solo bueno

Where were you one year ago?

2011-12-16T13:20:00.000-08:00

One year ago I was with Vero's family visiting from Chile. We started in the downtown bustling activity and ended up at a bright Museo del Carnaval. We took a bus to get there. We got off Cerrito Street, the little hill nearby. A night to remember, indeed. The night at the Museum.

Creativity

2011-06-30T07:23:00.000-07:00

As I'm researching things for a cultural tour I came across a Stravinsky quote that I will paraphrase: Creativity is finding a fresh place on the pillow. The great folklore singer Alfredo Zitarrosa said that he never says original things, he just combines things that he has already heard which is creative nonetheless.

2011-02-24T14:08:00.001-08:00

"Where shall I begin, please", your Majesty?" he asked. "Begin at the beginning," the King said, gravely, "and go on till you come to the end: then stop."

Good Things come to Those who Run

2010-03-09T10:03:00.001-08:00

Tristan Narvaja: A Grolsch bottle and Windows Vista on a Sunday

2009-12-14T05:20:00.000-08:00

Just what is Tristan Narvaja? Who is Tristan Narvaja? Who was Tristan Narvaja? What is it? It's a fairground of the most wonderful junk you could imagine.

Why is well-preserved junk so well received by customers? Because they feel that things from the market are things they belonged to them in another life.

Seriously though the market is an extensive affair, stretched out across both sides of suburban streets, and staked out by vendor's tents. Do you want old postcards and trinkets. Wander this way. What about wrought iron and wood furniture? Puppies? You want'em we have'em. There's even a gentleman who sells old records while blasting mambo from an unseen source.

The most important thing about how a economically weak country makes people so ingenious is that material goods are exploited to the maximum. Where material products are looked at as individuals, as completely interesting objects, they increase in aesthetic value. For a certain car part to reach Tristan Narvaja, someone would have had to salvage it from a wrecked car. Some way or another, all sorts of strange objects reach the market. If these objects could talk, what tales they'd have.

I've seen vendors with collections of old bottles, their labels long torn off, and the strangely-shaped bottles now clean and shiny. A blue Arizona iced tea bottle with the recessed finger indentations looks naked (and beautiful?) once it has reached the market. I don't see Arizona iced tea in the supermarket. How on earth did it cross the earth? Or you can pick up those old Grolsch bottles with the ceramic tops and the rubber seals to use for your oil and vinegar. Pick up an old katana from the fellow over there. Doesn't it make you feel better when you can buy something that already has faced its share of opponents? I'm pretty sure I saw a lighthouse bulb there, too.

Of course, the scope of T.N. really is appreciated when you find things that you find only here. The vendors here dedicate each Sunday at the market because they know that if enough people pass by, they will find at least one person who happens to need the exact shade of lampshade they happen to be selling. It's a strange world that sets up once a week in the Cordon to display all the things you probably don't need.

En Neptunia jugando al helicoptero

2009-07-03T09:06:00.000-07:00

Aqui estamos en neptunia, una playa ubicada a 35 km de Montevideo, fuimos por el día, Alberto se bañó en el mar... es un loooccoooo... 6 de junio pleno otoño, casi invierno..

eso.. para nuestra familia que nos quiere y que nosotros los queremos también.. siempre nos acordamos de todos... y pensamos en que cosas les gustaría a cada uno de lo que estamos conocendo acá..

bueno que disfruten el video tanto como nosotros lo disfrutamos dando vueltas....

A Scene

2009-05-17T15:45:00.000-07:00

I went out for a walk yesterday. Caught up with some business with the netbook and some wifi thanks to Restaurante de Zabala. Then the local canomble group came by with some serious drumming. About 7 players but the sound resonated through the whole neighborhood. There are lots of old buildings so the sound really carries. I watched them for a bit, along with mothers with strollers and the local group at the pizza shop. Curiously enough, the candomble group didn't stray from the side streets, they never made it onto the main plazas. I liked how it was definitely a neighborhood activity, there was no other motive than to get together and create some music in the streets. If you felt like watching you watched. But no matter where you were in la Cuidad Vieja you heard them.

Then I walked to the river, de la Plata, which is hard for me to call a river because I've never seen the other side, it's more of a giant delta. But no one calls it that. On the coastal road a bride was posing for camera in the middle of the deserted street under a streetlamp.

Good Humor, Ripples of Memory and Big Mac

2009-02-24T18:17:00.000-08:00

Sometimes a good sense of humor is placing imaginary objects in reality. Like an old friend used to say to my sister, ¨Your dog keeps coming into my yard!¨ ¨But I don´t have a dog,¨ she would reply, slightly confused. It happened again today. While I was buying fuel for the magnificent furnace that is my appetite, the man behind me asked the old woman behind the counter, ¨Hey, do have any of that white Toblerone?¨ She replied no. Then the joker said, ¨I didn´t think so!¨ in a way to rib her. Of course, these jokes work to best effect on your spouse. I was over Suzanna´s house with Vero. Tomás, her husband, is from Austria. On Suzanna´s first visit to his Old World stomping grounds, Tomás called from the house requesting sea urchins which she knew was his favorite dish. Ït´s right next to the shrimp, yeah that´s right, right between the shrimp and the ice cream. and the beer, don´t forget the beer.¨ Since it was, of course, Austrian, the store was gargantuan like those found this side of the pond, and there were only so many freezers from which to choose. I don´t see it, she cried, as she explained to the employees via sign language to not be embarrassed by his family. Not as cruel as most, Tomás and his brother let this back and forth go on (a reasonable amount of time) before they let her know--cagados de la risa--that no supermarket in the city would ever carry sea urchins. Definitely something to keep in mind.

