Quite a bit has happened in the past couple weeks since my last post. I am not going to tell everything about it, but in short, I went to a bbq or two where I ate enormous slabs of meat, drank wine with old Chilean men, and had an adventure with some teaching friends in the Cajon de Maipo on an unsuccessful attempt at hiking to a glacier. Bottom line: public transportation to outdoor activities is extremely limited in Chile in the off season.
Anyway, a couple days ago I decided to purchase a ticket, kind of on a whim to Punta Arenas. It was well under the normal price, and I said why not. So here I am, by myself at the end of the world. I arrived at the airport this afternoon as the sun was setting over the windswept plains. It reminded me of Barrow when I got out. Fairly barren, less tress than I expected. And no airport transfer or taxis to greet me. In fact, there was a for sale sign in the transfer van window. I guess the driver just gave up. There was pretty much no one at the airport either, so asking someone was out of the question. After a long confused wait, a taxi finally showed up to drop someone off, and I quickly snagged it, leaving other confused passengers in the dust. Punta Arenas reminds me of the US--kind of like Alaska, or maybe Aberdeen, WA. Very weathered, and very American looking. Feels kind of like home--ish. My hostel is nice and centrally located. I think I am going on a tour to some town tomorrow and will see the strait of Magellan and things like that. I have to figure out the rest of my time here--considering going to Ushuaia, but the bus times are tricky. Hopefully I cna figure this out tomorrow. I am playing it by ear!
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Monday, April 21, 2008
Lokas
My Spanish is noticeably improving. Angie and I went to see a Chilean comedy the other night called ‘Lokas’ and I was able to understand the majority of what was said. This was very comforting, because I think even after a month in France, I had more trouble understanding French films. The movie was a comedy about a homophobic man who goes to see his father for the first time in 30 years. And guess what, his father is gay! As you can imagine hilarity ensues. This film must be revolutionary for Chile. According to Lonely Planet Chile has only in the past couple years even been able to talk about gay people. So needless to say, I was surprised to see this ‘Chuck and Larry’ like comedy be out in theatres. They even showed guys kissing and at one point the audience could hear sounds of sexual intercourse. In Catholic Chile. But go see this movie; its gay jokes are cliché by US standards, but what a site it is in Chile.
Oh and one last random observation. All of the advertisements and commercials in Chile as well as all the people and situations in this film were white. White = prestigious and pretty. Most people in commercials are not even light skinned mestizo. And I don’t think there are any Indians or other dark-skinned actors. Everyone is white, even blond or red-haired. Many of them could be actors in a German commercial. In the movie, you could never guess it took place in Chile. You might think Miami or L.A—actually everything in the movie was whiter and generally nicer than much of the US. The cars, the clubs, the houses, the people were all so very posh. So, for people who see this movie, the situations and people represent the rich few. Chile has one of the very highest income disparities in the world. It is a wealthy nation, not really third world--but there is a whole lot of wealth that doesn't make it to the actual peopl who need it.
Oh and one last random observation. All of the advertisements and commercials in Chile as well as all the people and situations in this film were white. White = prestigious and pretty. Most people in commercials are not even light skinned mestizo. And I don’t think there are any Indians or other dark-skinned actors. Everyone is white, even blond or red-haired. Many of them could be actors in a German commercial. In the movie, you could never guess it took place in Chile. You might think Miami or L.A—actually everything in the movie was whiter and generally nicer than much of the US. The cars, the clubs, the houses, the people were all so very posh. So, for people who see this movie, the situations and people represent the rich few. Chile has one of the very highest income disparities in the world. It is a wealthy nation, not really third world--but there is a whole lot of wealth that doesn't make it to the actual peopl who need it.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Settling in
I moved out of that guesthouse a couple weeks ago into this great new house. Gino (the real estate man who I wrote about a couple weeks ago) found it for me. This old man named Carlos is renting me a room, but he is only there Saturday night and he occasionally stops by to fix something or say hello. Everything is working out well and the house even came with a bike, so I am biking to work! The house is right on the edge of town, so I have the countryside one block away. Riding my bike around there is pleasant and quite a change from town. Huasos, the Chilean cowboy, can be seen riding their horses around just a couple minutes from my urban home. So all in all things are going fine, I like my house and I like Melipilla.
The past couple weekends Angie and I have been doing stuff with Gino. He has taken us to three barbecues, two of which were at his English friend Frank’s house. Frank is great and so are all of his friends (who are mostly Chilean). He is 64 and has been living in Chile for the better part of 40 years most recently as a real estate agent in Santiago. He was interestingly enough rather pro-Pinochet, while his Chilean friends and family were quite liberal. So as you can imagine, the discussions were lively. These barbecues have been oddly international in flavor. So far we have met a Mexican, two English people, another American, two or three Chileans who are half German and have lived in the US, and finally a German who is married to an Ecuadorian. Everyone has been really nice and they have all welcomed us to their homes any time we wish. Despite all the nice people we’ve met, I still haven’t met any people who are likely to become great friends simply due to the fact that everyone I have met is 20-40 years older than I am. But I'll see how this goes. at least I am getting some Spanish practice.
