"Nothing is built on stone; all is built on sand, but we must build as if the sand were stone." Jorges Luis Borges
I'm back in Alabama. And as you can imagine, life is a confusing whirlwind as I attempt to reattach patches of memories, of places and moments that help to remind me who i was once here, the girl whose footsteps I can only pretend to follow again. Derrida once talked about the eyes being the only organ that never aged. The only parts of you that are exactly the same when you are older as they were when you were five. --And so it seems fitting that I am connected now to these shadows of my past through the images I see. Gas stations with new names, empty strip malls, and back roads that lead to different places--I am back in Alabama.
Culture shock or re-shock I guess is majorly affecting me. I feel as though I truly do have two selves-the chilean me and the US me. And they seem so distant these selves, as if they barely know eachother. They dress differently, eat differently, and speak differently. They love differently. Who am I now? A person in-between worlds??? I can't readjust fully when I know I'm returning in two weeks--not that I even think I want to readjust fully.
As you can imagine, here--part of me longs to be there--just as part of me longed to be here when I was there.
There are things yet to be done in Chile. Things to be finished--to be experienced. Times to be lived.
I know I should be updating about all that I have been doing here while I've been home, and I will. I plan to post a plethora of embarrassing family and cross-country adventures photos, but for now, I'm just reflecting.
Living in the in-between, I see myself more clearly. The parts of me I wish were one whole person, the ways a place brings out different strengths. . . and leaves me wishing. . . I was a bit more whole sometimes.
But then again. . . Aren't we always in the making?? As much as we are in the present-we are always in motion.
And as a new friend recently told me, "There are few things in life that can't be reversed."
No matter where I go, maybe it should comfort me to know that my eyes never change.-Ageless reminders of the me that is unchangeable.
So, as I question every thing, time, and one around me. . . I remind myself that I am just standing on sand--
standing on sand and trying to build as if the sand were stone.
una aurora,
Mere
Showing posts with label Chile. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Chile. Show all posts
Monday, January 28, 2008
Friday, October 19, 2007
Ode
"Federico,
you see the world, the streets,
the vinegar,
the farewells in the stations
when the smoke lifts its decisive wheels
toward where there is nothing but some
separations, stones, railroad tracks" (This is from Residencia en la tierra. My favorite Neruda book and the most critically acclaimed. this is only one stanza from the poem "Ode to Federico Garcia Lorca" The footnote says "Neruda and Lorca became very close friends when Neruda was Chilean consul to the Spanish Republic. This ode, like much of Lorca's poetry, has premonitions of death. The poem was published in 1935; Lorca was executed by the Nationalists in 1936."
(warning the first several paragraphs are not necessarily cheerful or breezy. . . don't even get me started. but life isn't always cheerful. for lighter reading skip down to change of subject)
I'm in a weird place now. It's the poets. They are beginning to haunt me. I feel oddly disconnected from things. maybe it's because I'm too busy. maybe it's because I have to many undone things to be doing that keep muttering to me. Maybe because I feel a little lost, a little unsure, a little unsettled. I miss my family and my friends. and not that it's bad or that I'm unhappy-because I'm not. I'm also just feeling very ignorant. and lazy. I think one of the difficult things with trying to learn new things is that I feel overwhelmed and weighed down by all that I do not know, all the experiences I can't understand, the sounds I cannot make.
I keep thinking about that image: the sounds I cannot make. I can't do the double rr sound in spanish. I don't quite get the u vowel sound right either because I trying englishize it. but what impacts me the most is that Nico will try to make both sounds--the one I make that is incorrect and the correct one. . . and sometimes I really can not hear a difference. And I've just been thinking about this idea. . . that there is so much that we do not sense. I generalize difference so easily, cultural differences--and all kinds of differences-- without ever stopping to think that I may not even really understand or hear the ways we are different. I always babble these dreams about seeing how we are all connected, and I think we are, but we have got to learn to respect and accept that there are some things we can never understand or empathize with because of the eyes through which we see.
In Blanchot's book El espacio literario he talks about this idea that a writer always "busca salvar su relacion con el mundo a traves de la obra" looks to save his or her relationship with the world through their work. but the writer always fails because once the work exists it ceases to be "a piece" of the writer or "a possession" or even an expression of identity, because it becomes its own entity. . . theorists have argued that maybe it doesn't even begin to exist until it is read by a reader. Blanchot believes that a writer can never "read" his own work. There's a sort of blindness in the midst of the ravaging intimacy between creation and creator.
This is a shitty comparison, but I feel like in a sense we are so intimate with our existences that we can't ever step back and truly "read" them. I bet none of this makes sense. It doesnt make sense in my head either. It's not just the poets-it's the theorists and philosophers too. Blanchot, de Saussure, Lyotard, Lacan, Derrida, Foucault, Baudrillard. . .I mean what am I suppose to take from the poststructuralists?? a way to read? a way to not read? a way to see that I can not read? and why am I doing all this reading in spanish??
Enrique Lihn, a chilean poet from the generacion 50, believed that poetry and/or words can never capture reality, the symbols themselves, the signifiers (thank you de Saussure) are always trapped in their abstractness. This seems even more apparent to me thinking and studying in two languages. Why do we use the word "tree" (signifier) to represent the object(signified), why not parfl or lotupk?? what kind of emotional response to you have to the word "tree" ? what image does it give you? what assumptions do you make about that which it refers to? and in poetry. . . how do the signified and signifier which make up "tree" affect all english poetry. the vowel sounds, one syllable--all of these things together come together to influence the poet to use the word tree and not another. . . I mean how different from tree is "arbol"??? It's pretty different. two syllables. different vowels, and yet in spanish it is the signifier for "tree". We can't escape our own systems, especially of language. Like in my second to last sentence, I couldn't not say "tree" cuz its all I have to represent tree in english.
Are you bored? I bet you are. Don't worry the blog will get funnier when I stop thinking so hard.
So, the question for Lihn, is. . . Why write? maybe because we express ourselves the way we can, to capture a moment, an object-To Share An Idea. My idea can't get from me to you without the bridge of language. IS my idea mutated and changed and a little lost in the translation from object to symbol? (assuming that I don't think in language, which I do). Bad example.
I don't know. All this fuzziness in my head is swimming about because I'm reading all this stuff in spanish and thinking about it in english and then trying to communicate my unclear thoughts in spanish. . . and its not just that my spanish isn't good enough. . . it's that somehow along the way I detached my brain from my walking around self. I get up, I worry about not eating too many carbs or calories, I go to work or class. In class I think really hard and worry about all the things I haven't read, or need to read, or wish I had read, and then I'm out the door and gone thinking about how to make the verb structure Past Continuous or Imperfect fun for my adult students. and then I'm eating again, and trying to read the news, trying to keep up on the candidates, trying to figure out when high school shootings will stop, trying to read Chilean news (most of our city will be without water over the weekend), and Nico calls "Where are you?" "when will I see you?" and it's either his day or my day to miss the other person more than they are missing me or him. . . and then I work more or study more and then finally I get on the micro and watch the streets go by and try to remember their order and watch the people walking with broken umbrellas, and then I get off and walk home. I look down, not because I'm afraid of making eye contact with people, but because I'm too tired to make any fleeting connections at this time of night. I change. eat. go to the Y. . . and try to follow along and not look to much at my reflection in the front mirrored wall. I laugh at myself. I walk home and think about how I should blog or read. . . but just turn on the television or sleep.
How can I be one of those people who squeezes the juice out of life? If I smile more will I feel better? Why I am I so disorganized??? Nico keeps asking me, and the "it's genetic" answer isn't working. ha. I told him to talk to you mom, but seeing as he and I are still on basic english lessons, it might go like:
Nico: Is she always dirty?
Mom: Yes
Nico:She is just lazy?
Mom:that too.
I haven't blogged in a while and I forgot how cleansing it feels to write. And now that I'm thinking about all that I've written I think I should probably delete a lot of it because you all don't want to read my ramblings about life, you would probably just rather hear about the weather. but it rained today for the first time in a week or so. . .and I just can't delete these thoughts now that I've typed them out.
OK. CHANGE OF SUBJECT:
As some of you know I've had a rough couple of months in terms of my health. It seems like I'm just allergic to Chile. Starting with food poisoning,I got the severe case of sinusitis that I had for like two months and after lots of antibiotics I'm still sniffling, and then I had a couple of different infections all in the same week. But luckily I have just started feeling better (famous last words). I have been wanting to sign up at the YMCA for a while now(its only two blocks from my apartment!), but I had to wait until I got over my sinusitis because the ear, nose, and throat doctor told me I couldn't exercise until I was better . . . ANYWAYS, so I went on Wednesday and signed up and showed up for my very first class on Thursday. I was stoked. They have all these different classes that start with the word Guay (which I don't know what it means) followed by mostly different english words. For example, some of the options are:
Guay Aerostep
Guay Power
Guay Harmony
Guay Jump
creative. huh? well, I decided to attend guay power. I mean, why not get things off to a good start, right? and I was super nervous because I thought I might not understand the directions or something. I could just picture myself, the big bumbling gringa running into people and screaming "sorry" and then "uhh disculpa". I watched nervously from the side as the other class ended. and then, suddenly everyone started scrambling. running to get things. . . steps and weights and mats. and i thought. oh shit.
i better do that too.
