An End and a Beginning

Sitting on a plane while the sun comes up over the Andes out the window is the only way to fly. I spent the last week saying my goodbyes and living life to the fullest in Valpo. It’s strange to leave a place that you have called home, especially one as special as Valparaiso. All the crap that I had to go through in the colegio, the university, and daily life really made me appreciate the city in the end. The last few days the buildings seemed brighter, the people warmer, and even the rain was more enjoyable. My family arrived yesterday and we have spent the last few days eating and drinking the best Chile has to offer. Traveling with the parents is a completely different world. It was nice to do all the touristy things in the city that I had yet to do. Taking a boat tour of the harbor, riding up the Ascensor Artilleria to the Plaza 21 de Mayo, and visiting La Sebastiana were a few firsts for me. When you are living in a place and have a routine sometimes the opportunity to go see tourist attractions slips the mind. I rode past the ascensor Artilleria every day but never got out of the bus to see the famous mirador or lookout of the city at the top.



My Chilean family greeted my American family in true Chilean form: red wine and empanadas. Although few coherent conversation was had, it was incredible for me to see two very distinct parts of my life come together under the same roof. When it was time to say goodbye I saw a few tears in Katy's eyes and they watched, waving, as the van drive away . The lights from the cerros dipping into the water was our last glimpse. I will miss the colorful city but it is time to move on before heading back home.

My Chilean Family: (from left to right) Alfonso, Paul (otro gringo), Ivan, Me, Katy

The nanny, Rosy, and Me

Thus commences another stretch of traveling before heading home in a month. Right now we are heading north to San Pedro de Atacama. The Atacama is the driest desert in the world and, so I have been told, one of the most incredible. I've never been to a desert before so I am really looking forward to seeing the new landscapes and unlike Valpo, there is a slim chance of rain.

El Profe y Los Estudiantes

Happy Fourth of July!

While my parents gear up for BBQ ribs and baked beans in Connecticut I faced the reality that I only have 13 days left in Valparaiso.

I never thought the time would come when I would start to reflect on all of this. I feel like my life has been a rollercoaster since January and I have been constantly adjusting to the dips and curves. However, these last few weeks I have found myself content and comfortable in my surroundings, despite the inevitable frustration that living in Chile can sometimes deliver.

As I sit in front of my computor trying to write a Latin American Philosophy paper I am reminded of our constant discussions in my Filosofia Latinoamericana class in La Universidad de La Playa Ancha. The class is taught by an incredible human being, by many accounts the most reveared profesor at La UPLA, Sergio Vuskovic Rojo. Recently I found out that Profe Vuskovic was the mayor of Valparaiso from 1970 to 1973. When the dictatorship came to power he was arrested and tortured on the Esmeralda, an incredible four masted ship that was actually moored in the harbor earlier this year. Vuskovic lived in exile after his imprisonment and returned to teach in the public university. Although he usually can't hear what the students are saying and his lectures aren't what we would call "coherent" or "organized," his presence has been extremely dear to my experience in la UPLA.

Vuskovic was a strong supporter of Allende and the socialist movement in Chile before the military coup. The discussion of politics here in Chile is rare and everytime it has come up I have felt unnervingly uncomfortable. The other day I was asking my Chilean father, Ivan, about the Chilean currency. I was asking about the old system and I used the word "dictadura" (dictatorship) instead of the "el gobierno de Pinochet." His eyes got narrow and said, "Dictadura, no habia una dictadura...fue una dicta-blanda." Etomologically speaking, dura, means strong while blanda means soft. It has been pretty evident throughout my stay here that Ivan was a supporter of Pinochet. He obviously did well under the dictatorship as he works in the city government, was never exiled, and is extremely well off. The divide between politics here is scary. He always calls la UPLA communist, which wouldn't be too far from the truth. The student body is radical to say the least.

I recently read an article in the New York Times about a new trend towards the political moderation of professors on college campuses as professors from the 60's retire. I guess going to college now isn't about radical ideas but rather about making a ton of money. In Chile, the majority of the student body is radical but I am unconvinced that it is a trend that can last. There are some students who come to both philosophy classes ever week (imagine that!) and give passionate speaches about socialism and the repression of the masses. There are other students who come in for the rare test and are otherwise absent class. There are the students that love the strikes because it allows them to sit in bed all day and watch telenovelas and finally there are the students that love to throw rocks at the cops.

The president of Chile is a member of the socialist party, not too mention the first Latin American woman president. Is this a sign of moving left-ward? Are the students' voices being heard? That completely depends on the electorate and there is no way the current electorate is going to change the direction of this country. Futhermore, I have never met anyone happy with Michelle Bachelet, it seems to me that she is not socialist enough for the socialists and the fact that she is socialist makes everyone else hate her. If the students of this generation can sustain their revolutionary attitudes until they start running for Congress they might have a chance. For now, they can take it too the streets.

Pow! Bam! Smack!

Sometimes I forget where I am because I can watch House and Law and Order SVU on the tele.

But then I am ripped back to reality when:

• all the public school teachers in the country go on strike for a week
• there are puddles in the classrooms because the glass windows are shattered
• I kill an insect in the bathroom that my family assures me is not a scorpion
• men ride horses down city streets alongside cops who look disturbingly similar to green storm troopers.

I'm in Chile afterall. The TV is heavily influenced by the US but the internal problems are all Chilean. This week has been marked by massive protests and marches in Valpo by over ten thousand public school teachers from around the country. The protests were in response to the Congressional vote on a new education law, the LGE (Ley General de Educacion), which would replace the LOCE. The LOCE is a law remaining from the days of the dictatorship which supports a private, merantile system of education.

Under LOCE, the poor attend public schools, don't get an education, don't get into college and remain in the same position. The rich (all the polititians) send their kids to private schools, get into the best private universities, and continue the system.

This is Chile right? Sounds like some problems are international.

The LGE was passed but the professors don't believe that anything will change. For now, classes resume and the future is uncertain.

Anarquists?

Twice a week now myself and a few of the other gringos in my program have a private literature class with our teacher. Her office has a great view from the sixth floor of a building at that bottom of a hill on the University of Playa Ancha campus. The other day we were sitting in class discussing the life and works of Gabriella Mistral when the secretary entered the class.

"Pardon the interruption, but a group of anarquists have entered the U and we need to evacuate immediately."

Anarquists? I thought. That's a new one. As we were packing up our bags laughing about the ridiculousness of our situation I looked out the window. There, in the middle of the street, students with bandanas covering their faces were breaking branches off of trees and lining them in the streets, sort of like garnish on a fine plate of ham. While these students were working, others where collecting rocks from the construction site near by and arranging their amo as school children pile up snowballs in anticipation of a battle. Then I noticed the thick black cloud of smoke coming from somewhere up the hill. "Moltav coctails?" I asked the professor.

"No, they're probably just burning tires," she said.

We left the building as the anarquists began throwing rocks at another group of students. We all got into the professor's red Suzuki station wagon and drove around the campus. On the other side of the soccer field we saw the large truck tire burning in the middle of the street. A few Carabinieros stood by, watching the scene as black, thick smoke swirled into the sky, undoutbably making many Vermonter environmentalists cry.

The professor took us to a small park near the beach about two minutes drive from la UPLA. There we sat down and continued talking about Mistral as if nothing had happened. After about ten minutes of discussion I started to notice a strange feeling in my face. My cheeks and nose started to burn and my eyes began to water. Looking around I noticed that the others were in the same discomfort. Evidently, more Caribinieros had arrived. Tear gas choked the campus and spread to our park via the wind. Hurriedly we got into the professor's car, rolled up the windows and left Playa Ancha for cleaner air.