Looking for the salida sign...

My goodness, Copacabana was anything but relaxing.

Unfortunately for you guys, I haven't been able to process all the things that happened to us in the past week and therefore will not be relating all of my adventures just yet. Suffice it to say that Kira and I are now in La Paz, Bolivia, searching desperately for a way to be in Buenos Aires right now. We are escaping while we are still recognizable.

Before you get all worried, most of what we experienced was not bad. It was really quite good. We made some incredible friends in different corners of the world, and had experiences that I'm pretty sure no other tourist has had. A summary of the past week would include a lot about live music, good conversation, traveler's wisdom, late nights with amazing people, trying new things, and fireworks.

One of the hardest lessons for me to learn in the ongoing days of this journey is the fleeting nature of friendships. It is incredibly hard for me to believe that all of the amazing people with whom I have spent entire days or weeks will probably never enter in my life again. As traveler's lore goes, once you've got your community you see them everywhere. Maybe one day in the future I will stumble upon Sergio, the Chilean who talked fútbol to me for an hour, or Atahuallpa, the artesan that taught us macrame, or Carlos, the cynical Colombian who turned out to be a sweetheart. There is an amazing poem by someone I can't remember that wonders about the last times for everything, that somewhere in somecorner he said good day to someone he would never see again, and that somewhere in this world is a door that has already been closed to him. It was very strange to sit on the bus out of Copacabana and realize that I very well could never see it again, nor the friends that still waited within. How can I convince myself that I will never hear the voice of the person I spent the last 20 hours straight with?

I'm halfway through my wanderings now. Before I started, I thought that a month and a half was more than enough. Now, I can't believe that I ever thought to get to know any of these countries in that amount of time. I'll just have to come back!!

Here are some fotos, I think... they're taking forever to load recently. More to come from my adventures in Cusco and Copacabana, but hey, getting out of this country is more of a priority right now.

The sign we found at the top of the Incan stairs from Aguas Calientes to Machu Picchu... It said the same thing in English, Chinese, Spanish and Quechua, the local language.

The only tree on the compound... This is where the women used to tie their looms to make blankets, shawls, etc. Underneath this tree was found the only artifact on the entire site - a single gold bracelet.

The three windows... one of the more famous bits of the ruins. Just look at how amazingly they cut those rocks!

A view of the terraces...
The four of us before taking our incredibly satisfying siestas on Machu Picchu. Miss you, girls!

No moss yet!

Back in Copacabana.
Back in tranquility.
Back to the wind and whoever we meet...

The past week (as seemingly all of these weeks have been) flew in a flurry of quick decisions, amazements and hello/goodbyes. We actually left Cusco early and in the middle of its huge destination festival to escape the pace at which we were living!

Machu Picchu was incredible, to say the least. When we went to visit the Incan museum we found out that Machupiqcho was built in honor of a great Incan king, and that most of the stone was transfered from the shores of Peru (15 hours in bus, today) probably by using logs lubed up with the juice of coca leaves. It was only found in 1911 - and they're thinking about closing it for a while in the near future. It was actually a city, full of life and children and llamas. The llamas are still there, but the only artifact they ever found was a golden bracelet under the root of the lone and incredibly unique tree near the center of the complex.

Our journey started at 5 in the morning from Aguas Calientes (a bus and train ride from Cusco through fellow-ruins-town Ollantaytambo) on foot, with a breakfast sandwich of avocado and tomato, and coffee in a styrofoam cup. As we headed up the ancient Incan trail of stone steps, winding their way through the surprise of jungle green, bus upon bus of dozing tourists passed us. We were alone for the entire climb, arriving near the summit in time to see the first rays of dawn slicing the hovering fog to plate in gold the folds and reaches of the mountains around us. First to alight was la Puerta del Sol, where the Incas first came over the ridge to build their city.
The rest of the day was equally magical, spent eavesdropping on tourist groups and sitting in corners of former houses wondering what life was like. Stairs climb and fall around the entire site, opening onto large grass plazas or incredible vistas. Stones rest steady without concrete, except where modern-day man has tried to come in and restore the glory of the Incas.

In the stereotypical sense, the day was almost anticlimactic. No profound religious experience or hours poring over walls and pieces of an unknown life in an unexpressable awe... Machu Picchu was incredibly comfortable. We ate breakfast/lunch at 10 among jutting rocks over looking the ruins, wandered solo for a while to calm the spirit of travel, talked to some of the guides, avoided the whistles of guards, and even took little naps on one of the terraces. It was perfect.

Someone told us it was like Disneyworld without the rides, and we wholeheartedly disagreed at first. But I say this - if you ever go to Machu Picchu, climb it. And get there as early as possible. By around 11 or 12 the place was swarmed with lines of tourists in their sun hats, pale faced sunscreen, cameras, bright colors, and high socks. Around 8 and 9 the place is comparatively empty. And amazing.

Aguas Calientes is the opposite. We're trying to make a list of things you should know/bring that the guide book doesn't tell you... One of those is that whenever you get off a bus into a city of any size, prepare yourself to be bombarded by people promoting their hostal or restaurant or taxi. In Aguas Calientes, they pretty much run you over. And it doesn't stop. Ever.

We returned to Cusco, and eating dinner the night after MP couldn't believe we had really been there. Since Brady and Debra were leaving for Lima/Santiago on the 22nd, these days were spent just being with each other, getting last minute gifts, and relaxing. We found an amazing restaurant that's not in the guidebook, ith a view of the plaza and surrounding mountainsides with food for cheap (relatively) and really good desserts. It's called Yaku Mama's, and Kira and I went there much more than we should have. We met this guy named Roberto (he was actually our waiter) who introduced us to his buddies the tattoo artists next door. That sounds like a sketchy connection, but I'm convinced that tattoo artists are some of the most trustworthy people - they do what they love, love what they do, and are passionate not only about their work but the people it brings them. And these guys were also the beginning of an amazingly off-the-beaten-path experience.

