Classes (for those interested):
1. Geography of Latin America (more like anthropological history of the region, not just rivers and mountains)
2. Organization and Policy of the Chilean Education System
3. Chilean Poetry at the end of the 20th Century
4. Literature of the Southern Cone
With no class on Friday, I have started volunteering at Liceo Poeta Pablo Neruda. It's a public K-12 in an outlying neighborhood of Santiago where resources to learn English are scarce. I am currently teaching an English workshop with a friend on Thursday afternoons and helping a language arts teacher on Fridays.
More to come on Liceo Pablo Neruda later!
Monday, April 2, 2012
Isla Negra
Isla Negra is a coastal town about an hour and a half from Santiago and south of Valparaiso, Chile. It is best known for the former home of poet Pablo Neruda, Chile's most famous poet. We, the members of the WashU program in Chile, were able to go on a program sponsored trip to this house and beach locale one Sunday at 9am. Lady Luck had it that my camera would die about 30 minutes into the day tour. His house was decorated with some of the strangest, but yet coolest things around. Namely, a collection of ship's prows... I mean, who wouldn't want several giant wooden women jutting out of the wall or the corner of the room? He also had collections of masks, ships in bottles, alcohol decanters, maps, suits, shells and probably other things that are too esoteric for me to remember. Either way, enjoy the pictures!
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el grupo
a part of the house
steam engine...
the house!
the late poet's grave by the ocean
the pacific
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Haircut
I thought I would share this/record it for posterity's sake. The idea of a haircut is a simple one at best (at least for guys... with short, straight, blonde hair). I had grown tired of wearing a mop on my head in the heat of the Chilean summer, so I stopped into the local peluqueria just outside the metro stop by my house. I sat on the padded waiting bench of the aged barber shop, deflecting skeptical glances from the wrinkled and potentially ancient chilean man to my right. In front of my worked two people. A woman, whose five-year-old daughter was asking if she could eat a piece of candy, and a man. The man was paying more attention to this man's hair than probably the collective care given to my haircuts over the last five years. Additionally, his scissor technique was superb (to the point of being frightening, but more on that later). As this barber massaged this man's hair with his comb and clippers for the next half hour, I ruminated a little on what was about to befall my head. Normally (in the US that is), I go to Nice Cuts - where I receive nice treatment and a generally a nice cut too. At Nice Cuts in San Francisco, I forge my way through a language barrier. Huh! But that barrier is between English and some southeast Asian language I cannot identify. I found it funny, odd, fateful(?) that after years of acting out my haircut in the US, my hair/language difficulties would continue in Chile, this time with Spanish.
Finally, my time came. The stout, scruffy and slightly balding chilean summoned me from the couch to the chair for my turn under the scissors. I began explaining what I typically like for a hair cut. And by explaining I mean gesticulating with accents of Spanish tossed in for effect. He understood... with a broad smile. Silence ensued. It was broken by the sound of the clippers, normally innocuous, but not ominous. What did I actually ask for? Too late. The size 3.5 clippers hummed through my hair with ease and speed. With the majority of my hair on the floor, the barber brought out his scissors. Oh the scissors. It really wasn't so much the scissors themselves as the way he wielded them. Much like he turned on the clippers, I imagine he rolled up his sleeve and completed the circuit to some small motor in his wrist that caused his thumb and middle finger to twitch mechanically. Like pistons in an engine, or the unrelenting jaws of a piranha as it eats whatever it wants... like blonde hair. While all these images and fears rushed into my head, he still hadn't cut any hair. The scissors just rhythmically clanked together about four inches from my right ear as if he need to warm up his cutting hand before he went to town on my head. And so he did, for twenty or so seconds the hand twitched and the blades snapped until finally lumps of my hair fell to the floor at an astonishing pace.
