Superlatives

Usually I don’t think superlatives are useful. Words like “the best” or “the worst” often remind me to ask myself: was it really THE best?

And so over a month later that I left my Chilean family, my three and half month stint learning Spanish, living in earthquakes and aftershocks, learning about a neoliberal education system and a system of “educación profunda” (meaningful education), becoming friends with other U.S. students, and learning more about who I am and what I want to do in this world…I feel that it is not only appropriate to use a number of superlatives to describe the experience but to thank the people who were part of making it what it was: an incredibly enriching, thoughtful, funny, scary, meaningful, challenging, frustrating, peaceful, gentle, beautiful, overwhelming experience. In many ways it was the best study abroad program I went on (okay, so I’ve only gone on one…but I think you get my point).

I had the perfect host family. Not that other people in my program didn’t have incredible host families, but my host family was the perfect family for me. It’s hard to imagine reflecting about all of this knowing that Ale, Pablo, and I developed the relationship we did. So much of who I am, is what I say. And I know I did not say everything perfectly for them to understand what I want to say. But they were unbelievably patient. I remember when she wanted to know more of my “coming out” story and I said, “Can I just say this in the present tense?” She said, “You tell me how ever you’d like to” And when we’d be having a conversation or a debate or an argument (or as they’d say—“Emma you’re just being so stubborn)…they’d make sure I got to say what I wanted to say. If they didn’t understand me, they’d ask me to start over and if I’d get frustrated with myself (which I often did) they wouldn’t let me quit—they’d make me keep trying.

They cared about what I was learning. They wanted me to show them pictures from the different excursions. They read (not just read…Ale edited, asked me questions, told me when a section wasn’t good) my ISP so many times I couldn’t keep track. They wanted to know what I thought about the education system, how I would “teach”differently. I remember coming back from my first school visit (way back in March). Ale could tell that I was frustrated by what I saw. She listened to me list what I didn’t like. Then she asked me, “What would you do, how would you do it?” And she let me walk around her bedroom imitating how I would teach, mixed in with some words and full sentences.

And we laughed. A whole lot. Often it related to food. Some weekends, especially on Sundays when Pablo didn’t have work, we’d all sleep in really late into the morning and then get up and eat a feast. We’d each take turns getting things from the cupboards and refrigerator to have everything out there---and then we could decide what to eat. Pastries were really important to us. One day during my ISP month (May), I visited the school where Ale teaches. On the way back we stopped off at the pastry store where Ale and Pablo got their wedding cake. I said I’d treat her and buy some pastries (three—one for each of us—we’d share all of them). Long story short, Pablo never got one of them. I think Pablo eventually forgave me.And we danced. played cards and more cards. went to family gatherings. protests and candle vigils. talked. and cried. They opened their lives to me. I felt part of their family and their extended family and close friends shared their lives with me.

And in turn they became part of my family. I am forever grateful for the warm, caring, gentle people Ale and Pablo are to me, to each other, and to the world. We are all lucky to have them in this beautiful world. So were they really THE best?

For who they were to me during the experience, for who they are to me now, and for the family of three we became: most definitely yes.

Cultural Norms? The Three T's of Chile

I'm very confused by the idea that there are certain things "Chilean" and certain things "American" (well, The United State-n). Now that I write that, I KNOW that there are definitely some traits that are rightfully so attributed to the U.S. But I feel more comfortable writing what those cultural traits are (i.e. individualism, consumerism, etc.) for the U.S. than I do for Chile.

It's easy to get into the "wow-that's so Chilean" phase. But since, based on my various conversations with the other U.S. students here who are having a more "traditional home-stay experience," I don't know what's "normal" for Chile!

All that to say--the follow are some observations I've made since I've been in Santiago.

1. Trash. My host mom considers herself a ecologista (ecologist, environmentalist). She's big on the no plastic bags usage, but I was surprised to see her using paper towels and napkins. I understand people have contradictions (yada-yada-yada)...either way I would have assumed differently given the adamant personality she has about the state of the world. I've heard my fellow SIT-students say, "Where are all the garbage bins around here? There don't seem to be enough."

One day when I was leaving for school, it happened to be trash day and I saw the three massive bins on the edge of the sidewalk. There were three large bins (picture the ones are about my height, on wheels)...for the entire 4 building apartment (over 50 some people)! And this was the first trash day since the earthquake, so I'd assume people would have more trash (broken items, etc.). It was an "ah-ha" moment for me. They just don't produce a lot of waste here...it's not about using or not using paper napkins, or even using cloth bags over plastic...being an environmentalist, for my host mom, and for her apartment neighbors (whether they call themselves an environmentalist or not) means not producing that much waste...what a concept!

