santiago (the end)

This is my last post as I head back to the states tomorrow. I'm glad I'm finishing my journey in Santiago and that I'm taking time to see the city. It has presented some wonderful treasures and a unique character that I wouldn't mind returning to someday. In addition to the beautiful museums and churches I've gone to, everything is easy on the eyes. The cafes and restaurants, the organized yet colorful streets, the way people dress. Chileans carry themselves with a subtle dignity that I really admire. Today I went to the Cementerio General where many of Chile's past presidents (including Salvador Allende) are buried. The cemetery is like its own city with distinct neighborhoods. When you walk in, there are mausoleums like mansions and others like tenement apartment blocks. Towards the back and along the edges the graves get closer together and there are fewer trees shading the walkways. Victor Jara and many of the "disappeared" who were killed during the dictatorship are buried in that section. I didn't realize there was a whole section of the cemetery for the victims of the human rights abuses until I was walking along and noticing all the dates on the crosses were from the 70s and 80s. It was really sobering. I sat on a bench to rest and an old man asked if I had a pen. He took out an envelope and asked me if I could write something for him because he didn't know how to write. He dictated to me, "On behalf of your son, Caldo. He has always loved you." After that I went to the lively market areas, La Vega and El Mercado Central. Suddenly I was seeing a lot of cats. It seemed like every other produce stall had it's own resident cat. And they were large cats at that! I thought about what they might be eating that made them the size of an ocelot. The sun was out and I happily meandered through downtown to eat a late lunch. I found a classic 50s style restuarant called "Bar Nacional" and sat down to enjoy a pastel de jaiba (corn and crab pie baked in a clay pot). It's like pastel de choclo but with crab instead of meat. After all these months of Chileans telling me I have to try pastel de choclo and me explaining that I don't eat meat, I finally got to see what all the fuss was about (in a seafood version). Delicious! Of course I had to take a picture of my meal and of the vintage insides of the restaurant which was packed with businessmen in suits, which led the two guys sitting at the next table to ask where I was from. I gave the cliffnotes explanation of what I am doing in Chile and as usual got asked about my heritage (nope, no family in Chile, nor am I Latina). We ended up talking about the Philippines and it turned out one of the guys was married to a Filipina. They asked me why I speak Spanish and not Tagalog. And so, my trip has come to an satisfying conclusion: delicious food and impetus to now buckle down and study Tagalog = the Philippines, my next travel adventure?

humberstone

Northern Chile was a center of saltpeter/nitrate production around the turn of the century. I don't know much about the mechanics of nitrate except that it was used for fertilizer. The industry was booming for a few decades but then after other synthetic alternatives were available, the industry essentially disappeared from Chile. This left some ghost towns of the nitrate plants, of which Humberstone is one. It's now a UNESCO site and very well preserved. I took the bus from Iquique in the morning to be able to get there when the light was still good for photos. The bus dropped me off 40 kilometers away in the middle of the desert. I must have been the only visitor for about the first hour or so, kind of eerie. The guard even told me I could pay when I left because the ticket booth wasn't open yet. (This meant that I didn't find out there was a map of the place until I left). Unlike historic sites in the states, Humberstone is of the enter-at-your-own-risk type. There were basic signs to mark the names of the buildings, but nothing was roped off or warning people not to get too close. It seemed like much of the debris and machinery was just left there as it was the day the plant closed. Sharp, rusty tools, cracked and peeling paint, broken windows. Everywhere I turned, there was some crazy thing to take a picture of. I thought I'd seen the whole place (because I had no map) and was ready to leave when I discovered the central plaza of Humberstone. It was like a miniature city with a school, hospital, market, theater, and employee housing. Amazing. And then one day, it all just shut down.

iquique

Before I even knew I was going to volunteer in Temuco, I knew I wanted to spend some time on Chile's northern coast. I didn't realize how far it was from Temuco or Santiago or even San Pedro de Atacama for that matter (which is why Mike and I didn't make it there in December). But I couldn't bear to leave Chile without going there so I booked a plane ticket to Iquique to spend my last week in the country, and here I am!