Angeles Clona

2009-02-08T17:12:00.000-08:00

These guys played some laid-back bossa nova and reggae which I could dig.

Resources

2009-02-06T08:44:00.000-08:00

Our generation is going to have to live with some enormous changes. In our environment. In our climate. Just now I see signs of looking seriously into alternative energies. But they´re easier said than done, right? If you´re an industrialized nation, how do you get half the world´s lithium reserves from underneath Bolivia´s salt flats without damaging your reputation (more than it already is)? Why would Ford´s production of an electric car be called¨Detroit´s Big Risk¨ if its electric car program was scrapped in the 1970´s?

Valparaiso

2009-01-28T15:52:00.000-08:00

If any city does a good Wall St. impersonation, it´s Valparaiso´s downtown. I was there today picking up some meds at the Farmacia Ahumada. Between the hills and the port are tall dark buildings that read Casa de Cambios el Español, right out of Batman. There´s even a triangular building that forks the street, just like in New York. Definitely a must see for anyone who comes to Valparaiso. And on the hills behind it is the former prison (Centro Cultural Ex-Carcel), a scary looking joint that sits behind impenetrable walls. In the center of it is a bombproof shelter where they kept gunpowder at one time. Now it´s a cultural center where the walls are covered with awesome murals. There are cartoons, disfigured characters, and a whole section of tough-looking chickens. I never thought chickens could look tough. There lots of artistic activity and talented young artists in this city.

Anyway, I´m in Quintero, north of the city. There´s a terrific reefbreak right out front.

2009-01-14T16:52:00.000-08:00

More news, mas noticias

2009-01-10T18:00:00.000-08:00

As they say, no news is good news but I also know that some of you are checking this page so I hate to disappoint. I got to Pichilemu a couple of days ago and everyone and their mother is on vacation here. They really love the beach. It s hard to be serious when there are kids running around the beach throwing mud at each other. What else? I ll just be doing some surfing until I settle down and either work at an institute or branch out on my own. The latter seems more likely because the summer will seem like an eternity and I will get restless. In summary, I m surfing my mind out which clears out a lot of cobwebs and looking forward to joining Vero again.

news from Pichilemu

2009-01-09T06:54:00.000-08:00

buen comida, mucho sol, olas pequeñas, miles de locales que venden empanadas y mucha gente de vacacciones. saludos a todos en Chiloé quien ha no he despedido. Salgo ahora para tomar fotos.

Questions People ask me

2008-12-23T17:15:00.000-08:00

1. Why did you come to Chile? To surf, work and live my life.
2. Can you surf in ____ (so-and-so Beach)? Not really, because you need something on the bottom to make the wave break with power. See, when the wave hits the shelf, the water stacks on top of itself. The water behind it gets pushed on top because water can´t be compressed. There´s no where else to go. Then there´s a release of power when the wave physically can´t support any more mass for mechanical reasons. For this reason, I like to say that a breaking wave is a reflection of the bottom. Where the wave bowls the bottom is higher and where it breaks depends on the tide. Beachbreaks can shift and change, a reef can change quickly so it´s important to watch the tide and points require patience to stay in the right spot. Things are always variable and some spots are better than others.

christmas in castro

2008-12-23T10:16:00.001-08:00

Classes finish today. Do I like teaching? Why do I like teaching? Granted, my gig allows me a lot of time for myself which is very convenient for surfing. Besides the little time commitment, I like getting people to communicate even if their sentences are almost indecipherable. For me, it is fun. For learners of other languages, I can see how speaking could be frightening. I ask a question then sit back and listen. Games are fun, too. Next year, I´m going to spend the entire first class playing Simon says with the body parts. Or have them draw a giant driver´s license card that identifies their interests. What can I do as far as teaching on my own? I can draw a topic through eliciting the learner´s experience. But enough about teaching, of which I won´t be doing the next couple of months.

I´ve spent the last two and a half years working and not working hard at various mindless activities. In between I tried to sneak in surfing. From January to I´m not sure when, that´s what I´ll be doing. Yipee!

