So, last Thursday Gianni offered to take me to a discotec. I have really been wanting to check out some live salsa music, but I guess 80s pop on a stage is just as good. Anyways, I was pretty excited, just to see what it would be like, and I have to admit, I was also pretty scared-I mean for obvious reasons: non-native language, disco lights, loud pop music, a stage, and these drinks called "piscolas." right.
So, we left the house at about a quarter to 11, drove probably twenty minutes away from the house, and pulled into this quiet, empty parking lot. Did I mention empty?
By the way, Gianni was wearing a white t-shirt with a red collar and some sorta picture on the front.
We parked and began to walk towards the door of the building when another car pulled in. A guy jumped out and started talking to Gianni. I looked back to see Gianni pulling on his shirt and then motioning to the parking guy.
The guy in charge of parking was wearing the exact same shirt as Gianni, same white shirt with the same red collar. Now, this may not seem funny to you but at the time, I nearly cried from laughing. I'm not sure if it was the look on Gianni's face when he motioned to the guy's shirt or. . .
did I mention at this point that the club wasn't open yet? It was 11pm, and we were too early. So, we ended up sitting in the truck for like thirty minutes, and this whole time the parking guy had been moving around doing random stuff in the parking lot, setting up tables and stuff. in Gianni's t-shirt. and Gianni just kept shaking his head. it was pretty funny. So, Gianni is like. . "this is all going wrong. First we're here too early and the place is closed, and the guy is wearing my shirt."
ha.
So, we head in. Gianni has his jacket on. This club is huge-two levels, probably four or five bars, a big stage in the middle. and guess what? at 11:30-11:40 we are the only two people in the club. I started lauging again- I couldn't help it, he was laughing too. So, we're both just sitting around in this huge club by ourselves and chatting. They're still setting stuff up and everything. He asked one of the bartenders what time the place fills up, and he says 1:30. and I'm like-oh great. but we had a nice chat. He's pretty funny. and it filled up around 1ish, and the music, well. . .the music was a hoot.
Madonna, Shakira, some Blondie, some great Chilean and Brazilian pop, "Starting spreading the news. . .We're leaving today. I've got to be a part of it. New York, New York," Michael Jackson, and a little Nelly Furtado. It was hilarious and lots of fun. I danced my pants off. Gianni was like "Now I see why you have friends in the US. You're very sociable and funny and you dance really well."
and I was like "Thanks. I think."
like hmm, what did you think I was like before?
a dragon?
but sociable, good word.
anyways, it turned out to be a blast-lot of dancing, lot of laughs, all around good time.
New York, New York was the last song.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
I'm preparing to leave. I fly out on Wednesday, and I have to tell you. . .I'm a little sad. I mean I'm excited to start my life in Concepcion, but this place feels like home. This month has been a wonderful way to adjust to the country. I'm very lucky to have stayed with this family. okay, I'm tearing up. . .enough.
anyways, I received a couple emails from the woman I will be staying with in Conce. Her name is Ana Maria, and I think she may live alone. I don't know much, but I do know:
-She lives in a large house right across from the central library on Campus.
-She has children, but they are all married.
-I will stay in a private room with a private bath, internet, tv, laundry, and three meals a day.
-I think the price may be a little expensive, but it will do for now.
-Hopefully, if I make some friends, maybe I can move out later on. we'll see.
-She is going to pick me up at the airport.
I was a little frightened about this last one, because she said in her email, "Advise me if you need me to pick up you at the airport." and I was thinking advise you, how else am I going to make it to your house? I don't even know your address. Not to mention the fact that I've never been to Concepcion.
So, I wrote her this long email, gave her my flight info again, and told her that I did need her to pick me up.
I also got an email from the university with the steps I need to register. The semester officially begins Monday the 5th. Hopefully I will be able to go up to the University on Thursday or Friday to register. We're going to send my suitcases on Tuesday by bus, so cross your fingers and hope that they make it to Concepcion and that I find them once I get there.
-------------------------------
I've been thinking a lot about cultural identity this week. How do we define our culture? How do we define our culture in the United States of America? Is american culture pop songs from the eighties, fast food?, cult-movies?, an american dream? or a beauty myth?
are we defined by an ideal "american " life-the house, the spouse, kids, dog, fence, SUV, exotic vacations once a year, 9-5?, 8-5? football? by christian values? are these our cultural identifiers? our holidays? religious celebrations? are these things "american"? Is that what this generation of authors is trying to discover? are we finally melted to the point where you can't tell what any of the original ingredients were? or is that just some of us? food for thought. ha. no pun intended.
