North Towards Home

12 days 'til the US. I should probably mention that I'm still in Chile, because if you are one of the six or seven people who looks at my blog, I'm sure you thought I'd fallen off the face of the earth. Here's a bullet point recap of my last two weeks:

• Finished classes. It appears that I passed them all, some with more breathing room than others. 
• Because of this, I've spent all week at the beach. I look like Neapolitan ice cream--different shades of pink, brown, and white. 
• I went to Santiago for the first time. Chileans refer to it as Santiasco--which is basically the exact same joke as Americans calling Philadelphia Filthydelphia. It's not that bad, though, just a little big and noisy for my taste. 
• Going to Patagonia on Tuesday. As usual, not a lot of advance planning has taken place. More on that later, I imagine. I do know that I'm going here, to Puerto Varas:

There is also an island full of penguins nearby. I'm already looking for loopholes in the "no pets" clause in my apartment lease. If Mr. Popper's Penguins taught me anything, it's that it can be done. 

As always, thanks for indulging me. 

Chileans, on Mississippi

I'm not from a very populated state. Chileans love the United States, generally, but their geography is limited to New York, California, and Florida. Between Chileans, people from other countries, and usually other Americans, I've decided that the world knowledge of Mississippi is broken down as follows:

Close to the Gulf of Mexico--95%
Mississippi River--50%
Hurricane Katrina--35%
Huck Finn--25%
The Blind Side--20%
Mississippi Burning--10%
Faulkner--5%
Grisham--3%
Prom Night in Mississippi--1%

The last one is the most frustrating. Way to go, Charleston High. But seriously, way to go Morgan Freeman.

Of course, Americans' knowledge of Chile isn't much better:

Frustrating things: my own fault edition

Here's an example: learning that one of your favorite bands (on tour outside of Scotland for the first time in four years) is in Santiago. Tonight. And you can't make it because you found out too late.

from the Washington Post

Belle & Sebastian, we hardly knew ye. This is what I'm missing.

America, from abroad.

One of the biggest advantages of living in another country is the perspective you get on home. People ask me a lot if I miss the US, and I do. I miss my family, friends, some foods and drinks, and some traditions. There are a lot of things that I don't miss, too. Any place has its good, and any place has its bad, I imagine. There are good people and there are bad people and there are interesting people and boring people and smart people and dumb people everywhere in the world. And in general, all anyone wants is to be able to have a relatively happy and comfortable life without anyone else bothering them too much.

As Americans, we bother people. It's what we do. Tony Blair called us a "big friendly dog in a crowded room. Any time it wags its tail, it knocks over a chair." Our policies--for better or for worse--affect almost everyone in the world, and what they don't reach our media and pop culture does. I bought an orange juice on a flight between Montevideo and Santiago and got my change back in US dollars. Some of my Chilean friends favorite TV show is Seinfeld. I'd be lying if I told you if I knew if this is good or bad, or if it's even possible to be only one or the other. I love globalization. I love that I can drive to a Mexican restaurant in my Japanese car listening to British music. Hell, I'm studying ways that it affects the economy as a major. Trust me, if I'm banking my financial future on one concept, I hope that it stays around.

I'm also pretty lucky in that the Chilean people that I've met tend to have a favorable view of the US. It does help--all politics aside--that Obama is president. He's definitely more popular than Bush in just about every country in the world. It also leads to some humorous interactions. Let me set the scene:

Sunday Funday

The Chilean mine rescue capsule has been making its rounds from the north of the country to the south for a few weeks now, and this week it is in Plaza Sotomayor in downtown Valparaíso. Of course I went to go check it out:

In reality, the mine rescue deserves an actual post from me, with things like memories and perspective. But I'm a day late and a dollar short, and still kind of upset that the Chilean police wouldn't let me crawl inside and  stage a photo where I'm getting rescued. 

Also went to explore a new-to-me neighborhood in town. Found a cool restaurant with this view:

As always, the pictures don't do it justice. I live in a really cool place. 

Last thing--read this Thomas Friedman column from Saturday. I like his stuff, generally, but this one is spot on. One thing I've really enjoyed down here is looking at the US from an outside perspective, and this kind of touches on that. It's Morning in India--Thomas Friedman

Buenos Aires, part 3: The best meals I ever had

Liz: All of humankind has one thing in common: the sandwich. I believe that all anyone really wants in this life is to sit in peace and eat a sandwich. 
Jack: What a surprise, your worldview is food-based. 