The past couple weekends Angie and I have been doing stuff with Gino. He has taken us to three barbecues, two of which were at his English friend Frank’s house. Frank is great and so are all of his friends (who are mostly Chilean). He is 64 and has been living in Chile for the better part of 40 years most recently as a real estate agent in Santiago. He was interestingly enough rather pro-Pinochet, while his Chilean friends and family were quite liberal. So as you can imagine, the discussions were lively. These barbecues have been oddly international in flavor. So far we have met a Mexican, two English people, another American, two or three Chileans who are half German and have lived in the US, and finally a German who is married to an Ecuadorian. Everyone has been really nice and they have all welcomed us to their homes any time we wish. Despite all the nice people we’ve met, I still haven’t met any people who are likely to become great friends simply due to the fact that everyone I have met is 20-40 years older than I am. But I'll see how this goes. at least I am getting some Spanish practice.
Friday, April 11, 2008
Hike in the Andes
A trip to South America would not be complete without a little hiking in the Andes. Last weekend I went to Santiago and joined up with my English friends Laura and Sally. We booked an expensive guided hike to the summit of Mt. Pintor, at 4200 mts—that’s about 13,800 ft. I noticed the altitude in the car on the way up, as I got a little headache. The hike started at a ski resort above Santiago at 3500 meters, but we quickly ascended into the wilderness. It was absolutely disgusting to see the smog filled valley below. The city was not even really visible—just a brown cloud. So it was nice to get some normal fresh air. Plus the weather was excellent—sunny blue skies, but chilly. I could feel the altitude right away, and climbing the very steep slope required what felt like 10 times the effort it would have at sea level. Luckily I was ok and didn’t get sick—neither did Laura or Sally. The views were awesome as we climbed up into a Mars-like terrain where nothing grew and nothing lived. A glacier covered peak well over 5000 meters was staring us right in the face for most of the hike. After about 2.5 hours we reached the summit! It was tiring, but we were all ok, and it felt great to be above the smog and on top of an Andean peak. The wind was tame, which was nice since the temperature was barely above freezing I would guess. The view must be similar to the view on top of Mt. Rainier, since we were almost as high and the city below is only at about 1000 ft. We hiked back exhausted, but feeling good. The car ride back down to very low elevation was ok. I was worried my head would implode, but it didn’t and I suffered a small headache—which is pretty good considering we went from nearly 14000 feet to 1000 in just a few hours. So all in all it was worth it—expensive but worth it.
This is from near the beginning 
We climbed the less glaciated one. That's Laura and our guide Juan ahead of me
Us at the top!
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Happier Times
It’s amazing how quickly things can change. Yesterday things were not going so well. Magali called me and the connection was so incredibly horrible I couldn’t understand a word she was saying. I went out to find a phone card, tried to call from the guesthouse, but the old lady here is so old I don’t think she understood the concept of a phone card. She kept saying you could only make local calls. Well that may be, but a phone card is different, and she wouldn’t pay for anything either. Anyway I ended up calling Magali from a pay phone, which cost far too much money. In addition, I still had no place to live, and our checks did not arrive on time.
Today, on the other hand, was much brighter. Angie and I went to see Gino, a real estate man who was going to show me another apartment. The one he showed me the other day was dingy and largely unfurnished (like there was no stove where there obviously used to be one), but still kind of funky and in a decent quiet location. Today we went to the supermarket and Gino talked to his buddy who works at the meat department. He had a room that he would consider renting out to me. So Gino drove us to his buddy’s house, which apparently has no address, so it was difficult to find. How a house can be sans address I do not know. Anyway, it was awesome! A very nice place with a couch, kitchen and the works, even a garden. The location is excellent and it’s on a quiet street. The old guy lives in a house in the countryside and only comes to the place in town every so often. It would cost me $95,000 a month (that’s pesos), not including utilities I believe. The catch is that the owner of the house does not want the man renting the room out. So if I ever come across her, I just have to say I am an invitado and that I’m not really living there. Sounds good to me! After viewing what will likely be my home for the next four months, Gino took us on a little adventure.