More Stuff

2008-12-01T16:51:00.000-08:00

This weekend I attended Achao´s Festival de Cordero, or sheep festival. I ate cordero al palo which is amazing. It´s just lamb cooked over a fire on a stick. Then there´s a la patagonica which is lamb stretched spread-eagle over coals and cooked for four hours. On the third hour chimichanga sauce is poured all over it. If I ever have a sheep, remind me how to prepare it. Then I watched a shearing competition, which is about who can give the sheep a faster haircut. The skill involved is not letting the sheep escape and holding it still while you cut a full piece of wool. The best guys can take off a shaggy sheep´s coat in about 90 seconds which I found impressive.

what´s up friends and family

2008-10-08T21:59:00.000-07:00

I found out dad has a new car. It´s a little bigger than Mr. Bean´s car but a 4x4: it´s a 2005 Lada. Hope he and Alex stay out of trouble. Actually, they´re probably too busy playing chess and drinking margaritas. That´s just what the men in the Rodriguez side of the family do when together. And when Dad finds us unchallenging he goes back to solving the Rubix cube. At least that´s how the day went when we got together in Atlanta in 2005.

I accompanied Vero today to work. She drives around the countryside finding campesinos who want to start new projects. Then she helps them apply for grants that will give them money for plastic and wood to build a greenhouse, sheep to sell wool, bees and building material to produce honey, and so forth. Imagine all the possibilities, what can you do with 600 USD? There´s a whole lot of people out there who don´t need much to start a business. Once they apply the government approves the proposals and in December the money is doled out so Vero can buy sheep and wood and whatever else the farmers think they need.

Trip Log

2008-09-29T13:45:00.000-07:00

The recipe to a good hiking trip: Ample wandering. Last weekend we had a good helping of that. Me, Vero, her brother in law Bernabe, his son and her nephew Anibal, alpha male orangatang Manuel and his son Tomas set out from Quiao with all the best intentions to reach Punta Huentemo or Lago Huelden. After a strong helping of homemade beer with raw egg cracked in it, we set out only to lose the trail after three hours of hiking. Luckily, we were near the top of a hill and it was a clear day so we enjoyed a great view of the lakes and the hills. We could even see the big blue Pacific in the distance. This is great, we said, we´re within sight of our destination. Any other part of the world not covered with dense Valdivian rainforest would have been cause for high optimism, but this just wasn´t the place. We found out soon enough as we tried descending the hill. One foray, nope too much vegetation and way too steep, a second, and so it went. We finally realized that there was no easy way down and headed more southerly. This cautious move was motivated by all the time we were losing. It being Chiloe, we could enjoy a downpour whenever nature felt like it. So there we were, making our own trail down a steep hill. The weather was beautiful and it hadn´t rained for a few days so it was dry for the most part. We were walking on branches and roots raised up 2 or 3 meters off the ground. We climbed over and under many roots, sometimes it felt like we were under trees. Night came and we pretty much laid down on the side of the hill after cutting up some branches to sleep on. I had a stove and mate, so I brewed up some drink to pass around to the crew. Next morning, as is the custom here, we made no effort to move fast. As it wasn´t raining and we had come to terms with our condition as temporarily lost, we cooked some Quaker and drank more mate as we relaxed in our new home among the tepu trees and moss. I was unusually quiet during this trip and I realized that it had been some time since I´d been lost in the woods. We packed up and continued our gymnastics of crawling through branches and hanging from vines and trees to descend. Some parts were cool, like the route we found that involved walking over a tree trunk that conveniently crossed a dry riverbed. Other parts, like falling on a broken wood shard on my chest, were not so cool. We finally hit the middle of the valley where a stream ran. I celebrated by drinking as much water as I could. The others were strangely reticent to guzzle as much water as they possibly could. Having no other route, we walked in the river riverhopping rocks before giving up and walking in the water. It was great not walking in the trees and feeling like an orangatung. After making great progress on the relatively flat land, the trees got lower up ahead and the trees turned into finely cut grass and cow turds. A joyous walk later we found ourselves at the shore of Lago Huillinco. It was around three o´clock and the sun felt good. We took off shoes and celebrated with more Quaker, cracked open a can of fish and some canned strawberries. A giant Chilean flag was affixed to a stick and ceremoniously buried in the rocks to commemorate independence day. There was nobody at all at the lake and our celebration seemed premature as Bernabe responded that he assumed we agreed that I would swim across the lake to look for a boat to carry us across. I queried him as to the feasability of this plan, what with the desolation of the lake, just as he was pushing the last water jug into the fire. Par for the course, he was unperturbed by my practical questions. The lake was not a lake, really, just a place where the river got really wide, like two Adam´s apples in a giant throat. We walked along the shore until we found the first habitated home of a Parkinson-striken gentleman. He called for a zodiac from the local company that had salmon hatcheries further on down the lake while I made haste to find cover to take my first dump on the trip. Perfect timing prevailed as the zodiac showed up just I lost three pounds as we were picked up by the skiff and carried across a remarkably tranquil lake. Luck was with us again as a bus stopped and carried us to Castro. I felt twenty pounds heavier again as Bernabe placed a giant piece of petrified wood on my lap that he produced from God-knows-where. I returned it to him upon our arrival to Castro only to have it exchanged for the gigantic Chilean flag attached to a three-meter piece of tepu. He confided that this was a gift, from him to me, so I had no choice but to accept it. I walked through the early Sunday evening with the streets full, the flag unfurled and set prominently on my shoulder. My wool hat full of leaves and me covered in mud, I must have looked like a deranged Chilean wrapping up a revolutionary weekend.

