Apparently a Chilean blogger who keeps a page dedicated to the cafe we visited in Omue has postedpictures from the night we were there
You may remember my brief post on Olmue, a sleepy town that served as our launching pad for the La Campana hike. I talked mostly about being tired after the hike and frustrated about the lack of busses, but we actually had a pretty interesting experience the night before, too.
Our hostel owner recommended the cafe for dinner, and it turned out to be the only place open in the town that night anyway. When we got in there, they had a TV blaring American songs and music videos from the 90s. It was a blast of welcome nostalgia, as we ended up singing along for most of the dinner. Sad to say, we were slightly disappointed when they turned off the TV and a live Chilean began a set. So much for enjoying the local culture.
In any case, at some point or another this guy starts randomly taking pictures of us. At the time, we assumed it was because Kelsey was a blonde (who are few and far between in Chile). Turns out, he just wanted pictures for his blog! Who woulda' thunk?
If you read the captions and the blurb underneath the photos, somehow they got the (mis) information that we were all from Boston, and were visiting Olmue prior to beginning our studies at the Catholic University in Valparaiso. Not sure where that came from.
Oh, Chile. I'll miss you.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Sunday, June 10, 2007
Winter Wonderland
It's nearing mid-June here in Chile, which means winter has entered into full swing. While so far it's been mostly cold and dry, looks like the rains may finally arrive this week. All in all, it's been just like December in Sacramento.
Which, of course, has thrown off my whole mindset. Part of me wants to put on sweats and curl up on the sofa, basking in front of the TV with a glass of hot chocolate. I even feel like I should be inundated with Christmas commercials, the perfect red-and-green antidote to the dreary grey skies outside. Unfortunately (or fortunately, if you're one to hate the crass commercialism of the holiday season) all that is still half a year away. And in only a week, I'll be in the balmy confines of Sacramento, enjoying a week of mere dry heat before heading to the humid Washington DC for the summer. It will all be a shock, I have no doubt.
Which, of course, has thrown off my whole mindset. Part of me wants to put on sweats and curl up on the sofa, basking in front of the TV with a glass of hot chocolate. I even feel like I should be inundated with Christmas commercials, the perfect red-and-green antidote to the dreary grey skies outside. Unfortunately (or fortunately, if you're one to hate the crass commercialism of the holiday season) all that is still half a year away. And in only a week, I'll be in the balmy confines of Sacramento, enjoying a week of mere dry heat before heading to the humid Washington DC for the summer. It will all be a shock, I have no doubt.
Friday, June 8, 2007
Taxicab Confessions
An interesting anecdote from the other day: had a great conversation with my cab driver, taking me home from the airport after dropping Avalon off for her flight early Tuesday morning. I had hoped that maybe chatting it up with the guy would save me a few bucks (didn't work) on the ride, or at least provide some interesting insights on the Chilean experience (did work).
While my Spanish was a bit shaky at 4 am, I think he was still happy with my attempts to make the 15-minute ride through the dark, largely abandoned freeways a bit lighter. He turned out to be a funny fellow, hailing from Maipu, one of the poorer sections of town, and quite opinionated about all things Chile (aren't we all).
When I asked him if he liked Santiago, he immedately replied no, because of "drogas." This briefly took me aback, as Chile is largely considered to be clean, modern, and drug free. So far, I hadn't seen that much of a drug
That I found surprising. The same military which produced the proud Pinochet and the strict, authoritarian government that ruled the country from 1973-89? The driver said his brother was in the military, and had problem with drugs, and that corruption was stemming out of control. Surprising stuff.
I then asked about the Caribineros, the civillian police that appear to be the army in everything but name. Apparently the Caribineros are immune, he said. I bet if US citizens were polled on whether they thought the military or police were more corrupt, the police would win (lose?) by a landslide.
Then I went back home and wrote a 10-page econ paper, sleeping from 8 to 9 am. So much for the vacation.
While my Spanish was a bit shaky at 4 am, I think he was still happy with my attempts to make the 15-minute ride through the dark, largely abandoned freeways a bit lighter. He turned out to be a funny fellow, hailing from Maipu, one of the poorer sections of town, and quite opinionated about all things Chile (aren't we all).
When I asked him if he liked Santiago, he immedately replied no, because of "drogas." This briefly took me aback, as Chile is largely considered to be clean, modern, and drug free. So far, I hadn't seen that much of a drug
That I found surprising. The same military which produced the proud Pinochet and the strict, authoritarian government that ruled the country from 1973-89? The driver said his brother was in the military, and had problem with drugs, and that corruption was stemming out of control. Surprising stuff.