Gino Arab grew up in Melipilla. We tried to guess his age at 38, and he said “yeah somewhere around there.” He’s Chilean (a white Chilean), but has a very diverse background; Italian grandmother and Palestinian and Jewish parents (yeah!). His family is all in Melipilla, some of whom we met at the furniture store, including an old man (uncle, father, friend…not sure) who told us when he was young he used to speak English, French and Arabic, until he moved to Chile and forgot it all. He spent 60 days on a boat to get here. Gino seems to come from a strong Melipilla family. He knows about 80% of the people we pass on the street and he offered to take us anywhere and help us with anything we needed. When Angie asked if he knew a place where we could taste wine, without hesitation he whipped out his phone, made a call, and in no time we were cruising down dirt roads in his little Fiat, on the way to a spontaneous wine tasting. We pulled up to a small country house with some patio tables and chairs set out. Gino went around back and hollered. A little old lady who Gino calls Nona came out and we were proudly introduced as Gino’s amigos norteamericanos. Gino has known Nona since he was a child, as has apparently every other person in Melipilla. In fact, no one even really knows her actual name. They all just call her Nona. We drank chicha which if I understand correctly is something in between wine and grape juice—something like grape cider. There is a dulce version and a fuerte. We had the fuerte which was pretty good. It’s different. It’s not wine, but it’s definitely not juice either, and it has the pale pink color of grapefruit juice. After one pitcher, she brought out another, and then another…you get the picture. I certainly hadn’t planned on getting drunk at 1:00 in the afternoon on a Wednesday, but this was what was happening and in Chile you just have to go with the flow. During this time a kid stopped by on his bike to buy cigarettes from Nona. Another old woman came by whom Gino oddly did not know, but then after a quick chat he realized he spent much of his childhood playing at her house. I love small towns. Later on, two old men came by who were delighted to meet Angie and I. We all engaged in alcohol induced, language-barrier stricken conversations about God and the goodness of people. They invited us to a barbecue whenever. We can’t do it this Saturday because we are supposedly going to eat lunch at Gino’s English friend’s house. He really wants us to meet him so we can speak English together.
After today, I see Melipilla in a much different light—the way I was hoping it would turn out. It is a quaint friendly city—the kind of place where you say hi to people on the street even if you don’t know them. The old men wear the large-brimmed Chilean hats, and I even saw a traditional Chilean dance in the plaza de armas yesterday. If I get to move in to this house, I just might not want to leave.
Today, on the other hand, was much brighter. Angie and I went to see Gino, a real estate man who was going to show me another apartment. The one he showed me the other day was dingy and largely unfurnished (like there was no stove where there obviously used to be one), but still kind of funky and in a decent quiet location. Today we went to the supermarket and Gino talked to his buddy who works at the meat department. He had a room that he would consider renting out to me. So Gino drove us to his buddy’s house, which apparently has no address, so it was difficult to find. How a house can be sans address I do not know. Anyway, it was awesome! A very nice place with a couch, kitchen and the works, even a garden. The location is excellent and it’s on a quiet street. The old guy lives in a house in the countryside and only comes to the place in town every so often. It would cost me $95,000 a month (that’s pesos), not including utilities I believe. The catch is that the owner of the house does not want the man renting the room out. So if I ever come across her, I just have to say I am an invitado and that I’m not really living there. Sounds good to me! After viewing what will likely be my home for the next four months, Gino took us on a little adventure.
Gino Arab grew up in Melipilla. We tried to guess his age at 38, and he said “yeah somewhere around there.” He’s Chilean (a white Chilean), but has a very diverse background; Italian grandmother and Palestinian and Jewish parents (yeah!). His family is all in Melipilla, some of whom we met at the furniture store, including an old man (uncle, father, friend…not sure) who told us when he was young he used to speak English, French and Arabic, until he moved to Chile and forgot it all. He spent 60 days on a boat to get here. Gino seems to come from a strong Melipilla family. He knows about 80% of the people we pass on the street and he offered to take us anywhere and help us with anything we needed. When Angie asked if he knew a place where we could taste wine, without hesitation he whipped out his phone, made a call, and in no time we were cruising down dirt roads in his little Fiat, on the way to a spontaneous wine tasting. We pulled up to a small country house with some patio tables and chairs set out. Gino went around back and hollered. A little old lady who Gino calls Nona came out and we were proudly introduced as Gino’s amigos norteamericanos. Gino has known Nona since he was a child, as has apparently every other person in Melipilla. In fact, no one even really knows her actual name. They all just call her Nona. We drank chicha which if I understand correctly is something in between wine and grape juice—something like grape cider. There is a dulce version and a fuerte. We had the fuerte which was pretty good. It’s different. It’s not wine, but it’s definitely not juice either, and it has the pale pink color of grapefruit juice. After one pitcher, she brought out another, and then another…you get the picture. I certainly hadn’t planned on getting drunk at 1:00 in the afternoon on a Wednesday, but this was what was happening and in Chile you just have to go with the flow. During this time a kid stopped by on his bike to buy cigarettes from Nona. Another old woman came by whom Gino oddly did not know, but then after a quick chat he realized he spent much of his childhood playing at her house. I love small towns. Later on, two old men came by who were delighted to meet Angie and I. We all engaged in alcohol induced, language-barrier stricken conversations about God and the goodness of people. They invited us to a barbecue whenever. We can’t do it this Saturday because we are supposedly going to eat lunch at Gino’s English friend’s house. He really wants us to meet him so we can speak English together.
After today, I see Melipilla in a much different light—the way I was hoping it would turn out. It is a quaint friendly city—the kind of place where you say hi to people on the street even if you don’t know them. The old men wear the large-brimmed Chilean hats, and I even saw a traditional Chilean dance in the plaza de armas yesterday. If I get to move in to this house, I just might not want to leave.
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