Myths and Facts

2008-09-02T18:23:00.000-07:00

A big part of life here is the myth. There´s a story of a little man who steals away young women and if they return they are pregnant. The Camahuete is my favorite because it´s this pirate ship that hangs out offshore. There´s always a party aboard so if you hear loud music at night, well, you know where it´s coming from. Aside from these traditional myths (and there are lots more), there´s an unusually large concentration of UFO sightings. Eduardo saw a large red dot parked above the night sky that moved in some algorithm. He swears by the story. Anyway, one night he said the light beamed up over the sky and disappeared. I rarely see the stars here but when you do it´s like a damn planetarium. At Vero´s house I chop wood that falls like mozarella sticks when I smack it cleanly with the little ax. She has a nice smile. And on a walk to Rauco I met one friend smoking a cigarette outside his building. What a coincidence. Then, on the way back, I meet another friend getting out of his car at the same building. You can´t go anywhere around here without running into one or two people you know. I got shown the same building twice, the same boats they were repairing and welding to send out for fishing, and the same giant cement mixers to make the deadweights to keep the fishing cages from floating away.

Some history

2008-08-31T13:59:00.000-07:00

The Acalufes, the Chonos, Mapuche, the Huillinche, who are they? This is the kind of thing that keeps me up at night. Luckily Gerardo has spent the past twenty years studying the same questions. He gave me a brief overview of how the original inhabitants were wiped out or whose lifestyle was destroyed. Chonos, who made their life from fishing and boating, were changed by Christianity to take on a more sedentary lifestyle on land. Or that they were sent further south by Puntarenas to work not exactly as slaves. They loved to fish and swim, like me, but I was informed that they ran around and swam in the nude; unfortunately, Im not so brave and I use a wetsuit. The Mapuche were the original inhabitants on land who also chilled out as farmers. But they were also coaxed by the Jesuits into Christianity. They caused trouble because when they saw a pig or goat, well, they just hopped the fence. Slice it up, and voila, dinner. The Spanish didn´t care for this so bounty hunters collected ears for bounty. Now, there are a few Huillinche communities but even they have cell phones. There´s a hill near here where they put a huge telephone communications tower but you can´t see it unless you take a long hike. I, having little else to do, walked to it. There´s a big sign they proudly proclaims the region of Gamboa is electrified. Until ten years ago, most of the region didn´t have electricity. With all the rain, I have yet to find out what they did for fun. There´s great folk music tradition and young groups. They take old songs put a new treatment to it. In any case, there are still communities now that are stubbornly isolated. They don´t recognize the regional government and don´t welcome guests. Chiloe was the last region to join the country of Chile. The commander Serrano Freire settled it in 1826, sixteen years after the vascos gained independence from Spain. I hope to do more of this anthropology study, but how but how?

Los Rodriguez

2008-08-22T13:07:00.000-07:00

Here´s some gitano music from Bariloche. The brothers Rodriguez coordinated guitar parts really well. They joked that the drummer couldn´t make it but that they´d try their best anyway.

How is Stuff Made? Part 1: Chocolate

2008-08-20T13:21:00.000-07:00

Ever wonder why countries such as Switzerland are famous for chocolate, considering the product is made from the seeds of a tropical tree? How in the world did this happen? To find the causes of this geographic paradox, I employed the good posters from the chocolate factory in Bariloche, called La Turista. As it turns out, the Mayas were the first to cultivate the nut. They called it Cacahuaqucht--tree of the gods--as a symbol of fertility. Globalization makes production better done in the first world. Either way, it´s delicious and often better enjoyed in cold climates.

Mar Brava-FuerteCorona-Guabun and Bariloche

2008-08-18T04:46:00.000-07:00

(for foto update see flickr link at left) Lucky for me a Frenchman has a truck and enthusiasm for surf. He works in developing a marine products local market. The only way to compete with the cheaper price of Chinese algae is to sell to other Chileans, right? Currently, everything gets exported because the country doesn´t have the machinery or ability to produce the creams from the agar agar algae. Some of the more obscure seafood, prepared right, could sell in restaurants. So that´s what the guy´s working on. Saturday we drove an hour to the north, Ancud, then hung a left to check out the miniscule portion of Chiloe´s accessible coast. Mar Brava: like Long Beach new york on a mediocre day, but still great to get out. We caught it at high tide around 11 am, water temp around 45 degrees F so not terrible. The most amazing thing was that the sun was out so the pictures are totally deceiving. A guy surf casting asked us if we were familiar with the beach and told us that there were currents all over the place that took you out to sea. I said great, less effort to paddle out. The current was good but the bad thing was that it made the waves around it mushier. Still, it was great to play around in mostly foam and whitewash. Next stop was Punta Corona, a small bay that could take a north swell on a low tide, maybe. Much less hectic than a beach break. Guabun, the beautiful countryside on the northernmost point of the island, has a dramatic landscape and tiny barreling waves! Imagine the potential. On the way back we stopped at various residences because Remy had to follow up on information for Finistere. It´s a French ministry that gives agrarian scholarships to folks and follows up five years later to see exactly how it is that the students used the opportunity. Trying to track down these people was so comical. ¨Fernando? Don´t know him. But I know his sister and she works at the supermarket in Ancud. You can reach her on Tuesdays and Fridays and some Thursdays.¨Or, ¨Fernando? Don´t know him.¨ Then after half an hour of speaking with them we find out that it´s his son and that we should´ve addressed him by his middle name from the start. He thought the name we were asking for was a female because of the pronunciation.