So, I run around behind them and get all the stuff and clumsily find a space on the floor. and this tall skinny guy is up the stage and his shorts are way, way too short and I'm thinking I hope you will be careful with those shorts buddy.
and then we just start doing bicep curls and we never stop. . .ha
I mean seriously we did them for like ten minutes. and there was a little variation we did them fast and slow. two fast one slow. and I was trucking along with everybody and then all of a sudden, without even asking my permission, my left arm sorta died. It didn't go up anymore and I kinda laughed because I couldn't make it move no matter how hard I stared at it. and then i thought, well, this is sure embarrassing, but I just kept going with the right arm and the left arm in my mind was doing the same thing but in real life it was just wiggling a little bit still well below my waist. i dropped both weights and went on in imaginary weight world, where they may not be any pride but at least both arms were moving. the class continued. it was hard, but I enjoyed it. and when we finished I could barely walk down the stairs I felt like a sober drunk person. I called Nico to come and walk me home because I was afraid I couldn't do it. and then I think I think I cried a little bit on the way home (I'm laughing now thinking about it) because I just felt so pathetic. the next day, I went to Guay Harmony, where the teacher called me out as the new girl, asked my name eight times before she asked me to approach the stage and spell it for her (nightmare) and then she got excited and called the class international. This class is a mixture of Tai Chi, Pilates, and yoga. and i loved it and felt fine afterwards. I even felt fine when I went to sleep, but sometime in the wee hours I awoke with pain. the next day (saturday) I couldn't straighten out either of my arms past a 90 degree angle, they both hurt a lot when I tried, and the left one was worse, AND i thought they were beginning to swell. That day I also had some allergic reaction around my eye, so Nico took one look at me with my bent arms and red bubbly eye and we both started laughing so hard we were crying because I was soo pathetic. he was like what the ___ happened to you????
On sunday we went to this festival in a town called Tome with Nico's mom. It's about an hour's bus ride and I was still pretty pathetic. My arms had both swollen to the size that I barely recognized them as my own. I almost didnt fit in my jacket and Nico had to take it on and off for me. It was, to say the least, a sad but comical site. By Monday I could almost straighten them again. Nico and I took a bus over to San Pedro (on the outskirts of Concepcion) and where he lives and we walked around, down to a small lake, and we bought a two dollar superman kite which we flew like experts next to all these people who had heavy duty super duper kites with tails and lights and that almost sang, but we were still cool and it was reallllllyyy fun.
I have returned to the Y this week without any major injuries. I swear Nico is right, weird crap is always happening to me. I promise I'm not a hypochondriac. my washing machine needs an exorcism and shakes violently when its on spin cycle, so much so that I usually run and try to sit on it, and pray that the neighbor below doesn't complain. My toilet still doesn't flush. . . something about the water pressure so I still have to dump a bowl of water down the drain when I flush. (my apartment really is nice, I promise).
My camera is supposedly finished now, and I have deposited the money. . .so they should be mailing it to me. and when I get it. . . get ready because I'm going to take a billion pictures. . . of the apartment, the streets, the Ymca.
I have decided I want a pet, specifically a dog. I know what your thinking. Nico said it. You don't even clean after yourself. . . how are you going to clean after a dog. WEll, I will darnet. Since there are about a billion roaming dogs in Chile, we took to the streets the other night to look for one (I want a puppy, one that won't grow too big since my apartment is pretty small). I see on average twenty dogs in the streets a day. but Nico and I walked around for two hours and only saw ONE!! the luck. and the one we saw was funny but a little deranged, so I vetoed him. By the way, if we do adopt a street dog, we will take him directly to the vet first (don't panic family) to get him checked out and give him the necessary shots.
I'm hoping that I might get a birthday puppy. I can say that because Nico doesn't read my blog. Pups could hang out with Nico during the day when I'm working and then keep me company in the afternoons and evenings and Nico would take care of pups while I'm in the states (two and half months and counting folks).
alright, well I've spent way too much time on this blog instead of studying! ha! My big interview is on the 31st, so I will be way less stressed after that.
miss you guys.
hope you and yours are happy and safe,
una aurora,
Mere
I'm too tired to type the whole poem (so look it up), but here's another of the stanzas:
When you fly dressed as a peach tree,
when you laugh with a laugh of hurricaned rice,
when to sing you shake arteries and teeth,
throat and fingers,
I could die for how sweet you are,
I could die for the red lakes
where in the midst of autumn you live
with a fallen steed and a bloodied god,
I could die for the cemeteries
that pass like ash-gray rivers
with water and tombs,
at night, among drowned bells:
rivers as thick as wards
of sick soldiers, that suddenly grow
toward death in rivers with marble numbers
and rotted crowns, and funeral oils:
I could die to see you at night
watching the sunken crosses go by,
standing and weeping,
because before death's river you weep
forlornly, woundedly,
you weep weeping, your eyes filled
with tears, with tears, with tears.
(amazing that this was written just one year before his death. to you, federico, an Ode)
you see the world, the streets,
the vinegar,
the farewells in the stations
when the smoke lifts its decisive wheels
toward where there is nothing but some
separations, stones, railroad tracks" (This is from Residencia en la tierra. My favorite Neruda book and the most critically acclaimed. this is only one stanza from the poem "Ode to Federico Garcia Lorca" The footnote says "Neruda and Lorca became very close friends when Neruda was Chilean consul to the Spanish Republic. This ode, like much of Lorca's poetry, has premonitions of death. The poem was published in 1935; Lorca was executed by the Nationalists in 1936."
(warning the first several paragraphs are not necessarily cheerful or breezy. . . don't even get me started. but life isn't always cheerful. for lighter reading skip down to change of subject)
I'm in a weird place now. It's the poets. They are beginning to haunt me. I feel oddly disconnected from things. maybe it's because I'm too busy. maybe it's because I have to many undone things to be doing that keep muttering to me. Maybe because I feel a little lost, a little unsure, a little unsettled. I miss my family and my friends. and not that it's bad or that I'm unhappy-because I'm not. I'm also just feeling very ignorant. and lazy. I think one of the difficult things with trying to learn new things is that I feel overwhelmed and weighed down by all that I do not know, all the experiences I can't understand, the sounds I cannot make.
I keep thinking about that image: the sounds I cannot make. I can't do the double rr sound in spanish. I don't quite get the u vowel sound right either because I trying englishize it. but what impacts me the most is that Nico will try to make both sounds--the one I make that is incorrect and the correct one. . . and sometimes I really can not hear a difference. And I've just been thinking about this idea. . . that there is so much that we do not sense. I generalize difference so easily, cultural differences--and all kinds of differences-- without ever stopping to think that I may not even really understand or hear the ways we are different. I always babble these dreams about seeing how we are all connected, and I think we are, but we have got to learn to respect and accept that there are some things we can never understand or empathize with because of the eyes through which we see.
In Blanchot's book El espacio literario he talks about this idea that a writer always "busca salvar su relacion con el mundo a traves de la obra" looks to save his or her relationship with the world through their work. but the writer always fails because once the work exists it ceases to be "a piece" of the writer or "a possession" or even an expression of identity, because it becomes its own entity. . . theorists have argued that maybe it doesn't even begin to exist until it is read by a reader. Blanchot believes that a writer can never "read" his own work. There's a sort of blindness in the midst of the ravaging intimacy between creation and creator.
This is a shitty comparison, but I feel like in a sense we are so intimate with our existences that we can't ever step back and truly "read" them. I bet none of this makes sense. It doesnt make sense in my head either. It's not just the poets-it's the theorists and philosophers too. Blanchot, de Saussure, Lyotard, Lacan, Derrida, Foucault, Baudrillard. . .I mean what am I suppose to take from the poststructuralists?? a way to read? a way to not read? a way to see that I can not read? and why am I doing all this reading in spanish??
Enrique Lihn, a chilean poet from the generacion 50, believed that poetry and/or words can never capture reality, the symbols themselves, the signifiers (thank you de Saussure) are always trapped in their abstractness. This seems even more apparent to me thinking and studying in two languages. Why do we use the word "tree" (signifier) to represent the object(signified), why not parfl or lotupk?? what kind of emotional response to you have to the word "tree" ? what image does it give you? what assumptions do you make about that which it refers to? and in poetry. . . how do the signified and signifier which make up "tree" affect all english poetry. the vowel sounds, one syllable--all of these things together come together to influence the poet to use the word tree and not another. . . I mean how different from tree is "arbol"??? It's pretty different. two syllables. different vowels, and yet in spanish it is the signifier for "tree". We can't escape our own systems, especially of language. Like in my second to last sentence, I couldn't not say "tree" cuz its all I have to represent tree in english.