I then asked about the Caribineros, the civillian police that appear to be the army in everything but name. Apparently the Caribineros are immune, he said. I bet if US citizens were polled on whether they thought the military or police were more corrupt, the police would win (lose?) by a landslide.
Then I went back home and wrote a 10-page econ paper, sleeping from 8 to 9 am. So much for the vacation.
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
Yes, I'm still here
Loyal readers (if there are any):
Yes, in case you're wondering, I'm still in Chile. I know it has been a while, but after the long weekend in Buenos Aries, I've spent the last week with a paper, group project, and visiting girlfriend all taking priority than blogging. And even though my camera now lies in the murky depths of the Rio de la Plata, I'll be updating several times the next week or so, as I'll be needing some study breaks for finals.
And yes, I'm bummed we actually have to take finals. You mean this wasn't just a quarter-long vacation?
Yes, in case you're wondering, I'm still in Chile. I know it has been a while, but after the long weekend in Buenos Aries, I've spent the last week with a paper, group project, and visiting girlfriend all taking priority than blogging. And even though my camera now lies in the murky depths of the Rio de la Plata, I'll be updating several times the next week or so, as I'll be needing some study breaks for finals.
And yes, I'm bummed we actually have to take finals. You mean this wasn't just a quarter-long vacation?
Monday, May 14, 2007
It's the culture, stupid
There we sat, exhausted and hungry after a long day's hike in Olmue. We had just spent several hours on the trails of La Campana, having chosen the most difficult for our day's effort. The views at the top were spectacular, and we had incredible luck as the clouds came in only after we had begun our descent. But now we were tired, seeking showers, and ready to head home to Santiago.
But there was a problem. The bus company, who had assured us that busses running from Olmue to Santiago would come by every half hour or so. Apparently, in Chilean, every half hour or so actually means every hour and a half. So we had to wait, and Ulmue was out of bottled water (except, of course, "gasificada"--or carbonated--which some may find refreshing but I find lacking after a dehydrating hike).
This led me to once again question the inefficency and ineffectiveness that seems to plague Latin American business sometimes. Chile may be developing and considers itself European, but travelers still have to "go with the flow" as the customer isn't always right. This put me in a foul mood.
But, as we wandered the streets of Olmue, we encountered a competition of the "cueca," the Chilean national dance. There was a stadium packed with fans from every region of Chile, cheering on the pairs of dancers that represented them on stage. While not as unruly as the soccer fans, they were every bit as passionate, sounding noisemakers and throwing confetti to further their cause. The cueca reminded me of some traditional Mexican dances, as the outfits and music (Spanish guitars, accordians, bass, piano and drums all in the mix) were very smilar. It was free, and a delight to watch. It served as an important lesson why traveling to Latin America can be so great. You don't go there because everything works efficiently as possible. You go there because it has a character that you don't often find in the good ol' cold capitalistic US of A.
But it was nice to get a hot shower back in the city.
But there was a problem. The bus company, who had assured us that busses running from Olmue to Santiago would come by every half hour or so. Apparently, in Chilean, every half hour or so actually means every hour and a half. So we had to wait, and Ulmue was out of bottled water (except, of course, "gasificada"--or carbonated--which some may find refreshing but I find lacking after a dehydrating hike).
This led me to once again question the inefficency and ineffectiveness that seems to plague Latin American business sometimes. Chile may be developing and considers itself European, but travelers still have to "go with the flow" as the customer isn't always right. This put me in a foul mood.
But, as we wandered the streets of Olmue, we encountered a competition of the "cueca," the Chilean national dance. There was a stadium packed with fans from every region of Chile, cheering on the pairs of dancers that represented them on stage. While not as unruly as the soccer fans, they were every bit as passionate, sounding noisemakers and throwing confetti to further their cause. The cueca reminded me of some traditional Mexican dances, as the outfits and music (Spanish guitars, accordians, bass, piano and drums all in the mix) were very smilar. It was free, and a delight to watch. It served as an important lesson why traveling to Latin America can be so great. You don't go there because everything works efficiently as possible. You go there because it has a character that you don't often find in the good ol' cold capitalistic US of A.
But it was nice to get a hot shower back in the city.
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
The South Chile Diet (Do not try at home)
"Sin Mayonesa."
They didn’t tell me this at the orientation events, but these have been the two most important words in the Spanish language during my trip so far. If you forget, eater beware, as more often than not you’ll get a whole lot more than you’ve bargained for, and on dishes you wouldn’t imagine.