- 30 Rock


Buenos Aires is really only a cool city if you like food, art, sports, history, architecture, nightlife, or culture. I'm going to focus for a second on the first of those things:

Buenos Aires, part 2: I'll sleep when I'm dead

They say that New York is the city that never sleeps, which may or may not be true. If that's the case though, Buenos Aires is the city that never blinks. While Montevideo was fun, and a lot faster pace than Chile, Buenos Aires blew it out of the water. Friday night we stopped into a sandwich place for a quick dinner at 9, and had to wait an hour for them to open. Saturday, we ate at a nice steakhouse at 10:45, finished dinner at 12:30, and had to kill an hour and a half before we went out. You also stay out 'til about 6 or so--not just college aged guys either; I saw some men and women in their sixties walking out of a tango club at 6:15 a.m. 

We were really lucky in finding a hostel so easily--we got into a cab by the ferry terminal and asked him to take us to a place in the Palermo SoHo neighborhood. Pretty easy, but our market research might have been lacking. In just two full days and nights we somehow managed to hit all of the highlights:

Buenos Aires, part 1: going with the flow

I left home Thursday at noon to head to the Santiago airport then to Montevideo. The plan was for one night in Montevideo, then catch a ferry across the bay from Montevideo to Buenos Aires. We got to Montevideo around 8 on Thursday night, which was good because it was the only part of the trip that we'd planned or the only reservation that we'd made.

An hour or so later, we met up with my friend Rob, an Ole Miss guy that is studying in Montevideo for the year. He took us around town to a really cool outdoor cafe/bar area in the old downtown part of Montevideo, and then afterwards to a club on the beach overlooking the Atlantic ocean with some of his Uruguayan friends. It was a lot of fun, plus he's the first friend from home that I've seen in several months. It was definitely good to catch up and hear what everyone is doing with themselves.

Step two of our odyssey was figuring out how to get from point A to point B. It went like this:

Still here, still alive.

Sorry about the lack of posting as of late, I know my reader has been complaining. My computer has been in the shop, and while the prognosis wasn't good for a while, it's more or less back to playing condition. So there's my excuse. Also, things have been boring lately plus I've actually realized that I am indeed taking classes that count towards real things, like class credit and possible employment (job market joke!).

Thursday I leave for Buenos Aires via Montevideo. We (me and two other guys) are pretty flexible in our itinerary, and by "flexible" I mean "have only the vaguest of plans." That being said, if you happen to know of anything awesome to see or do, please drop me a line.

Also, the odds of me making repeated and obnoxious references to either Evita Perón or Diego Maradona are now at 3:1. Place your bets accordingly, gentlemen.

Doing work, son.

First off: my computer keeps "blue screen of death-ing" me, so I'm going to apologize in advance for the lack of pictures in this and possible future posts. My laptop is limping along in safe mode, so I'm effectively bringing a knife to this technology gunfight. 

But I went on my first wine vineyard interview Friday. I left Viña at 6 am, took a bus to Santiago, and took the metro to the nice part of downtown Santiago. All by myself. Las Condes, the aforementioned nice part of Santiago, is really impressive. I felt like I could easily be in downtown Chicago or Dallas or somewhere like that. Of course, there's both good and bad to this--it's a little boring, but also good for the overall perception of a city and all that. Downside of modernization, I guess. 

I met the PR director for Almavia at a Starbucks in Las Condes, and she gave me a ride to the vineyard, about 45 minutes south of Santiago. Almaviva is a partnership between Chilean Concha y Toro and Rothschild from France, and it is their attempt to make the finest wine in Chile. I was lucky enough to get a private tour of the vineyards and a tasting. Got to say, drinking a glass of $150 wine on a balcony overlooking vineyards and the Andes at 11 in the morning is a pretty easy way to live. My interview, with the head of US sales and the overall sales manager, went really well. They had great answers to all of my questions, and for some inexplicable reason my Spanish was on fire (or enfuego, as we like to say down here.) 

Also, friends and family, I went to the vineyards with full intention of buying bottles and shipping them back to some people. I couldn't afford to do it, and I felt like my family's excitement at getting gifts wouldn't be enough to outweigh their anger at their son spending a thousand dollars to send a case of alcohol to another continent. I'll just add it to my post lottery win to-do list. 

A story and a thought

"There are no foreign lands. It is only the traveler who is foreign." - Robert Louis Stevenson

I've been listening to a lot of music down here. I usually listen to music a lot, but I often find myself walking alone to get places, and it's kind of a nice time to just put in headphones and be oblivious. That being said, everyone who reads this needs to listen to the new Avett Brothers album, Live,  Volume 3. Here's a free stream. I'm going to be an obscure music snob here and call it my generation's Waiting for Columbus. At the very least, go to iTunes and buy "Head Full of Doubt/Heart Full of Promise" right now. It's weird how little things like music and food can connect people from different cultures or remind you of your own--one of the more surreal moments I've had down here involved me and an American friend of mine singing Warren Zevon's "Lawyers, Guns, and Money" with three thirty year old Spanish bankers in a bus in the Atacama desert. It's weird how things happen sometimes.