Are you bored? I bet you are. Don't worry the blog will get funnier when I stop thinking so hard.
So, the question for Lihn, is. . . Why write? maybe because we express ourselves the way we can, to capture a moment, an object-To Share An Idea. My idea can't get from me to you without the bridge of language. IS my idea mutated and changed and a little lost in the translation from object to symbol? (assuming that I don't think in language, which I do). Bad example.
I don't know. All this fuzziness in my head is swimming about because I'm reading all this stuff in spanish and thinking about it in english and then trying to communicate my unclear thoughts in spanish. . . and its not just that my spanish isn't good enough. . . it's that somehow along the way I detached my brain from my walking around self. I get up, I worry about not eating too many carbs or calories, I go to work or class. In class I think really hard and worry about all the things I haven't read, or need to read, or wish I had read, and then I'm out the door and gone thinking about how to make the verb structure Past Continuous or Imperfect fun for my adult students. and then I'm eating again, and trying to read the news, trying to keep up on the candidates, trying to figure out when high school shootings will stop, trying to read Chilean news (most of our city will be without water over the weekend), and Nico calls "Where are you?" "when will I see you?" and it's either his day or my day to miss the other person more than they are missing me or him. . . and then I work more or study more and then finally I get on the micro and watch the streets go by and try to remember their order and watch the people walking with broken umbrellas, and then I get off and walk home. I look down, not because I'm afraid of making eye contact with people, but because I'm too tired to make any fleeting connections at this time of night. I change. eat. go to the Y. . . and try to follow along and not look to much at my reflection in the front mirrored wall. I laugh at myself. I walk home and think about how I should blog or read. . . but just turn on the television or sleep.
How can I be one of those people who squeezes the juice out of life? If I smile more will I feel better? Why I am I so disorganized??? Nico keeps asking me, and the "it's genetic" answer isn't working. ha. I told him to talk to you mom, but seeing as he and I are still on basic english lessons, it might go like:
Nico: Is she always dirty?
Mom: Yes
Nico:She is just lazy?
Mom:that too.
I haven't blogged in a while and I forgot how cleansing it feels to write. And now that I'm thinking about all that I've written I think I should probably delete a lot of it because you all don't want to read my ramblings about life, you would probably just rather hear about the weather. but it rained today for the first time in a week or so. . .and I just can't delete these thoughts now that I've typed them out.
OK. CHANGE OF SUBJECT:
As some of you know I've had a rough couple of months in terms of my health. It seems like I'm just allergic to Chile. Starting with food poisoning,I got the severe case of sinusitis that I had for like two months and after lots of antibiotics I'm still sniffling, and then I had a couple of different infections all in the same week. But luckily I have just started feeling better (famous last words). I have been wanting to sign up at the YMCA for a while now(its only two blocks from my apartment!), but I had to wait until I got over my sinusitis because the ear, nose, and throat doctor told me I couldn't exercise until I was better . . . ANYWAYS, so I went on Wednesday and signed up and showed up for my very first class on Thursday. I was stoked. They have all these different classes that start with the word Guay (which I don't know what it means) followed by mostly different english words. For example, some of the options are:
Guay Aerostep
Guay Power
Guay Harmony
Guay Jump
creative. huh? well, I decided to attend guay power. I mean, why not get things off to a good start, right? and I was super nervous because I thought I might not understand the directions or something. I could just picture myself, the big bumbling gringa running into people and screaming "sorry" and then "uhh disculpa". I watched nervously from the side as the other class ended. and then, suddenly everyone started scrambling. running to get things. . . steps and weights and mats. and i thought. oh shit.
i better do that too.
So, I run around behind them and get all the stuff and clumsily find a space on the floor. and this tall skinny guy is up the stage and his shorts are way, way too short and I'm thinking I hope you will be careful with those shorts buddy.
and then we just start doing bicep curls and we never stop. . .ha
I mean seriously we did them for like ten minutes. and there was a little variation we did them fast and slow. two fast one slow. and I was trucking along with everybody and then all of a sudden, without even asking my permission, my left arm sorta died. It didn't go up anymore and I kinda laughed because I couldn't make it move no matter how hard I stared at it. and then i thought, well, this is sure embarrassing, but I just kept going with the right arm and the left arm in my mind was doing the same thing but in real life it was just wiggling a little bit still well below my waist. i dropped both weights and went on in imaginary weight world, where they may not be any pride but at least both arms were moving. the class continued. it was hard, but I enjoyed it. and when we finished I could barely walk down the stairs I felt like a sober drunk person. I called Nico to come and walk me home because I was afraid I couldn't do it. and then I think I think I cried a little bit on the way home (I'm laughing now thinking about it) because I just felt so pathetic. the next day, I went to Guay Harmony, where the teacher called me out as the new girl, asked my name eight times before she asked me to approach the stage and spell it for her (nightmare) and then she got excited and called the class international. This class is a mixture of Tai Chi, Pilates, and yoga. and i loved it and felt fine afterwards. I even felt fine when I went to sleep, but sometime in the wee hours I awoke with pain. the next day (saturday) I couldn't straighten out either of my arms past a 90 degree angle, they both hurt a lot when I tried, and the left one was worse, AND i thought they were beginning to swell. That day I also had some allergic reaction around my eye, so Nico took one look at me with my bent arms and red bubbly eye and we both started laughing so hard we were crying because I was soo pathetic. he was like what the ___ happened to you????
On sunday we went to this festival in a town called Tome with Nico's mom. It's about an hour's bus ride and I was still pretty pathetic. My arms had both swollen to the size that I barely recognized them as my own. I almost didnt fit in my jacket and Nico had to take it on and off for me. It was, to say the least, a sad but comical site. By Monday I could almost straighten them again. Nico and I took a bus over to San Pedro (on the outskirts of Concepcion) and where he lives and we walked around, down to a small lake, and we bought a two dollar superman kite which we flew like experts next to all these people who had heavy duty super duper kites with tails and lights and that almost sang, but we were still cool and it was reallllllyyy fun.
I have returned to the Y this week without any major injuries. I swear Nico is right, weird crap is always happening to me. I promise I'm not a hypochondriac. my washing machine needs an exorcism and shakes violently when its on spin cycle, so much so that I usually run and try to sit on it, and pray that the neighbor below doesn't complain. My toilet still doesn't flush. . . something about the water pressure so I still have to dump a bowl of water down the drain when I flush. (my apartment really is nice, I promise).
My camera is supposedly finished now, and I have deposited the money. . .so they should be mailing it to me. and when I get it. . . get ready because I'm going to take a billion pictures. . . of the apartment, the streets, the Ymca.
I have decided I want a pet, specifically a dog. I know what your thinking. Nico said it. You don't even clean after yourself. . . how are you going to clean after a dog. WEll, I will darnet. Since there are about a billion roaming dogs in Chile, we took to the streets the other night to look for one (I want a puppy, one that won't grow too big since my apartment is pretty small). I see on average twenty dogs in the streets a day. but Nico and I walked around for two hours and only saw ONE!! the luck. and the one we saw was funny but a little deranged, so I vetoed him. By the way, if we do adopt a street dog, we will take him directly to the vet first (don't panic family) to get him checked out and give him the necessary shots.
I'm hoping that I might get a birthday puppy. I can say that because Nico doesn't read my blog. Pups could hang out with Nico during the day when I'm working and then keep me company in the afternoons and evenings and Nico would take care of pups while I'm in the states (two and half months and counting folks).
alright, well I've spent way too much time on this blog instead of studying! ha! My big interview is on the 31st, so I will be way less stressed after that.
miss you guys.
hope you and yours are happy and safe,
una aurora,
Mere
I'm too tired to type the whole poem (so look it up), but here's another of the stanzas:
When you fly dressed as a peach tree,
when you laugh with a laugh of hurricaned rice,
when to sing you shake arteries and teeth,
throat and fingers,
I could die for how sweet you are,
I could die for the red lakes
where in the midst of autumn you live
with a fallen steed and a bloodied god,
I could die for the cemeteries
that pass like ash-gray rivers
with water and tombs,
at night, among drowned bells:
rivers as thick as wards
of sick soldiers, that suddenly grow
toward death in rivers with marble numbers
and rotted crowns, and funeral oils:
I could die to see you at night
watching the sunken crosses go by,
standing and weeping,
because before death's river you weep
forlornly, woundedly,
you weep weeping, your eyes filled
with tears, with tears, with tears.
(amazing that this was written just one year before his death. to you, federico, an Ode)
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Primavera here we come!!!
It looks like spring. The sun is shining, the flowers are blooming, the breeze is blowing (it could change at any minute to dark menacing skies), and things are good.