Yesterday I spent on a bus to Bariloche, the nearest foreign city to renew my visa. What mind-boggling views to get here. Gauchos really do have something to feel superior about. Somehow the bus made it here without tire chains. I just walked around last night and demanded delicious steak with house wine for the equivalent of seven dollars and they conformed to my mandate. The town is like a Swiss mountain town, lots of skiers and blonde folks and really tall trees. The houses have central heating (no more smelling like santa claus) instead of wood-burning stoves. I wish I could go snowboarding! Nah, I think I´ll eat lots of chocolate today and return to Castro tomorrow.

How the Hell are ya?

2008-08-07T17:55:00.000-07:00

Thanks for stopping by. The present has become a routine which involves lots of tending of the wood-burning stove and guitar-playing, and visits with Veronica or El Chumo, the carpenter, who´s always up to something. He was building a dome constructed from equilateral triangles today which will be another greenhouse. Also, this afternoon I noticed the same ringers from the town´s basketball team ambling through town together. The reason I notice them everyday is that they´re a good two feet taller than anyone else in town and they talk the language of urban USA which alone turns a few heads (toward the sky?). No word as to if they have noticed me, who looks like a castreno, complete with a woolen chomba. I´m even becoming one of the regulars at Wednesday night soccer games. I´m not sure, but every basketball player has a price and if it´s right, they are recruited from universities or semi-pro teams in the U.S. to play in sleepy Castro.

I guess when you can´t think about what to write about in the present (which, like a sand glass, interminably drops into the past . . . it´s the moment we try to catch), memories will have to suffice. News: My friend Lou earned a free steak. Chris Jahn reports:

you know the 77oz. steak challenge, where you have to finish a 5lb. steak in less then an hour, well Louis did it and won. He got a T-shirt and his picture on the wall, not to mention he didn't have to pay for the steak. As a bonus prize, he spent the following 6 hours trying to force himself to puke. This happened yesterday, tuesday, and he said that he hasn't been able to eat anything and trying to shit is like giving birth to a large stone infant.

An unrelated memory is hiking up Mt. Washington with Chris and Bill, a 4,000 ft. ascent for 3 affable fellows. Since two of them have lungs more crystallized and blackened (but less efficient) than the bowels of the very Mount Washington Cog Railway that runs up the side of it (the only difference being that the coal burner burns 1 short ton of coal while my two friends burn what seems like a ton of Camels), our hearts worked harder than the respective locomotive. When the summit was in view, we would inaugurate the tradition with a smoking of the peace pipe. The idea was that we would march triumphantly to the summit at one with nature. What we didn´t take into account: formidable change in altitude, the efficacy of Bill´s sister´s bowl, and not the least our own hearts chugging, the blood coursing through our bodies delivering with frighteningly fast speed messages that had our neurons bristling. A moment later after the slightest impact, we were silly. A coffee would have sent us beaming toward the galaxy. This had us comfortably numb in the clouds. I fashioned a seat among the cairns, as did Bill. We operated in complete silence in our tasks, our faculties handicapped. If we could think, we´d be worried as to the effects. Every bit of consciousness was needed to complete the task of not losing our minds. Telepathic curiosity pulled the two of us from the mindless haze as we turned our heads in the direction of Chris. Usually, he´d be panting ungracefully some several hundred meters behind, or resting comfortably on a rock when we were supposed to be hiking. This time, though, sat serenely on a pile of rocks. The wind blew thin and clean. He had somehow managed to pull on the Mexican blanket from a variety of can-openers, philosophy books, and the multitude of many pieces of twine of varying lengths that he carried in his Jansport. Set upon his head was a leather bomber hat. Amazingly, he contained his madness behind a smirk, and the walking stick he had picked up now carried mystical qualities. With the poncho, cap, and walking stick he looked like a wizened sherpa who had spent millions of years privy to the wisdom reverberating off Himalayan walls. We could not contain our laughter for what seemed like thirty minutes.

What part of Mexico are you from?

