fiesta, football, and fieldtrips

A long weekend in Santiago...

Shayne and Sinmi's host family must think we are lame. Every Friday I come over, to find S and S home alone. We settle down infront of the TV with a dance movie -- Dirty Dancing, Havana Nights, Save the Last Dance, that sort of thing. Last weekend we watched Dance With Me. As the movies is ending someone walks in, saying something like "Haven't you seen this one already?" Truth is, commenting on Vanessa William's bizarre dancing face is about all we have energy for after a week at school...

On Saturday night we acted a bit more like young people. I went downtown to the apartment, walking in on the boys wearing sunglasses and playing poker. Mat and Gil, who are teaching in Temuco way in the South, were up for the weekend. Once Chris won the game we went to a party hosted by one of the Chileans we met the first week we were here. The party was huge -- three birthdays in one. We partied Chilean-style into the small hours of the morning, with a mixed bunch of foreigners (including another random McGillian) and many Chilean university students. Good fun, despite the reggaeton overload.

Sunday was a football day. After 'breakfast' downtown (check out my bowl of fries -- I was very happy) I agonized through the Portugal-Holand game. What an ugly game! I'm pretty nervous for the England-Portugal game on Saturday. I'm not even sure how I'm going to watch it. I'm supposed to be at a Canada Day carnival at one of the other schools...I may have to sneak a television with me. One of my eight graders yesterday spent pretty much all of class with one headphone in, listening to the Brazil -Ghana game on the radio. It's one strategy...

Monday was a holiday -- something about S. Pedro falling in the middle of the week and getting pushed to the weekend. I was invited by one of my twelveth graders, German, for a picnic into the 'cordillera'. Puente Alto is pushed up against the Andes, so the mountains are never far away. German is a sweet heart -- I hang out with him a lot because he plays guitar and sings brilliantly. He's got pretty decent English too. His mother (tia Pati) is very nice. I've been to their house quite a lot. Anyways, we picnicked in the sun, watched the condors soaring, and breathed in some less smoggy air. We were there all afternoon. Afterwards I was taken back to their house for tesito, and German continued my schooling in Spanish music.

That was my weekend. Relaxing, but quite lovely. Next weekend hopefully I'll hang out with Julia -- I'm pretty excited to see someone from home :)

boys and bands

The bell rings. Five minutes later, a pack of boys – normally so demure in their school ties and blazers – swarm in, ratty-looking in their jeans and hoodies. The forty desks in the classroom are pushed to the wall. From the PE storage room a drum set is dragged into the corner next to the window. The snare sits on a wooden chair, the bass is stuffed with what looks like dirty laundry – but I know it to once have hung over a classroom window. They play musical chairs with their instruments: the lead guitarist switches to drum set at the break, he sings as he bangs out some simple chords on the keyboard. They are kings of improvisation. The microphone couldn’t be found, so he’s singing into a set of headphones plugged into one of the amps. Who even knew that headphones would do that?? I didn’t.

Then there’s the flute. It’s a rock band, no mistakes. But one of the kids always has a flute in his pocket, ready for a trill between classes. Someone offers me a swig of coke. The first swig of the one liter bottle that will get them through rehearsal. There's something gentlemanly about this gesture that makes me smile, but I decline.

This could have been my high school. This could have been Matt, or Farah, or Mike or Jake. But it’s five years later, in another hemisphere, another language. Still, it’s kind of just, well…the same.

I take that back. The hair is different. The boys with curly hair all have one tendril, by their ear, slightly longer than the rest. Only slightly – I’m just noticing the pattern.

What happened to the Farahs and Mikes in my life? In university you have to be good to be listened to. The simplicity, the informality of high school is gone. No more lunch breaks in Block’s room, or class trips, or talent shows for parents and friends. It’s too bad, really. I miss this.

It falls apart when the headphones slide off the vocalist’s face and snap around his neck. A teacher arrives to caution them about the noise. They chortle, someone throws a towel over the snare and the music continues…


An average Friday night at school. Plugged in outside the cafeteria, after being kicked out of all the other buildlings.

VALPO!

n Saturday morning, Shayne, Simni and I met at our usual spot -- my corner, across from Colegio Emprender where they work. We decided for a not-so-early start, 9 am, for our long weekend in the port city of Valparaiso. Valpo, as it is more commonly known, is a pleasant two hour bus ride from Santiago. We drove in on Saturday afternoon to find the sun shining and the fog cleared -- a rarity. I think Valparaiso liked us -- and we liked it right back. It reminded me of Funchal, for my family who has been there. It's all hills, with colourful houses perched precariously in every empty space. It all slopes down towards the bay -- port, not beach. There are elevators that get you up, not as classy as the ones in Lisbon, more like the funicular in Quebec City. On a clear day, like the ones we had, the view is amazing. We did some sight-seeing: Pablo Neruda's house (the man was a collector, always fun to see his stuff), a museum dedicated to the famous Chilean cartoonist Lukas, the monument to Chile's naval heroes.