A Day in the Life

From reading my blog posts I realized that it seems that the only things I do down here are travel and go to parties. This is less true than I would like, and I want to take this moment to explain to both of my readers about what I actually do on a day-to-day basis--classes, thesis, things like that. 

Classes first: I'm taking 16 credits down here, which translates to like 14 hours in a US academic sense. Hopefully though, when I get back all I'll need to graduate with a double major will be three hours of Spanish and to finish my thesis. And in four years, too. Hate on, haters. I have nine Spanish credits down here, three of which are grammar, and six of which are culture and communication, and are taught by a charming and friendly communist woman. It honestly doesn't bother me at all, but I did find the song we listened to about Ho Chi Minh to be a little out of place. Five history credits--Formation of the State and Nation in Latin America (basically history up to 1900) and Twentieth Century Latin American History, which is exactly what it sounds like. Neither of these are very entertaining. Finally, I have a class on the internationalization of Chile's economy which is interesting and fits in perfectly with my wine thesis. And is also a great segue. 

My thesis, for those of you who don't know, examines the causes of the export growth in the Chilean wine industry over the past twenty years--basically researching how Chile became the 5th largest wine exporter in the world in a relatively short period of time. So far has been going well. Most of my research has been recreational in nature, but I think I'm interviewing the sales and export manager at my first vineyard on Friday and I've made contacts with several people in wine-related industries that I can interview. 

Finally, I told both my grandfathers that I'd periodically send out wine recommendations. Here's the first: Oveja Negra (Black Sheep) does really good blends of reds from their vineyards scattered throughout the country. The Cabernet Franc/Carmenere is my favorite--and is apparently an under $20 best buy, if you're in to that sort of "spending money well" thing. Here's a list of the awards it's won, if you don't believe me. I'm not sure how much it costs in the US, except for under $20, but it's about a $5 bottle down here. Pretty awesome. 

And an update: next week I have two tests, a paper, and a presentation. In two weeks I'm going to Buenos Aires by way of Montevideo. Wish me luck, y'all. 

San Pedro de Atacama

If given the opportunity, go to San Pedro de Atacama. It is unlike any other place that I've ever been, and I'd be willing to bet it's unlike a lot of other places on the planet. Getting there is a hassle--it's about 700 miles north of Santiago, which is either a two hour flight or a twenty hour bus ride. Strangely, these are around the same price. To get there, you have to fly to Calama, which Lonely Planet describes (verbatim) as a "honestly, kind of a shithole." As we landed, my friend in the window seat said "I think we're in Tatooine"--it only lacked an extra sun and moisture farms. San Pedro is about an hour away from Calama by bus, and honestly one of the cooler places in the world.

The Atacama, if you didn't know, is the world's highest and driest desert--there are parts there that have never had any recorded rainfall. The whole area is between 12,000 and 14,000 feet in elevation, so there are some unusual views. Incredible mountains and volcanoes everywhere, wild flamingos and vicuñas, geysers, thermal springs, and crazy rock formations. And at night, a view of the stars so expansive that it's impossible to not be moved. I could write more and more about this, but if a picture is really worth a thousand words, here's a ten thousand word essay:

Spring Break, again.

I'd been looking forward to last week for a long time. September 18th is Chile's independence day, and this year was their bicentennial. Normally, this holiday is one of the bigger ones of the year, but it's celebrated a lot like we celebrate the 4th in the US--lots of barbecue, flags, fireworks.

This year was different. Chile has had a pretty eventful year: new president (and political party), one of the bigger earthquakes in history, a World Cup, the whole saga of the 33 miners, and a hunger strike by imprisoned indigenous people that's turned into a hugely controversial issue. So this year, I think the country really wanted to blow off some steam. School was cancelled all week, business have been closed from about Thursday until today, and an estimated 600,000 people headed to Viña del Mar and Valparaíso. Here's a day-by-day breakdown after the jump:

Failed Social Interactions: How to Get Noticed in South America

If you really want to draw attention to yourself, I highly recommend making a purchase of peanut butter, ranch dressing, Oreos, Pringles, and a bottle of wine with an American debit card at a Chilean supermarket while wearing a t-shirt from an American university. The manager will come out to verify your ID, they'll have to call for a price check on "un gringo" and your card will not work for the first four tries. It's also best to do this in a regular line and not the express line, so you get the added benefit of death stares a half-dozen working moms trying to pick up a week's worth of food for their families.