So Debs and Brady left in a rush, and Kira and I were a bit rocked afterwards - we didn't really know what to do. When you've spent the last fifteen days straight, no breaks, with the same four people, and then two of them are gone, the whole feeling of life changes. So we took a nap, wandered aimlessly, then got our lives together. Denis (tattoo guy) had told us about this cool bar with a juggling show that night, so we decided to check it out.

I don't know if I've mentioned this, but we stumbled into Cusco in the middle of their huge festival Inti Raymi, which is the Incan celebration of the winter solstice. Cusqueñas are kind of like Chileans in the way they celebrate, only they do it for a week instead of just a night. Each day is dedicated to a different section of society - one day for the municipalities, one for the middle schools, etc. They have dances, costumes, huge floats, music, and everyone walks around in traditional dress. It is absolutely incredible. They start early morning and go until the bars are hopping with tourists. So anyways, this night we headed up towards Kilometre 0 to see the clowns and got completely distracted by the plaza. It was almost impossible to move there were so many people - live Peruvian music was rocking from a huge grand stage - vendors walked around selling candy apples and cow on a stick - and then the fireworks started. Pretty awesome. So we eventually made it to K0, where there were hardly any tourists - too late for the clowns but just in time for some amazing Peruvian funk music en vivo, with bongos, triangles, bass, the whole deal. The lead singer kept giving us shout-outs as we sipped our Cusqueñas. Awkward.

Day 2 solo started with breakfast at noon with Denis and his buddy Giorgio (g's are like y's), who that evening promised to help us get to know Cusco. This resulted in leaving the city by taxi around dusk and getting dropped off in a place with no buildings, only rolling hills and lights coming on below us. Sounds pretty sketchy, right? Like the beginning of one of those horrible abduction stories? It wasn't.. so far we have had a pretty good sense about the people we meet.
After wandering in the dark for a while (they got lost) we ended up at Zona X, where the UFOs land and phones and GPS things dont work. Then they took us down into old Incan tunnels carved from the very rock that I'm pretty positive no tourist has ever gone too. It was awesome! We had one flashlight, squeezing down these smooth slits in between boulders to come up in some other part of the hillsides. Apparently they were built to provide an escape route from the conquistadors, and some of them start there in Cusco but end up in Lima, Puno, and even Copacabana. Incredible, no? I wanted to get down into the hub of it and snoop around, but without ropes, food, water, light, etc it was of course a bit of a stupid idea.

Walking back to Cusco, we were chased by an enraged bull.

Summiting a small hill, the boys surprised us by the expansive ruins of Sawsaywaman (.... it sounds exactly like "sexy woman." It took forever to explain to our two Spanish speakers why we were cracking up about the name of this sacred religious site.. but eventually they got it.) It's forbidden to go into at night, and when I asked Denis he told me that the worst that could happen is one night in jail. "Or deportation?" "Oh, yeah, or that... I forgot you're not from around here." Thanks Denis. The ruins were incredible, especially lit up the way they were, spread under the star and half-moon. There were people setting up for the ceremonies the following day. These rocks are huge, ladies and gentlemen. Have you heard the claim of rocks cut so perfectly you cant fit a piece of paper into them? That's how these are, and they're taller and wider than I am. Incredible.

We finally went out and hit the town. Usually we're grandmas and are in bed before midnight, but the boys convinced us, and we went out dancing and listening to music, away from where most of the tourists are (and there are tons of them!). A few besos were exchanged.
Over stimulation, bad experiences with the hostal, and general discontent convinced Kira and I to leave the city before we planned. Actually, in the middle of the celebration that thousands of people come to Cusco just to see. I do not feel bad about it.

The hostal was annoying. They ruined my better-shape sweater and tried to charge us absolutely ridiculous amounts. Whatever. I'm back in Copacabana!
Kira and I are now going to take our boxed wine to the water to watch the sun set over the beautiful Lake Titicaca. Tonight we're looking forward to live music in the lovely hippie club here, then perhaps a dance fiesta with some of the people we met when we were here a week ago. Life keeps moving! At least here it's at a slower pace.

(PS - pictures are coming... this internet is really slow and takes FOREVER to load them... so sorry about that but I'll get some up later. The ones at the top are from Machu Picchu, and then some of the parades in Cusco, and then how Kira and I felt on the bus to Aguas Calientes, veering around sharp curves on the top of really steep and tall mountainsides. It's good to feel safe.)

nuevos dias, siempre!

Everyone's gotta have that bus ride sometime, right?

We arrived last night at midnight in Cusco, Peru. We though we were going to arrive at 8. Instead, we were on a bus without soles (peruvian currency) and without food, being harassed by Peruvian border police, trying to ignore the smell, and rubbing elbows with the surplus of people crammed into the aisles. Hell in a metal box on wheels.

Cusco is incredible. I feel like I can just stop telling you how beautiful the places I go are, because they are all beyond belief, each with their own charms and grand vistas. We spent most of the morning gazing at the city, which spill up onto the hillsides with its cobbled roofs and simple buildings. When it was discovered by the Spanish, Cusco was in the shape of a puma, which is the spiritual symbol of power for the Inca. Their other main worship symbols are the condor for peace and the serpent for wisdom. I also found out that Titicaca (the beautiful lake we spent time on after La Paz) despite having an awesomely fun name to say, actually means "puma lying on a stone." Maybe not so unusually, this description is almost perfect for the sensations the lake gives off.

