disneylandia

As I am coming to realize that the world is paradoxically much bigger and smaller than I previously supposed, here are the lyrics of a song by a true artist from Uruguay who eloquently expresses the beautiful mess of our intertwined existence.

Disneylandia
Jorge Drexler

Hijo de inmigrantes rusos casado en Argentina con una pintora judía, se casa por segunda vez con una princesa africana en Méjico.

Música hindú contrabandeada por gitanos polacos se vuelve un éxito en el interior de Bolivia.
Cebras africanas y canguros australianos en el zoológico de Londres.
Momias egipcias y artefactos incas en el Museo de Nueva York.
Linternas japonesas y chicles americanos en los bazares coreanos de San Pablo.
Imágenes de un volcán en Filipinas salen en la red de televisión de Mozambique.

Armenios naturalizados en Chile buscan a sus familiares en Etiopía.
Casas prefabricadas canadienses hechas con madera colombiana.
Multinacionales japonesas instalan empresas en Hong-Kong y producen con materia prima brasilera para competir en el mercado americano.
Literatura griega adaptada para niños chinos de la Comunidad Europea.
Relojes suizos falsificados en Paraguay vendidos por camellos en el barrio mejicano de Los Ángeles.
Turista francesa fotografiada semidesnuda con su novio árabe en el barrio de Chueca.

Pilas americanas alimentan electrodomésticos ingleses en Nueva Guinea.
Gasolina árabe alimenta automóviles americanos en África del Sur.
Pizza italiana alimenta italianos en Italia.
Niños iraquíes huídos de la guerra no obtienen visa en el consulado americano de Egipto para entrar en Disneylandia.

people of the land

The past few weeks have been busy and incredible. Last week, the other students participating in the interexchange program and I had the chance to live with indigenous families in the countryside of southern Chile...I can´t begin to explain how beautiful and unique this experience was... the people we lived with are Mapuche, which in their language called Mapudungun, means "People of the Land" (mapu= land/earth and che=people).

Similar to the history of Native Americans in the United States as well as all of Latin America, the Mapuche had been living on the land for thousands of years before the arrival of the European conquistadores (in this case, Spanish). Their territory stretched from Buenos Aires to the glaciers at the southern tip of the continent up to current day Santiago. They were in general a peaceful hunter gatherer people, though out of all the indigenous people of Latin America, the Mapuche resisted the Spanish colonialization the longest, up until about 200 years ago. Over the years, their vast territory has slowly been taken from them, and now the majority reside in the southern region (VIII and XI regions) of Chile near Temuco. The Mapuche region is absolutely beautiful. The land, situated between the two mountain regions in Chile - the Andes and the mountains on the Coast - is extremely fertile, and one quickly loses oneself in the midst of the rolling hills and timberlands.

The family with whom I stayed were a young couple in the 30s with an 8 year old son named Matias (Matthew) and a baby on the way. They live about a 30 minute walk into the countryside from the local elementary school where we reunited everyday to visit with the Mapuche students and learn about intercultural education. I enjoyed the escape from the pace and pollution of Santiago to a more simple life in the countryside, falling asleep to the sound of silence and waking with the rooster´s crow, eating organically cultivated honey and fruit and veggies from their farm (as they are a subsistance farming people) and spending the afternoons relaxing with the family or sitting in a open field, taking in everything.

After this past week I have a deeper awareness of the importance of preserving and appreciating indigenous cultures such as that of the Mapuche, who are so often overlooked as backwards or behind the times from the lens of more "modern societies." Despite the struggles these people face, in regards to the loss of their land and cultural identity with globalization and neoliberalism, they have a resilience about them that stems from the centuries long fight they have led against colonial subjection and subjugation. Experiencing their beautiful culture firsthand has kindled something somewhat reslient within me as well, a rejection of the notion that one culture is somehow better than another because of its gunpower. Furthermore, despite what some may consider a rudimentary lifestyle, the respect the Mapuche have for the land is something our modern societies could learn more than a thing or two from... to take from the earth only what we need and replenish/honor it to me is far from a backwards idea, and I have a feeling that in the decades to come with the growing global energy crisis, the practices of these so-called archaic cultures will prove to be more of an objective truth than once previously supposed.