I´m finally out of the other apartment and into a new, amazing (cozy or tiny)apartment with a tiny balcony and a view that looks over the city. It has a kitning room-basically one large living room type space with a kitchen separated by a bar. It was almost fully furnished which helped. It has a small bedroom and a nice sized bath. I don´t have to share the kitchen with ANYONE, and I especially don´t have to share the bathroom. Yippeeee. things are good folks. i even bought a futon. I love futons- two purposes in one. makes me miss america. ha. anyways. I dont have much time or any pictures (the camera is in the fixing process). So, I promise there will be pictures soon, or as soon as possible. I have two lovely neighbors! there an older couple who have made it their job to take care of me. Raul and Nicole got married!!!Congratulations to them. we are all super excited. and Carl and Sierra are back. We´re not sure for how long, but I´m just glad to have the chance to hang out with Sierra again. Nico and I are good. I randomly (kinda) met his mom last night (without him because he had to work). He got tickets to the opera last minute and invited me and his mom but couldnt go because he had to work. so she and I (we´d never seen eachother before) met in front of the theater, and then promptly realized that our tickets weren´t valid because they had to be turned in earlier (or something), so I invited her back up to my apartment for tea and we had a lovely chat for about two hours. She´s absolutely adorable. As you can imagine, I was pretty nervous. I mean:
1. meeting the boyfriend´s mom
2.without the boyfriend
3.in spanish
but she repeatedly told me how impressed she was by my spanish and that she thought I was going to speak like a five year old. . . (thanks Nico). Anyways, she is lovely. I may invite her to dinner sometime this week. I dont really have a table so that might be complicated, but I´ll figure it out.
My classes are good, but I know this all the calm before the storm becuase my masters classes start this week(two), and the classes I teach start this week. So I will be in the classroom a lot more. I havent started the Y yet because I´m still trying to get a medical certificate (the plan is to try to go friday). Im still not sure if I´m going to buy a car or not. it changes daily.
what else. I have a practice interview with the director of the masters program. Im looking for a job for just the month of february. . .and I guess thats all for now.
una aurora,
Mere
I´m finally out of the other apartment and into a new, amazing (cozy or tiny)apartment with a tiny balcony and a view that looks over the city. It has a kitning room-basically one large living room type space with a kitchen separated by a bar. It was almost fully furnished which helped. It has a small bedroom and a nice sized bath. I don´t have to share the kitchen with ANYONE, and I especially don´t have to share the bathroom. Yippeeee. things are good folks. i even bought a futon. I love futons- two purposes in one. makes me miss america. ha. anyways. I dont have much time or any pictures (the camera is in the fixing process). So, I promise there will be pictures soon, or as soon as possible. I have two lovely neighbors! there an older couple who have made it their job to take care of me. Raul and Nicole got married!!!Congratulations to them. we are all super excited. and Carl and Sierra are back. We´re not sure for how long, but I´m just glad to have the chance to hang out with Sierra again. Nico and I are good. I randomly (kinda) met his mom last night (without him because he had to work). He got tickets to the opera last minute and invited me and his mom but couldnt go because he had to work. so she and I (we´d never seen eachother before) met in front of the theater, and then promptly realized that our tickets weren´t valid because they had to be turned in earlier (or something), so I invited her back up to my apartment for tea and we had a lovely chat for about two hours. She´s absolutely adorable. As you can imagine, I was pretty nervous. I mean:
1. meeting the boyfriend´s mom
2.without the boyfriend
3.in spanish
but she repeatedly told me how impressed she was by my spanish and that she thought I was going to speak like a five year old. . . (thanks Nico). Anyways, she is lovely. I may invite her to dinner sometime this week. I dont really have a table so that might be complicated, but I´ll figure it out.
My classes are good, but I know this all the calm before the storm becuase my masters classes start this week(two), and the classes I teach start this week. So I will be in the classroom a lot more. I havent started the Y yet because I´m still trying to get a medical certificate (the plan is to try to go friday). Im still not sure if I´m going to buy a car or not. it changes daily.
what else. I have a practice interview with the director of the masters program. Im looking for a job for just the month of february. . .and I guess thats all for now.
una aurora,
Mere
Monday, August 13, 2007
Noticias Aleatorias (Rainy cold sunday)
I've been writing and reading a lot of emails lately. and i just want to say. It's really wonderful to hear from you guys. I miss you and really like knowing what's going on with you.
It's raining here. and it's cold. really cold. and I'm poised to begin the week with all sorts of thoughts churning in my head.
culture. I may have already written this, but "cultural perspective" takes on a whole new-multi-faceted and overly complicated meaning when you're in a inter-cultural relationship. oh we see the world in so many ways the same. oh we see the world in so many ways different. and yet- it's not super easy, but so rewarding--I don't even like that word "rewarding" in this context-i really mean that its lovely. and I'm learning and reevaluating my thinking all the time. trying to not automatically privilege my perspective, trying to take lots of deep breaths when I speak in spanish about complicated "feelings" and such. HA.
I should wash my hands more often. I'm just saying. I should. I'm sick too often. oh, maybe thats because I dont have heat! ha-
It's freezing here. Windy, Wet, and Cold. I don't dislike it though, the rain is comforting.
I neatly turned in my paper on friday. well, really I just emailed it. and I'm super proud of it. I procrastinated as usual, but a 12 page research paper in spanish where I only had to look up three words in the dictionary means something people. it means progress! and not the machine, technology way.
I went to see the Director of the Postgrad lit programs last week, and I was soooo nervous, but I just did it. I mean, the thing is, when I get my nervous. . . my spanish just sucks. and I. . . needed to touch base with him and make sure it was still ok for me to be taking masters classes this semester, but I also wanted to talk to him more about me wanting to stay to do the masters here. . .so i just took a deep breath. and he was AMAZINGLY COOL. and extremely excited that I want to stay. . . he even told me he would help look for scholarships for me! and now i just have to prepare for the application and the entrance exam, which is an oral interview with all the faculty (YIKES!), but I'll be ready. . . and I'll figure out some way to calm the nerves. anyways, so that's nothing but good news.
My job is a little crazy right now because due to some rather sad and unfortunate circumstances my lovely and wonderful "big sis" Sierra, had to go back to the states, and we're not sure when or if she will come back.
so, that left me to coordinate all the native speaking professors in my program. which was at the time just me!!!!!! and by coordinate i mean like figuring out what days and times all the conversation classes will be this semester (39 classes, over 400 students), and figuring out whose going to teach them (I was slightly panicking for a few days because we still didnt have more teachers). Luckily, Barret flew in Friday. I dont really know anything about him except that he's from the states and will be working full time (thank god!). so, I feel a little less stressed. It's still a lot of work, but there are perks. Like for example, I got offered this side job to teach english to the university faculty and staff (who are soooooo coool) for 30 dollars an hour (15 mil pesos)!!!!! I know, seriously right!!!!???
so that's, ridiculously cool and hopefully i will be able to save some money. . . and maybe even buy a car (I'm looking around).
I'll fill you all in more about my classes I'm taking and teaching as they unfold.
I still miss Sally and Sierra. and I'm thinking about you Sierra.
I don't have any pictures this week. As we speak my lovely boy friend (I really like the word lovely now adays. it was sally. she rubbed the word off on me) is on his way to santiago with his brother and he's going to drop off my camera at the camera shop there. he gets major points for that.
I'm thinking a lot about culture and gender right now (well, I always am), but specifically about how the two interact and how I think that a person becomes very aware of their own identity and identity struggles when they live in another culture. I am constantly over-aware of who I am here, sometimes in good ways and sometimes not.
this entry isnt funny at all. sorry. I did flood the bathroom yesterday. but it totally wasnt my fault that the sink was clogged and the washing machine water drain was in the sink. I mean, how was i supposed to know it was clogged? we did a lot of water scooping into a dust pan.
I'm such a bad friend and haven't mailed a bday present yet that i have had for a month. I'm doing it tomorrow. seriously.
and I'm also signing up for the gym tomorrow. 7:30 aerobics here i come. no more potona around here. don't ask. somebody called me that (i think in a good way), but I'm pretty sure it means fat a**. curvy girls just can't get a break. Katherine Heigl I love you-go girl.
speaking of my favorite grey's anatomy character. great greys quote:
"Hey. I ate everything out of the fridge last night-everything-including the tub of butter. There's no judgement here."-Izzie
This quotation. is my life.