I think the last time I updated we were in La Paz. As much as I loved it, we didnt stay very long. Kira and I will be back. We fell too hard in love with Bolivia. Instead we took a short bus to Copacabana, hippie haven of Bolivia, on the shores of Lake Titicaca and on the border with Peru. The whole town was like the lounge of an amazing hostel, and we met some very incredible people. The first afternoon was spent with Atahuallpa (which is the name of the son of the Incan king) and Kia, an artesan who's been traveling for 13 years and the Texan student who met and fell in love with him, respectively. They were refreshing and relaxing to talk to, as was Sven, the Swiss wanderer who never spends more than 6 months in his own country, and who passed the evening playing poker and Jenga with us while jamming out to live Colombian music.

I climbed up the mirador above the city for sunset, and was ever glad I did. It was amazingly beautiful, great to get some exercise, and peaceful to have some time for myself. Even a mindless traveler's gotta think sometime!

We also spent a night on Isla del Sol, a somewhat small island off the coast of Copacabana, reached by 2 hours of slow travel by boat. Much better than a bus. Now, here is the "interesting facts" portion of my entry. Lake Titicaca is the highest lake in the world (La Paz is the highest capital city) and sits at roughly the altitude of Mt. Whitney's peak. 14000 feet. We've got our packs, which aren't two heavy, maybe about 30 pounds. When we get off the boat to la isla, the first thing we have to do is walk about 30 minutes to our hostel. Not bad, right? Except imagine the stairstepper from hell. Only the fantastic views and prolific llamas saved us.

The lake also has a lot of religious significance for the Incans (we went to the museum today... that society is incredible. I want to be them.) It is said that the Daughter of the Moon and the Son of the Sun rose from the waters at the north end of the island with a golden staff and begun their search for the heart of their civilization, where the staff would stand up in the ground. They continued north until they reached present-day Cusco. There, in the Sacred Valley, they began their civilization. For this reason the area is known as the 'bellybutton of the world.'

The first thing that strikes you about the island (besides how freaking gorgeous it is) is the people that live there. They are simple, with their food or water or children wrapped in colorful shawls on their back. Their faces reflect the wisdom of their lives and of their history, of the profundity of their existence spiritually. The only thing they say to you is "Comprame." Comprame means buy from me. Tourism has affected their lives in such a way that even a three year old can only tell you to pay for the picture you just took, and look at you with unbelievably deep confusion and hatred when you say you have no monedas or caramelos to give him. How can you react to that when it's all because of you and your history?

On a happier note, we're climbing Machupiqcho in two days. I am very excited. The place looks incredible. We hope to be up at the top before sunrise. It is also getting very close to the solstice - on the 24th in Cusco is the festival Inki Raymi. They're already celebrating! This trip has been wildly full of growth and questions and change and belief... I hope Machu Picchu will bring either closure or clarity, or por lo menos a very beautiful and powerful day.

You all have to come here one day. That's a requirement.

I still have a month of travel. Our plans just changed somewhat drastically. That tends to go with our trend of doing what we want, in the moment, without obligations to anyone but ourselves and our plane tickets. Simply breathing here makes me feel free.

Oh, and PS - I cut my hair. It is now very short, and very easy. I no longer have a rats nest at the end of the day!

The Tari the other day (a Tari is an Aymaran who reads the future or your luck in coca leaves) told me that I would spend the majority of my life outside of my own country. (Sorry Mom and Dad) Can I live in Bolivia?

My Chilean mother is also sending me emails checking up on me, harrassing me for not writing and letting her know what's up, and trying to convince me to move in for the rest of the summer. They of course come nowhere close to matching my real family, but damn, it is going to be so hard to really leave them at the end of July. Now I know I've got at least a few days with them, but then? Weones, no me olvidenpo!

Well it's about time for another ridiculously cheap but party-in-your-mouth delicious meal. I'll leave you all with yearnings to join me in this traveler's paradise, and enjoy the uncomfortably hot days of North Carolina! (or wherever you are..) Love you all....

I am at a loss to describe to you the past week (has it only been a week?) of my life.

Most journeys travel in one direction: a line. That line may meander through forest and vale, ocean and mountaintop, but we can all agree that a journey has a beginning, it has an end, and it has a direction in between. I feel like this road I am on does not move like that. We have had specific paths that can be measured by specific times (cumulative 47 hours on buses so far), but the experience is different. It's almost radial. Or, here. Imagine an upside-down pyramid that contains what you can see of the world. Your feet start wedged at the point, but as time goes on you rise upwards, and can see and feel more space and existence and reality around you. That is how I feel.

Today and yesterday were very profound days, even though all we did was ride buses and shop. We left the wonderful country of Chile and entered the unknown, dangerous dream of Bolivia. Over the course of the ten hour bus rideto La Paz from Arica, I experienced the spectrum of emotions from fear (imminent death - Bolivia is rated the world's most dangerous roads - to something much stronger but deeper and without source) to isolation (thank you bus full of Bolivians who don't mind staring, and White Chicks coming on the TV) to awe to relief to happiness to excitement to nervousness to doubt to nostalgia to hope to that sense of the future taunting just ahead of you.

Chile is somewhat like the States. They have capitalism, social classes, malls, small towns, etc. Bolivia is not like the States. We passed what looked like former cities, abandoned now with vicuñas roaming the streets and canvas ceilings on homes. Spiritual traditions are very strong, and almost everything has to do with luck or health. I love the old ladies with their tiered skirts and shawls, the little bowl hats perched up high. I love the children with tobaggons and runny noses, with eyes much wiser than you ever expect. Bolivia is poor, but the people help the people. We met many people today, and every single one of them was simple in their interactions, their words, their acceptance of life. I love this city built on hills, with people crowding the streets as old striped buses honk their crammed way down twisting streets. I love the little corners of buildings with small prayer flags to Pachamama and llama fetuses for their offerings. It offers much chance for reflection.

