Finally - Some Thoughts

Yesterday, as I walked from my oldest friends house to my new, and temporary, house in Crown Heights, I realized that I'm finally getting over the cold. Though I still get quite jealous every time my friends back in Santiago tell me about their trips to beach towns in 30 degrees and sunshine, I am somehow adjusting in the freezing New York City winter.
It is that adjusting that I find most amazing about human kind. That we can go from one continent to another, one culture to another, one life to another, slowly changing what feels like everything about ourselves, and yet still be ourselves. Still human, and still functioning in the same skin though everything underneath may have transformed. My father once told me that there is great power in one's ability to adapt, and I finally believe it.

Pictures from Patagonia - Torres Del Paine

Mountain



Hiking to our last campsite



Break for Lunch



Campsite View



A Nice View




A Nice Lake



THE Torres Del Paine



Part of the Hike



Glacier Grey



My Piece of the Glacier



Waiting for the Bus

Anywhere

Christmas day has never felt so unreal. I've been back in the United States for 11 days now, yet I am still re-adjusting to "my culture." Last night, my dear friend Kortney reminded me that I was not raised in the US (I was, but she used to joke around and say that my home was like an environment outside of the US; almost a mix of European, South American, Asian, and the unusual ways of my parents). Her comment made me wonder about my re-adjustment process. That I might never re-adjust because I was never completely involved. It's a pleasant and discomforting feeling to be in such a "limbo." For example, when I miss speaking Spanish I turn to my mother and am reminded my study abroad experience, and my Colombian culture. On the other hand, I now automatically - and passively - resist all those things that remind me of exploitation.

So my mom put up the red and green decorations, we, as usual, don't have a Christmas tree, friends and family are calling and texting, but something is lost about the holiday. Perhaps I still feel as though I'm up in the air: In a small airplane cabin flying between two cultures - two worlds. And though they both have shaped my life, occupying the space in between the two removes the meaning that they once had. And so the space we inhabit as cross-cultural individuals may be less of a limbo, and more of a possibility, for I suppose I can go anywhere now.

NYC, USA

Well, I'm back in my belovéd patria, and though I'm experiencing some reverse culture shock/unpleasant reminders of my past lifestyle, it is wonderful to be home in the city. My first two days in the New York were spent showing Katrina around my corners of the city. We did some Brooklyn touring, some downtown Manhattan touring, and even saw a Broadway show. It was such a treat to walk around my favorite places with one of my favorite people.

Though I'm a little more settled in, I'm still having trouble adjusting to New York City in December. When I left Santiago, it was about 30 degrees centigrade, and I was feeling quite comfortable in my Chilean life. Now, it's about 2 degrees centigrade, and everything feels extremely expensive and some things even feel excessive. I'm very reluctant to buy food that I don't need; to take the train ($2.25!); and to talk on the phone because I'm used to having a crappy pay-as-you-go phone that no one ever called or texted. I was particularly shocked by the amount of amount of fruit that is available: In Santiago, my host mom, Alejandra, never bought fruit that wasn't in season, and the fruit that was available was not the best quality because Chile exports all their good fruit to the United States. Such are our privileges in the world super power. And though I always knew this, the reality becomes more painful as I happily travel back and forth between the dominant and the dominated, connecting with people in both places, and wishing that exploitation didn't permeate the definition of our differences.

Since I am back in New York City, I will probably be blogging less, though I will post any updates that some might find interesting. Now that I have computer access, I'll also post some pictures from my Chilean adventures.

The End of the Continent, The Top of the World

Again, sorry for the extreme delay. Being without a computer + 4 essays + 1 exams + making travel plans + 2 stomach viruses = minimal time to blog. Anyway, I think I´m finally done with this semester. I will be back in New York City next Monday - whoohoo! I am quite excited to be back home, and to take a rest from a year of traveling.

Last week I took my epic trip to Patagonia to see the Torres Del Paine. Our flight arrived at around 4am, and though it was already light outside, we slept in the airport until taxis arrived to take us to the closest town. Two bus rides later, we were in beautiful national park, ready for five days of camping and hiking. After the walk to the first campsite with my (cheaply made, and quite heavy) backpack, the first night of no sleep in the freezing (apx 0 degrees centigrade) cold tent, and the six hour (8 hour? I don´t really remember) day hike to see las Torres del Paine, I didn´t think I´d last another four days. But I did. I actually slept when I switched to the tiny, and tropically warm tent with my Australian buddies; I took some weight off my shoulders when Aaron suggested that we switch bags; and I made it through the hot (like spring hot), sunny (sun burn sunny), cold (like fall cold), and windy (wind burn wind) day hikes by singing to my feet on the rocky trails.
Though getting in shape via nature hike is always fun, I most enjoyed spending time setting up camp and eating meals with my fellow hikers. On the last day we walked several miles to see the famoso Glacier Grey. When we saw it in full view, Row turned to me and asked if it was better than a postcard. He was referring to the first day hike we took in which I, in an exhausted frenzy, sassily said, "I bet it looks like a postcard." Apparently it was a "buzz kill," and although most of Torres Del Paine looked like a postcard (everything beautiful looks like a postcard, right?) there is something very special about being a part of such a grand image, especially when it is at the end of the continent that you call your own. It also really puts the whole global warming thing into perspective. Lost in our speedy modernity, we melt something that exists so peacefully, and so beautifully as the home of our destruction.

