the coriolis effect

Yesterday Scott came to town to see off Jen, an intern at the NGO he´s working for. We tracked down some wine for her to bring to her parents, and spoke of peanut butter (really expensive here) and lemonade (haven´t seen it, but I´m a fan of the peach and apricot juices. Although they´re heavier, like every food Chilean). After eating dinner at Roberto´s parents house, Scott and I with Dan went off in search of adventure and landed in this great little cafe (Cafetto) off Providencia and Pedro de Valdivia, where we gorged on crepes with manjar ad chocolate and a chocolate and manjar cake. Then we walked to Suicia, which really is like a freakish adult Disneyland (there was someone dressed like Fred trying to lure people into Bedrock. No horses outside Mr. Ed´s.) though much less entertaining. It is however, home to the 24 hour Empanadarium.

Which Scott and I went to this evening to celebrate his buying of business-y shoes, and we dripped grease off empanadas, then topped them off with ice cream at another cute little cafe place (though I shot wistful glances at those manjar filled Dunkin Donuts donuts on the way).

I had no idea that Yo la Tengo was....well, what it is. Beta Band and Jim Black (well not actually either but its what comes to mind) with a CD cover that reminds me of the Pat Methany Band even though that it isn´t. a new cultural thing every day.

I¨m being bad and downloading AIM. on not my computer. and surfing, of sorts, as a reward for reading Balmaceda´s Mensaje Presidencial de 1890 (on a very handy for Chilean documents site, actually)
um, well the font is nice?

Seer


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class and whatnot. the most salient aspect of which being all these professors´ whiteboard (no blackboards anywhere) handwriting is atrocious. (have I said this already?) aTROcious.

Tonight saw the movie Lugares Comunes, which was showing as part of an Iberoamerican film festival at U Catolica. Thoroughly shredding my confidence in Spanish, the film was made in Argentina. So there was a different accent, on top of the fact it was a pretty talky movie. Its depressing, I can tell you that. But not much else....
And though I should have learned my lesson before (did I think it would be better on chicken than hotdog?) I ordered a sandwich Italiano. Aside from the way too much mayo, it was definitely bigger than my face:-)
Yep, no brilliant observations on Chilean life. (trying to slog through 19th century oligarchic power dynamics, or some such). A lot of even middle class families have nannys. or housekeepers here, which from general survey the Americans find strange. Its different, but bad? Dan points out that a lot fewer people eat out here, and its probably better work than the waiters salaries in the states, depending.

Mendoza. My GOODness. Though in Argentina, its actually faster to get to than most of the big cities in Chile, and so off we went. Besides, people said the food was really good.

I nearly backed out Friday morning- we didn´t have bus or hostel reservations, and it was early and cold...met up with Dan at the station, drove over the snowy Andes (with delightfully unpolluted-tasting air), and landed ourselves in this pretty and manageable feeling city, the capital of the province. We settled in at Sosahaus (my first hostel ever! assuming the Hotel Iguana in the DR doesn´t count itself), and then went hunting for food. Cafe Paisaje: 4 ham and cheese sandwiches and hot chocolate, for about $1.50. Browsed in a book/music store, and I got a Sodastereo cd. Then we headed for Las Tinajas, a"tenedor libre" that the hostel recepcionist recommended, describing it as all you can eat buffet. It was HUGE. One of the Boston Dim Sum places (the proprieters were Chinese) crossed with a Las Vegas buffet dinner (it was $5 US!) with more variety than the Boston College cafeteria (200 plus plates!). There were stations where chefs prepared meat/seafood/pasta dishes, and also lines of trays of prepared things plus two tables of salad-y stuff, plus dessert. And a karaoke singer doing U.S. hits from the 80s. I thought I´d have to be airlifted home, I ate so much.

Saturday: What do you get when you mix 6 horses, an obstinate 8-ball, and a crazy Dutchman?

A 23 and half hour day.