I'm not really obsessed with the show, I just watched some of the old episodes while I was procrastinating and not writing my paper.
it's raining hard. and I think I will go to sleep now. it's like 1 am or something crazy and I have signing up for aerobics to do. I promise there will be blogging about the exercising. i cant wait to learn exercise commands in spanish or be that crazy giant gringa going the wrong way because she can't understand the directions.
that was funny. maybe. a little.? love you mom. miss you and love you family.
email me people!
hoping you and yours are happy and safe,
una aurora,
Mere
It's raining here. and it's cold. really cold. and I'm poised to begin the week with all sorts of thoughts churning in my head.
culture. I may have already written this, but "cultural perspective" takes on a whole new-multi-faceted and overly complicated meaning when you're in a inter-cultural relationship. oh we see the world in so many ways the same. oh we see the world in so many ways different. and yet- it's not super easy, but so rewarding--I don't even like that word "rewarding" in this context-i really mean that its lovely. and I'm learning and reevaluating my thinking all the time. trying to not automatically privilege my perspective, trying to take lots of deep breaths when I speak in spanish about complicated "feelings" and such. HA.
I should wash my hands more often. I'm just saying. I should. I'm sick too often. oh, maybe thats because I dont have heat! ha-
It's freezing here. Windy, Wet, and Cold. I don't dislike it though, the rain is comforting.
I neatly turned in my paper on friday. well, really I just emailed it. and I'm super proud of it. I procrastinated as usual, but a 12 page research paper in spanish where I only had to look up three words in the dictionary means something people. it means progress! and not the machine, technology way.
I went to see the Director of the Postgrad lit programs last week, and I was soooo nervous, but I just did it. I mean, the thing is, when I get my nervous. . . my spanish just sucks. and I. . . needed to touch base with him and make sure it was still ok for me to be taking masters classes this semester, but I also wanted to talk to him more about me wanting to stay to do the masters here. . .so i just took a deep breath. and he was AMAZINGLY COOL. and extremely excited that I want to stay. . . he even told me he would help look for scholarships for me! and now i just have to prepare for the application and the entrance exam, which is an oral interview with all the faculty (YIKES!), but I'll be ready. . . and I'll figure out some way to calm the nerves. anyways, so that's nothing but good news.
My job is a little crazy right now because due to some rather sad and unfortunate circumstances my lovely and wonderful "big sis" Sierra, had to go back to the states, and we're not sure when or if she will come back.
so, that left me to coordinate all the native speaking professors in my program. which was at the time just me!!!!!! and by coordinate i mean like figuring out what days and times all the conversation classes will be this semester (39 classes, over 400 students), and figuring out whose going to teach them (I was slightly panicking for a few days because we still didnt have more teachers). Luckily, Barret flew in Friday. I dont really know anything about him except that he's from the states and will be working full time (thank god!). so, I feel a little less stressed. It's still a lot of work, but there are perks. Like for example, I got offered this side job to teach english to the university faculty and staff (who are soooooo coool) for 30 dollars an hour (15 mil pesos)!!!!! I know, seriously right!!!!???
so that's, ridiculously cool and hopefully i will be able to save some money. . . and maybe even buy a car (I'm looking around).
I'll fill you all in more about my classes I'm taking and teaching as they unfold.
I still miss Sally and Sierra. and I'm thinking about you Sierra.
I don't have any pictures this week. As we speak my lovely boy friend (I really like the word lovely now adays. it was sally. she rubbed the word off on me) is on his way to santiago with his brother and he's going to drop off my camera at the camera shop there. he gets major points for that.
I'm thinking a lot about culture and gender right now (well, I always am), but specifically about how the two interact and how I think that a person becomes very aware of their own identity and identity struggles when they live in another culture. I am constantly over-aware of who I am here, sometimes in good ways and sometimes not.
this entry isnt funny at all. sorry. I did flood the bathroom yesterday. but it totally wasnt my fault that the sink was clogged and the washing machine water drain was in the sink. I mean, how was i supposed to know it was clogged? we did a lot of water scooping into a dust pan.
I'm such a bad friend and haven't mailed a bday present yet that i have had for a month. I'm doing it tomorrow. seriously.
and I'm also signing up for the gym tomorrow. 7:30 aerobics here i come. no more potona around here. don't ask. somebody called me that (i think in a good way), but I'm pretty sure it means fat a**. curvy girls just can't get a break. Katherine Heigl I love you-go girl.
speaking of my favorite grey's anatomy character. great greys quote:
"Hey. I ate everything out of the fridge last night-everything-including the tub of butter. There's no judgement here."-Izzie
This quotation. is my life.
I'm not really obsessed with the show, I just watched some of the old episodes while I was procrastinating and not writing my paper.
it's raining hard. and I think I will go to sleep now. it's like 1 am or something crazy and I have signing up for aerobics to do. I promise there will be blogging about the exercising. i cant wait to learn exercise commands in spanish or be that crazy giant gringa going the wrong way because she can't understand the directions.
that was funny. maybe. a little.? love you mom. miss you and love you family.
email me people!
hoping you and yours are happy and safe,
una aurora,
Mere
Friday, March 2, 2007
Nosotros/los poetas/caminantes/exploramos/el mundo,/en cada puerta/nos recibió la vida/participamos/en la lucha terrestre.
"We
the wandering
poets
explored
the world,
at every door
life received us,
we took part
in the earthly struggle."
I try not to have too many specified life goals--just blurry hazes of possible goals off in the horizon,
because I know that if I took a permanent marker and drew those goals into dark sketched lines,
they would turn into barriers, pressing down on me and driving me scared skinny through a narrow path with only one question circling in my head---
how do I obtain these "goals"?
So, I prefer to wake up with only one goal, to do my best to try and be my truest self, whatever that means.
And I think Change,
although it is most always painful and/or difficult, a little awkward too perhaps,
is always good.
It keeps life fresh and adventurous and new. It keeps me excited and provokes a desire to learn new things, to be
new things.
Tuesday night was my last night with my family in Santiago. It was pretty sad. We ordered pizza, and I made them "fresh" chocolate chip pancakes, my specialty. I was pretty proud of them. Check it out:
and I gave them all my gifts. Wednesday Pancho, Berti, and Claudia all drove me to the airport and came with me all the way to security, where we waved until I couldn't see them anymore. sigh. sometimes it stinks that you have to close some doors before you can open new ones. sorry for the cliche. . . but. . . change is good. good, good.
So, I'm in Concepcion.
I arrived on Wednesday (holy moly was that only two days ago???) at around 4pm. My luggage of course was wayyy the weight limit, and I had to cut my little toe off in the airport and hand it to the lady to get her to let me take it all. not really. I just had to pay a lot, but you get my point.
When I got to Conce, Ana Maria (who I live with), Domke Schultz (the president of the Rotary club and my host), and Nelson Olate (the secretary of the club who I've been emailing with) were all there to meet me!! It was great. The guys brought me beautiful flowers:
Then we headed back to Ana Maria's house, which is lovely, and I dropped off my stuff. Then we went straight over to meet Monica Zambrano, who is the secretary of the office for international students. She's got a warm-I'm only human and I do my best-kinda smile, and she let me know all the stuff I needed to do in order to register (which I'm still a little unsure about).
Then we returned back to the house had some dinner and spent a few hours trying to figure out the wireless code. The whole afternoon Ana Maria and I had the chance to talk, talk, talk. This lady is great. She's probably 5'3" or 5'4" and she's super spunky. I have no idea how old she is, but she has a very young spirit. She's a hoot. She speaks Super fast, but it's good for me. and she's constantly correcting me, which is also helpful. She and everyone else keep talking about how good my spanish is which has really helped my confidence. I feel like I'm in really good shape with my spanish. sweet. it's a new feeling.
So, Wednesday night she and I sat around and chatted while I unpacked. It turns out that Ana Maria is separated (permanently it seems) and lives in this big house by herself with her brother who is 53 and has down syndrome (he's super sweet). There are four other bedrooms in the house other than mine. One of which is hers. For the last three years, every semester she has had four foreign students stay with her. So, this house is really a safe-haven for foreign mis-fits--cool huh?? I feel like I'm going to fit right in.
It's good though. I feel like I'm going to have a family here. I am the only student here right now, and I lucked out because my bedroom is the only one downstairs with a private bath. It's right next to the kitchen (Thanks to God, because s/he knows me so well), which means I'm pretty much in heaven, with quick access to the bread drawer (these are a staple in all chilean house-holds, a random drawer somewhere in the kitchen, that has bags of fresh-baked bread in it-it's like finding a basket full of chocolate filled easter eggs in one bush---man. . . I'm twisted).
(you can take the girl out of the south. . . but you can't take the appetite out of the girl???) Sometimes I see the stories on the news about the anorexic models who have died, and I don't know whether to laugh or cry. That's usually because I'm eating while I watch tv. just kidding. ANYWAYS--
Ana Maria isn't sure what other students will be coming except for one, a boy, a fulbright scholar from the US who gets here next friday. sweet. a new friend. I hope he doesn't like bread. just kidding. sorry, sometimes I forget that other people read this.
Here are some pictures of the house and stuff:
This is my lovely little bulletin board. /as you can see there are lots of poems and photos up there. If you want your sweet and kind card to be added to my bulletin board, all you have to do is send it to:
Meredith Hanson
Victoria 370-B
Barrio Universitario
Concepcion, 4030000
CHILE
I have no shame. I like mail, and I miss you guys. I'm trying to be more like Pam, you know Pam--from The Office. She's trying to be more up-front about what she wants in life. Well, gosh darnett, I want mail. I promise if you send me mail- I will send you mail too! ha,ok, this is getting pathetic. . . moving on:
This is my bed. Isn't it lovely?