2008-07-25T19:02:00.000-07:00

so, starting from July 13th . . . Lunch at a super big house. The house was shaped like a semi-circle to take advantage of the view of the bay. Flamingos congregate in the water to pick up mussels. Every once in a while the sun comes out to reveal the pink colors, otherwise they just look dark. If you don´t like the weather here just wait ten minutes. Fco.´s friend cooks delicious and after lunch we spent five hours talking about anything. The moon was getting full and the windows are huge so there´s lots of light. We talked about energy-- everyone here talks about different energy sources -- that accumulates into energy that you can then sell to the town. The contest sponsored by the town is to design the best energy-saving or energy-producing idea. Something as simple as thermal coatings for windows or more elaborate like bipolar magnets to activate a turbine. The start-up cost inevitably puts a seive on the conversation. But there´s so much water here that hydroelectricity, i think, will be the best option. Anyway, last week was more steady rain, like a good party, you never know when it´s going to start and it never seems to end. I went a couple times to La Cueva de Quacavi which is named after a real cave where witches supposedly gather. Actually, it´s a little room that you have to squeeze into. I haven´t been there but I saw pictures. La Cueva is a place where they play old protest music, or the songs that were played after curfew hours during the dictatorship. During the week it´s a little quieter but the characters are more interesting. One guy recited 10 line poems that he learned from a grandfather who was a piola, or poet of the country. These guys would recite poems about animals or festivals whenever they pleased. There was also a guy from a band called Locomotriz, the only blues band for 100 miles. He´s playing at the Chiloe Woodstock in September. I´m not sure what that means.
Last Wednesday night the sky was clear so I walked down to the port and met up with some upholsterers by trade, wine carton drinkers by night. I explained to them I am from New York and was quickly made part of the gang, though I declined wine. They had a guitar so I played them some American music. Then I had to translate everything I sung. Later in the conversation the bleariest of the fellows asked what part of Mexico I was from, so I guess I´m a little ways off from being Chilean (by any means).
Friday night I met up, or rather I made the best of some prior acquaintances, with some French friends after the folklore concert. In between songs in the concert the musicians cracked jokes I didn´t understand and called each other cabros and chiquillos. There must have been 20 musicians on stage and they fired up the crowd with the music from the interior. So back to les francaises, we hit up the supermarket to make completos which are hot dogs with guacamole, onions, and hot sauce. Accompanied with navegados (hot red wine), it was a great feast. I met jean phillipe, another lost surfer. We vowed to link up to continue our misadventures to the coast together.
Saturday I had a class in Chonchi, thirty minutes away. Then Fco. proudly presented his bread to his friends. Among them was veronica with whom from then on I spend lots of time. It´s the greatest to share everthing with someone. Happy birthday Mom I wish you the best luck, you always have a good time anyway. Andrea, happy birthday, get some rest, I´m sure you´re doing a great job with the little ones.

Wanderings

2008-07-12T18:06:00.000-07:00

I took a hike today. I started from Piruquhina at the Pidpid bus stop marked with ¨ruta pacifico antiguo¨, I knew it was my stop. I took the dirt road west because for lack of knowledge it seemed the most obvious way. The first scenery is farmland. A guy on a horse with a huge black hat passed in the opposite direction and I said what´s up. He grinned. A half hour later a tractor came from the west, the driver fully outside the cabin except for one foot and hand. I´m not sure of the mechanics of the tractor, but hey, so long as he stays on the road it´s none of my business. I thought it was portentous (thank you chaminade) for a bizarre hike, but as much as I tried to construct it was a day like any other. I recalled that I had started out at 8, which was smart considering how much of a detour I had taken. I got out of bed and walked from town to Gamboa where I reached a crossroads that I would take right this time. Last week I took it left and led me like a fool for miles to a cell phone tower. The telephone company certainly has an eye for scenery. Before I even got to the fork, I stopped some guys in a pickup who looked like they knew what the fork they were doing, and asked them for directions. Out of real knowledge or to feign local knowledge, they told me that the path didn´t connect all the way to the coast. I turned back and took a bus 6 km north to Piruquhin. I should try to prove the fellas wrong, now that i think to myself . . . to be continued tomorrow. must drink and socialize more importantly.

message for Mom

2008-07-05T17:35:00.000-07:00

thanks for your great message. Let´s see, more about life here . . . I eat lots of potatoes and tomatoes which i stick in the microwave to make a great stew like a Moroccan tajine (absolutely delicious, just stick some potatoes in the microwave for 20 minutes and then throw on the tomatoes, onions, carrots anything else and zap it for another 10 minutes . . . nothing like baked tomatoes!), i don´t work a whole lot (about 20 hours a week, if i go over 22 hours I get paid 10 bucks an hour but hasn´t happened yet but will once 2 more courses start next week), the house is nice especially compared to lots of places I´ve seen. It´s heated with a Dutch oven so I constantly have to throw wood in there, I have a bed and all that good stuff, and there´s great water pressure and hot water, washing machine, so it´s pretty comfortable . . . The guy who runs the institute is American mostly but was born in Chile. He knows a lot of people in town and he knows how to get stuff from the town: funding for projects (like a boat and hovercraft he wants to build to carry tourists), who goes fishing or kayaking on the weekends. There´s even a guy who built a rock climbing wall in his house who I have to track down. It would be cool to build a public one . . . something to think about. The enigmatic pizza shop owner maintains several girlfriends and gets wildly excited over things like good cinema. He shows good movies in the restaurant projector screen. I go for the entertainment of seeing him excitedly rattle off the precise number of golden globes or whatever the film won just as much as the film itself. The people here are really friendly. They wait for you to finish your sentences, to call things by name rather than pointing, bringing things to you instead of having to get them, they say goodbye and hello, greet by kissing, all things i´m not used to in the States. So that´s different. The students I have work for salmon companies who, along with the government, pay for the classes. I try to make the classes fun and generally it´s been worked out. I went out with some of the students yesterday so that was great fun. people don´t party til 2 or 3 and it´s cool being the stranger in town even if I have trouble communicating.