Iquique is unlike any town I've ever been to. It's like a cross between the wild west and the Caribbean. The British influence during the nitrate era (about a hundred years ago) left its mark in the architecture which then got painted in a Miami beach palette. The city sits on a narrow strip of flat land between the ocean and tall, desolate dunes. When I look up any street towards the brown dunes I feel like I'm in a sci-fi movie set from the early days of cinema.

The sun shines pretty much every day of the year here. People seem happy. There is a visible Peruvian influence in the food (I had ceviche last night) as well as many sushi restaurants. Cars give pedestrians priority at intersections. I've been staying at a hostel that has a surfer vibe about it, with various locals hanging out in the courtyard all the time. One guy plays the didgeridoo at least a few minutes each day.

It's been a great week because I haven't had to do anything or be anywhere except here. Except for the day I ventured out to see the nitrate ghost town of Humberstone, I've spent my days around the town center, by the beach, eating some of the best meals I've had in my entire time in Chile, seeing odd archaeological artifacts (mummies with clay masks), and trying to finish an Isabel Allende novel in Spanish.

barrio brasil

I'm spending a day in Santiago before heading north to Iquique, just to break up the trip but also because Santiago enchants me and I want to figure out why. I decided to stay in Barrio Brasil since it's close to the bus station and the busstop for the airport shuttle. Besides that it's a laidback, charming neighborhood that has a quality of timelessness, allowing me to imagine myself in this city during any decade. Cobblestone is easy to find alongside thoughtful grafitti and beautifully adorned buildings. My day is pure indulgence in sunny, 70 degree weather. Lunch is asparagus crepes at the Peluqueria Francesa, which has an ambieance of 100 years ago and a functioning barbershop attached to the restaurant. To get to the bathroom, you walk through an antique wardrobe! I saunter through the quiet streets and come across a gathering of people in Plaza Yungay. It's a Mapuche culture festival and there is a panel of scholars and activists giving talks about some of the issues the Mapuche are currently facing. Things such as struggling to keep their language alive, how to establish a Mapuche university, and how to move Chilean society towards a mentality of decolonialization. I sit in the grass fascinated, because in all my months in Temuco, I never heard voices this strong stating what was important to the Mapuche community. Maybe in the urban environment of Santiago, there are more resources for people to work together for social change. Afterwards, I walk the 2 or 3 kilometers towards the center to go to the Museum of Popular American Art. I had seen on the website that there were some original Mapuche textiles on display, which there were, and it was interesting to see the difference between something that had been made decades ago and compare it to what the artisans are making today. And then (completely unrelated but much to my delight) was the main exhibit: a collection of animal figurines made in the 1940s in different Latin American countries. The animals were grouped in 14 categories such as reptiles, bovines, goats, dogs, fish, birds, horses, etc. There weren't a bunch of placards with fancy explanations. It was just pure animal folk art which spoke for itself.

adios temuco

In these last days in Temuco, I'm seeing everything again for the first time. When you know you will be leaving a place soon, suddenly you appreciate things more. The process of remembering begins with how aware I am in the present, what I choose to store away in my memory, and what I choose to photograph. This city didn't exactly capture my heart and soul at the beginning (or even at the end), but it is leaving its mark in friendships, personal growth, and humility. Most of my days have been basic (work, eat, socialize, sleep) and somehow in that daily existence I have seen things that I wasn't oriented towards before. I have always been a future-focused person, maybe even impatient with life. Temuco has been a good teacher in the richness of the quotidian, the six senses, and finding ways to be myself in another language.

sunday food shopping

It's fall now and grapes, apples, zucchinis, and potatoes are in season. My last time shopping at the Feria Pinto in Temuco. Each vendor I pass asks me what I'm shopping for. I wish I could buy something from each of the stalls and fill my refrigerator with fresh fruits and vegetables but I have less than a week left here. So I buy exactly four pears, a head of broccoli, one cucumber, and a half kilo of cheese. The rest of the time I take pictures of things that I probably won't be seeing at the farmers markets in Seattle this summer.