The hostel signed us up for a full day horseback ride (Dan´s first time), so we found ourselves in a van with a couple from Israel and a couple from Belgium wayyyy early in the morning. They drove the 6 of us to out into the foothills, where we shivered (it had snowed there the day before) and petted the kitten until it was time to mount. I was on Relampagos, who kept trying to bite the horse in front of him (and later got kicked for his ways by another horse). We passed a frozen waterfall, and got in some nice moutain views- we were were mostly in scrub grass parts, though 3000 (somethings, I guess kilometers) up, I think. Back at the house, they had an asado for us, which we chowed down while Dan and I ogled the son of the ranch´s owner (dark, tan, with a casually knotted panuelo- so an Argentine gaucho) .

Back in Mendoza, we met up for onces with the Israelis, then headed over to a pool hall. Despite dispatching most of the balls (I even got this sweet diagonal shot- if you´ve seen me play pool before, I´m not so hot), the three of us, with Dan cheering along, could NOT get the 8 ball in. It was ridiculous, and took like half an hour.

After eating (again;-), Dan and I headed to the hostel around midnight. Though he went to bed, I got waylaid by empanadas and conversation in the dining room. Next thing I knew, more or less, I was headed toward a bar with Cathy (canadian receptionist who actually worked in the Galapagos with a former RCS-er), Rob (Britain), Peter (Holland, who sold his house and car and is trotting around the world), and a guy from France. I was totally the baby of the group, which was a good excuse when I couldn´t even remotely finish the ginormous bottle of beer in front of me (don´t blame me! blame the US drinking age!). Then we headed over to Disco Geo, where Cathy and I spun around with Rob and tried to keep pace with Peter (who very nearly reminded me of Austin Powers (PG version): "Loosen it up, Baby!")
So there I was, 6 in the AM, attempting to dance:-) Bed at 7, up at 9:30...
And a sufficiently calm bus ride back (reading about the sublevacion de la escuadra in 1891), through a different and really gorgeous route through the mountains.

My classes (cursos, ramos, whatever):
Culture and Society in Latin America (Psychology)
History of the Civil War of 1891 (well, History)
Relatos Chilenos: Nomadismos (Literature)
Social History of Latin America (Sociology)
Nice rounded in approach, if not as much in subject matter. Take that, Core!

And monday night my history prof hosted a get-together at his apartment. Manjar filled donuts from Dunkin´Donuts. mmmmmmmmmm.

Tuesday night, the Harvard Krokodiloes were in town, so we went to see them at a Harvard Club sponsored cocktail at the Golf Club of the Valle de los Escondidos, this swanky gated community. It was a bit preposterous on one hand (appreciate the freshman jam- for the general santiguino public the Kroks are charging 30-40 dollars! right) and therefore highly amusing on the other. There were society page photographers there- and when the guy tried to take our picture I started cracking up (I don´t remember why, exactly).

So Wednesday, after the paro (non)excitement, was my host brother Seba´s birthday party. The theme was green: everyone dressed in green, Seba´s Celtic band played (pretty darn good! apparently they play at Flannery´s, this pub I´ve heard practically every group of english-speaking exchange students mention), and some of their friend´s irish stepdanced. and there was green beer.

yesterday I totally slept too late, missing this rally thing daniel of the asado and bad direction invited me to, and then feeling lousy about that. So I went to Plaza de Armas, Museo de Historia Nacional, paid way too much for Burger King fries and drink, and compensated with 50 cent soft serve.

Today, determined to be active, I threw my faith behind Lonely Planet despite all the Chileans I talked to only vague idea of where Reserva Nacional Rio Clarillo was. and the Metrobus drivers. and LP´s Metrobus number 8 didn´t exist. But Dan (such a good sport)and I hopped onto MB-74 and rode it over hill and dale to the dusty end of the line, walked a bit, and lo and behold there was a park entrance. and some german tourists, which was a nice sign that we weren´t totally in no man´s land. We walked about 3 kilometers more to the official official entrance, entertaining the idea of hitchhiking with every passing car that spewed dust in our path. But it was fun- peaceful and huge and empty, complete with babbling brooks and running river (my river runs to theeeeeeeeeee;-) . It was a canyon like, mostly scrub type underbrush. We walked along one side, veering off, then found a gate which led to a bridge, then climbed uphill the other side and found ourselves reaaallly high up. oh, and its finally warm during the day! its almost springtime!
chowed down pizza in Providencia upon our return, at La Pizza Nostra, which was good though it sorta hurt when the really nice waiter offered me the dessert menu in English:-o

and the Bellavista de la Florida metro stop not oly had the book vending machine, it had a music vending machine right beside it. Which vended Juanes´ Un Dia Normal, and Norah Jones. You know you´ve made it when you´re beside Barry White in a Chilean metro station.