I guess I should go back and fill you in on what we've been doing. Short itinerary:

• Thursday: board a bus at 3:30 in the afternoon. Head north.


• Friday: arrive in San Pedro, north Chile, at 5:00 (yes, 26 hours). Manuever the crowd of owners to find an amazing hostel called La Florida. Make it a home, go out to dinner at a family owned restaurant and have delicious food under an amazing sky.


• Saturday: Tour of the alpine lakes - La Reserva Nacional Los Flamencos (we saw flamingos!) which are amazing salt flats, then to lagunas incredibly higher than I was acclimated for but whose beauty made up for it, the small town of Toconao for a delicious lunch. Proceed to celebrate your vacation freedom and have too much fun going out with the Belgians and Frenchies.


• Sunday: get up somewhat early to bike out to Valle de la Muerte for some tranquil reflection and awe, attempt sandboarding, and generally have a great time. Spend the afternoon at Valle de la Luna and La Cordillera de la Sal (80% salt). Watch the sunset sitting on top of a dune - see colors you never knew existed.


• Monday: get up at 3:30 to go to Los Geisers de Tatio - freeze while walking through and around beautiful steaming geysers, then watch the sun rise blue and incredible over the Andes. Swim in natural thermals. Goodbye dinner with the wonderful Frenchie Suzanne, then catch a 10 hour bus to Arica.


• Tuesday: break your plans to stay in Arica for a day and jump on a 12 hour bus to La Paz, Bolivia. Meet a Dutchman who sells you a guidebook for Bolivia and Peru, the first you have seen. Yay! Now we can start to plan what we'll do in Bolivia! Incredibly awkward and amazing bus ride... arrive in La Paz and have the incredible luck of finding the hostel La Austria, meeting a great guy named Freddy who points you in the direction of Angelo Colonial, deeeelicious food. Sleep.


• Wednesday, today: explore La Paz. Meet amazing people. Buy amazing things. Eat delicious food. Relax.

I have seen incredible landscapes! We've spent much more money than we planned on... but I think it was worth it. We had to have that initial tourist splurge, and now we've all agreed it will be better just to wander around and relax, since it is vacation, and get to know the places we go. We much prefer to go our own way and create our own plans anyways.

I really have no idea how to go about relating my adventures.

First of all, we've met a lot of really cool people. In San Pedro we met the Frenchies Damien, Julian and Suzanne who provided good company and laughter for the days and the nights. There were the Belgians, Steign and Lisa, who had been traveling for five months already and shared lots of wisdom. There was Juan, the tour guide, who definitely provided laughter, cariños, llama meat and the opportunity to learn a lot about northern Chile. Then of course there are all the randoms you meet and chat with and never really get their names. The old guys on the bus, the Patagonia trek leader, the surfer, the guy with dreadlocks who rented us bikes, the ladies in the stores, everyone. Freddy was coincidental, and coincidental again and you just have to wonder how much of what goes on everyday is by chance.

Today we went to an old Aymaran fortune teller who reads fortunes in coca leaves. It sounds hokey to a lot of you, but in this point in my life I have many questions, many choices, many changes. After only saying my name, this man touched on every one of them. This was the most profound thing that happened to me today. Days and weeks and even months of thinking and changing and adapting and critiquing all came together. I still have questions, obviously, but the falling of coca leaves, one side dark one side light, made so many things become clear. I don't know if it was the altitude, the hookah, or simply existing here, but for the rest of the day I had this incredibly clear and spreading sense of living in a time that was not now, that many of these things that were on my mind were actually part of my present. I was in two places at once.

The cafe is kicking us out. Where will I be next time I right? I don't even know where I'll be in two days... we'll see where the wind blows.

Silver birds and misty mornings...

Transitions are always such a strange thing. It seems that no matter how much you examine and reexamine them, you can never quite tell what it is. This is blue, and blue, and blue and.. wait, this is green. When did that happen? This period of my life is not like a bridge crossing from one reality to another. It's more like a broken trampoline, with springs pulling in different directions, all having some sort of claim to the future and the past. Eventually one of them is going to pull hard enough that all other connections will finally let go and then I'll be off and focused in one place. At least I hope so. Kind of.

It rained in Santiago. Second rain I've seen here in three and a half months. It poured! Hail the size of your pinky nail collected in gutters and bounced off our fingers. Strident sunrays pushed their way through the nubles fuertes, and we almost watched the smog wash away.

My life is full of juxtapositions, and it all leaves me without words to express myself to anyone. Is there a word that means hello and goodbye? happy and sad? friendship and love? now and eternity? memory and future? I don't want to leave Chile, but I don't want to go back to the United States. I want to travel, but I just want to stay in Santiago. I miss all of my friends and family so incredibly much, but I just can't be there right now. It is time for the program to end, but do these people really have to leave me?

This afternoon I bought a 25 hour bus ticket to San Pedro de Atacama, leaving Thursday with three amigas. Here is what I know for sure about the next month and a half:

I will arrive in San Pedro on the 8th.

I will fly out of Santiago on the 20th of July.

When traveling through Bolivia, I should carry at least a week's worth of food in case the street protests shut down the nation.

I'm going to have the time of my life.

