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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.

La Radio

In the spanish language each word has a feminine or masculine gender, an incredible characteristic because some would argue that many human beings lack such distinctive qualities...

Most words correspond wonderfully and easily like the following:

la cama

la computadora

el rio

la musica

el auto

However, some words suck and break the rules:

la micro

el problema

la radio

For any and all that are interested, I am now writing on the WRMC Middlebury College Radio 91.1 Blog.

There is truely no one more excited about this than I am.

www.wrmc911.blogspot.com

It was Mr. Green in the kitchen with the rope

I feel like my internal clock is completely screwed. My body is craving the beach and the killer heatwave that the east coast is having but my mind knows that the ski areas of Chile are opening this week.


Recently I have realized why I haven't had work all semester. Apparently the end of the Chilean semester is a scramble to get all the work done that was put off while the students where marching in the streets and throwing rocks. Nonetheless, I am not concerned.


This past weekend Middlebury treated the students in the program with an all inclusive trip to La Cascada de las Animas in Cajon de Maipo. Though it is no Sandals resort and the temperature sure as hell did not coincide with Jamaica, it was great to have the whole group back together again, sans Ed Quish, the other token Milford resident in Chile.


The trip was marked by good food, a nice jaunt to a waterfall, a puma siting (possibly caged), and board games in spanish. When I learned that no one had seen the movie Clue I was deeply upset that they all had missed Tim Curry's performance of a lifetime.

I also spent the fastest 12 dollars I have yet to spend in Chile. The zipline across El Rio Maipo was only worth the incredible views in the middle of the river. The sun setting over the snow capped peaks of the Andes while the river raged 30 meters below was quite a moment.

Chill-oé

Last tuesday night I hopped on a 14 hour bus south to enjoy the fruits, or shellfish rather, of Chiloé, South America's second largest island and a pleasant Chilean refuge. While the western/modern/McDonald's influence can be felt in msot of Chile, Chiloé serves as a traditional oasis. The island feels frozen in time, clouds, and endless green hills spotted with sheep. Fishing is the major occupation there while tourism brings in money in the summertime. However, the winters are cold and rainy and mostly ignored by tourists. While my travels in February were defined by the high season, this trip was a perfect example of the wonders of traveling without other tourists.

The first stop was the main city of Castro, the capital of the region renowned for the palafitos, houses built over the water on stilts. Chiloé was known for these houses but after the 1960 earthquake most were destroyed and the people of Castro were the only ones crazy enough to keep up this impractical style of living.

After a few days of exploring Castro and some more surrounding towns and islands we found ourselves in Quemchi, a small, pretty much one road town in the northern half of the island. El Chejo, the local restaurant was most definately the pearl of Quemchi. When we walked into the restaurant the owner was waiting to shake our hands and within a few minutes he had decided what we were going to eat: seafood emapanadas and salmon. All of a sudden while we were enjoying the food, the earth began to move. Everything shook and no one said a thing, shock and disbelief rattled inside our skulls, as the giant invisible locomotive drove through the wooden restaurant. My first tremor...I'm not in Connecticut anymore. The Chileans laughed at Molly and me and a few minutes later all the lights went out; when the tremors are strong enough they cut all the electricity in the region to avoid fires. We then spent the rest of the night in the kitchen with the owner and his wife talking about who knows what while tasting local liquors made from berries. Every topic was covered by the light of the candle and the wood stove. At one point he warned us of a prophecy that says the end of world will began when a black pope is elected. He then told us he was afraid of Barack Obama and that if he were president the world might end. I was about to tell him who I voted for in the primaries but I decided I would rather be served more of his liquour so I shut up and kept listening.

We planned on returning to Valpo Saturday night but Chile was struck by the heaviest rains in many years. Bridges in the regions between Chiloé and Valpo had collapsed due to swollen rivers and the buses were cancelled. Oh man, I can't get back to classes and I am stuck down here for more days than I had planned. Damn, how awful...

We stumbled into another wonderful evening in Puerto Montt, one of the most important cities economically in southern Chile. The hostal we wanted to stay in, Hostal Suizo, was closed and had a sign on the fence advising us to try the house next door, which turned out to be the owner's parents. While we were sitting down for some bread and ham (classic Chilean onces) the owner from next door entered and we began to chat. Rossy Oelckers is half Swiss, half Chilean, an artist, collector, hostal owner, storyteller, and an incredible host. We spent the evening touring her incredible home, full of her art and prized belongings and sharing stories over a bottle of Chilean red.