Iselia

Iselia is one of the weavers who works with the Chol Chol Foundation. She enjoys being an ambassador of sorts and is always willing to receive visitors at her home in the countryside. Francisco and I went to her house accompanying a woman from Wales who travels to Chile each year and purchases handmade goods to sell back in her country. She had purchased from the Foundation before but this was her first time meeting one of the artisans. I had first met Iselia in February when I had gone to her house with Francisco, who was taking measurements for the new weaving workshop that would be built for her. The workshop was completed by my second visit and Iselia had already placed a loom inside and begun a new project (a poncho). She also had another loom propped up outside which had a partially-completed rug in colors dyed with blackberry, peach leaves and onion skin.

Iselia is best known for her fine work in traditional men's ponchos. After months of looking for a good quality poncho, and after seeing the intricacies involved in the making of the one on the loom, I made an appointment to meet with Iselia in two weeks (each poncho takes 15 days to complete) to buy the beautiful brown and white garment directly from her. She met me in downtown Temuco, an hour bus ride from her house. We sat on a bench in the market and I showed her the photos from the day we visited. She asked if I could print some for her that she could keep at her house, which I will delightedly do. It made my day to be able to share my "craft" with her and to go home with something she had made. The $80 I paid for the poncho equals about half of her monthly income.

valdivia

I had been waiting a long time to have a chance to visit Valdivia. I had read something in the guidebook about it having a bohemian character and a cafe culture. That was enough to intrigue me since Temuco doesn't have many places where you can drink tea and read a book in a bright and cozy atmosphere. I don't know why I'm so determined to look for the charming comforts of Seattle on the other end of the planet. Anyway, Celie and I decided to go for the weekend and upon arrival we headed straight to a cafe in an old house. We ordered huge sandwiches and talked about how we wanted to live like this all the time. Celie said the fact that a tasty sandwich and a windowsill decorated with antique glass bottles could be so joy-provoking for us meant that we were truly happy people at the core. We spent the afternoon wandering the low-key streets, passing by the feria fluvial (seafood heaven and the sea lions know it too), having coffee and cake at the appropriate hour, shopping for copper jewelry, and returning to the Airesbuenos Hostel which had a backyard herb garden whose residents were one white duck and a grey tomcat.

alto bio bio

There is an important project taking place in the mountains a few hours north of Temuco in a region called Alto Bio-Bio. In the tiny, remote villages there are many indigenous women weavers and knitters who belong to the Pehuenche communities. About a year ago, one of my coworkers received funding to begin a project in Alto Bio-Bio to organize and train the artisans in these communities so that they could begin to improve their craft and earn more income from their work. Since the region is hard to get to (about 5 hours of travel in bus and van from Temuco), and because my coworker spends Tuesday through Thursday of every week there, I knew little about the project. Luckily I was able to accompany her (and three trainers from the Chol Chol Foundation) and photograph two recent workshops. The project is funded by a foreign company that is building a dam in the region, and they provide food and lodging for my co-worker and others who visit who are associated with the project. Since the building of dams is a controversial issue in southern Chile, the company is very stringent about who is allowed to visit. When we arrived to the gated compound where we would be staying two nights, the guard asked for full names, identification, and the reason for why we each were there. We then settled in for the night in the maze-like and eerie building where we each had our own room with doors that opened to a cold, silent hallway. I think we were the only ones staying there. In the mornings, we ate in a dining hall where suddenly there were other people (employees of the company, I assume) drinking coffee and watching the morning news.The first day was a design workshop for about 20 artisans, some experienced, others who were just learning the first steps of knitting. The women arrived by rural bus from the various far away villages to this small town which appears to be so new that it is still in the process of being built. My coworker told me about how when she first started recruiting artisans for the project, she had to go door to door and ask if there was someone in the household who was a weaver and would be interested in receiving training. The workshop was held in a large restaurant which closed for the day to allow for this event and provide a hearty lunch for the artisans.Day one's assignment was to brainstorm ideas about creating products to sell to customers (not just how to knit/weave something they would like for themselves or their family). Each group was given a stack of magazines and was told to look for images representing the life of a hypothetical client. They cut out photos and made collages of their invented person, then presented them to the larger group. Everyone envisioned a "gringo" client, someone from the United States, who would want to buy their textiles. The collages were comprised of photos of luxury: huge houses, new cars, home decor, and people with blonde hair and light skin.The second day was a more casual workshop (no formal assignments) held at one of the artisan's homes for a smaller group of about 10 artisans. I enjoyed being in the cozy, rural home with the many chickens, kittens, and dogs wandering around. During the chilly morning, the women started out knitting and spinning yarn inside in the house heated by a wood stove. By afternoon, the sun had warmed everything so several of the artisans took looms outside and worked on their projects in natural light. At lunch time we ate sopaipillas, boiled potatoes, salad, and fried hot dogs. The conversation focused on a recent murder in the community of which a Mapuche man was accused. The man was the brother-in-law of one of the artisans and she told us about how he was wrongfully accused and how it couldn't possibly have been him. She began to cry because of the uncertainty that justice will be served and because, she said, and others at the table agreed, the Mapuche are always the ones who are blamed for crimes.The two days I spent in Alto Bio Bio left me with many images, not just photographic but perceptual. I was able to spend a concerted amount of time with the artisans, and to see how fundamental the craft of weaving and knitting is to each individual. This group of Pehuenche artisans is also distinct from the women who live in the Temuco area and sell to the Chol Chol Foundation. For example, the symbols used in the design of their textiles are different. For the Pehuenche, who live in the mountains, pine trees and monkey puzzle trees are important, and this motif is seen repeatedly in the products they make. I couldn't resist buying a pair of wool socks with pine tree designs knitted by one of the women. She explained to me the different materials she had used to dye the yarn for the different colors in the design: tea leaves, clay mud, eucalyptus, and maqui leaves. When I wear these socks back in the states, I will definitely remember the face and humble demeanor of the woman who made them.