My heart rate calmed as I realized those scissors would not be taking a pound of flesh from my scalp or ears. Then something magical happened. I don't know if anyone else likes this, but I find that when barbers trim the hair on the back of my neck, it makes the haircut exponentially better. Makes me feel clean, or something. Anyway, after he buzzed the back of my neck and lined up the hairline behind my ears, the magic happened. A little white cotton swab was dabbed in rubbing alcohol and wiped on my next. And upon seeing the straight blade razor, the remaining hairs needed no prodding, but stood straight up on their own. He proceeded to clearcut any remaining outlying hairs that should have escaped his watchful eye AND make this the most awesome haircut of all time.
For $8 and a half an hour of my time, I experienced the best haircut of my life. Needless to say, I will be squeezing in as many as I can in the next 4 months before I go home. The end.
My heart rate calmed as I realized those scissors would not be taking a pound of flesh from my scalp or ears. Then something magical happened. I don't know if anyone else likes this, but I find that when barbers trim the hair on the back of my neck, it makes the haircut exponentially better. Makes me feel clean, or something. Anyway, after he buzzed the back of my neck and lined up the hairline behind my ears, the magic happened. A little white cotton swab was dabbed in rubbing alcohol and wiped on my next. And upon seeing the straight blade razor, the remaining hairs needed no prodding, but stood straight up on their own. He proceeded to clearcut any remaining outlying hairs that should have escaped his watchful eye AND make this the most awesome haircut of all time.
For $8 and a half an hour of my time, I experienced the best haircut of my life. Needless to say, I will be squeezing in as many as I can in the next 4 months before I go home. The end.
March 4, 2012 -- Family Visit/dinner with the host family
Granted this post is a month late, I still think its worth of posting. A month ago, well actually a month and a half ago, my parents arrived in Chile for a vacation/trip through this country. I say vacation, but really travelling with my mom is more or less travelling, in the sense that it involves work and effort to survive. That being said, this post relates to a dinner we had with my host parents and the host family of a friend of mine, Sophie, who lives close by and is also on my program (and who, by the graciousness of her heart and the public nature of facebook, is letting me use her pictures for this post).
The dinner would have been just like any normal dinner among friends except for a few important aspects. First, and most obviously, language. My parents, for their part and to their credit, speak and understand significantly more Spanish than my host parents do English. Now, you might notice that that statement is entirely relative. Alba and Jorge, my chilean host parents, are hard pressed to understand very much English at all. So, what my biological parents understood and spoke in Spanish was celebrated at the table by the chileans. I get ahead of myself. The language barrier came into play in a very big way even before the dinner party began. Set to start at 8:00pm, my parents made their entrance to the evening's activity at roughly 9:30pm. Why? Because sans Spanish and sans telephone, it becomes exponentially harder to arrive at your destination in Santiago via a taxi. Also, the street I happen to live on is only accessible through a city planner's nightmare of a maze of one way streets and no-left-turns. BUT, they arrived, finally. And after much food and a many bottles of wine later (approximately 7 bottles between 8 people, only 6 drank...) the dinner was a success!
Here are some pictures! Courtesy of Sophie!
The dinner would have been just like any normal dinner among friends except for a few important aspects. First, and most obviously, language. My parents, for their part and to their credit, speak and understand significantly more Spanish than my host parents do English. Now, you might notice that that statement is entirely relative. Alba and Jorge, my chilean host parents, are hard pressed to understand very much English at all. So, what my biological parents understood and spoke in Spanish was celebrated at the table by the chileans. I get ahead of myself. The language barrier came into play in a very big way even before the dinner party began. Set to start at 8:00pm, my parents made their entrance to the evening's activity at roughly 9:30pm. Why? Because sans Spanish and sans telephone, it becomes exponentially harder to arrive at your destination in Santiago via a taxi. Also, the street I happen to live on is only accessible through a city planner's nightmare of a maze of one way streets and no-left-turns. BUT, they arrived, finally. And after much food and a many bottles of wine later (approximately 7 bottles between 8 people, only 6 drank...) the dinner was a success!