The office is an apartment across town, and it´s cool because I have keys so I can go there whenever I want to work on the computer or read or something. There´s francisco, the secretary, and me. Francisco started the institute about a year ago after he took a 9-month small business course. this is sort of his first project. I´ve met several other people who were in the same course, and they all have their own consulting or marketing businesses now.

On Monday I will apply for a work contract visa in order to get a RUT number, a process that takes several months. The visa will allow me to stay in the country for a year continuously and the RUT number allow me chilean health insurance and do essentially everything chileans are allowed to do. for example, for an american to fly to Easter Island is a lot of money but for a chilean it is much less.

So generally I have a lot of time on my hands so having little else to do, I play lots of guitar and hopefully I´ll get permission from the town on monday to have rights to one of the town´s kayaks. It would be great to see other islands. There are over 30 big islands and over a thousand little nameless ones.

Next week I´m going to get up early, at 6, like I used to. I have been sleeping plenty here, but it´s time I get motivated. What I plan to do at 6 I´m not sure, but i´ll find something. Time to write a book or something.

what´s with all this rain?

2008-06-29T20:01:00.000-07:00

well that´s a lot of rain. Fortunately, I do not have to work outside . . . and I work very little inside. I walked around the north coast today, around the town of Ancud, where I had to stop folks from buying me schop (draught beer) as I watched Spain destroy Germany. Getting used to the rain isn´t all that hard I guess, you just have to get used to feeling soaked all the time. The good thing is that it never gets cold, but it´s always raining. It wouldn´t be so bad if the rain wasn´t so wet, right? But it´s all good. So I walked around the town and visited the museum which takes max. 15 minutes. So I learned a bunch of things. (Oh, there are more than 200 genetic accessions of the potato and this place is where potato cultivation at sea level originated.) I realize how inaccessible the western half of this island really is. Its first inhabitants only started living here 6000 years ago, when the glaciers receded. I don´t know how the island formed, but judging from the mountains that dominate the western half of the island it must have been drastic. Furthermore, since it never freezes (unlike the Northeast US), and since there´s a ton of rain, or due to the climate, vegetation really sprawls thickly. Charles Darwin, in his diary from his visit to the island, said that they had gone a great distance on the island without stepping foot on the ground as they crawled among the branches to make passage. So I realized just how big this island is as I scratched my head as I tried to wrap my head around the little nameless altitude-changing rivers in this gigantic forest that is the western half of Chiloe. I say, not a bad place to live at least temporarily.

Conversations in Chiloe

2008-06-24T17:31:00.000-07:00

There´s so much water here that I must get a kayak! There´s plenty of time between classes to explore. Plenty of time that I actually can´t wait until the other classes start. They will involve travel to towns about an hour away which is good because I have plenty of time. I´ve never lived in a town this small before (pop. 30,000) where between towns is an hour´s drive. I got to know the pizza joint owner who actually knows a great deal about the area and Chilean culture. But, how is that different from many Latinamericans who know plenty of idiosyncracies about culture? I, with Fco. who also grew up in the States, was challenged to answer his question--Tell me one renowned cuisine that America is known for . . . maybe it was for a lack of gastronomy but I couldn´t come up with an answer. Of course, it made the argument more exciting because it got the pizza joint owner all worked up and gesticulating with all the points of his fingers touching, a few inches from intense eyes. So indulge me, what does Chile offer? He went on to explain the different varieties of Andean potato, rosehead jam produced locally and so forth. Scientists come to South America to trace the genetic origins of different potato varieties. This served as a segueway into genetic engineering more fanciful tales. Apparently Swedish biologists are collecting all the varieties of potatoes that are about to go extinct and storing them up in a cave or something below the ground. Should the common variety of potato go extinct, these potatoes will reinstill biodiversity. How´s that for levity?
Tomorrow´s mission is to find a surf spot on the Pacific-facing side of the island.

Throw me in the briar patch

2008-06-20T07:25:00.000-07:00

So I´m leaving for Chiloe on Sunday, Chile´s second largest island (and fifth ? in the world) to teach . . . I heard about it through the school. As with many cases here, when an institute needs a teacher, they really really need a teacher because either the previous one took off or because the contract start date with a company is starting and no teachers have showed up to interview. Of course, as a business, the schools will sign contracts with companies first and then look for someone to payroll. For me, the good news is that the work is steady until December 15th, when the country takes vacation. Then I have the option of joining up at the end of February.