2. Touching. Our SIT orientation handbook says, "As the majority of teens and adults live under their parents' roof, even after college, they often have no other alternative than to have time alone with their partner in the streets...these public displays of affection are a product of a society who fosters open displays of affection even among family members and friends." So yep people are making out all the time...subways, buses, park bunches, streets, right behind me (you get the picture...). These aren't simple kisses...it's the whole deal. And it's not just between a women and a man in their 20-somethings...they are between two people of the same gender, older couples, younger couples, love is inclusive here.

And whenever you meet someone, you always kiss them on the check---man to man, man to women, etc. It's a beautiful gesture and I'd like to think this would help break down a machista culture and foster a culture of appreciation and acceptance of a queer culture. The reality is it doesn't really do that as much as it could

3. influence of The U.S. In a book I read about Pinochet's dictatorship and legacy during some of the down time I had the first few days here, had a section that particularly stood out. The author stressed how the U.S. has used Chile as its own little "experiment"---first with the Chicago Boys and US aid during Pinochet era to open the markets which led to huge disparities between the rich and poor (Chile now has the 8th largest income gap in the world), helping to introduce credit cars and instill a culture of consumerism. And I've begun to look at Santiago that way (as the U.S.'s "experiment"). I sometimes have to remind myself that I am actually in South America, that I am not in a part of the U.S. that just speaks Spanish really fast.

There are influences of the U.S. everywhere. Some I expected...certain logos and brands, a few English expressions, the small tiendas that sell souvenirs made in China...some I didn't.

When I talk to people about Pinochet's legacy, often people talk about the increasing emphasis on individualism.

There has been a huge push to standardized testing and accountability in schools which began in 2000 (NCLB was in 2001).

There are versions of Wal-Marts everywhere (they are actually called "Jumbos" with a huge elephant as the mascot for the store--at least here they can recognize that it's all enormous).

In a country with sidewalk farmers markets everywhere (it's not just a once/week thing here!), the grocery stores are full of produce from a huge multinational corporation, Dole.

There are more...they just aren't coming to me right now.

I am not sure what exactly Chile's culture is. Maybe it's because I'm from the U.S. that I can't point out the U.S.'s influence. Or maybe it's because the U.S. really is experimenting with Chile. I'll keep observing. Not hoping to find something specifically "Chilean" but hoping to find something that doesn't have "U.S. domination" written all over it.

Some of it is already here...less trash, more affection. There's got to be more...

Photos

The following are a bunch of photos to give you a visual of something of the things I've talked about...enjoy!

Here I am with Pablo in the living room of the apartment. We have our head lamps on because we didn't have power for a number of days after the Earthquake.

The next three photos are from Pablo Neruda's house in Casa de Isla Negra..


And finally this was the view we had the first few days during orientation in Algarrobo (not bad!).

The day I came out to my (host) parents.

I don’t know what spiritual force I believe in, if any…what I do believe is that, that if you give the earth enough patience things fall into place (or at least a few).

Leaving Mount Holyoke, a community where being gay is so normalized---I think it’s almost a place where being gay is the “cool” identity to have, knowing I was going to be traveling on my own…in a country where the guide book says it’s not “gay-friendly,” was probably the most unsettling/difficult part of going-abroad. Yea, speaking a different language—hard, frustrating. Meeting people, traveling in a major city—could be challenging. But being asked to hide a part of who I am, something I had already done during high school, not fun. I’ve done it before. I’ve played that game—pretending she is just my friend, pretending I think that guy is cute. But I decided I’d see how my host family was before I made any official decisions about whether I’d come out in Chile (and coming-out here meant telling them that I was in a relationship with a woman).

After the first few hours, I knew they were liberal. But that really means nothing when it comes to “gay-acceptance.” Lots of people are liberal, and aren’t too keen when one of their kids tells them that they are gay.

After the first few days, I knew they were more “comfortable” with the idea. They had talked about their friends who identified as gay/lesbian/etc. Told me about the gay bars they go to. They asked me if I had a novia o novio (girlfriend or boyfriend). I remember thinking, “How awesome that they don’t make assumptions about me!?!” Somehow I managed to brush the question aside; you get used to doing things like that, when you don’t exactly want to pretend 100% of the time. Eventually they asked me again…I told them her name. Luckily for me, her name is gender neutral, so I was able to talk more abstractly about our relationship.