thomas merton

Here is an excerpt from the writings and reflections of Thomas Merton, a 20th century Trappist monk and mystic whose seclusion from the world gave him a profound understanding of it. His words here provide a glimpse into what I am beginning to see, day by day. Peace. m

This afternoon I suddenly saw the meaning of my American destiny -- one of those moments when many unrelated pieces of one's life and thought fall into place in a great unity towards which one has been growing.

My destiny is indeed to be an American -- not just an American of the United States. We are only on the fringe of the true America. I can never be satisfied with this only partial reality that is almost nothing at all, that is so little that it is like a few words written in chalk on a blackboard, easily rubbed out.

I have never so keenly felt the impermanence of what is now regarded as American because it is North American and the elements of stability and permanence which are in South America. Deeper roots, Indian roots. The Spanish, Portuguese, Negro roots also. The shallow English roots are not deep enough. The tree will fall.

To be an American of the Andes -- containing in myself also Kentucky and New York. But New York is not, and never will be, really America. America is much bigger and deeper and more complex than that -- America is still an undiscovered continent.

Thomas Merton. A Search for Solitude. Edited by Lawrence S. Cunningham (San Francisco, HarperSanFrancisco, 1996): 168.

andean silhouettes, melbec, and the tango

Last Wed., my U.S. mom flew in to Santiago, to visit and travel with her daughter for two weeks before classes start. Although planning to stay a few days in Santiago to get our bearings before hitting the road, we found ourselves less than 24 hours later at the bus station, boarding a TurBus semi-cama for Mendoza, Argentina. We figured it would be best to leave as soon as possible and to get to Mendoza before the weekend. Sporadic acts such as this define the time my mom and I spend together.

The bus left at nighttime, so as to arrive across the Andes in Argentina in 6 hours, ideally. The trip through the Andes was absolutely beautiful. I couldn’t think of sleeping, for although it was night time, the almost full moon that hung below the towering Andes that seemed to loom over her cast just enough yellow light to provide a variety of shades of black silhouettes of the mountains, ranging from jet black of the giants right above and around us to the charcoal gray continuation of the range in the distance. What a spectacular sight! And to think people traversed these cordilleras that house the third tallest mountain in the world (Aconcagua) by horseback in the 18^th century made me appreciate and marvel more at the people whose lives are so tied to these mountains and their secrets. Ideally, we were to be in Mendoza by 6 hours, but little did we know we would be held in the aduana, or customs for almost 3 hours, as the Argentine border control checked ever single bag of every passenger of every bus. Regardless of this little taste of South American red tape and opportunity to grow in patience, mom and I were pleased to step out of the bus to take some photos and enjoy the magnificent night sky, having never seen the Milky Way so clearly before.

By morning we arrived in Mendoza, the Napa Valley of Argentina from where 70% of the country’s wine stems. Immediately upon stepping off of the bus, one notes the different atmosphere here. With its Italian influenced buildings and romantic plazas, sycamore lined streets, and Andes painted across the background just 100km away (less than 100 miles), this quiet town captured our hearts.

Despite our random planning, Mom and I found an affordable (everything here is about a third of the price in the States), cozy, quaint and delightful bed and breakfast in a beautiful residential area of Mendoza, about a ten minute walk north of the central Plaza Independencia.  The duenas of the house have been extremely friendly and helpful, and I recommend La Escondida B&B to anyone interested in visiting this beautiful part of Argentina. 