Why did I take the position? Laid back fishing village, and even though I´m half an hour from the Pacific (the town is on the east, facing the bay), there´s untapped potential on the coast that makes me giddy. How much wasted hydro energy gets wasted, unridden everyday? The volcano Aisen, near Chaiten, just erupted, so there´s lots of geothermal activity and some dust in the air from what I hear. Stay tuned for pictures and check out the new link.

Weekend Summary

2008-06-14T20:26:00.000-07:00

I just watched the Colombia-Peru game. I almost forgot how beautiful it is to watch mi patria querida play it has been so long. You know you´ve been around for some time when names like Valderramma, Freddy Rincon, el tren Valencia and Asprilla are well into retirement and the only name that rings a bell is Rodallega because he could be my little brother. The new blood is exciting but I still need some time to adapt. Still, the lightness of the touch, the super casual passes that precede an explosive drive, the fluidity expressed even while being tackled--no difference there and it´s so defined that the world should take notes. Who cares that we tied?

I can´t believe Alessandra is already three weeks old!

And an early celebration of a double bill: Happy Birthday Alex and Happy Father´s day, Dad.
Alex, thanks for your enthusiasm and singular energy. Dad, thanks for your absent-minded objectivity that tempers my impatience and ignites my curiosity.

In the works for tomorrow might be a barbecue to accompany the Chile v. Bolivia game.

Factoids of the First Order

2008-06-07T15:46:00.000-07:00

1. Chileans, like Colombians, are flojos for the cold. I walk around in a t-shirt while I see women with their faces covered entirely by a scarf. Experience a Northeast winter and I promise you´ll welcome this weather. Maria Victoria, the lovely lady hosting me, is absolutely jubilant when it rains. Many people here grin inwardly on rainy days and that makes me happy. The air also clears and the next day reveals the cordillera brillantly. As Latinamericans, we are extremely emotive and love to ask ¨You´re not cold? You must have good circulation!¨ I love how people search for that human touch.
2. Bob, a horticulture professor who came out of retirement from Arizona, is one cool cat who spent a flight change at JFK Int´l Airport closing out a bar and retiring to a park bench along the East River. Now that is bad to the bone.
3. Could this be love? How about teaching English in a fishing village a short walk from Punta de Lobos among many other superbreaks? I should hear more developments next week.
4. Pedro is a Pichilemu local fisherman who I sat next to on the bus. After three hours flew by, I knew most of his and local surfers´family history. I also learned about all the techniques for surf fishing in the area. I was given a historical summary of the entire region as he had worked as a treeplanter as a teen. This man did talk especially for a guard who worked the night shift.
5. A normal day: up at 6, take a shower. UHT milk and Nescafe, palta (guac) and bread. Walk 40 min to the language school, prepare some work. Class on some topic, then sandwich lunch with Stew, the only other student. Teach lesson observed in afternoon. Night, climb at rock gym then walk home. eat dinner, hang out with whoever´s around from the family and bed at 11.
6. The women here are stunning and they do stuff like make breakfast in bed for their husbands. It´s strange but I could get used to a chilena. If nothing else, my Spanish would improve tremendously.
7. I´m working to improve a student´s pronunciation in a one-on-one session. I heard that his wife just took off with their child. I thought that ¨50 ways to lose your lover¨ by Paul Simon, although clear lyrics, would not be appropriate.

Monserrate of Chile

2008-06-03T05:24:00.000-07:00

This would be Chile´s version of Colombia´s Monserrate, but like everything else, the place is much better organized. The telecabinas are monitored which was great especially to relieve my fears of the gondola falling from the cable and smashing into the side of the mountain . . . but those are personal fears. Anyway, it was much better than walking up the mountain because we could get back in time for class. And of course, there was what else but a church at the top. Except, this was the perfect place for a church, as I repeated several times. And on the very top is a gigantic Mary, because the church is called la Immaculada Concepcion. Isn´t that just lovely? But there´s nothing like a penitent climb surrounded by peddlers high over Bogota.

56-9-8-1359322 my cell number

2008-05-28T13:58:00.000-07:00

High Academics

2008-05-24T17:26:00.000-07:00

¨You could be forgiven for thinking you´re surfing a reverse Burleigh Heads . . .¨ (Surfline´s Travel Guide describing Infernillero) I wouldn´t feel guilty, only proud to be making a fitting comparison. Anyway, coast is chock full of surf. I´m on my training wheels still which going over the falls several times kindly reminds me that surfing requires total commitment. I have absolutely no problem with surfing every day thank you very much. Paddling out through the rocks was dicey at first but the current created a strong channel. The only problem was getting caught inside, but no worries, just another ride down the beach and loop around again. I felt like a third grader trying to debate with, well, someone who knows a lot more than a third grader. Hopefully tomorrow I can make a better impression on my mistress, the Ocean. Then it´s back to Santiago.