say “¿cachai?” if you want to say “get it?” They also sprinkle the word “po” everywhere – it’s short for “pues,” which means “well,” and they tend to stick it at the end of sentences and right after “sí” or “no.” It’s definitely not the type of thing you learn in a Spanish book, but after being completely lost for a few conversations, I’m starting to pick it up, slowly but surely.

Let’s see, what else. Food? So far, I really like it :). The meals here are switched around a little bit. Breakfast is pretty similar – it’s typically tea, bread, yogurt, fruit, ham, and cheese (Juli always brings me a breakfast tray in my room – they’re really spoiling me). Lunch is actually the main meal of the day, and I’ve had a good variety of beef, chicken, salads, corn, rice, and fruit. Nothing has been too foreign, although every once in awhile a dish will be prepared in a very different way. Grilled apple with a sweet sauce, for example, is one of my new favorites. I plan to ask Nancy to teach me how to make a thing or two, so I can cook some Chilean dishes when I come back home. Dinner is less of a meal and more of an evening teatime – they call it “onces” (“elevens”) – and usually there is tea, bread, ham and cheese again, and sometimes cake. It’s a switch, but it’s a tasty one, so it’s okay :)

Did I mention it’s winter here? Yep, a little chilly. (<-- haha, get it!?) Central heating is not really existent here, so I’ve taken to sleeping with a hot water bottle under lots of blankets. I can’t even imagine the heat wave that most of you are going through right now!

I think I’m going to leave it at that for now, since I’m off to meet one of the Chilean students at Pontificia Universidad Católica de Valparaíso for the school’s language exchange program – we’re going to chat for half an hour in Spanish and half an hour in English to practice our language skills. Thanks for reading all that, and I'll update again soon!

¡Fotos!

Hello, everyone!

It's been a crazy first week, and I have so much to write about. The plan was to write a marathon entry today, but then I figured I'd use the time instead to set up an online photo album of my adventures. So, for your viewing entertainment, here it is: http://chilelaura.shutterfly.com.

I promise to post more details soon!