Having received a recommendation for a nearby winery outside of Mendoza, we decided to check it out. Beautiful is not an adequate adjective to describe it. Almacen del Sur is the name of the winery, a lovely plot of land in a nearby community called Maipu with a house that originally belonged to an Italian family in the 18^th century, and is still standing, though newly renovated and added on to. Though gringos, we felt right at home, this region being frequented by foreign visitors such the journalist from Miami and chef from Los Angeles we met during our time there. We were served an exquisite five course meal, and every bite had a delicious taste of its own. This region is the Napa Valley persay of Argentina, and we learned first hand why. We tried a Melbec, a red wine from this region similar to a Merlot, that was delicious, as well as a few white wines, thus becoming a bit more talkative and prone to laughter by the end of our stay. After our meal, we took a walk around the grounds, strolling between rows of membrillas and olive trees, marveling at the apple, pomegranite, peach and pear trees, and the numerous flowers and vegetables that are grown there. Just in the southern part of Chile where I visited, the land here is very fertile, and I couldn’t help but feeling like I was in some type of South American Garden of Eden.  The view of the mountains from this hidden oasis is lovely, and we took many pictures that we look forward to sharing with the family back home. 

Upon leaving the winery, our cab driver Hugo, who my mom, after a few glasses of Melbec, insisted on pronouncing Jugo, like juice, became our unofficial guide of the city.  He took us to visit the nearby historical cathedral; la Parque General (which is one of the biggest in Argentina, just below the Cordillera de los Andes and beautifully adorned with a lake for rowing, trails for bike riding or jogging, concerts, or enjoying an afternoon with family or friends with a glass of wine and a good Argentine asado; the estadio de futbol, where thousands of futbol fiended fans convene throughout the year to pay homage to the best team in South America (some say Brazil is number one, but I wont get into that discussion); he drove us around the outskirts of the park, on a path to a beautiful view of the hills and mountains as well as of a statue of la Virgen and a spectacular view of the city below.

We returned to our hotel quite tired, but after a power nap and shower, were ready to venture to the next taste of the Argentine culture: a dinner theatre where we were to enjoy a Tango performance. We experienced our first Argentine steak with a tall glass of Melbec, but I would say we were more intoxicated with the absolutely beautiful and seductive tango dancing and music performed by local dancers and musicians. My heart was swept away by the romantic tunes of the accordion, the tap of the accordion player's freshly shined shoes, accompanied by the tango guitar and el cantante, who is known as el Varon (just as we fell for their music, he fell for Mom, and gave her an autographed copy of the captivating music of this country). The artists' love for what they do added to the enjoyment and ambiance of this evening… you could tell by each of their expressions, intense concentration of the musicians, the dancers’ glances of seduction deep into the eyes of their partners, and joyful smiles and glances from the musicians to the dancers and back that they absolutely love what they do, love celebrating the beautiful heritage of their country.

 

We had a blast after the performance as well. We stayed in our front row seats chatting with the couple sitting behind us, handsome young newly weds from Chile, about Santiago and about romance, until we decided to ask the performers (who had finally sat down for a glass of wine and la cena) where we could head to go dance. Upon inquiring with a few of them about giving us a few tango lessons, we found ourselves on stage with the dance instructors, followed by all of the crew. The tango soon led into merengue, and we had a blast dancing with one another (I had the advantage of dancing with the very attractive and talented tango dancer, instructor, and guitarist Diego). Little did Mom and I know that these performers are some of the best and well known in Argentina, and we had the opportunity to goof around with them and step on their toes that evening! When the DJ decided to check out on us, we decided to check out too, but because of the rare rainstorm that hit this evening (it usually only rains twice a year; we think we may have brought the rain from Houston) we couldn’t get a taxi back to the B&B, as the normally insane taxi drivers turn chicken at the first sign of rain. The owner of the club very cordially offered to bring the couple from Santiago and us back to our hotels, a further example of the friendly and giving nature of the people I have met here in Argentina and Chile.

What an incredible weekend, filled with so many delightful memories that I look forward to savoring, as I did my first glass of Melbec, my first bite of Argentine meat (ok, so I didn’t really like it that much, but it sounds poetic lol), and my first exposure to the tango. 