Macarena and I were having this discussion in class, and I accidentally kept saying "American" culture. The spanish word of a citizen of the United States is estadounidense, I think, and it's kinda hard for me to say.
That is how we label ourselves, "Americans." If I asked you what you were, you'd say, I'm american. I'm mean think about how many people in the US want to be more than just asian-americans or african-americans, they want to just be americans, americans without the hyphen.
But Macarena asked me,
"Why do you all call yourselves that? Americans?"
and I thought for a minute. I have been trying to be careful about using that word, American, because I"m in South America. South America. And just like in North America, in Central America and in South America-they are Americans too.
Macarena said, "I'm an American too."
and I knew that. I had thought about all this before. . . about how odd, maybe even disrespectful it is for us to call ourselves American and only think of that label as referring to people within the US. I mean it is the United State of AMERICA, hmmm.
anyways,
She didn't ask me why I said it or what I meant-
she asked me why we called ourselves that, americans.
and I had a brain fart. hmm, because It's easier than saying citizens of the united states of america? or because we aren't unitedstatesians? umm, "I don't know."
Maybe because even though the continents are North america and South America, our country's name is the united states of America?
all I could think of was, "America, for spacious skies, for amber waves of grain. . .America, America, God shed his grace on thee. . ." and the explorer Amerigo Vespuci, right? he's where the word comes from.
so, i told her I wasn't really sure, but that we really weren't trying to be disrespectful. It's not like we Americans sit around and think mannn we're the only people in the western hemisphere cool enough to call ourselves americans. maybe it's just easier than saying unitedstatesians.
Ok, so I tried to do some google research on the source and I found this sweet article. It's on wikipedia, which basically means, some random person posted it to the internet, but it's pretty interesting. You should read it.
http://www.answers.com/topic/use-of-the-word-american
It also states that in the US census millions of people describe their ancestry or ethnic origin as American, "particularly those in the south."
maybe mashed potatoes and gravy are american.
nope, they have those here too.
well, that's all I have to say about that. We talked a lot about feminist literature this week too, I got a chance to read a couple feminist chilean writers, and I showed some texts to Macarena. but I'm really to mentally drained to even try to go there.
it was cool.
I went to a movie on Thursday with Macarena, my professor. We saw Babel, and let me tell you-it was a pretty powerful experience for several reasons. I mean I'm still processing. But the movie for me was about communication, about how and why we communicate, through and without language, how culturally we are all connected, the value of life, shared experience, global perspective--If you haven't seen it-again, you should.
and not to give away too much: but the movie interweaves the three main story lines: with U.S. citizens in Morocco/a Moroccan family, a deaf japanese girl and her father, and a Mexican nanny and her family. So you're hearing four languages and seeing one (sign language). I'm not sure how it is in the US, but here, there are spanish subtitles for everything except, or course, the scenes in spanish. sweet. anyways, I can't really talk to you about it until you see it, but it was a weighty place to be after the movie,
Macarena said, "Well, you must have an interesting perspective. Watching this here and being an 'American'."
and so, all I got is:
We are all connected. Communication is so much more than symbols, In the end, who we are always translates, across time-across culture- across lives.
on a less serious note, I bought boots for the rain yesterday and a few sweaters.
and I just have one more thing to show you. These are the only pictures this entry. I can't believe I haven't showed this to you before. Did I tell you that we ride around town in a school bus? It's called the super-micro. Berti actually takes kids to school in the mornings--a big, yellow, bus.
I love it here.
So, the next time you think, "hmmm, I wonder what Mere is doing over there."
Just picture me, riding along with the windows down, my hair blowing around my face (and usually sticking to my chapstick), in the sweet super bus. At least for the next three days.
The Sea
One single being, but there's no blood.
One single caress, death or rose.
The sea comes and reunites our lives
and attacks and divides and sings alone
in night and day and man a creature.
The essence : fire and cold : movement
El Mar
Un solo ser, pero no hay sangre.
Una sola caricia, muerte o rosa.
Viene el mar y reúne nuestras vidas
y solo ataca y se reparte y canta
en noche y día y hombre y criatura.
La esencia : fuego y frío : movimiento
hope you and yours are happy and safe,
una aurora,
Mere
No comments:
Post a Comment