Here are some pictures! Courtesy of Sophie!
Sophie, Elvira and Juan
Sophie with me and my parents
The Family
Alba, Sophie and me
The host parents and the real parents and me
Monday, March 5, 2012
Buenos Aires, Uruguay and Easter Island
After flying back from Patagonia in the middle of the night, I was granted 36 hours by the travel gods to do laundry, repack, skype and sleep. In that order. Fortunately, the packing list for the second half of my February travels consisted of almost completely different clothing. But nothing could have prepared me for Buenos Aires because, as far as I know, there exists no article of clothing that can cool a person off.
Luckily, we hit the normally humid and sticky Buenos Aires summer at the height of a heat wave, which inadvertently induces a sweat wave. At approximately 40 degrees Celsius, cold showers and floor fans stood a snowball's chance in hell in abating the heat. Our hostel was a self-proclaimed "party hostel" in the heart of the leafy Palermo district. However, the top bunk of a dungeon-like dorm room did not really lend itself to the party hostel atmosphere. In fact, the strange traveller, who slept below me and whose name would stump the national spelling bee champion, insisted on going to sleep early and flicking the lights on just as early the next morning. Hostel aside, Buenos Aires is a lovely place with plenty of shady streets and delicious food. Among the favorite food spots was the Club Eros athletic club. A signless old gym that serves hearty steaks alongside an indoor soccer court proved to be a cool local experience in a sea of tourist-catered restobars.
We quickly moved on to Montevideo, Uruguay which is about a day's trip across the Rio de la Plata and down the coast of Uruguay. Montevideo, well the Pocitos neighborhood, is a very nice area that boasts a beautiful beach and tall apartment buildings. Playa Pocitos ended up being a great place to relax and sleep the day away. However, the seemingly scarce quantity of bars and restaurants soured the lovely image of this area.
After two nights in Montevideo, the bus took us to Punta del Este. Nicknamed the Miami Beach of South America, this rather expensive destination offered better beaches and better night life. There are really only two reasons to go to this town. To sit on the beach all day and to go to a club or bar all night. If the swarms of Brazilians and Argentinians don't deter you, the fact that its not socially acceptable to arrive at a club until 2:00am might. Either way, it was a blast. Being one of two Americans in the hostel was a little unsettling only because the amount of Portuguese being spoken was isolating and nauseating. Apparently, Brazilians don't like to be in town during THEIR OWN Carnival. Instead, they inundate the sleepy country of Uruguay all at the same time.
As we left Punta del Este, it rained. Even though nobody ever really likes rain on their vacation. There arose a slight sense of satisfaction that as we left it rained, giving us a strange cathartic feeling of not missing anything. We boarded the bus once again, this time back to Montevideo, but to another part of the city. Our mistake. Unfortunately for us, we stayed in downtown Montevideo at the exact time the whole city gets up and leaves because they have two days of national holiday for THEIR CARNIVAL. What the hell? Perplexing. Nothing was open and no one was around. So, we trekked down to the Old Town where we found pedestrian streets, a market with huge racks of grilling meat, more Brazilians, and outdoor cafes who are subject to aluminum chair burglaries by the local homeless population. Yes. At dinner one night a guy tried to make off with two chairs from a neighboring restaurant, but was chased by two waiters and the delivery guy on his motorcycle. Its an interesting place, Montevideo.
We returned to Buenos Aires for two more nights. Thankfully the heat had subsided and the city instantly became more enjoyable.
Easter Island: This deserves a section all its own because, well, it is absolutely unlike any other place. A five hour flight straight out into the Pacific Ocean from Santiago, La Isla de Pascua/Easter Island/Rapa Nui is considered to be the most remotely inhabited place on earth. Needless to say there are a burgeoning tourist industry and a two mile long airstrip built by NASA to accomodate the space shuttle... in the most remotely inhabited place on earth.