We left Puerto Montt happy for Valdivia. Valdivia is a slow paced fishing town to the north and was once an important Spanish colonial town. Everything was super tranquilo in the town and we spend most of the time watching the sea lions fight over fish scraps next to the market, which was breathtaking. Other highlights include the Kuntsmann Brewery, Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, finding strange fruits in a bottle of local beer, and more seafood.

In the end the four day journey turned into a week and Valpo was waiting here, finally with clear skies, class, and "normal" life.

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.

Someone call Captain Panet

Is it just me or is the earth seriously pissed off at us. Earthquakes in China, volcanos in Chile, Cyclones in Myanmar?


And I thought the U.S. was going to destroy the world...

La Marcha

Politcal activism is something we take for granted in the United States. We all know that we have the right to protest and that is just dandy. When we have a problem with legislation we write to our Representatives and Senators in Washington. Sometimes, a vocal minority actually goes down to D.C. and marches, as has occured in the past few years in protest to the war in Iraq. The Chileans, however, take protesting very seriously.

On Tuesday I went to class as normal and when I showed up there was a mass of people standing outside of the main building on campus, La Casa Central. I walked up to the doors and found a wall of desks and chairs blocking the entrance. I asked a student what was going on and he informed me that one of the majors at the school had started a "Toma." (The verb tomar means to take). Literally, they had taken the building in protest of recent government legislation to raise the student bus fair about 100% in an effort to assist the struggling public school systems. This was just the last straw for the students as the government has also been threatening to privatize UPLA. Also, there has been a strong student movement since I have been down here to have a public school at the same caliber as the expensive private schools in Chile. All this has lead to "paros" or strikes in a few of the majors, thus, I only had one class this week.

Today was a nation-wide day of protest for the students and naturally I couldn't resist a little jaunt with my camera right into the thick of it all. The National Congress is located here in Valparaiso and today there was a giant march, of all the college and high school students in the city down the main avenue, Pedro Montt. The students marched from one end of town to the Congressional building, blocking off the entire street. At the Congress the Caribinieros (Police) waited with riot gear and some crowd control equipment as seen below.

Those intimidating, green, military-esque vehicles blocked the road to the congress. The one to the left is known as a Guanaco. The truck is loaded with water that smells like sewage and has a high pressurized super soaker on top.

At first the March was peaceful, people where chanting, clapping, even sitting down in the street as they waited. They had submitted a letter to Congress earlier that day with all of their wishes and concerns and where waiting for a response. I was accompanied by a friend from my Philosophy class, Lizardo, and he was able to fill me in on everything going on. All of a sudden a group of people to our right began to throw rocks and bottles at the Carabinieros. Lizardo informed me that these were all the high school students. None of the college aged kids where looking for violence and they shouted and booed the agitators. The kids continued to throw rocks and Lizardo and I were surprised by the restraint the Carabinieros showed. When the kids broke down the barrior and threw a barrage of rocks, glass, and wood they got the reaction they were waiting for. The trucks revved their engines and moved quickly at the assailants. The Guanaco shot the shit water in the direction of the crowd and a mass stampede ensued as the Carabinieros chased after the aggressors, arresting a few and ultimately breaking up what was once a peaceful protest.

We hung around for a bit afterwards and watched as kids continued to mess with the police. I saw one of the my more worse behaved students from the Colegio pick up a piece of sidewalk and smash it on the road into smaller pieces for ammo.

This is the second day that I have seen a violent clash between citizens and police. Yesterday I witnessed a group of protestors throwing eggs and rocks at the Municipality building. They were protesting the construction of a proposed mall here in Valpo. It was broken up when a Guanaco rolled in and sprayed the protestors, followed by Carabinieros wrestling people into a paddywagon. This country faced serious repression under the dictatorship of Pinochet. Some people suffered tremendously, some benefitted, some disapeared, and some died. Political activism was a crime and taken very seriously. Today it is still taken very seriously and these students are going to fight until someone listens. Unfortunately, in every large protest there are going to be people who are only there to start trouble. To a sixteen year old, angry teenager there is nothing more beautiful than a rock in a cop's face. Some high school students will have a story to tell tomorrow, other's will be in prison. Unfortunately they did nothing to achieve the goals of the protest and ultimately tarnished the goals of the student majority.