Take the Chilean salad, which already leaves a little to be desired as it usually consists of a pile of lettuce and a stack of tomatoes, set next to each other. But when you add the mayo—and my host mother took a Jackson Pollack approach to one last week—it gets, well, even more interesting. The ultimate irony came yesterday when I was served an artichoke, a vegetable I actually enjoy dipping in mayonnaise, without mayo but with lemon juice. Go figure?
The typical Chilean diet would make an American nutritionist squirm: tons of white bread, fatty meat, salt, sugar and, of course, mayonnaise. While nutritionists in the states are pushing for multiple, smaller meals throughout the day, Chile has embraced the two huge meal-a-day philosophy with gusto. And when breakfast sometimes comes with a slice of coffee cake, and dinner is merely cake or white bread with tea or coffee, sweetness seems to reign supreme.
And sometimes that isn’t enough. When we were served a tamale-like dish (corn wrapped it its own husk and cooked, but without meat) after dinner the other day, I assumed it was merely another course. But after my host mom dumped a mountain of sugar on top (no joke, you could no longer see the corn) I realized dessert had been served.
To be fair, most of the food isn’t all that bad. To their credit, Chileans eat a lot of fruit and vegetables, and put avocado (palta) on everything as well, which is definitely a plus. The completo, a hot dog with avocado and tomatoes as garnish is the perfect late night snack—sin mayonesa, of course.
It begs the question: how is the entire nation not massively overweight like the U.S.? Everyone seems to be in decent enough health, and obese individuals are few and far between. Still, considering the diet, it’s hard to imagine how the country isn’t a walking triple bypass.
But that’s the kicker: walking. As in, everyone walks everywhere. Sure, the Metro and busses are necessary to go long distances, and cabs and personal cars clog the streets during rush hour, but there’s a good amount of pedestrian traffic that U.S. cities, at least residential areas, sorely lack. Even at 11:00 on a Friday night I see elderly couples on walks around the neighborhood.
Hopefully the U.S. will take notice and start building its communities around mass transit and pedestrian traffic avenues. Unfortunately, in its zeal for modernization, Chile’s press has been hyping the idea of cars for all families by 2018. If that happens, the personal freedoms Chileans gain by driving may come back to haunt them, both in smoggy skies and expanding waistlines.
They didn’t tell me this at the orientation events, but these have been the two most important words in the Spanish language during my trip so far. If you forget, eater beware, as more often than not you’ll get a whole lot more than you’ve bargained for, and on dishes you wouldn’t imagine.
Take the Chilean salad, which already leaves a little to be desired as it usually consists of a pile of lettuce and a stack of tomatoes, set next to each other. But when you add the mayo—and my host mother took a Jackson Pollack approach to one last week—it gets, well, even more interesting. The ultimate irony came yesterday when I was served an artichoke, a vegetable I actually enjoy dipping in mayonnaise, without mayo but with lemon juice. Go figure?
The typical Chilean diet would make an American nutritionist squirm: tons of white bread, fatty meat, salt, sugar and, of course, mayonnaise. While nutritionists in the states are pushing for multiple, smaller meals throughout the day, Chile has embraced the two huge meal-a-day philosophy with gusto. And when breakfast sometimes comes with a slice of coffee cake, and dinner is merely cake or white bread with tea or coffee, sweetness seems to reign supreme.
And sometimes that isn’t enough. When we were served a tamale-like dish (corn wrapped it its own husk and cooked, but without meat) after dinner the other day, I assumed it was merely another course. But after my host mom dumped a mountain of sugar on top (no joke, you could no longer see the corn) I realized dessert had been served.
To be fair, most of the food isn’t all that bad. To their credit, Chileans eat a lot of fruit and vegetables, and put avocado (palta) on everything as well, which is definitely a plus. The completo, a hot dog with avocado and tomatoes as garnish is the perfect late night snack—sin mayonesa, of course.
It begs the question: how is the entire nation not massively overweight like the U.S.? Everyone seems to be in decent enough health, and obese individuals are few and far between. Still, considering the diet, it’s hard to imagine how the country isn’t a walking triple bypass.
But that’s the kicker: walking. As in, everyone walks everywhere. Sure, the Metro and busses are necessary to go long distances, and cabs and personal cars clog the streets during rush hour, but there’s a good amount of pedestrian traffic that U.S. cities, at least residential areas, sorely lack. Even at 11:00 on a Friday night I see elderly couples on walks around the neighborhood.