This is my window, desk, and bed. Yes, I know I am stating the obvious, but I feel that commentary is necessary with "tour of the house" photos.
My stove (for the WINTER or for these cold summer nights because they are cold people. I'm a little afraid of what winter is going to feel like, but I'll toughen up) and my cute little stool. I'm not quite sure what the stool is for, but maybe if I was shorter it would come in handy.
tah-dah. my very own skylight. I told you people-this place is snazzy.
bam! skylight again.
aww, isn't my bookshelf cute??? I'm wishing desperately that I had brought more books in English. Books are extremely expensive here, but once I get my library card it's going to be like christmas all year around. that's right.
more shelves, I'm telling you, the organizational potential in here is THRILLING. I don't know why this is so funny to me, just that thought about the orginazational potential being thrilling, but I can't stop giggling at the thought. . .
If you don't know me. . . I'm not usually much of a "organizational" kinda person.
mom, and dad, and everyone else who has ever lived with me or near me. you know you still love me.
the view from my bed down to my bathroom door (straight ahead), my closet (on the left), and the exit/entrance door (on the right
private bath
private shower
closet-hello, organized lifestyle . . . but wait-----there's more--
Yes, those are my socks and underwear in little containers. This concludes the tour of my room, isn't it sweet? Onto the rest of the house:
dining room. . .
which is connected to the . . . living room. Living room. . .
which is connected to the. . .hip bone. ha. just kidding more living room
cool china, book, dresser thingy.
hallway, and yes that is me being sly and trying to take a picture of myself.
stairs
Ana Maria's room and dark fuzzy picture of Ana Maria.
more of Ana Maria's room
TV room!
TV room!
hallway with other bedroom of soon-to-be new best friends.
Kitchen, very spacious.
fridge and cabinets
Me and Annette. I love Annette! She's one of the coolest dogs ever. We're totally going to be park buddies. Notice that I'm squinting here? Those are my glasses on the table. Obviously, I can't see without my glasses. But people here always ask me to take off my glasses when they take pictures of me, maybe they are trying to tell me something. . . like. . .
I look better squinting??
this is my wndow from the outside. not very exciting photo, but kinda romantic huh?
the walkway from the house to the street
I have a lot of pictures of the campus, but I'm going to save them for another blog. I don't want to talk to much about registering for classes because I'm a little anal, and it is stressing me out a little bit. I was pretty stressed out about it yesterday. . .well, until I met Chris.
On Thursday I met with a very nice Spanish Professor(who is not named Chris) who is going to contact lit professors and help me register for classes. He told me to come back at noon on friday. I liked him because he told me my spanish was good, and I pretty much automatically really like anyone who tells me that. ha. no shame.
So, when I showed up at noon on Friday, the professor was walking out of the building. . .
uh. . . hola??? I said
and he was like oh, hey, and basically told me that since all the first year classes started first (on monday) he won't have my information until tuesday (don't ask me to explain-I don't get it either, and it just makes me nervous) I'm pretty sure he also said that I have to wait and let all the chilean students register first and then see what classes are available (Ana Maria says that this is NOT what he said, but I think she's just trying to make me feel better). Regardless, the advanced classes don't start for two weeks or so, so I know I'm ok. . . I'm just from the US, and all I can think about are the nightmares I had about BSC registration, with the big screen on the wall with the word CLOSED next to every one of the classes I wanted.
Breathe, Meredith, Breathe. We are not in Alabama anymore folks.
Anyways, like Everything in Chile, things will work out beautifully, I just need to be patient. I'm going to see the professor again on Tuesday.
After we had that enchanting conversation with the professor on the stairs while he was on his way out, we walked upstairs to the English floor.
I would like to volunteer to teach english at a school somewhere close. They are always looking for native speakers to help teach, and Ana Maria knows a few of the english professors. While I was waiting in line to speak to one of these professors, I spotted Chris.
A few days ago, Ana Maria and I were walking behind this tall, blond, blue-eyed chap who was walking with a group of Chileans, and by his thick accent it was obvious he was a gringo.
This chap, whose name happens to be Chris, was standing around on the English floor yesterday. Ana Maria, who like Kevin Bacon, somehow knows everyone and is connected to everything, said that she remembered him and went off to talk to him. This lady doesn't know what the word "timida" means.
So, I'm just standing in line still, and I hear her yelling my name. great.
She introduced me to Chris, he's here to teach english and has actually already been here for a semester and leaves in July. He has a thick, thick accent, but seems very nice (and very attractive -by the way--). Somehow Ana Maria walked away slyly and left us to chat. I was just chatting away in spanish, and he was like,
"uhh do you mind if we speak English?--It's just easier."
shame.
"Oh sure," I said, sorta chuckling, "sorry."
turns out Chris is from England. I know, seriously, the accent is killer, and he's super nice. He hasn't had that much of an opportunity to practice his spanish because he's only here to teach english and isn't taking any classes. He said that I should watch out, since my spanish was so good (right), because a lot of the british and american boys that are here teaching leech onto people like me.
hmmmmm, leech on.
I started to tell him he could leech onto me or that I would be happy to help him with his spanish any time. . .
but I just said I would definitely watch our for those leeches.
Is that even how you spell leeches??
anyways, I had to run to speak to the Prof about volunteering (she seemed stoked that I was interested), and I said goodbye to Chris as we were leaving, and we exchanged numbers so that hopefully we can hang out.
FRIEND MY AGE COUNT:
1
sweeeeeeeeet. and he's british. double sweet.
anyways, besides the fact that this was the first time I've spoken English with anyone (other than my family on skype) in a while it was a bizarre cultural experience.
I mean you know how you're standing in the grocery store line or something and there are two people in front of you, and I don't know let's say they're speaking Swahili and all you can think is, man, I wonder what they're talking about-- are they laughing at me, why can't they just speak english, why are they speaking their language here? . . . etc. etc. You know you've thought it. . . well, Chris and I were totally those people for like ten minutes. and I saw people looking at us, and it was a surreal experience-I was really excited to be speaking english but also a little embarrassed. I almost wanted to apologize.
like to turn around to the other students and be like. . .
uhhh. . .he's british, look at him. . . I'm sorry. I'm desperate for friends here, and I can't refuse the accent.
but I just tried to speak softer, which I'm not really good at either.
anyways, at one point ana maria popped back in outta nowhere to tell us to stop speaking english, only spanish!!! she said to him. . . you both need to practice!! and I felt bad. she's was laughing and everything, but I felt lazy. . .
and also. . . kinda cool.
You remember when you were in like 5th grade or something and you got into a pig-latin kick, and thought you were so cool cuz you knew a secret language. it was kinda like that.
anyways, this whole discussion may seem immature, but I think in a lot of ways our languages, our accents are just more ways that we shape our own identities, and there may be something to be said for respecting the language around you. I don't know.
anyways, all of this was really just to say, I met a cute, tall british guy. haha. just kidding.
I also met a friend of Ana Maria's whose name is Gabriella, she 70 and Super cool. We rented movies and watched "When a man loves a woman" and "four weddings and a funeral" -both great. Gabriella is a widow. She's spunky and hilarious. I already love her.
I also met Ana Maria's daughter, six month year old grandson, and son-in-law last night. Funny, smart, and charming-they appear to be the perfect little family. They call babies wa-wa's here. ha. wa-wa. i love it.
I'm going to my first rotary meeting on Tuesday night, and I hoping to sign up for salsa lessons on Monday. promise I will write more soon.
I hope you and yours are happy and safe,
una aurora,
mere
Ode to the book (II)
Book,
beautiful
book,
miniscule forest,
leaf
after leaf
your paper
smells of the elements,
you are
matutinal and nocturnal,
vegetal,
oceanic,
in you ancient pages
bear hunters,
camp fires
near the Mississisppi
canoes
in the islands,
later
roads
and roads,
revelations,
insurgent
races,
Rimbaud like a wounded
fish bleeding
flopping in the mud,
and the beauty
of fellowship,
stone by stone
the human castle rises,
sorros intertwined
with strength,
actions of solidarity,
clandestine
book
from pocket
to pocket,
hidden
lamp,
red star.
We
the wandering
poets
explored
the world,
at every door
life received us,
we took part
in the earthly struggle.
What was our victory?
A book,
a book full
of human touches,
of shirts,
a book
without loneliness, with men
and tools,
a book
is victory.
It lives and falls
like all fruit,
it doesn't have light,
it doesn't have
shadow,
it fades,
it sheds its leaves,
it gets lost
in the streets,
it tumbles ot earth.