As we have discovered, Shayne, Sinmi and I are more what you might call 'culinary' tourists. We live for our meals and the happy discoveries we make in between. Most of our time was spent squeezing fruit in the market, having late-night coffee on a terrace on Cerro Conception, morning trips for fresh bread to go with our tea. The most memorable meal was not quite in Valparaiso, though. On Sunday we crammed into a collectivo (kind of like a taxi, but with a set route -- they take off as soon as they're full) to Quintay, a little fishing town about 45 minutes from Valparaiso. We made fast friends with Felipe, (a 12th grade kid, goes to Santiago College and therefore spoke perfect English) who was kind enough to let the three of us jam our generous hips into the back seat with him. Quintay has absolutely nothing except fisherman and a few ridiculously delicious seafood restaurants on the beach.

We sat on a patio for the better part of afternoon, taking in our shellfish and the sunset, which we saw for the first time (in Valpo the sun sets behind a hill, much to my disappointment). It was a chill weekend, but very enjoyable. I have a lot of fun with Shayne and Simni. We have similar travel priorities and we share a lot of laughter. The only thing is that we always attract much attention. If I wander down a street by myself I don't feel too conspicuous. I'm a little too pale to be Chilean, but I pass. Sinmi, however, is black, and Shayne is Caribbean mixed Indian-African something or other. They get SO many comments -- and people stare. We hear lots of 'me gusta la morenita!!' and such things. At some point you just have to abandon any pretense of blending in...

Julia (the roommate) is spending July in Valparaiso -- she's doing a Spanish course at the Universidad Catolica. Julia, I think you're going to like it...and I'm going to try to squeeze in another weekend trip....

NB

finally, a computer connected to the iunternet that runs xp!

The preceeding entry is something I wrote ages ago, before the student strike business. We're back to school tomorrow by the way -- I'll be updating with the wind-down of the strikes and my awesome long weekend in Valpariaiso with Shayne and Sinmi.

the kindness of strangers (finally)

This weekend was characterized by unexpected openness and kindness. It all starts with Juliette of course, the girls’ phys ed teacher at school. She’s 25, probably the youngest one on the staff. Since I arrived she has eagerly practiced her halting but quite understandable English. I usually have lunch with her. Every time we sit down to our steaming meal of meat and mush, she issues her disclaimer: “This is not Chilean food. Chile is not like this.” James and I nod out of politesse and not any real conviction -- we pretty much only eat cafeteria food and bread and tea at home.

Well, last week Juliette had invited me to spend the weekend with her and her boyfriend, Tito. On Friday, because we had no students, we skipped out at lunch time. We headed downtown – it was actually really exciting to be downtown during the week when things are open and people are wandering around. We oogled shoes, I bought my DVD of West Side Story, she bought Tito a bag. We saw chichineros – boys with the drum/cymbal contraption strapped on their backs who play and dance. We even saw a little one, maybe about 8 years old, who got rowdy applause when he took off his drum and his jacket, and swung the latter into the audience. Oh, and we had lunch at the Chilean fast food restaurant of choice, Domino. You walk into these places and it’s like grills on both sides, with dozens of guys in white hats zipping around behind the counter. People eat standing at the counter, scarfing down hot dogs/burgers/sandwiches a la Chilena. We had a massive sandwich which included, among other things, grilled turkey, tomatoes, secret domino sause, and tons of palta (avocados). Yum!

We eventually made it back to Juliette and Tito’s. They live in the center of Santiago, in a tiny apartment with their very yappy puppy Romeo. Juliette also works in a university across the street from her house, and I went with her to her 10-minute 'pausa active' course. She basically goes in at the beginning of a class and gets everyone to get up and play a silly game, or stretch, or relax, for ten minutes.
Anyone else want to bring her to McGill??

After class, at about 9pm, we went out for dinner to a marisco place by their house. After the requisite pisco sour, I had mussels covered in parmesan cheese, followed by a creamy crab baked thing, also covered in cheese. (I had to make up for the lack of cheese in my diet!) It was so delicious – I begin to understand why Juliette feels so strongly about cafeteria lunches.

Dinner conversation was as interesting as the food itself. I met my first (but not my last...) Pinochet supporter. More on that another day... Of course I tried to pay, and was summarily shot down – pretty much the theme for the weekend. We got home at around 11 pm. I was tired, full of cheese, and very happy. I crashed on their living room floor, on an inflatable mattress. Their apartment is tiny, and under other circumstances I probably would have felt like I was totally intruding. But they were so hospitable and chill – and I slept like a baby.

On Saturday, I went with Juliette to her mother’s, so she could dye her hair. Juliette's mother dye Juliette’s hair that is. So I sat in her mother’s bedroom, taking part of the sacred girlie ritual that is the make-over. I also met the aunt, the cousins, and the baby cousins. Once Juliette’s hair was back to its somewhat natural brown, we headed back to the apartment. We collected our things, picked up Tito and Romeo, and piled into the truck again.