I feel like I've been down here for so long, always in new situations, that I should be prepared for it. But for some reason I feel almost the way I did before getting on the plane in Raleigh 104 days ago - like I have no idea what to expect. The only difference - now I'm friggin' stoked! No use being afraid of something you know you will love.

I am ready to close this portion of my life. The last week has been incredibly intense. Finishing up interviews and trying to organize the three months of thought, conversation, observation, belief, everything in my head was nearly impossible, and after five days without leaving the house, I ended up with my own beautiful 38 page paper, in Spanish, somewhat explicating the noble fight of alternative communication. I didn't get to half of what I wanted to, and still don't really know how it all concludes, but it's over and I feel good about it. Especially since I was the only one to actually turn it in on time.

After that it's been a lot of just hanging around waiting for it all to end. I painted a mural in our institute. Hopefully it will always remind René of our group, his guinea pigs of education, his sobrinas and sobrino who loved him (love him) dearly. It was inspired by Reading Rainbow. Yup, that's right. You're loving it.

We had our farewell dinner (at a Cuban restaurant... what?) with all of the families, starting with kisses and ending with dancing. Even some of the adults did some carrete this night! Like my mom and her cousins, here, dancing after dinner, which they continued to do until about 3 in the morning. Gotta love em! It is really amazing the kind of relationships that have been formed here in the last three and a half months... I never really expected all of this. Now I don't know how to leave. When I board that plane out of Santiago, I don't know that I'll see any of these people again. I guess I've got to keep living by my new favorite quote, gracias a Quito... "Si quieres, puedes." It means if you want to, you can. Life shouldn't direct you, but you should follow life wherever it takes you, wherever your feet create a trail. I will come back if it means that much to me. I will.

What started out being a summer of relaxing in my new house, working with Lizzie, and biking around Chapel Hill has now turned into a practically nonexistent summer in North Carolina. (Not that I'm complaining) That just goes to show how you can never really plan on things! In some ways I wish that I will have more time to just relax, but who else will be doing what I am doing? My heart is in all that is ahead of me. That is something that I am taking back from the Chilean people - their dedication to whatever it is they do. There are no half-hearts here.

I have learned how to laugh.

We spent the past few days in Algarrobo, doing presentations and relaxing in each others' company. There haven't been goodbyes. I somehow think we won't have them. After all, this is not goodbye. It is only a changing.

Rossanna gave us a fabulous example of this type of moving on. It's as if we're all on the Metro, squashed into TranSantiago, and when we came here on this trip we all pushed our way out the doors and onto the platform. That packed metro that is normal life back home kept going without us. Now some of us are getting back on that metro and trying to reorganize back into the comfortable rocking of adaptation. Or maybe those of us still here are just making a connection, hopping down another path for a while. Whatever it is, I'm glad I don't have to get back onto TranSantiago any time soon! Definitely not looking forward to 25 hours on a bus though. Scenery?

I have felt so inspired for the last three months. I worry that it will be lost to the jungles and people I will meet in the next month and a half, and will be buried under the social pressure and bureacracy of everything when I get back to the States. Inspiration is impossible to capture and store away. And how do I take the amazing ideas I have seen here and translate them to my personal context? It just doesn't work the same way. Inspiration, adaptation, provocation, realization.

Realization in the Spanish sense. It's more romantic, and not in the love sense.

I am not afraid of words. I am afraid that my words will give the impression of being a totality, when the constellations and waves of wine and little white flowers that are hidden by them mean so much more.

Like Liz said - There is not enough time to say what we want with our words, so instead we hug and put all of our emotions and sentiments into our arms. Into that abrazo that could last forever, but never does, and in the same moment never ever leaves.

I'm almost ready to do it...

I've been in Casa SIT for 9 hours now. You'd think that that would be an incredible time in order to get work done and take a huge chunk out of my load. You'd think that!

Really I've spent the day here (because I had an interview, but the guy is sick and forgot to tell me, and then because I wanted to work, then it wasn't worth going home before the dinner I've got in half an hour) working for a little while, browsing the Lonely Planet forum, working for a second, looking for sites about Patagonia, browsing facebook, maybe working, gossiping with Rossanna, going on a search for a delicious manjar treat (manjar is directly translated as delicacy.. perfect), and maybe working. Eh, I worked a lot this weekend, it's all good.

The truth is, I feel like I could write my paper at this moment and so have little motivation to go put myself in really awkward and vulnerable places to gather the perspectives of the people. I really just need to talk to graffiteros, and that doesn't generally happen in the middle of the day.

Except for this guy. My new best friend. Margs and I went to south Santiago Centro to talk to people about carabineros and graffiti, and when walking back to the metro ran into him. I could hardly talk to him I was so excited! First person at random in action. Paradise! The guy on the left does images, and the guy on the right is a tag artist. He really gave me a whole lot more respect for tag. Apparently there are whole unspoken laws about it in and among the community of artists, and they're not conglomerations of lines, but rather designs inspired and driven by the artists own experiences. His always include the words 'ideas.' Look for it.

We met a lot of really interesting people, who were all more than willing to talk to us about their opinions. It's amazing how open people are with complete strangers, and especially with people who are obviously coming from a whole different background and set of ideas than they are. Two old men on the street talked to us about how bodies had to be burned during the dictatorship (that or how people set themselves on fire... was that really the reflexive they were using?) and an old hairstylist ranted about how foreign influences are screwing up the economy and social heirarchy in Chile, making delincuency rates rise and making her son's occupation (carabinero special forces) that much more dangerous. Once you scratch the surface of anyone, you're bound to found answers to questions you never had.