After the first weekend, I knew they were safe. We still didn’t have power from the effects of the earthquake, so there was lots of laughter from not having certain conveniences and were all beginning to understand each other for each other, Emma was becoming Emma…not the person who was speaking extremely slowly or thinking twice before she says a single phrase…

Ale (I know her well enough to use her nickname!)—Alejandra—was in the kitchen and I decided to bring out the picture of my girlfriend. I said, in Spanish (although it might not have come out like this—she still understood me), “At first, I wasn’t sure if I could tell you this. I have a girlfriend and I have some pictures to show you.” Ale stopped what she was doing, stepped out of the kitchen, sat down next to me in the living room. She sat close to me. And let me go page by page, explaining who this person is to me. She used a gentle voice, when I couldn’t say what I wanted to say, to help me with my Spanish. She asked questions. After, when I thanked her for being the person I could share this with, she thanked me. Then Pablo came in. After I told him about my novia, I told him I had pictures and he excitedly looked at them. He, too, went page by page looking closely at each photo. I thanked him. Pablo said, “Thank you for having the confidence to share this with us.”

And the rest of the night went on. They ask me about her—when she’ll be back from India, when I’ll get to talk to her.

A few days since, they’ve become more comfortable with me. Ale’s told me about the lesbian relationship she had. How she believes sexuality is fluid. She wants to know about my “coming-out” (in the U.S., I’m assuming).

Creating a safe space means taking risks. And when the risk-taking is rewarded in some version, it makes it easier to take more.

Earthquake Update

It’s 6pm on Saturday. I only had internet access for a bit…so I sent a few “don’t worry, I’m fine e-mails” and updated my facebook status (the US Embassy even recommended we do that so that those who are worried know how we’re doing). But now I’m just writing and when the internet/power is back up I’ll post this blog.
Here’s the story: It was around 3am. I had gone to bed at 1:30am because I was skyping with my parents and brother. So I think I was just getting into my deep sleep phase. I remember feeling the shaking…and for those in the Midwest who don’t know what an Earthquake feels like…it’s like the land is having a seizure, everything is moving back and forth. You know those dreams when you feel like you’re falling and then you wake up right before you hit the ground? That’s what it all felt like—except that dream over and over again. The door was opening and closing, I could see the light peering into my eyes. But I wasn’t sure what to do. I don’t remember feeling anything other than that—out of control, powerless. I felt like I was drunk and when I saw Alejandra, my host mom, swing open the door and tell me to come with her, the only thing I could think of was to follow her (looking back on that moment, it’s incredible how when put in certain circumstances, Spanish, at that time, came so easy to me). What a wonderful women she was! She held me as the apartment building shook. And shook. And shook. It seemed 10 minutes long (later I found out it was 3 minutes). I felt like I was on a ship, hitting the really rough part of the night, when the waves are crashing on either side of the boat and all you feel like you can do is wait. It was late into the night and none of the lights were on, so I couldn’t tell what was falling or breaking.

When it stopped, Alejandra continued to wrap her arms around me. She said very slowly, “tranquila, tranquila…” (calm, clam). I didn’t feel nervous or scared when it was happening , but when it stopped…my whole body was shaking. My heart was racing fast and I was breathing quickly. I took a number of deep, slow breaths over and over again. I remember looking at Alejandra when it was done and feeling very reassured that everything would be fine. There were are few shock waves that followed. But they were short.

I was exhausted and all I wanted to do was to crawl back into my bed and fall back asleep. Alejandra and Pablo walked around the apartment a bit. I went to my room and just sat on my bed for a few minutes. I had heard that turbulences were normal in Chile—and they would happen when I was on my trip. I thought this was just one of those turbulences (come to learn that it was far from the “normal” or “expected” shaking). I got up and looked out my window…most of Santiago was dark. The power gone. There was something eerie about seeing a major city without the building lit up.
Pablo finds his phone and uses the light from it to see what the apartment looks like—initially it looked like a tornado had swept through the kitchen, bedroom, and living room. Wet patches covered the ground where the fish bowl was . Glass broken all over the floor. Bookshelves without any books.
Alejandra explains to me that she hasn’t felt something like since the 1986 earthquake. Rumor has it…Pinochet ordered it. And then we meet her neighbor and all walk downstairs to be outside. We stay out for about 30 minutes. Many neighbors are talking about the damage they’ve experienced in their homes and who they are waiting to get a hold of. I feel comforted by all of the neighbors who sarcastically say, “Bienvenidos a Chile!” (Welcome to Chile!) and want to make sure that I’m okay…especially as a first-time earthquake survivor.

I didn’t think this would be so long…(writing all of this out)…
Eventually we go back up to the apartment and clean up the pieces of glass on the ground. 20 minutes later, I’m lying in bed wondering, “what just happened.” I continued to feel the after-shocks all through the night, eventually falling asleep at 5:30am. At certain points I began to think I was feeling something shake…when really all was calm (not cellular phantom vibrations, instead this was phantom after-shocks).

I woke up at around 10:30am and spent the day finding out more information. Throughout the day there were frequent after-shocks. It felt scarier this time, experiencing them. Maybe it was because I was more awake, understood the gravity of the situation more…whatever it was…it was more nerve raking to feel the apartment shake and have no control over it or nowhere to go where I wouldn’t feel it. The staff of SIT visited each student’s house to make sure we were okay. Luckily for all of us (partially a miracle or something) there were no major problems (broken glasses, etc.).