More to come later. Ciao! 

 

Santiago

This whole trip I have been privileged to be hosted by people who treat me as part of their family. I don’t think my situation is extremely unique; for most of the Chileans I have met are willing to bend over backwards to make a foreigner feel comfortable in their country. The family who received me in Santiago was the same, and I have grown quite close to them! They are a family of five, and their eldest daughter is a close friend of mine who was a fellow volunteer during our week in Tirua. The Perez family is well known in Sta. Olga and Clara Estrella, the communities in the southern part of Santiago where the RSCJ sisters live and work, and where I stayed last week. All of their daughters attend the local RSCJ school in the region, and the parents are extremely involved in the pastoral ministry of the school and their local church, to make sure the school that provides so many opportunities for a brighter future for the future generations continues strong. This family, and in particular, their daughter Nicole, has been my guide in Santiago. And oh, do you need a guide in this monstrosity of a city!  Santiago has a population of about 6 million people, and the atmosphere of the center of the town, in the bus stations and underground metros is crazy. People walk faster than New Yorkers, perhaps adding to the already desert hot climate of the city, situated at the foothills of the beautiful red and smokish Andes.  My first full day, Nicole and I took a metro into town to climb the Cerro de San Cristobal, the tallest hill in the middle of the city, where a large and beautiful statue of the Virgen de la Imaculada Concepcion, or Virgen of the Immaculate Concepcion, stands. By foot, the hike takes about 2 hours, but we, walking slowly and taking frequent breaks for water or photo ops, took about 3. The climb was well worth it, as the view of the city from the top was spectacular. Although somewhat foggy thanks to pollution, we were able to see all of the city, including the tops of the nearby Andes, whose icy peaks contrasted almost humorously with the merciless ground heat.

The next week, I spent most of my time in Sta. Olga, resting and reading, and taking advantage of my first real down time since I had been in Chile.  I also can proudly write down in my story book of life that I learned how to cook while in Chile, watching and helping my Chilean mom fix traditional dishes every day such as pastel de choclo (a type of corn and meat casserole), sopa de cazuela (pumpkin soup), or ensalada Chilena (diced tomatoes douched in vegetable oil and cilantro), with freshly baked bread. Needless to say, I have been all but ill fed down here, and may have to be rolled back to the US. 

la feria artesanal

One of the coolest things I have been able to do in Chile was during my stay in Concepcion, working in an international artisan festival. A few weeks long during every summer, this gathering attracts artists from around South and Central America, as well as Africa and Europe. I met artists from Brazil, instrument makers and musicians from Bolivia, llama and alpaca weavers, painters and artisans of wood and cuero (leather) work from Peru and central Chile, as well as glass blowers from Santiago and the surrounding areas. Upon seeing the stand from Mexico, I quickly let out a grito and ran over to see the familiar ostrich skin boots, ponchos, and pictures of Pancho Villa and Frida Kahlo for sale. I am slowly starting to realize here, in this Latin American context, how much the Mexican (or TexMex) heritage is a part of my identity… I miss my salsa and tortillas, las mananitas and images of la Virgen de Guadalupe!

Pardon my nostalgic digression… while strolling through the artisan fair one day, I ran into a friend I made my first day in Chile while we painted a house together in the neighborhood where the sisters live. She was working with a friend from Nicaragua, and invited me to hang out with them a few days… a few days of “hanging out” turned into helping work at the Nicaragua booth for about a week, and I absolutely loved it! I helped in vending handmade blusas, macas (hammocks) and delicately painted crosses, and made frequent runs to the end of the park to buy freshly fried churros and fresh fruit juice to reward ourselves for our “hard work.” 