Tito is from Melipilla, a small city about an hour outside of Santiago. Juliette always says that he lives in Melipilla – Santiago is just the place where he sleeps during the week. They spend every weekend in Melipilla, and this time I was taken along for the ride. On the way we met up with Sylvia, Tito’s cousin. She also lives in Santiago, and spends the weekend with the family in Melipilla. She is key, because his family does not know that he lives with Juliette, or that Sylvia lives with her boyfriend. Frightening, because she’s 30 and he’s older. Chile, in many ways, is a dastardly conservative place…

On the way we stopped in the small town of Pomaire for lunch – I was dying, it was almost 4 pm by the time we ate. We ate at this typical restaurant where I attempted the classic empanada de 1 kilo. I got about half way through the thing – it had ground beef, a quarter of a chicken, an egg, olives, and raisins. It was delicious, but devilishly large. Pomaire has like three restaurants, and a strip of handicraft stalls. It’s a typical daytrip for the city folk, and the place to buy anything traditional. I picked up some souvenirs before we continued onto Melipilla.

Tito has a collection of aunts that all live in this same compound. These two old ladies welcomed me into their house, set me up in a guest room, wined and dined me – and all I was to them was the friend of the nephew’s girlfriend! I spent most of the night trying to grab anything from the conversation that whizzed around the table. Far too much concentration required to keep up with the nattering – I was exhausted by the time we made it to bed.

On Sunday morning I awoke to more avocado and bread, much to my delight. Juliette, Tito and I went to the mall for a coffee – a terrible mocaccino, but characteristic of the lame coffee that people drink here. More interesting conversation, this time about the health care system and the problem with Chilean attitudes towards politics, education and the rest of life. We went home for lunch, magicked by Sylvia while we were out. Salmon, baked, with mashed potatoes and salad with more avocado. It was so good – Sylvia is a wonderful cook, and the fact that we were eating around a massive wooden table in an old kitchen apart from all the houses (complete with a wood stove!) made it all the tastier. After lunch we went to, quite literally, a shack in the middle of the cow fields for chicha, a grape-derived liquor. It was good – the ant floating in my glass just added to the charm...

On the way back, we stopped at another stall, where I bought ridiculous amounts of cheese, including fresh cheese just like in Portugal! I was rather gleeful. After the cheese shopping, we grabbed our stuff from the house, kissed the tias, and drove back to Puente Alto. I was dropped off in time for tea, much improved by the addition of my yummy cheeses, if I say so myself.

The most remarkable thing about the weekend was how normal it all was. What a privilege to be let into people’s normally routines, to be welcomed into their families and to hear their opinions about their country – I am more and more convinced that this is the only way to travel.

quite alive, but bored

FINALLY ... connected to the world again.

It seems like the students protests that have paralised the school system for almost two weeks now have finally made the international news. If you don't know what I'm talking about...
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/5048130.stm

I've been out of work since my kids 'took over' our schoool last wednesday. That's pretty much the scene across the country -- the mobilisation has been totally remarkable. Last tuesday we went down town to the center of the action. It was pretty crazy -- we got gassed and hosed down by the cops, despite the fact that the protests were largely peaceful. We did get some good photos, though -- check out Chris' on facebook:
http://mcgill.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2027651&l=8ae3f&id=13602199
Wednesday's protests were more violent, mostly backlash against the inappropriate response of 'Carabineros' on Tuesday. The government presented its proposal on Friday, student assemblies were not convinced, and so today they called for a national strike day. Other groups have joined the high schoolers -- teachers, uni students, health workers, etc.

So, I've been torn between total boredom (living in Puente Alto with no school SUCKS) and absolute infactuation with the politics of this all. It's neat to hear what all the teachers have to say about this too. There is a lot of support for the students. These 16- and 17- year old student leaders are total celebrities, they're on the news all the time. They have behaved with more composure than many of the ministers, with a clear sense of what they want and unparalleled legitimacy. One of the teachers this morning was talking about how these kids have given the adults and education professionals in particular a lesson in civics and democracy. Ah, the power of youth...

I go to visit my kids pretty much everyday because I have nothing else to do. They all look very sleep deprived, but they're keeping the school clean and staying fed. On Saturday night they had a bbq; when I got to school yesterday afternoon they were eating spaghetti out of the biggest pot I have ever seen. They play cards and fiddle with guitars, take turns guarding the gates and watching the news. And they smoke, pretty much non-stop. I have pictures, but this computer runs windows 98 and I'd have to download a driver to get my pen drive to work. Also, the way the usb works I basically have a choice between the pen drive or the mouse, so I guess I'll have to update my photos (and other entries I have already written...) another time.

Anyways, I just wanted to let you all know that I'm alive -- and that whatever you are seeing on the news or in the papers about violence and protests and casualties is really not the meat of what's going on here .