It is two a.m. and the Chilean radio station is playing Echoes from Pink Floyd´s Meddle album. This pleasantly surprises me to no end. Just wanted to share:-)

Last night went out for a drink (ie, virgin daquiri and I can´t spell dacquiri) with a friend of the girl with whom I went to the asado- a whole three hours talking in Spanish (and gesticulating frantically at times). He was nice, if really caught up in politics, and not the greatest sense of direction...rushing to meet with Dan the pre-frosh at the movie theater, I took the lead (having spent many hours poring over the most wonderful minimap book in the world recently). El hombre sin pasado....the Finnish film Man Without a Past, which was good even though we missed the first 15 minutes. The three of us wandered back towards plaza nunoa, nearly stalked some gringos (a donde VAhmos), feeling smugly incognito.

Today went to a parcela belonging to some relatives, and celebrated Sebas brithday with the family. The land was really pretty, a mini hill, a little lake, and the house. The gathering felt a lot like one on my moms side, with a lot of relatives, whose relation to each other I never quite got, and who all spoke in spanish:-) But it was nice- more cousins my age then at home. the only bad part was trying to pass a truck in a mountain road in the dark on the way home...

Chilling in the DRCLAS office, drinking orange juice like theres none tomorrow (there probably won{t be). I had a dream about a cupboard full of bread. and salads!

On a wooden wall by a construction site near the office, there are three stamped Bushes with Mickey Mouse ears, and underneath, "Disney War".

So tuesday after Uchile class, I was waiting for a bus when all the northboard traffic started turning left/ uturning. This caused one southbound taxi to blare his horn and try to ram through the stream kamikaze like, after which a carabinero popped up. Then a girl from my class (from MI) came ovre and said I wasn{t going to get my bus...apparently a couple blocks up guys with flaming tires had blocked traffic, and were throwing rocks and/or pamphlets.

A nice prelude for yesterday, when there was a Paro. Most of the micros weren{t running, and my host parents looked at my really skeptically when I said I need to go to school. Uchile apparently was really dangerous, rocks and protests and such. But San Joaquin (U Catolica) there was nary a thing. and I got to hear Miguel Littin speak (though I was exhausted from my host brother and his friends playing soccer on PS2 until 6 in the morning monday night).
Scott came to town for the day, and was walking around Alameda, and said there was pretty much no one, and remnents of tear gas near La Moneda.

Oh so, syllabi here are pretty vague things, causing a little bit of panic among us gringos (when do we have to read these 25 books by? in their entirety or no?). But very few books are bought- photocopying is the norm and copyright fees are non existent.

Reluctant truth: I can´t function in a pre-Kraft world.

This morning I cut my finger slicing cheese (silly gringa who´d never dealt with a 6 brick size cheese slab before, right? And for a couple of weeks I was super confused when one of the cousins called to say he was coming over to "cortar el queso" until I saw the thing in its original glory)

NEW PUPPY!!!!!! despite the fact that Kaiser is big enough to eat Matilda, I think they get along........NEW PUPPY!!!! yay!

Wandered around Santiago Centro yesterday with Scott (after buying a jacket, and then shoes at Payless of all places) though a couple pedestrian streets. We saw a giant Pikachu battling (hugging? it was unclear) a giant Barney, and nearly had a run-in with a giant soccer ball thing. We walked through the Cathedral, and people-watched in the Plaza de Armas We heard a street musician playing Metallica on a flute with synth background. And in the Metro station?