I loved the busy atmosphere at the fair - the music mixing messily in the background from the different countries, the sounds of babies laughing or crying in their strollers or on the shoulders of their papas, the accents of the people we conversed with who passing by the post, their beautiful exotic features distinct from the people of my homeland.  On missions to the food stand, I loved to walk around and see all of the beautiful and distinct types of art, purchasing a few things here and there for family and friends back home, but most of all I enjoyed talking with the artisans themselves and learning their stories. One man I met was a descendent of the Mapuches, the largest indigenous group here in Chile, who was selling beautifully crafted silver jewelry in styles that his ancestors have worn for generations. Another was a couple of sisters from Brazil, who were selling handmade table cloths and dresses, whose Brazilian accents as they spoke Spanish encouraged me even more so to study Portuguese after I master Spanish, whenever that may be. When the festival ended, I stayed with a friend at her apartment for a few days, heading to el centro in the afternoons, to walk through the central plaza or the marketplace and marveling at the street vendors. Midweek I loaded up my bags and headed by bus to my final destination until June, the capital of Chile, Santiago.

If you are ever to travel to the Southern Cone, I highly recommend taking buses to get from locale to locale, especially within Chile. It cost me the equivalent of about 18 American bucks to get safely from Concepcion to Santiago, with an added bonus of a comfortable and quiet 6 hours of snoozing and intermittently reading, and taking in as much of the slowly changing geography outside my window as possible.

fotos

Here is a link to photos I have taken as of yet...
more to come soon!

Con Cariño,
Maddy
http://picasaweb.google.com/mnwatkins

A beautiful introduction...

Wow. Where do I begin? I have been in Chile for almost three weeks now, and there have been so many wonderful things I have seen and have been blessed to participate in.

From the moment I stepped off the plane, I have been in good hands, living and working with the Religious of the Sacred Heart of Jesus. In particular, I owe much debt and gratitude to Sr. Sofia, who I lovingly and jokingly now call "Mami Sofi," as she took care of me when I arrived and arranged for me to spend my first two weeks here serving in Michaihue and Tirúa.

Michaihue is the name of a poor community on the outskirts of Concepción where Sr. Sofi and a few other rscj live and work in projects for children, teens, and mothers. During my first few days in Chile, I had the chance to help out at the Fundación where activities for the kids and the mothers are held. We painted the casita, a smaller house to host more events, and the following day, had the chance to participate in an activity to help young mothers bond with their children. That afternoon, a few of the volunteers helping out at the Fundación offered to be my tour guides of Concepción, and took me to the beach. These have been some of my closest friends here with whom I am currently living.

After a few days in Michaihue, a group of 40 students composed of alumnae of the Sacred Heart and other students interested in social justice headed to three rural parts of Southern Chile, about three hours west of Temuco and 6 hours south of Concepción. The group of misioneros with whom I traveled headed to Tirúa, a pueblo of about 4000 people on the coast. Hidden between the mountains and the ocean, with a clear river that runs through the pueblo and the campo, or countryside, close by, Tirua is a beautiful place to visit. The other missionaries thought I was loca because I started belting out lines from the “Sound of Music” as we were walking along our first day, haha! but that was the first picture that came to mind when we arrived: a South American version of the “Sound of Music,” and just as stunning to me.

Though the landscape was beautiful, the memories I will take with me from my first week in Chile are those of the families we met as we walked throughout the pueblo each day, the children and adolescents we played with in the afternoons, the Mapuche men and women who still practice their ancient traditions of spinning and weaving cloth from sheep and llama. It was strange, and I am still processing this… but while there, I didn’t notice the poverty as I do now looking back at the photos… it was as if my heart couldn’t comprehend the reality that many of these people live each day, as if I didn’t want to accept the fact that the dignity of these beautiful human beings who were so welcoming and kind, so full of life and love, who were proud to share their community with us, was not being recognized because of the conditions in which they are forced to live.

I remember the smiles and laughter and the richness the Tiruanos shared with us, a wealth beyond material things that perhaps only stems from poverty. These are the memories and reflections I am taking with me from my first full week in Chile, and I couldn’t ask for a more beautiful introduction.