Morning-fresh
book of poetry,
return
again
to hold snow and moss
on your pages
so that footsteps
or eyes
may keep carving
trails:
once more
describe the world to us,
the springs
in the middle of the forest
the high woodlands,
the polar
planets,
and man
on the roads,
on the new roads,
advancing
in the jungle,
in the water,
in the sky,
in the naked solitude of the sea,
man
discovering
the ultimate secrets,
man returning
with a book,
the hunter back again
with a book,
the farmer
plowing
with a book.
ODA AL LIBRO (II)
LIBRO
hermoso,
libro,
mínimo bosque,
hoja
tras hoja,
huele
tu papel
a elemento,
eres
matutino y nocturno,
cereal,
oceánico,
en tus antiguas páginas
cazadores de osos,
fogatas
cerca del Mississippi,
canoas
en las islas,
más tarde
caminos
y caminos,
revelaciones,
pueblos
insurgentes,
Rimbaud como un herido
pez sangriento
palpitando en el lodo,
y la hermosura
de la fraternidad,
piedra por piedra
sube el castillo humano,
dolores que entretejen
la firmeza,
acciones solidarias,
libro
oculto
de bolsillo
en bolsillo,
lámpara
clandestina,
estrella roja.
Nosotros
los poetas
caminantes
exploramos
el mundo,
en cada puerta
nos recibió la vida,
participamos
en la lucha terrestre.
Cuál fue nuestra victoria?
Un libro,
un libro lleno
de contactos humanos,
de camisas,
un libro
sin soledad, con hombres
y herramientas,
un libro
es la victoria.
Vive y cae
como todos los frutos,
no sólo tiene luz,
no sólo tiene
sombra,
se apaga,
se deshoja,
se pierde
entre las calles,
se desploma en la tierra.
Libro de poesía
de mañana,
otra vez
vuelve
a tener nieve o musgo
en tus páginas
para que las pisadas
o los ojos
vayan grabando
huellas:
de nuevo
descríbenos el mundo
los manantiales
entre la espesura,
las altas arboledas,
los planetas
polares,
y el hombre
en los caminos,
en los nuevos caminos,
avanzando
en la selva,
en el agua,
en el cielo,
en la desnuda soledad marina,
el hombre
descubriendo
los últimos secretos,
el hombre
regresando
con un libro,
el cazador de vuelta
con un libro,
el campesino arando
con un libro.
the wandering
poets
explored
the world,
at every door
life received us,
we took part
in the earthly struggle."
I try not to have too many specified life goals--just blurry hazes of possible goals off in the horizon,
because I know that if I took a permanent marker and drew those goals into dark sketched lines,
they would turn into barriers, pressing down on me and driving me scared skinny through a narrow path with only one question circling in my head---
how do I obtain these "goals"?
So, I prefer to wake up with only one goal, to do my best to try and be my truest self, whatever that means.
And I think Change,
although it is most always painful and/or difficult, a little awkward too perhaps,
is always good.
It keeps life fresh and adventurous and new. It keeps me excited and provokes a desire to learn new things, to be
new things.
Tuesday night was my last night with my family in Santiago. It was pretty sad. We ordered pizza, and I made them "fresh" chocolate chip pancakes, my specialty. I was pretty proud of them. Check it out:
and I gave them all my gifts. Wednesday Pancho, Berti, and Claudia all drove me to the airport and came with me all the way to security, where we waved until I couldn't see them anymore. sigh. sometimes it stinks that you have to close some doors before you can open new ones. sorry for the cliche. . . but. . . change is good. good, good.
So, I'm in Concepcion.
I arrived on Wednesday (holy moly was that only two days ago???) at around 4pm. My luggage of course was wayyy the weight limit, and I had to cut my little toe off in the airport and hand it to the lady to get her to let me take it all. not really. I just had to pay a lot, but you get my point.
When I got to Conce, Ana Maria (who I live with), Domke Schultz (the president of the Rotary club and my host), and Nelson Olate (the secretary of the club who I've been emailing with) were all there to meet me!! It was great. The guys brought me beautiful flowers:
Then we headed back to Ana Maria's house, which is lovely, and I dropped off my stuff. Then we went straight over to meet Monica Zambrano, who is the secretary of the office for international students. She's got a warm-I'm only human and I do my best-kinda smile, and she let me know all the stuff I needed to do in order to register (which I'm still a little unsure about).
Then we returned back to the house had some dinner and spent a few hours trying to figure out the wireless code. The whole afternoon Ana Maria and I had the chance to talk, talk, talk. This lady is great. She's probably 5'3" or 5'4" and she's super spunky. I have no idea how old she is, but she has a very young spirit. She's a hoot. She speaks Super fast, but it's good for me. and she's constantly correcting me, which is also helpful. She and everyone else keep talking about how good my spanish is which has really helped my confidence. I feel like I'm in really good shape with my spanish. sweet. it's a new feeling.
So, Wednesday night she and I sat around and chatted while I unpacked. It turns out that Ana Maria is separated (permanently it seems) and lives in this big house by herself with her brother who is 53 and has down syndrome (he's super sweet). There are four other bedrooms in the house other than mine. One of which is hers. For the last three years, every semester she has had four foreign students stay with her. So, this house is really a safe-haven for foreign mis-fits--cool huh?? I feel like I'm going to fit right in.
It's good though. I feel like I'm going to have a family here. I am the only student here right now, and I lucked out because my bedroom is the only one downstairs with a private bath. It's right next to the kitchen (Thanks to God, because s/he knows me so well), which means I'm pretty much in heaven, with quick access to the bread drawer (these are a staple in all chilean house-holds, a random drawer somewhere in the kitchen, that has bags of fresh-baked bread in it-it's like finding a basket full of chocolate filled easter eggs in one bush---man. . . I'm twisted).
(you can take the girl out of the south. . . but you can't take the appetite out of the girl???) Sometimes I see the stories on the news about the anorexic models who have died, and I don't know whether to laugh or cry. That's usually because I'm eating while I watch tv. just kidding. ANYWAYS--
Ana Maria isn't sure what other students will be coming except for one, a boy, a fulbright scholar from the US who gets here next friday. sweet. a new friend. I hope he doesn't like bread. just kidding. sorry, sometimes I forget that other people read this.
Here are some pictures of the house and stuff:
This is my lovely little bulletin board. /as you can see there are lots of poems and photos up there. If you want your sweet and kind card to be added to my bulletin board, all you have to do is send it to:
Meredith Hanson
Victoria 370-B
Barrio Universitario
Concepcion, 4030000
CHILE
I have no shame. I like mail, and I miss you guys. I'm trying to be more like Pam, you know Pam--from The Office. She's trying to be more up-front about what she wants in life. Well, gosh darnett, I want mail. I promise if you send me mail- I will send you mail too! ha,ok, this is getting pathetic. . . moving on:
This is my bed. Isn't it lovely?
This is my window, desk, and bed. Yes, I know I am stating the obvious, but I feel that commentary is necessary with "tour of the house" photos.
My stove (for the WINTER or for these cold summer nights because they are cold people. I'm a little afraid of what winter is going to feel like, but I'll toughen up) and my cute little stool. I'm not quite sure what the stool is for, but maybe if I was shorter it would come in handy.
tah-dah. my very own skylight. I told you people-this place is snazzy.
bam! skylight again.
aww, isn't my bookshelf cute??? I'm wishing desperately that I had brought more books in English. Books are extremely expensive here, but once I get my library card it's going to be like christmas all year around. that's right.
more shelves, I'm telling you, the organizational potential in here is THRILLING. I don't know why this is so funny to me, just that thought about the orginazational potential being thrilling, but I can't stop giggling at the thought. . .
If you don't know me. . . I'm not usually much of a "organizational" kinda person.
mom, and dad, and everyone else who has ever lived with me or near me. you know you still love me.
the view from my bed down to my bathroom door (straight ahead), my closet (on the left), and the exit/entrance door (on the right
private bath
private shower
closet-hello, organized lifestyle . . . but wait-----there's more--
Yes, those are my socks and underwear in little containers. This concludes the tour of my room, isn't it sweet? Onto the rest of the house:
dining room. . .
which is connected to the . . . living room. Living room. . .
which is connected to the. . .hip bone. ha. just kidding more living room
cool china, book, dresser thingy.
hallway, and yes that is me being sly and trying to take a picture of myself.
stairs
Ana Maria's room and dark fuzzy picture of Ana Maria.
more of Ana Maria's room
TV room!
TV room!
hallway with other bedroom of soon-to-be new best friends.
Kitchen, very spacious.
fridge and cabinets
Me and Annette. I love Annette! She's one of the coolest dogs ever. We're totally going to be park buddies. Notice that I'm squinting here? Those are my glasses on the table. Obviously, I can't see without my glasses. But people here always ask me to take off my glasses when they take pictures of me, maybe they are trying to tell me something. . . like. . .