The sad thing, though, is that I really don't care that much about Oreos, ranch dressing, and peanut butter. Of course if you get between me and my Pringles bad things are liable to happen to you. This is an inherent risk, and don't tell me that you weren't warned. I guess I just wanted a little taste of home, and since it's really hard to ship a Five Guys burger or an Ajax veggie plate to South America, I guess that this has to do.

That's kind of been the attitude I've been trying to adopt down here too. They say that travel has three distinct stages: first, you're excited to be in the country; everything is new and exciting. Secondly you begin to get frustrated with the language and complain a lot. The third and final stage is adapting--you begin to see the weird cultural hassles as part of living in the country. I feel like I'm somewhere between the second and third stages; I feel like things are stupid but also kind of cool. It could be anything from a professor cancelling two weeks of class and not telling anyone, to my complete frustration at learning Chilean slang (for instance the word "juevon" can be either a term of endearment between friends or a serious insult). It's tricky, and frustrating but also kind of cool--like learning how to play chess or something.

And in other, less introspective news, I did manage to catch a little Ole Miss football after spending Saturday on the beach. Let me just say that a bad David Kellum connection does not make a 2-OT loss to a D-II school go down easier. I had to explain my yelling at my computer in Chilean soccer terms to my obviously concerned host mother, and after that she figured it out. I said this in my last post, and I'll say it again: frustration is a universal language.

Plus, a picture:

At the beach in Viña. Me, Mauricio, Nico, Nico, and Elli

Are you ready for some fútbol?

I went to a South American soccer game Saturday. This is less exciting than it sounds. Most Chileans follow one of two soccer clubs--Colo Colo or Universidad de Chile. When they play in Santiago every year, it's what most Americans think of when they think of soccer in South America: outrageous crowds, small fires sent in stands, street urchins in Drogba jerseys stabbing opposing fans, cheap and abundant alcohol; in short, a lot of fun.

Chileans, though, love to talk about soccer. In general, the country is a lot better at talking about sports than they are at playing them--much like me in high school. The national side had a better-than-expected showing in this year's World Cup, so people are still talking about it, wearing t-shirts, and  selling tourists jerseys. Also, the country hosted and finished third in the 1962 World Cup, and people down here are quick to brag about that, regardless of how long ago it actually happened. As an Ole Miss fan, I can totally relate.

The local Viña team is Everton, because it was founded, like many South American soccer clubs, by Europeans.  Valparaíso's team is the Santiago Wanderers, because their teams founders evidently like geographic confusion and homages to one of the worst teams in the English Premier League (the Bolton Wanderers, for those of you keeping score at home.) Saturday, Everton de Viña del Mar was playing San Luis Quillota. If world soccer was represented by NCAA football, I would have watched North Texas host Coastal Carolina. In September. The announced crowd was right over 3000, but I have a feeling they included players, stadium employees, and the radio audience in their estimate. Here's a picture of the fun part of the crowd:

Please note the "L" in the top right hand corner. Sketchy. We originally bought tickets for this area, but managed to sit on the front row in the middle of the field. Sometimes, smiling, and having blond hair and an American accent pays off. Here's some of the on-field action:

It looks way too much like a high school soccer game. It was a little tough to watch, too. Both teams made up for a scoreless first half by scoring early in the second half. After the 1-1 tie, neither team could complete a pass or take a wise shot at the goal. I'm not going to claim that I understood everything that the fans were yelling at the players, but sometimes it's nice to know that even with all of our cultural differences, frustration is still a universal language. 

Más rojo que ketchup: A late-night food hierarchy

The Chilean time-frame is different than ours. There's no way around that. Lunch is usually over around 4:00, and if you're nightlife inclined, don't expect to show up anywhere before midnight, or to leave anywhere before about 3:30. This leaves a pretty significant gap between meal times, and if you're not careful, you can end up very hungry. Thankfully, there are several options. The following is the hierarchy of food choices, starting from cheapest to most expensive:

1. The sopaipilla (~100 pesos, or less than 20 cents):

• Pros: cheap, readily available, sort of like a beignet
• Cons: cheap because they're not good and not filling, like a bad beignet 

2. Meat on a Stick (250 pesos, or about 40-50 cents):

 Basically a Third-World version of Chicken on a Stick, this is exactly what it sounds like. It's more or less a vegetable-less kebab cooked on the street over a knock-off Weber charcoal grill. Can be okay, but probably won't be.