In the early afternoon after a number of friends’ of Alejandra and Pablo’s visited the house to make sure all was well, Pablo and I went for a walk to get some groceries. It was ironic to see the big stores/pharmacies closed and the small fruit and vegetables stands open. I kind of had expected it to be the other way. Initially I couldn’t see much damage. I’d point to a crack in the ground and Pablo would laugh and tell me that that’s just how the sidewalk is. Eventually I saw tons of damage, entire windows split in half or knocked out. A whole store front crumbled to pieces. Huge cracks up the side of large houses. And with that—the city was still moving. The bus system was working, just slower than usual. People were doing out to eat at the Chinese and Peruvian restaurants we passed. Taxis were running. People were walking around.

I kept getting mixed messages---on one hand, it was a horrible earthquake that lead to tsunamis and on the other hand, the damage I saw was few and far between and the city was working (all be it without power, except for the generators running).
We cleaned the apartment, ate, played uno (I’ve always wanted to play uno in a Spanish-speaking country)…and as more news came in about the deaths, the comparison to Haiti’s recent earthquake, how Bachelet (Chile’s current president) is not stepping turning over the Presidency to Pinera at the beginning of March so that she is able to deal with this crisis fully, the tsunamis that were starting, Hilary Clinton’s visit soon, the pictures of antique buildings in Santiago in pieces...and as I saw Alejandra cry as she learned more and more about her country and the people dead and hurt…I began to feel what I tend to feel when I hear about different travesties. ..pure sadness for the lives gone and the damage created.

Can you say that again? One more time? I'm sorry...

I'm sitting in my room at my homestay's house in Santiago. There are two large panoramic windows...right now it's cloudy--a murky gray, there's tons of pollution. The pollution is amplified because the city of Santiago is located in a ditch, surrounded by mountains on either side. From my house I can see the tallest building in Santiago (although Pablo, my host family dad, said, "I know it's nothing like NY.") and downtown Santiago. The house is located on the fourth floor (top floor) of the apartment complex. Tons of apartments surround Ñuñoa (one of the many communities within Santiago and the one I am currently in). It's so different from the single-family homes I am used to seeing in Huntington Woods and in South Hadley. Although, I know it's more of the norm in cities across the U.S...it still seems new to see.

It's so easy to feel lost when my host parents, Pablo and Alejandra, are speaking. I listen for phrases, words I know and sometimes, make-up, what I think they're saying. Or I ask them to say "una vez mas" or "repete"or "que"(one more time, repeat, what). They're really good at being animated...especially Pablo who uses large hand gestures and often vivid visual descriptions (for example, faking choking himself aggressively to symbolize choking). Pablo also enjoys snapping his fingers to describe certain things...which often confuses me because he uses the same gesture to describe multiple things. Alejandra and Pablo have been married for a year; this is Pablo's second marriage; he has two kids who he doesn't see/talk to much.

Pablo is a student, studying to teach others about biodanza, (from what I understand...they've explained this concept to me many, many times. biodanza...originated in Chile and has now spread to other Latin American countries, parts of Europe, and Japan. It's a newer idea that involves disciplines like psychology, anthropology, arts...it's a process of healing, group therapy, and dancing. In a group, that doesn't know each other to well, someone guides someone who closes their eyes. The music guides the couple and eventually heals the person who isn't doing well (emotionally or physically). Break up the words Bio and danza...it means Bio and dance...something like that. Alejandra is a religious teacher at a semi-private (like a charter school) school. Neither of them are religious, but Alejandra teaches religion because she believes that religion is a human right.

They don't have Wi-fi in their house...but it's easier to borrow some wi-fi from a neighbor who doesn't have a password.

Last night, I was feeling the "hope this all goes by fast." The Spanish was overwhelming me and I was constantly frustrated because I couldn't say what I wanted to say. I have to simplify my thoughts...so that they come out in a way that makes sense to Pablo and Alejandra. I was extremely exhausted from listening so hard to them speak. And then, after I got up and had sometime to read e-mails, go on facebook...basically indulge into things that connected me to people and places I knew well, I let go of my frustration (a bit). Alejandra went off to work and Pablo and I took a long walk around the neighborhood. It was nice to be outside--the sun shining brightly, warming my body...and I slowed everything down. I decided to laugh more, say, "si, si" less often (and ask more when I didn't understand). I saw a bit of "Emma" come out. It was really nice.

So much of this experience is going to be about 1) being okay not always knowing what's happening 2) feeling really okay trying again and again 3) learning to say what I want to and ask them if they understand me, and then if not, I can try again 4)taking more deep breaths 5) and not getting frustrated with myself for getting frustrated.