We also saw some really incredible art, most of it tags, covering every public wallspace. Here's an example of why it's so amazing to study a subject in depth. This picture to you guys looks like the graffiti artist wearing something weird. But from this, I know that the artist is probably a Socialist and participates in protests, usually on the violent side, and that he is most likely late teens to early twenties. He probably is also a biker. That's just the part of the code that I know... Think about what else this could mean. And what about the murals that are more complex, or have different images? Also one of the reasons why graffiti does not achieve the political and social goals it sets out for.

This weekend we cooked again, woohoo! I am really discovering the joys of cooking. I was trying to get us all started, getting pots and such, and David made some comment about how I must be starving. I wasn't - I realized that I really just wanted to stir that chicken, to sniff out the right spices, to watch the onions change color. It's incredibly fulfilling and gives me this warm and happy feeling inside. Or maybe that's just the good company I associate it with. Anyways, this time we did Mexican food at David's house, it was delicious, and we even found Corona! That really reminded me of nights at Cosmic. We were all going to go dancing afterwards, but since we didn't start cooking until 9:30, we didn't finish up with dessert until 3. I have to admit I'm getting more used to the Chilean way of doing weekends... It's not just about staying out late. It's about making the time that you have last as long as you can. They never hurry through anything, and will often opt for a conversation instead of getting something done. So when we get together, even if we start when the sun is still up, often we won't feel the urge to leave or get on to something else until much later than we 'should' have. You can feel this sense of things everywhere. I went to one of my interviews the other day, and the guy I was going to talk to brought his buddies from the TV station. We went and bought sandwiches, talked about fútbol, then the station, then cigars and digital radio, then whatever else. When we got there, Cristian laughed and told me he hoped I didn't have plans. I've learned my lesson here - my day was free.

The guys at the interview yesterday (which is the tomorrow of some of this entry... I didn't finish. Yay for internet saving capabilities!) are also the perfect example of how incredible people here are. I didn't make them unnatural in any way, and they did the same for me. They kept joking and talking and arguing like all friends do, including me in almost all of it. They did threaten me once - when I tried not to eat the half-sandwich they offered me. I had two choices - eat it, or leave. Gotta love that hospitality! It was also assumed that I was coming back to help out with their programs, which I am, but tonight would have to go alone so didn't go. My director forbade me.

Speaking of director... I met with him today, seeing as he is acting as my advisor now. He pretty much pointed out all of the really interesting things about my paper that I was skirting around, and now I am going to restructure it almost completely. (I would say have to, but I'm loving it!) It's all the same information, and I can still use almost all of my info/interviews, but I have to go back and reanalize them from this new perspective. The weight of the new topic would frighten me if I didn't recognize the fact that I am a student doing a study for less than a month. That said, René told me that if I can pull this paper off the way it's proposed, I could start the beginnings of social revolution. My paper has to do with alternative communication as a voice for the parts of society that are nonrepresented in a'liberty of expression' democracy.

Democracy is an idealogy. This amazing man pointed out to me that the only difference between a doctrine and an idealogy is that within an idealogy, the system works to hide the elements of itself that are contradictory. Think about it. Apply it to life. Here's an example. Chile claims that with democracy came liberty of expression and representation for all. However. All major TV channels and newspapers are owned by the extreme right, some of whom hosted concentration camps or torture centers in their buildings. The government will give no no-strings-attached funding to community methods of communication (which are almost always from the Left) because of who knows why. The structure of the electoral system here has somehow prevented any representation of the not-surprisingly large population of Communists in Chile. They have a bipartisan system (more or less) - one from the right, and one from the center-right.

At first look, we all think that the growth of democracy in Chile is a fantastic thing. But it doesn't work. Now let's look at another country. The United States? How's that working?

The picture above says "Histories that never happened, for fear of making sense."

Here's a picture of me in Valpo listening to Michelle Bachelet's State of the Union address (or the equivalent). All the streets were closed, they wouldn't let us in to Congress (but why? We're not extranjeras or anything..)

I don't know if I've written about this in here, and if I have forgive me. This is one of the most influential yet subtle realizations I have made during my time here. 'Democracy' is not synonymous with 'government.' In fact democracy is really just one way of looking at things. You can have a society that is as far away from democracy as you can be, and that society can be happier than we are, and can run smoother than we do. It's all perspective. My friend Abel lived four years in Cuba, and wants to go back even after he's seen the 'American dream' style of consumerism. When we asked him how it compared, he refused to do it. There is no comparison, he said. They are completely different. How can we pretend to know that our way is better, or that we can assume to know 'better' than their government?

Also, side note, did you know that Cuba has a representative government compelte with Congress and all that jazz? That Fidel is a just a figurehead? That the people love Fidel, and the system, and want it to continue? Maybe I'm just showing my ignorance, but I find it amazing that I always thought that Fidel was a heavy-handed dictator. We need a revolution.

One of the founders of the community channel I talked to told me this: First you start the communication revolution. Then you start the social revolution. You can't start the social revolution if the people don't know anything.

Let's change it up, ladies and gentlemen.

Long political offwind. Sorry. Margs and I went to Valparaíso on Monday. We talked with a lot of scary-looking carabineros and realized that they are all amazing people. Nice, intelligent, looking out for people. One captain that we spoke with showed an incredible amount of self-awareness and social consciousness. He pointed out that Chile is in a cycle of violence, a cycle that every country is in to some extent. The way it goes is that one side raises the bar and gets more fierce with the other (we'll say gvt). Then the people have to react with great violence in order to enact change. The government becomes more violent, so on and so on. Eventually you are left with a military government that solves everything with violence.

People down here also consider Bush to be the winner of a political coup. Some say military. Think about that.

Whoops, another political branching off. Too easy down here.