There was a BOOK VENDING MACHINE. It was the coolest thing EVER, especially because these weren´t your typical mass market paperbacks. It was QP Marquez (Chronicle of a Death Foretold) and Saramago. Among others. Shiny and new and there for the paying.
Scott tells me there is a CD one too.

We met with Scott´s friend Roberto and one of his friends, who was totally a frat boy (leather jacket and not bad looking but slightly dazed and loud)- except he´s 27. After eating out they plied us with piscola while we almost beat them in a Chilean game they called Duda. We went to a birthday party in Vitacura and watched the Chileans (the tallest group, Scott observed, he´d seen here- 4 or 5 over 6 ft. I felt short again, instead of normal) engage in some very bizarre probably pisco-induced dancing. Then we followed Roberto to another party, which turned out to be a meet and mingle thing organized by a Jewish organization.

So at 3 in the morning, in Santiago, Chile, Scott and I found ourselves eating falafel, listening to Juanes and Guns n' Roses, and (ultimately) talking to one of the Georgetown U exchange students from the next table over.

Wandered Plaza Ñuñoa and bookstores in Santiago Centro with Dan the pre-frosh. After reluctantly declining to pay nearly 30 USD for a beautiful Vintage paperback that's actually $12 USD (books, even some spanish language ones, are darned expensive here, b.c most are imported I think) I found in another bookstore, this. Having visited the Pentagon last summer, this weirded me out. Thoughts? Comments?

Was this what Berkeley was like in the 60s? Wednesday morning powerwalked over to UChile to check out a class at 8:30 am...for which the prof didn´t show up. Fascinated myself with the huge murals of Che Guevara, MIR, and desaparecidos that graced the walls of the Facultad de Filosofia (home of their history department, interestingly enough). Then went home and slept til one and my PUC class. Afterwards, went back to UChile for a History of Rock class, that like the unfortunately L&A B-20 of last year, threatened to kill my interest in blues in the space of an hour.
Went back to UChile today, to the Social Sciences building, Social History of Latin America with this prof. Ran into the girlfriend of another WHRB guy, so when someone came in at the end of class to ask who supported the student strike next wednesday, and wanted volunteers for something the FECH was putting on, I wasn´t the only hand unraised (Apparently once there was a student strike for 6 weeks!). But all the buildings on campus have grafitti and murals (the new-looking SS building has Che too, inside).

There is a notable dearth of normal college ruled notebooks here. Also, legumes. Greens of any kind- all I´ve eaten/been served is lettuce. But there are empanadas, and real rice (almost like my mom´s, and really cooked unlike harvards) .
Oh, beware the italiano- tomatos, guacamole and mayo on a hot dog.

and I´m getting guitar lessons! from my host dad:-) I´ve even almost cut off my nails, which is a real sign of commitment, for me:-)

Lesson of the day: Never underestimate the speed of a braking bus (or, what I should have remembered about momentum from high school physics).

My bag has a pungent eau de la rue now.

In other news, climbed 16 flights of stairs and registered for a history class at the University of Chile. Its Wednesday and Friday mornings, but swallowed my tongue and went for it. I´m assuming its a big enough lecture class that if need be I can skip, right? (right?). Then scampered over to PUC San Joaquin to register for the psych class. Ran into another exchange student (the blue handbooks being the giveaway) who seemed inordinately happy to find someone who spoke English. Went to a lit course afterwards, and sat down in front of Archie´s g-town friend´s roomate, and across from a girl from wisconsin who knows the blockmate of some WHRB guys. I suspect there would be less gringos if I´d gone to History of Medieval Europe or some such.

Santiago in general- oh so 70s, its been agreed. No one wears seat belts, everyone smokes, Coca-cola comes in bottles and theres the Pink Floyd thing. All that pollution. Also, Manuela (who did let´s go this summer) came from Barcelona bemoaning the flourishing of rat tails and mullets everywhere, only to see them steadily encroaching here.