I didn´t take many pictures, but the others did. I will post my own as soon as possible, but for now, check out the Book of Faces.

More later.
Peace

Guess Who`s Back?

Boy has it been a while. Unfortunately, I´ve had a load of some stressful work, and a broken computer. So insted of spending hours in front of my handy dandy MacBook, I spend hours doing more productive things like playing the guitar, buying things that I need, writing, reading, and only occaisonally missing the convencience of a computer. A long time ago, I realized that I greatly dislike computers (and lots of modern technology), but a few weeks ago I realized why. In my experience, if I were my digestive system, my time spent on computers would be like chocolate: immediately satisfying but generally unsubstantial and unproductive. Anyway, here´s an overview of what I´ve done in the last few weeks (or what I remember of it):

About two (two and a half? three?) weeks ago I started working on my essay for Economic Sociology. I hadn´t done as well as I´d liked on the previous essay, so I wanted to make this one a good one. I even stayed in on Halloween (and splurged on some snickers bars) to get some work done. A few days later, my computer freezes, and when I try to turn it back on a blinking question mark pops up - yeah, bad news. So I am forced to work on my essay at the Social Sciences building computer lab (where I am now).
That weekend (last weekend) I went to La Serena and Valle de Elqui with my program from Friday morning to Sunday night. The essay was due the following Monday, but I was still able to enjoy swimming in the - quite rough and salty - pacific ocean; beatiful scenery; and the observatoray where we saw several constellations, Jupiter, and some far away galaxies. It was the type of trip that makes you wonder why one would spend time on essays when we are so small, and insiginificant, and nothing we do really matters. But alas, I choose to participate in our tiny little social world...

Monday morning I wake up with an upset stomach but make the trek to campus to finish my essay in four hours. By 11:00 am (an hour before the essay is supposed to be due) I my stomach feels like it´s being stabbed from the inside. I send an incomplete essay, and try to make it home without passing out. In tears, I attempt to hail several cabs but none stop for me. I take the bus and train home. Three people ask if I am okay, and I nod my head "no" as I try not to fall on the ground and burst into huge sobs. Finally I make it home and sleep for the rest of the day. Turns out 6 students from the program got sick as well.

In the next few days, I spend most of my time in computer room as I have another essay due that Friday. Finally Friday came and it was all over. To celebrate finishing our essays, my friend Mim and I decided to have a little music party at her house the next day. We (well, I) also decided that it would be fun to cut all my hair off.
I arrived at her house on Saturday evening and the party began. It was actually one of my favorite nights here in Santiago. Her brother had just arrived from Australia, and he is also a musician, so we had a little jam session for Mim´s host family. Then we took a trip to the supermarket to buy a comb so that Mim´s haircutting friend could do the job. Back at home, Mim played the violin, her brother played guitar, and I sang, all while several inches of my hair fell to the ground. And now I have a mohawk. We documented the whole night and had a jolly good time.

That´s all for now. I am off to a meeting about an epic trip that 10 of us are taking to Torres Del Paine aka the end of the South American continent.

Peace

Movies and Afterthoughts

Last weekend a bunch of Tufts people (and others) and I went to see a movie called Dawson Isla 10.
Short movie review courtesy of Chilean Embassy:
“Dawson Island” 10 is a film that recounts the experiences of a group of approximately 50 senior officials and close aides to President Salvador Allende who were imprisoned on Dawson Island, a few days after the Pinochet military coup in 1973. Located south of the Strait of Magellan, this island became the southernmost political prison that existed in the world.
ese men, ministers, senators, and deputies, who embodied the dream of Allende, were subjected to forced labor in the frigid inclement weather of southern Chile.

Anyway, at one point in the movie one of the prisoners was talking to the head commander on the island about the military coup. After a quick disagreement about what American presidents were doing, the prisoner exclaimed, "Everyone knows that without the authorization of the United States, the coup would not have happened!"
Oh dear, thought I. Of course I was aware of this information, but what a friendly reminder of the splendid nation that I was born in.

I later began to think about the passing relationships that I've formed here and Chile and how my American identity has affected them. These relationships often occur when I stop to buy earrings, or fruit, or a guitar (yeah, I bought a guitar and I'm learning to play!!). Knowing from my appearance and from my accent that I am not Chilean, vendors will ask me where I am from. It usually takes me a second to answer, as I decide whether to say that I am from Colombia or from the United States. Usually I give the most accurate response, which is that I am from the United States. I say this mainly because I often lack the vocabulary and culture to pull off being 100% Colombian.
But, to be honest, I would much rather say that I am Colombian. Since being here, I've been asked many a time about where I am from, and why my accent is so good, and yadayadayada. These questions have driven me to think more about my national and cultural identity. And I've come to the conclusion that since my American national identity is mostly just a product of human exploitation for economic gain, and my American culture is imperialist and indulgent, I would much rather be associated with Colombia (not that Colombia doesn't have problems as well, but that's a whole other conversation). In reality, I greatly dislike patriotism, but I can't really say that I'm not from anywhere.
So after this friendly reminder from Dawson Isla 10 (oh, and Dead Prez. They always remind me that the US -for lack of a better word- sucks), I am attempting to step away from my American side and embrace my Colombian side (sorry father). This is not an attempt to be something that I am not, but rather an attempt to encourage something that I am. And how privileged I am to have this dual sense of identity. Well, it's a bit of a blessing and a curse, but all's well for now.