Dear Reader,

It seems that it has been a while since my last post. Sorry.
Unfortunately, after spring break I was greeted with the task of completing a hefty paper for my Economic Sociology class so I spent most of last week whining about writing six pages in my non-dominant language. By the by, If anyone with a PhD in sociology is interested in clarifying some theories for me, it would be greatly appreciated. Anyhow, I am finally done with the paper, and in the process of getting my proverbial mierda together.

HIGHLIGHTS:
Two weeks ago was spring break down here in the Southern Hemisphere. Most of the Tufts in Chile group traveled up to Peru to see the famous Inca ruins as well as other quite lovely man made and natural attractions. Instead of going north, Aaron, Christy, Katrina, Frank, Ben and I headed east to Argentina. We made three stops. First in Mendoza, the city just over the Andes, known for Malbec wine. Appropriately, we rented some bikes and took a wine tour for our one day in Mendoza. The weather was perfect, and the wine, delicious.
That night, we took an overnight bus to Córdoba, a city north east of Mendoza in the middle of Argentina. In Córdoba, we spent the night at a gringo hostel (Ben and I both noticed that this hostel looked exactly like Prudence’s house from Across the Universe), enjoyed an outdoor barbeque with some backpacking Europeans, went to an art museum, and an artisan market – all in 1.5 days.
Another overnight bus later, we were in Buenos Aires (BA). Buenos Aires was a striking city. The arrogant New Yorker in me says that Buenos Aires is a “real” city as opposed to the large towns that some people like to call cities. We did lots of touring, so I didn’t spend much time absorbing the character of BA, but it felt good to be a part of the rhythm for a couple of days. I had the privilege of staying with my closest friend from Colombia in her cute BA apartment. I often refer to Carmen as my Colombian older sister, as I spent most of my yearly trips to Colombia with her. Despite seeing three Argentine cities, going salsa dancing, drinking great wine, and taking epic 17-hour bus rides, the best part of spring break was spending time with Carmen. Her accent, her presence, and her knowledge of my life experience in South America made me feel so at home.

Crossing the Andes:





Córdoba:


Buenos Aires:









After crossing the beautiful Andes, we arrived back home in Chile on the 18th, just in time for Chilean independence day.

As I made my way back home, I was reminded of the things I see everyday in Santiago. These are the things that I forget about when I travel – the tiny cultural differences that I quickly get accustomed to. Though I imagine I’ll notice more differences when I go back to New York, here are some of the little things that help define my daily life in Santiago:

1. Couples kissing. I see at least two of these per day.
2. Stray dogs. I’m pretty sure that Santiago has gained a serious reputation for stray dogs. I see at least three non-stray dogs per day because they live on my block. I see at least 5 stray dogs per day because they are actually everywhere. They are like the pigeons in New York City. But these dogs are way more interesting than pigeons. They are of all shapes, colors, breeds, and sizes. As my friend pointed out, they also act a lot like humans. They sleep on the street, curled up in little balls, or sprawled out as if they’re dead. I’ve also seen several male dogs try a little too hard to hump female (or male) dogs. It sometimes makes me uncomfortable. Especially when the victim clearly does not want to be humped, or when he/she is clearly sleeping – very human like.
3. People looking at me like I escaped from the circus. This was actually the first thing I noticed when I got back to Santiago.
4. Metro! The public transportation in Santiago works quite well. My only issues with it are that a) every stop looks exactly the same (what happens if you can’t read?!), b) there are TV’s at the stations and in the trains that show commercials (I’d rather not be bombarded with commercialism every minute of my life, thanks), c) it closes at 10:30pm, and d) there aren’t enough metro lines. But other than that, the system is great, and runs a lot more efficiently than the New York City subway.
5. Different pluming. This is common in several South American countries (and even in the US). You are not to put toilet paper in the toilet, or it will get clogged. It seems silly, but it really changes the whole going to the bathroom process when you’re putting toilet paper in a trash can instead of in the toilet.
6. Starch. Because of the peasant culture, lack of any influential immigrant culture (except maybe Peruvians), and American imperialism (or just the influence of the hot dog) most Chilean food is made up of meat and starch (and lots of avocado and mayonnaise). I wouldn’t call it bad, but I wouldn’t call it delicious either. Luckily, my Chilean mom is a good cook, so I’ve got some variety.

Until next time,
KT

P.S. Last weekend we took a field trip to the largest copper mine in the world: El Teniente. From the outside it looks like a giant mountain, but once inside, it's like a little mining city.