Hopefully the U.S. will take notice and start building its communities around mass transit and pedestrian traffic avenues. Unfortunately, in its zeal for modernization, Chile’s press has been hyping the idea of cars for all families by 2018. If that happens, the personal freedoms Chileans gain by driving may come back to haunt them, both in smoggy skies and expanding waistlines.
Are you ready for some futbol?
Last night I finally attended my first Chilean football game, and it was quite the experience. The home team, Colo-Colo (think the NY Yankees of Chile) won 2-1, but lost its matchup as it had fallen in the previous game 3-0 (the aggregate score matters in football tournaments). Thus, the opposing team, America (which hails from Mexico) played very defensively, keepin six or seven players back to guard the goal throughout. Nonetheless, Colo Colo kept up its attack, and despite some frustrating occurances, the quality of play was much better than the other Chilean games I'd seen on TV.
The Chilean fans were just as rowdy as I had hoped: loud, proud, and yes, sketchy. We were confronted countless times between the metro stop and the stadium entance by teens in slighly grungy Colo Colo jerseys asking for money--some claiming only to need a few more pesos to pay for a ticket, others a little more upfront). But apparently our group had it easy, as they tried to reach into my friend Eddie's pockets to get his iPod (which doesn't make sense as the's the biggest guy in our Stanford cohort here) and the girls were asked to perform a number of explicit sex acts which I will not elaborate on here.
Based on what now appears to be bad advice, we arrived to the stadium more than two hours early, and thus stuck out like a sore thumb. Although we weren't with the rowdies in the cheap seats (center of the field tends to be a little pricer; we paid rougly $15 each) we still got plenty of looks. The nearby fans nearly gave the girls a standing ovation of hoots and hollers when they came down the steps (blondes are in high demand here, it seems). A group of kids (I'd guess between eight to ten years old) decided to befriend us, posing for pictures and sweet talking the girls. Only when their dads, who had been sitting a few rows back watching with subtle amusement, decided enough was enough did the kids return to their seats. Of course, the chosen method of shutting their kids up was giving them each a cigarette.
Once the game started, the fans' attention shifted to the field of play. The game itself was a blast, I didn't catch on to all the cheers (most featured some sort of insult at the opposition's mothers) it was still great to be part of the crowd. One of the Spanish teachers, who is only in her late twenties, I'd guess, came with us and tought us a few of the chants. There was a fight in the stands on the other side of the field, and while the tides of onlookers rushed to catch a glimpse of the fray, they immediately reversed and fled the other direction as a cadre of menacing-looking policemen clad in full-out riot gear charged into the fracas. A few fireworks were set off from the crowd, and the police had to chase down an unauthorized sandwich vendor, but it didn't look like anyone was stabbed, so I'd say the game was a victory for all.
The Chilean fans were just as rowdy as I had hoped: loud, proud, and yes, sketchy. We were confronted countless times between the metro stop and the stadium entance by teens in slighly grungy Colo Colo jerseys asking for money--some claiming only to need a few more pesos to pay for a ticket, others a little more upfront). But apparently our group had it easy, as they tried to reach into my friend Eddie's pockets to get his iPod (which doesn't make sense as the's the biggest guy in our Stanford cohort here) and the girls were asked to perform a number of explicit sex acts which I will not elaborate on here.
Based on what now appears to be bad advice, we arrived to the stadium more than two hours early, and thus stuck out like a sore thumb. Although we weren't with the rowdies in the cheap seats (center of the field tends to be a little pricer; we paid rougly $15 each) we still got plenty of looks. The nearby fans nearly gave the girls a standing ovation of hoots and hollers when they came down the steps (blondes are in high demand here, it seems). A group of kids (I'd guess between eight to ten years old) decided to befriend us, posing for pictures and sweet talking the girls. Only when their dads, who had been sitting a few rows back watching with subtle amusement, decided enough was enough did the kids return to their seats. Of course, the chosen method of shutting their kids up was giving them each a cigarette.
Once the game started, the fans' attention shifted to the field of play. The game itself was a blast, I didn't catch on to all the cheers (most featured some sort of insult at the opposition's mothers) it was still great to be part of the crowd. One of the Spanish teachers, who is only in her late twenties, I'd guess, came with us and tought us a few of the chants. There was a fight in the stands on the other side of the field, and while the tides of onlookers rushed to catch a glimpse of the fray, they immediately reversed and fled the other direction as a cadre of menacing-looking policemen clad in full-out riot gear charged into the fracas. A few fireworks were set off from the crowd, and the police had to chase down an unauthorized sandwich vendor, but it didn't look like anyone was stabbed, so I'd say the game was a victory for all.
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