Valpo was amazing. It was incredible to be able to breathe again. Right now in Santiago, it's rare to see the mountains. When I got here they loomed over half of the sky. It's gross. But Valpo... ah, the ocean! Good food, nice cops, great views, amazing friends, and a day to relax. We had to wait two hours for the bus back, but spent it dissecting English, gossiping about boys, discussing the meaning of life, and devouring papas fritas.

We like cheesy photos. Here I am in front of the place where they held the day-long ceremony - replete with speeches, the Cueca, and the army on parade - around the State of the Union. (And yes, I know it's not called that but I don't know what they call it and that's our equivalent.) I could have seen Michelle Bachelet!!!

All in all, it's starting to get cold. Debra should be buying my plane ticket to Peru in about 30 minutes. Maybe by the time I get there I'll have some sort of travel plans. The crew is all rolling back to Santiago in five or six days. I'm excited. I'm sad. I'm going to try and convince my Chilean brother to travel with me for the week I'm solo. I realized that I'm going to miss him terribly, and we are just now getting to the point where we can really talk. I also might try to be in Santiago for Lorena's birthday. También le voy a echar de menos.

Being here in this atmosphere, in this program, studying what I am with the people who are helping me... At times I feel like everything is political in some sense. We exist in society, which is run politically. Even culture is politically driven, and our expression of ourselves. There is no way to ever be completely happy with it. But there are definitely ways to make it the best that we can, for everybody. And I'm going to do my best.

"Smile! You too can change this prostitute world."

Salí en la noche...

Things have definitely started looking up.

First of all, I have something muy bacán and utterly awesome to tell you, but I'm going to wait until the end so you have to read the whole entry! bwajajaja

I realized that one of the main things that was getting me down and angry was my project. Now, this is completely rational because I have a very difficult project to achieve and my consejero is useless. Was - now I have no consejero. But that's a different story. So last Thursday I spent nearly the entire day just sitting and thinking about my research and what I've found out, what I think, what the books have said... And I figured out that I have some very strong opinions about graffiti and political art that were getting in my way. Once I discarded these prejudices, my work started to flow much more easily and the connections started clicking into place. While I am not happy at all to be writing a paper that is contrary to my own opinions, I guess that's one of the disadvantages (benefits?) of doing research in the field. You're always being challenged.


Another thing that made that one week awful is that I had a huge case of the awkwards. They went away, as much as they ever can with me.

Friday night Marguerite came over and we watched some strange Helen Hunt movie with my mom until she fell asleep, knitting still in her hands. It was good to sit and relax and just feel comfortable there for a while. When everyone you're with is either a new friend or doesn't really understand you, that good old I-can-walk-around-in-the-morning-and-not-care-if-my-hair-looks-funky feeling is rare. While sipping wine from coffee mugs and chatting on my floor, my brosef races in, races out, and invites us to a university party. University parties here, by the way, are like a big house party of ours. All your buddies are there, people are walking around with boxes of wine or beer or whatever, they're smoking... except it's usually in a big courtyard or a huge awesome room, with cool lights and a great DJ all night. And I'm talking from 11 to about 5. So they're rocking. Margs and I danced like madwomen! They played salsa, so naturally. I also got to hang out with my brother (I almost got him to dance, even) and we met a bunch of his buddies. Afterwards, we went to La Bamba with Tomás. Guys, hate to say it, but I have found better end-of-the-night food than Cosmic. These things are huge - they're called AS, and they're real beef, fresh tomatoes, avocado, mayo, and ahí. ooommmmyyyggoooooddd. delicious.


Saturday I celebrated Mother's Day with my fam here, and afterwards we went apartment shopping. It was really fun. Besides the fact that my family rocks all around, I really felt like a part of it all. They were asking me what I thought, and in every blueprint it was "my room, your room Cristobal, and this one for Abi when she comes to live with us." All in all a very good, relaxing day.


We cooked again on Saturday, this time in Elizabeth's house, and we opted for good old hamburgers. With avocado. Naturally. We thoroughly enjoyed ourselves, all of the girls together laughing and joking and talking about how frustrating all of our projects are. We've started voicing aloud thoughts and ruminations about project direction. It's amazing how much simply putting something out into words instead of on paper can help you get it all organized, especially now when we've all got tons of information and no method to channel it all down. Margs and I went and played on a playground afterward. Awesome.


There is no way for me to express how much I love my group. Each day or week brings a new dynamic into it all, or some incredibly development. I can't believe that in a little over two weeks I'm going to be leaving most of them. I refuse to think about it. Every single one of them has their own gifts and their own contributions to who we are now. There was one person at the beginning that always bugged me. It got to the point at times where I would move at a table so I wouldn't get too irritated and disrupt the evening because she was next to me. Then I got over myself. I realized there was no point in being that was with someone who is comfortable with who they are, and that I should stop being so judgemental and give her more of a shot. She still has habits that grate me, but now it's just a part of who she is, and they don't bother me so much. She's got a lot of insight and amazing aspects to her as well, and I was blinded to that. I want to tell her the effect that she's had on me because of this, and how much she has helped me with my project, but how do you walk up to someone and say "You used to annoy the crap out of me, but now I think you're wicked cool." It doesn't happen.


Sunday we had an asado. (social heaven, no?) We cooked up some pizzas, watched the Matrix 3, played circus games and sang pop songs. (This is why we love Chilean boys - not only do they like to impersonate boy bands, they also like to sing along to them.) After lots of hanging out and kind of soupy brownies, we decided to go dancing at Maestra Vida, a dance club that has free salsa on Sunday nights from 11 to 3. Perfect! That was really incredible, especially since two of the guys we were with are quite possibly the best dancers I have ever had the pleasure of moving to the beat with. Here we have, from the left, David, Niko, ?(shoot)?, Kevin, and Alejandro.