Outside the Mine:


Inside!:

Reasons to Shave My Head

Last weekend, I put my trust in my fellow human being. These things happen when you are not a part of the dominant culture…

About a year ago I decided to commit an act of symbolic violence (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Symbolic_violence) and chemically – and permanently -straighten my hair. I’d like to say that I did it for a change in my look, or to experiment with something new. However, I can’t ignore that I am exposed to - and conditioned by -the societal preferences for Eurocentric beauty. So despite my political beliefs, despite my closest friends and families’ political beliefs (and objections), and despite my knowledge of how unhealthy and dangerous hair relaxer is for the body, I decided to give in to The Man and do the white girl thing…as if I’m not “white” enough already.

So here I am now, in Santiago, where there are very few Afro-Americans, and very few people who look qualified to put such harsh chemicals on and around my scalp. Luckily, I brought the horrible and dangerous hair-straightening products with me to Chile, so the only challenge was finding someone who could help me fry the roots of my hair when they’d grown long enough (about every 6-8 weeks). I considered asking my host mother to help me out. She dyes her own hair, which is a similar process, but not quite as dangerous. I considered doing it myself, but I don’t trust myself to correctly apply relaxer, especially to the back of my head. Finally, I considered asking a random black woman on the street. And so I did.

A few weeks ago, as I walked through the Santiago streets, I saw a young black woman with long braided hair. I got up the courage to ask her who’d done her braids and if that person could relax her as well. She was very nice and gave me both her own number and the number of the woman who’d done her hair. She said that if her hairdresser, Cruz, couldn’t do it for me, that she would do her best to help me out. I was also quite excited when I found out that Mode is from the same city that my grandmother lives in back in Colombia.

That night, I called Cruz and made an appointment.

Last weekend, Cruz met me at the subway stop near her apartment and greeted me with a big hug and kiss. I could tell that she was Colombian by her warmth and her accent. When we arrived at her house, I met her children, and two friends who were also from Colombia. As Cruz combed my hair, I sat in her small living room with her and her family. Although they spoke a fast and vulgar Spanish that I never heard my mom speak, the Colombian accent made me feel at home. When I asked if they liked Chile, they told me that they appreciate Chile for the work and living opportunities, but that they much prefer their own country. I then began to remember the unbearable poverty that I only had to witness on my short trips to Colombia.
It was fascinating to see Chile from a black immigrant perspective, to see Colombia from a working poor perspective, to see the mystified look on their faces when I said I was from the US, and to see myself somewhere in the middle of all of these “identities,” unable to reconcile exactly why they separated us, and why they brought us together. And on top of all that, chemicals were burning through my hair and scalp. For a student of culture, the whole experience was a bit of beautiful chaos.
We continued the rest of the day talking about the great food is in Colombia, American music lyrics, Afro-Colombian and Peruvian immigrants in Chile, family, and more. Mostly, they talked among themselves as I tried to follow. By the end, I’d had lunch with Cruz and her daughters, and I had given Cruz’s daughter some of my hair products (though I cringed to see a little black girl get so excited about putting chemicals in her hair, I certainly understood her desire to “soften” her thick texture. I also had to wonder how her own psyche has been affected by Eurocentric ideals of beauty, for I don’t have the experience to make that judgment). I’d also been officially invited back whenever I wanted.
I think I’ll be back. If not to fry my hair, to be comforted by the loving voices of a people that I’ve never been enough a part of.

So Much Sand

So much happens in a week. The weather went from about 27 degrees centigrade to about 13 degrees centigrade...what?! Yes, it was quite deceiving. I can't wait for it to really warm up down here.

Some scattered news:

1. I started my internship! I am assistant teaching in 11th and 12th grade English classes at an all boys semi-private school. It's really a lot of fun. The boys are very cordial and generally well behaved. I mostly help them with pronunciation and grammar. Our interactions range from questions about their work, questions about America’s Next Top Model, singing American songs for their classes (I’ve heard ‘We Are the World’ about ten times today), and questions about my personal life.

2. Went to Valparaiso, a small port city about two hours away from Santiago. It was just a day trip for the Tufts program, but a few of us decided to stay over. We stayed in the most amazing hostel I’ve ever seen. It was basically a house with giant beds and acrobatics. My upper body still hurts from climbing that stretchy cloth thing. At night, the six of us went to a giant club called “Huevo.” Lots of floors, lots of Chileans, lots of dancing. It was a good time. The next day we took a short bus ride to the sand dunes, where we spent most of the time taking TONS of silly pictures.












3. Earlier last week (when it was warm) A cat crawled into my lap while I was writing in my journal. Supposedly there are two cats that hang out between by the science building (where I was sitting) and cuddle with/steal food from students. The cat that sat in my lap was the cuddle cat. The food-stealing cat came later, and literally meowed on my lap and in my face until I generously allowed it to drink some of my yogurt.