• Pros: cheap, meat on a stick is usually not bad
• Loss of self-respect because you look like a caveman eating one

3. The Completo (600 pesos, or about $1.15):

This is Chile's most famous food. It's a gigantic hot dog inside of a loaf of french bread, covered with avocado, mayonnaise, ketchup, mustard, salsa, and onion. It is huge and awesome, and it's the one thing that just about everybody in the country enjoys.

• Pros: Tastes fantastic
• Cons: Occasionally messy

4. The Churrasco (1000-1200 pesos, or $2-$2.25): 

This is the Cadillac of sandwiches. It's an awesome hamburger bun lightly toasted and served with different kinds of meats, cheeses, avocado, peppers, and onions--think of it as a cross between a Philly Cheesesteak, a hamburger, and a Po' Boy.

• Pros: Just look at this thing:

• Cons: expensive (for Chile)

The Cadillac of late night is kind of rare to find in the wild. We were taken by some Chileans to the best dinner place in Valparaíso, which is a truck that's only open on Friday nights at one specific intersection. It's owned by Compañero Yuri, a local Communist sandwich maker, library owner, artist, and Salvador Allende fan. He describes himself as "redder than ketchup" (side note: Allende was a Socialist president overthrown in a US-backed coup led by Augusto Pinochet in 1973. Allende died during the coup, and Pinochet ruled for 17 years. Sort of a sore subject down here.) This is Compañero Yuri and his truck (he's the one on the right in the beret):

All of the sandwiches are named after Communist leaders and Chilean leftists. I had the Trotsky, which was beef, avocado, cheese, and tomato. No word yet on whether I'm going to be stabbed to death with an ice pick in Frida Kahlo's house in Mexico City too, but I might lay low for a while. And I felt bad about supporting communism, but since he's actively engaged in the free market selling sandwiches, I figure he's pretty harmless. Either way, though, I probably need to vote Republican just to even out. 

Skiing, or Why My Body Hurts Everywhere

I went skiing for the first time Saturday. I'm probably a little behind the rest of my friends/ people in the United States when it comes to skiing experience.  So when I got the opportunity to go skiing in Farrellones, Chile for 40 luca ($80), and in keeping with my unbreakable tradition of making impulsive decisions, I jumped on it. My instructions were appropriately sketchy: I was to have the money with me in cash, and meet outside of Cafe Journal (a popular expat bar) at 5:30 a.m. When I got there and didn't get mugged/raped/killed my group was slightly less diverse than the United Nations. Two Americans--me and a girl from Charleston, four Chileans, three French people, a German, and a girl from Finland, and led by an awesome black dude from London. I felt like I was in a Guy Ritchie movie.

When googling "snatch," it's best to have safe search turned on.

Part of the reason that I signed on to the trip was that it was mainly for beginner skiers. Some of the group was, but the countries like Germany and Finland tend to have a lot of mountains and see a lot of snow. So I went to the beginner class with some elementary school kids while my group skied off like Lindsey Vonn towards a photo shoot. And by "ski class" I mean generally flat area where people fall down and get yelled at.  My instructor was kind enough to show me how to go forwards and then leave me alone for the next six or seven hours to figure things out on my own. I learned one thing from my first few runs, and that is what I lack in control, I make up for in speed. I'm like Ricky Bobby out there. This also allows for some spectacular crashes. Several times I could have passed for the guy they show during the Wide World of Sports "Agony of Defeat" segment:

I crashed into the same guy on the same run twice--which is a surprisingly effective way to get to know someone. I crashed into a pole, I crashed into a safety net, I tripped over my own skis. Once I accidentally ended up on the advanced course, which I handled well until I hit the jump. In spite of all of this, I eventually figured it out, and can now manage to go down a bunny slope at a reasonable speed and sufficient control. This is the area where I skied:

Shortly after this picture was taken, I crashed into each and every one of these people.

You can kind of make out a city in the distance. That's Santiago.

Despite my inadequacies, I really did enjoy this. In a few days my knee will feel better and my bruises will go away, and I'd definitely be down to do it again. 

Where am I?

I keep thinking this at random intervals throughout my trip down here. It's at strange times, like when I'm standing on a beach but it's 40 degrees, or when I spent my Wednesday night drinking Escudo and talking about grilling (not actually grilling, just discussing it) with a 60 year old Chilean man. I've also tried to follow the Anthony Bourdain/ Three Sheets trail down here, and have successfully located the location where Zane Lamprey tries to make a Pisco Sour. And I'm sorry if you don't watch that show; it's on Hulu, get to work. This place:

The cat comes with your meal

But, in a more practical sense, things are going pretty well here. Classes seem easy so far, and I don't have anything on Fridays. So basically, it's freshman year at Ole Miss again.