Obviously, the airstrip isn't this islands main attraction. The Moai, or the creepy but extraordinarily famous stone heads that look out for eternity, are the focus of every tourists trip to this place. There is a crazy history behind the lost culture that created these heads (well actually heads, torsos and arms). Somewhere along the way a group of people with long ears settled the island and then eventually enslaved the people that landed on the island later with short ears. Its the first instance of cultural or racial division that I've heard of that stemmed from ear size. But who am I to know? As a result, the short ears were forced to carve hundreds of these huge heads (and torsos and arms) and haul them to the shore. But obviously, they got really pissed at some point in history and rebelled and tipped them all over in protest.
Despite the history of the island, it is absolutely beautiful and well worth the trip.
Luckily, we hit the normally humid and sticky Buenos Aires summer at the height of a heat wave, which inadvertently induces a sweat wave. At approximately 40 degrees Celsius, cold showers and floor fans stood a snowball's chance in hell in abating the heat. Our hostel was a self-proclaimed "party hostel" in the heart of the leafy Palermo district. However, the top bunk of a dungeon-like dorm room did not really lend itself to the party hostel atmosphere. In fact, the strange traveller, who slept below me and whose name would stump the national spelling bee champion, insisted on going to sleep early and flicking the lights on just as early the next morning. Hostel aside, Buenos Aires is a lovely place with plenty of shady streets and delicious food. Among the favorite food spots was the Club Eros athletic club. A signless old gym that serves hearty steaks alongside an indoor soccer court proved to be a cool local experience in a sea of tourist-catered restobars.
 |
| Pocitos Beach, Montevideo |
We quickly moved on to Montevideo, Uruguay which is about a day's trip across the Rio de la Plata and down the coast of Uruguay. Montevideo, well the Pocitos neighborhood, is a very nice area that boasts a beautiful beach and tall apartment buildings. Playa Pocitos ended up being a great place to relax and sleep the day away. However, the seemingly scarce quantity of bars and restaurants soured the lovely image of this area.
 |
| Brava Beach, Punta del Este |
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| Parrilla, or grilled meat, in Montevideo's Port market |
We returned to Buenos Aires for two more nights. Thankfully the heat had subsided and the city instantly became more enjoyable.
 |
| see the long ear? |
Obviously, the airstrip isn't this islands main attraction. The Moai, or the creepy but extraordinarily famous stone heads that look out for eternity, are the focus of every tourists trip to this place. There is a crazy history behind the lost culture that created these heads (well actually heads, torsos and arms). Somewhere along the way a group of people with long ears settled the island and then eventually enslaved the people that landed on the island later with short ears. Its the first instance of cultural or racial division that I've heard of that stemmed from ear size. But who am I to know? As a result, the short ears were forced to carve hundreds of these huge heads (and torsos and arms) and haul them to the shore. But obviously, they got really pissed at some point in history and rebelled and tipped them all over in protest.
Despite the history of the island, it is absolutely beautiful and well worth the trip.
 |
| Ahu Akivi |
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| Named the Navel of the World, thus I am touching the world's bellybutton which is clearly an outie. |
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Update! 2-16
I am on the second part of my Feb travels. I just spent two nights in the swelteringly hot Buenos Aires. Now, I am in Montevideo, Uruguay and off to Punta Del Este, Uruguay tomorrow!
Brady
Brady
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Patagonia!
On the 29th of Jan, we flew on a 6am flight to the bottom of the world. Punta Arenas. Arguably the southernmost city in the world. However, given that Argentina hates to be outdone by other countries (see the Fauklands War of the 1980s and their persistence that those islands are theirs), Argentina, of course, lays claim that Ushuaia is in fact the southernmost. ANYWAY. Punta Arenas and Patagonia in general are very beautiful but at the same time can be dismal places. As we soon found out, the best thing to do in this po-dunk little town is leave -- so we did. To Puerto Natales. A smaller, somewhat more remote town three hours north of Punta Arenas (see Patagonia Map and see Map of Chile).