malalcahuello

For Easter weekend, Natascha and I set out on another adventure to a nearby national park without a car. The bus dropped us off at kilometer 83, between the towns of Curacautin and Lonquimay, where we checked into our Swiss Andean lodging. From there we caught a ride (hitchhiking again!) to the Malacahuello thermal baths, which were over crowded and over priced but we forked over the cash anyway since we had gone to the trouble of risking out lives to get there. The heat of the water ended up being worth it on this chilly autumn day. Walking the 5 kilometers back to the hotel, we stopped in the tiny town of Malalcahuello and discovered a piñon festival. I had been worried I'd miss the piñon season and was happy to find that it is just getting started and we were in just the right place to find all sorts of piñon-related excitement. We bought some petrified monkey puzzle wood (picoyo), canned piñones, quinoa beer, hazelnuts rolled in chocolate, and went back to the hotel to sample the piñon kuchen and auracaria bitters they served in their restaurant. The Malacahuello national reserve is around the corner - a volcano away - from Conguillio national park and, like Conguillio, has an abundance of the ancient monkey puzzle trees. So the next day we set out on the trail through moss and lichen-covered forests which opened up to a lovely green field dotted with auracarias in their various stages of life. We sat in the sun and tried some of the piñones that had fallen from the trees, and I collected gigantic pinecone leaves that hopefully will be converted into jewelry by a certain someone when I get back to Seattle.

lago budi

Just 2 hours from Temuco is South America's only saltwater lake. Natascha, Celie, and I went for the weekend to Lago Budi as we had heard great things about it. About 8 years ago the coastal Mapuche community near Puerto Saavedra began offering ethnotourism activities for tourists to experience and learn about aspects of Mapuche culture. Around the lake there are various families who have cabins and rukas where people can stay. We ended up getting to go to Isla Llepo, which is a small island in the middle of the lake and inhabited by just a handful of families who do subsistence farming. We walked around the whole island in less than an hour, spent a lot of time sitting in the grass, and enjoyed being away from the bustle of Temuco. I was excited to see hundreds of mystical black neck swans and other birds that are hard to find elsewhere. The place where we stayed was owned by a woman named Rosalia and her husband. She and her daughter Camila accompanied us on the dinghy to the island and stayed the weekend cooking us delicious food and making sure we had a good fire to keep us warm in the ruka.

isla mechuque

Isla Mechuque is off the northeast coast of Chiloe island and it is like a microcosm of Chiloe. Everything I was hoping to find during my week on the big island was all there on the little one. I got to see how curanto is made, visit a little cemetery by the sea, walk through the silent town (the whole island only has 5 motor vehicles and 500 inhabitants), watch a significant portion of the island´s population depart on the afternoon boats to the main island, and buy a wool knit cat from a local artisan.