I look better squinting??
this is my wndow from the outside. not very exciting photo, but kinda romantic huh?
the walkway from the house to the streetI have a lot of pictures of the campus, but I'm going to save them for another blog. I don't want to talk to much about registering for classes because I'm a little anal, and it is stressing me out a little bit. I was pretty stressed out about it yesterday. . .well, until I met Chris.
On Thursday I met with a very nice Spanish Professor(who is not named Chris) who is going to contact lit professors and help me register for classes. He told me to come back at noon on friday. I liked him because he told me my spanish was good, and I pretty much automatically really like anyone who tells me that. ha. no shame.
So, when I showed up at noon on Friday, the professor was walking out of the building. . .
uh. . . hola??? I said
and he was like oh, hey, and basically told me that since all the first year classes started first (on monday) he won't have my information until tuesday (don't ask me to explain-I don't get it either, and it just makes me nervous) I'm pretty sure he also said that I have to wait and let all the chilean students register first and then see what classes are available (Ana Maria says that this is NOT what he said, but I think she's just trying to make me feel better). Regardless, the advanced classes don't start for two weeks or so, so I know I'm ok. . . I'm just from the US, and all I can think about are the nightmares I had about BSC registration, with the big screen on the wall with the word CLOSED next to every one of the classes I wanted.
Breathe, Meredith, Breathe. We are not in Alabama anymore folks.
Anyways, like Everything in Chile, things will work out beautifully, I just need to be patient. I'm going to see the professor again on Tuesday.
After we had that enchanting conversation with the professor on the stairs while he was on his way out, we walked upstairs to the English floor.
I would like to volunteer to teach english at a school somewhere close. They are always looking for native speakers to help teach, and Ana Maria knows a few of the english professors. While I was waiting in line to speak to one of these professors, I spotted Chris.
A few days ago, Ana Maria and I were walking behind this tall, blond, blue-eyed chap who was walking with a group of Chileans, and by his thick accent it was obvious he was a gringo.
This chap, whose name happens to be Chris, was standing around on the English floor yesterday. Ana Maria, who like Kevin Bacon, somehow knows everyone and is connected to everything, said that she remembered him and went off to talk to him. This lady doesn't know what the word "timida" means.
So, I'm just standing in line still, and I hear her yelling my name. great.
She introduced me to Chris, he's here to teach english and has actually already been here for a semester and leaves in July. He has a thick, thick accent, but seems very nice (and very attractive -by the way--). Somehow Ana Maria walked away slyly and left us to chat. I was just chatting away in spanish, and he was like,
"uhh do you mind if we speak English?--It's just easier."
shame.
"Oh sure," I said, sorta chuckling, "sorry."
turns out Chris is from England. I know, seriously, the accent is killer, and he's super nice. He hasn't had that much of an opportunity to practice his spanish because he's only here to teach english and isn't taking any classes. He said that I should watch out, since my spanish was so good (right), because a lot of the british and american boys that are here teaching leech onto people like me.
hmmmmm, leech on.
I started to tell him he could leech onto me or that I would be happy to help him with his spanish any time. . .
but I just said I would definitely watch our for those leeches.
Is that even how you spell leeches??
anyways, I had to run to speak to the Prof about volunteering (she seemed stoked that I was interested), and I said goodbye to Chris as we were leaving, and we exchanged numbers so that hopefully we can hang out.
FRIEND MY AGE COUNT:
1
sweeeeeeeeet. and he's british. double sweet.
anyways, besides the fact that this was the first time I've spoken English with anyone (other than my family on skype) in a while it was a bizarre cultural experience.
I mean you know how you're standing in the grocery store line or something and there are two people in front of you, and I don't know let's say they're speaking Swahili and all you can think is, man, I wonder what they're talking about-- are they laughing at me, why can't they just speak english, why are they speaking their language here? . . . etc. etc. You know you've thought it. . . well, Chris and I were totally those people for like ten minutes. and I saw people looking at us, and it was a surreal experience-I was really excited to be speaking english but also a little embarrassed. I almost wanted to apologize.
like to turn around to the other students and be like. . .
uhhh. . .he's british, look at him. . . I'm sorry. I'm desperate for friends here, and I can't refuse the accent.
but I just tried to speak softer, which I'm not really good at either.
anyways, at one point ana maria popped back in outta nowhere to tell us to stop speaking english, only spanish!!! she said to him. . . you both need to practice!! and I felt bad. she's was laughing and everything, but I felt lazy. . .
and also. . . kinda cool.
You remember when you were in like 5th grade or something and you got into a pig-latin kick, and thought you were so cool cuz you knew a secret language. it was kinda like that.
anyways, this whole discussion may seem immature, but I think in a lot of ways our languages, our accents are just more ways that we shape our own identities, and there may be something to be said for respecting the language around you. I don't know.
anyways, all of this was really just to say, I met a cute, tall british guy. haha. just kidding.
I also met a friend of Ana Maria's whose name is Gabriella, she 70 and Super cool. We rented movies and watched "When a man loves a woman" and "four weddings and a funeral" -both great. Gabriella is a widow. She's spunky and hilarious. I already love her.
I also met Ana Maria's daughter, six month year old grandson, and son-in-law last night. Funny, smart, and charming-they appear to be the perfect little family. They call babies wa-wa's here. ha. wa-wa. i love it.
I'm going to my first rotary meeting on Tuesday night, and I hoping to sign up for salsa lessons on Monday. promise I will write more soon.
I hope you and yours are happy and safe,
una aurora,
mere
Ode to the book (II)
Book,
beautiful
book,
miniscule forest,
leaf
after leaf
your paper
smells of the elements,
you are
matutinal and nocturnal,
vegetal,
oceanic,
in you ancient pages
bear hunters,
camp fires
near the Mississisppi
canoes
in the islands,
later
roads
and roads,
revelations,
insurgent
races,
Rimbaud like a wounded
fish bleeding
flopping in the mud,
and the beauty
of fellowship,
stone by stone
the human castle rises,
sorros intertwined
with strength,
actions of solidarity,
clandestine
book
from pocket
to pocket,
hidden
lamp,
red star.
We
the wandering
poets
explored
the world,
at every door
life received us,
we took part
in the earthly struggle.
What was our victory?
A book,
a book full
of human touches,
of shirts,
a book
without loneliness, with men
and tools,
a book
is victory.
It lives and falls
like all fruit,
it doesn't have light,
it doesn't have
shadow,
it fades,
it sheds its leaves,
it gets lost
in the streets,
it tumbles ot earth.
Morning-fresh
book of poetry,
return
again
to hold snow and moss
on your pages
so that footsteps
or eyes
may keep carving
trails:
once more
describe the world to us,
the springs
in the middle of the forest
the high woodlands,
the polar
planets,
and man
on the roads,
on the new roads,
advancing
in the jungle,
in the water,
in the sky,
in the naked solitude of the sea,
man
discovering
the ultimate secrets,
man returning
with a book,
the hunter back again
with a book,
the farmer
plowing
with a book.
ODA AL LIBRO (II)
LIBRO
hermoso,
libro,
mínimo bosque,
hoja
tras hoja,
huele
tu papel
a elemento,
eres
matutino y nocturno,
cereal,
oceánico,
en tus antiguas páginas
cazadores de osos,
fogatas
cerca del Mississippi,
canoas
en las islas,
más tarde
caminos
y caminos,
revelaciones,
pueblos
insurgentes,
Rimbaud como un herido
pez sangriento
palpitando en el lodo,
y la hermosura
de la fraternidad,
piedra por piedra
sube el castillo humano,
dolores que entretejen
la firmeza,
acciones solidarias,
libro
oculto
de bolsillo
en bolsillo,
lámpara
clandestina,
estrella roja.
Nosotros
los poetas
caminantes
exploramos
el mundo,
en cada puerta
nos recibió la vida,
participamos
en la lucha terrestre.
Cuál fue nuestra victoria?
Un libro,
un libro lleno
de contactos humanos,
de camisas,
un libro
sin soledad, con hombres
y herramientas,
un libro
es la victoria.
Vive y cae
como todos los frutos,
no sólo tiene luz,
no sólo tiene
sombra,
se apaga,
se deshoja,
se pierde
entre las calles,
se desploma en la tierra.
Libro de poesía
de mañana,
otra vez
vuelve
a tener nieve o musgo
en tus páginas
para que las pisadas
o los ojos
vayan grabando
huellas:
de nuevo
descríbenos el mundo
los manantiales
entre la espesura,
las altas arboledas,
los planetas
polares,
y el hombre
en los caminos,
en los nuevos caminos,
avanzando
en la selva,
en el agua,
en el cielo,
en la desnuda soledad marina,
el hombre
descubriendo
los últimos secretos,
el hombre
regresando
con un libro,
el cazador de vuelta
con un libro,
el campesino arando
con un libro.
Saturday, February 24, 2007
“Viene el mar y reúne nuestras vidas”
Well, do I have a story to tell you.
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
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
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