Puerto Natales - A sleepy, windswept town that functions as the main jumping off point to all backpackers who are headed to Torres del Paine National Park. The Torres (see picture below) are the main attraction and are seen on two types of treks: the W (4-5 days) and the Circuit (7-9 days). Due to our limited time and the fact the the national park (BBC article about the fire), we were limited to a 4 night 5 day trek to see the highlights of this spectacular place.
Torres del Paine - INCREDIBLE. I already want to go back and do the full circuit. The fire ravaged parts of the park are pretty saddening and hard to bear. Still, some of the most beautiful valleys and mountainsides are preserved. Notable places are the Valle de Frances, Los Cuernos, Paine Grande, and obviously, Los Torres. See the Just Pictures section for more photos!
El Calafate - Across the border in Argentina, this town resembles a Colorado ski town more so than a tucked-away town in Patagonia. Like all of Patagonia, this town featured sometimes howling winds and rapidly changing weather. BUT, featured an incredible array of chocolate stores, ice cream shops and pizza joints (not to mention parrillas or Argentine beef and steak restaurants). The town is largely a tourist trap, but has access to the Perito Moreno glacier (see Just Pictures for the shots of the glacier).
El Chalten - We went here on a day trip from El Calafate to attempt to see Mount Fitz Roy. Fitz Roy. Google will have to suffice because the entire, ENTIRE, time we hiked around this national park it SNOWED. It snowed consistently for four hours in the middle of the summer. That is basically the story of Patagonia. Wind. Sun. Rain. Snow. Before lunch.
Lastly, we ended our whirlwind tour of the south end of the world with two days in Punta Arenas. I enjoyed some time to myself with my kindle in a small coffee shop that overlooked the Strait of Magellan. This was really nice because aside from walking, or paying to go see a bunch of penguins, there really is nothing to do there. On the last night, though, I was able to try a roast of Guanaco, a Patagonian llama. Delicious!
Thanks for reading. Enjoy the pictures!
Puerto Natales - A sleepy, windswept town that functions as the main jumping off point to all backpackers who are headed to Torres del Paine National Park. The Torres (see picture below) are the main attraction and are seen on two types of treks: the W (4-5 days) and the Circuit (7-9 days). Due to our limited time and the fact the the national park (BBC article about the fire), we were limited to a 4 night 5 day trek to see the highlights of this spectacular place.
Torres del Paine - INCREDIBLE. I already want to go back and do the full circuit. The fire ravaged parts of the park are pretty saddening and hard to bear. Still, some of the most beautiful valleys and mountainsides are preserved. Notable places are the Valle de Frances, Los Cuernos, Paine Grande, and obviously, Los Torres. See the Just Pictures section for more photos!
El Calafate - Across the border in Argentina, this town resembles a Colorado ski town more so than a tucked-away town in Patagonia. Like all of Patagonia, this town featured sometimes howling winds and rapidly changing weather. BUT, featured an incredible array of chocolate stores, ice cream shops and pizza joints (not to mention parrillas or Argentine beef and steak restaurants). The town is largely a tourist trap, but has access to the Perito Moreno glacier (see Just Pictures for the shots of the glacier).
El Chalten - We went here on a day trip from El Calafate to attempt to see Mount Fitz Roy. Fitz Roy. Google will have to suffice because the entire, ENTIRE, time we hiked around this national park it SNOWED. It snowed consistently for four hours in the middle of the summer. That is basically the story of Patagonia. Wind. Sun. Rain. Snow. Before lunch.
Lastly, we ended our whirlwind tour of the south end of the world with two days in Punta Arenas. I enjoyed some time to myself with my kindle in a small coffee shop that overlooked the Strait of Magellan. This was really nice because aside from walking, or paying to go see a bunch of penguins, there really is nothing to do there. On the last night, though, I was able to try a roast of Guanaco, a Patagonian llama. Delicious!
Thanks for reading. Enjoy the pictures!
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