First day of school. Went into my first class of the year, all expectations- and someone came in to say there was going to be no class today. But 2 other exchange students there, so we went to check our email. Because all the puc students were registering today, we couldn´t, but found ourselves following someone to a little office with a computer. I thought the other exchange student knew this guy, but turns out, nope, just superhelpful psych student who happens to have notes for the class we want to take. Next class I went to though, found myself in a room of people waiting for clase de ingles...hunted down the lit office only to realize that when I was writing out my schedule, I´d slipped and written the m-j classes as monday (m, martes, yep yep). school 2, me 0. In the further hours I had to kill, in the drizzly cold (all the classrooms lead off outside), found the history bulletin with listings of classes that were only "licenciatura" in the coursebook. Went to one, 30 people, and only mildly got lost, and after when the prof asked me if I was going to the US during the semester (and I said no, because its true and thinking leaving the country was bad)turns out he´d be eager for me to do LoC or State Dept researching pertaining to the topic. AND I could write my essays in english (which is major cheating, in the long run...). and slogging to the bus ran into Andryka, Manuela and an other exchange student with them. Small world, especially when all 700 of us are flocking to the 20 classes with "latin america" in the title. There goes my plan not to have classes mondays or fridays (totally doable, though with hour and twenty minute classes, perhaps would have been painful), but its all for the good of the order.
at home, could see my breath in my bathroom (as usually) but also in my bedroom (a lot dismaying). Curled up under the sheets. One thing I could say about my first day- I may have been confused, but I didn´t get lost.

Thursday. tagged along with the med school students on a tour of Clinica Las Condes, probably the plushest hospital in Chile (in previously weeks they´d visited the complete opposite, tiny public practices in the middle of the countryside). Huge rooms for patients, and no one shares a room.
At night there was a Harvard Club reception (honeydew melon juice!) at which we gazed at the original works of art, enjoyed the central heating, and didn´t really mingle with the silk-tied HBS grads. A little scary, though really nice.

REALLY SCARY was PUC orientation Friday. It started alright (this is like camp!) and Anibal and Susana from DRCLAS accompanied us to the opening information session (they were the only adult adults there, and it was cute- like nervous parents sending their kids off. And they helped clarify the sort of convoluted registration protocol). Then we were on our one, except unlike camp no one made much effort to be perky and friendly. Which in itself didn´t bother me, until at one point during the tour of San Joaquin campus, Manuela commented that it´ll probably be lonely the first couple weeks, which is true. Even at Harvard its not like I´m constantly running into friends so much as I know they´re there. SJ campus was big and seventies architecture. Then, Campus Oriental, which was gorgeous and stone and courtyarded with palm trees. Its hard to get from one to the other I think. But its enough to make me want to take an art/theater/music class...until I get sick of the commute. Came home exhausted and yes, homesick...plus I missed Widener Library desperately (having spent close to 300 hours there the past two years). The central library at SJ is more like a cross between Hilles and Lamont. I know, I know.

Yesterday, went with my host parents to drop some paintings off at a cafe that displays them. We were inside, they were having a coffee and I was shivering interminably, when some friends of theirs who recognized the paintings outside came in to say hi. Next thing I knew I was in a car with their daughter (my age) headed towards an asado (bbq). It started off and continued sort of blandly (I didn´t know people, and these weren´t her closest friends either) but just when I thought I was getting nauseous on cigarette smoke she and her friend started asking me questions in English (they´d spent sometime in the US, both) which somehow segued into a Spanish/French argument about Pinochet. One of the guys there was a Pinochet supporter, and so he and this other one were both presenting their arguments to me, and then to each other. Anti-P was citing all the numbers about disappeared and killed, while Pro-P was telling me how Santiago was the only place in Latin America where you could walk safely on the streets, etc, and then to Anti-Ps (several of whom had been born in exile) that what happened during the regime was a "limpieza" (cleaning), nothing more. Then another guy stepped in on his side and started talking about how Allende had been a puppet of the Soviets (though, as far as we figured out in my Coatsworth class, the Soviets couldn´t really afford to care). I think my being there prompted it a bit, according to one of them, and certainly more than one toxic substance was mixed in there, but yikes.
Driving home, past Blockbuster and Bank of Boston, it didn´t feel any different from a US city.