Monday started swift. Went in to Casa SIT to get some work done and had a contact handed to me by Rossanna. Went that afternoon (poor, dangerous neighborhood at dusk. Yikes. My colectivo driver was named Oscar and wore this incredible old felt hat, wizard glasses, and a salt and pepper beard. We chatted like old buddies the whole ride, and he wouldn't let me pay him. Incredible people are everwhere.) and the woman gave me another contact and some good information. Next day I went back to Casa SIT to get some more work done, and Rossanna handed me another contact. Went that afternoon to meet with him, and ended up with an hour-long interview of quality talking. That I understood in total. More contacts. Something very excited that you're still waiting to hear about. Pumped!


Watched Spiderman 3 in Niko's house, which is really a hostel that he lives in by himself. Whoa.


(Here's a picture of us after the marathon carrete last weekend... David's face pretty much shows how we all felt after dancing until 6:30 in the morning: delirious and Dali. These are hte two really incredible dancers - David and Abel.)


Wednesday I went back to La Legua to meet with this other guy, and he never showed. Bummed. But I spent some time while waiting talking to this incredible store owner right next door who lives above her tienda and is working hard to pay her kids' ways through college, which is a rare thing if you come from a neighborhood like this one. She talked to me about the work of the youth in the community, radiating pride at the strong values and communal spirit they all shared, and assuring me that nothing would happen to me in this neighborhood. When I left she gave me a big kiss and told me to come back and see her. Again, incredible people everywhere.


Wednesday I also had an interview with this old Communist who sells earrings on the street, and who is really quite interesting and involved in the cultural side of Santiago. We ended up having a bit of an argument about the purpose and effect of graffiti and political expression in general, and it was pretty fun. He also talked to me a lot about how Santiaguenses always go to hotels to have sex, and how the women are much more demanding now, and how Italian women are even more demanding, and oh when he was in Italy! ...That was a little uncomfortable.


(Here's a picture from Debra's birthday with, from left, Debra, David, Alejandro, Santiago, Theresa, Jorge, me, and Lauren. It was cold. I am not normally Babushka.)


Thursday was awesome. My project is finally organized in my head, and is just waiting the last bits of real-time and observation. Margs and I went to Bravissimo and got the special, two flavors in a bath of chocolate, for the price of one flavor. I wonder why I'm getting fat. My brother and I spent some time chilling together when I got back... I'm really going to miss that kid. I feel like I don't know anything about him sometimes, but at other's like I know exactly what he's thinking. Not to mention he's one of the most caring people I've ever met.


Now, are you finally ready for this muy bacán and incredibly awesome thing? Last night I went out in the darkness to paint with one of the brigades. Paste, really. I went out with Chacon, who are responsible for the many huge poiltical banners that call for governmental responsibility and social involvement and leftist ideas. They're everywhere, and I've always wondered how they got there, who does it, blah blah. Well, it's five people who spend the week working their jobs and living their lives, and painting banners on the side. Everything Thursday night they take all of these banners, a mixture of soda caustica and flour, and they go out pasting. It's almost just like you would imagine... a small group of people in dark clothes and hats crammed into an old beat up truck, buckets of paste in the back and the banners under the seat. You pull around into a corner, everyone hops out and is in action. Glue, glue, glue (with rollers), guy comes behind with the banner, hands up brush up get that stuff smoothed down don't tear it almost done and we're walking away. Get into the truck, on to the next, joking and talking about your wives or girlfriends or the webon that didn't show up last week or the march next Monday. All of the banners are pasted in the center of the city, and it was only around 11 so there were people still up. We pasted one on a major road, turned around at the finish to see lots of cars stopped at a red light staring at us, and a packed bus stop of blank and somewhat confused faces. And we just walk away. Social change in the making. We had two people come up to us - the first to declare that he fought against Pinochet, and what were we trying to accomplish? How could this do anything? What was the point? I was confused about that because it seems like he would recognize it's pretty much the only way for a leftist party to make their views heard, seeing as there is no representation in the government. The other was a young guy begging to know how Chacon does it, and if they can help his banner group get off the ground. When the cops drive by, you just start walking away. It was a great night. Sometimes it felt like a game, like what we were doing wasn't real, or that it was something we do to fill a role, like what Marguerite was saying yesterday. Like this is just what the Communist party does, they go out, they paste their banners (we ran into another section of the PC pasting too), and then the banners get ripped down. But a very cool experience. It's very interesting to know that an operation that appears so large and covers so much of the city, that so many people see, is really just five guys working out of a basement.

Marguerite and I are now inspired to paint a mural on the uncomfortable white walls of the institute. We're thinking something inspired by Reading Rainbow - bright colors and a butterfly. Te parece?


Two more weeks... It's hard to imagine. This has been such a formative time in my life, and is a place (physically, emotionally, mentally) that I'm not sure I want to leave. The people, Chilean and EEUU, the places, the lifestyle, the language... I'm going to miss it all. And it's not like I get to see all my buddies at home after this. Oh no. It's simply another beginning. In three weeks' time I'm going to be a free woman, roaming South America with just the pack on my back. I'm really excited for that too, except right now we don't have plane tickets to Peru, or a plan of where we're going, or any idea whatsoever of where we're going to sleep. I guess that will all come when we need it the most. Hopefully. It's hard to plan when Kira and the others who are going to Peru are all in Buenos Aires, busy with their lives, and me busy with mine. Wow, time flies.


I'll leave you all with this characteristically long entry... I have work to do that I haven't been doing for several days now. I love you all, and hope that your summers are well on their way to being memorable!