While being home is great so far, there are things that linger in the background and news stories that remind me of some of the ridiculous and frustrating aspects of my home.
1.) Cub Foods. The local grocery store a few blocks from my house was a bit of a shocker. WHY does it need an entire aisle dedicated to showcasing the 50+ brands of breakfast cereal, each with its own selection of flavors? All except a small minority are dedicated to arranging simple sugar molecules in different colors and shapes. After that, all I wanted to do was buy some crackers so I could put manjar on them. What I found was another aisle dedicated to round, rectangle, square, rippled, woven, white, wheat, wheat berry, multigrain, ground flour, seedy-flour, sugar, no sugar, salt, no salt, fat, low fat, size-specifically-for-a-block-of-cheese and technologically-engineered-to-not-crumble-in-the-bag crackers. Okay, maybe not the last two. Am I being unappreciative of the option to choose the exact cracker that meets my specific needs? I feel like there are more important jobs that need to be done than engineering the perfect cracker...
2.) Gun control. In Uruguay, the president came up with a program to exchange guns in people's homes for bicycles. In Chile, you have to go through an intense series of background checks to get a gun. In the US? We let school shootings happen almost a year after the Sandy Hook massacre because some people thing it's their "right" to own a gun, preventing necessary legislation from passing that could help reduce violence for the rest of US citizens.
Here's the exact text of the bill of rights amendment:
"A well regulated militia, being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms, shall not be infringed."
Yes, it may be your right to own a gun if you choose to interpret these words as: the people have the right to "bear" (should that REALLY mean own?) arms for whatever reason you want.
In my opinion, people have the right to bear and use arms if their government is attacking them and controlling them like a dictatorship would, so they can defend themselves. Do we have that situation right now in the US? Absolutely not.
In general, the people who are adamant about implementing drug tests for welfare qualifications (In MN, it hasn't been very successful) and voter ID laws to prevent people from abusing these systems are the same people preventing gun control legislation from passing. Why are you against abusing one system, but totally fine with letting people abuse another system that undoubtedly causes much more damage?
3.) Drunk driving. In Chile, there's a zero tolerance policy for drunk driving. It seems to be very effective; my Spanish teacher in Chile said that people are now insisting on passing the keys instead of the other way around. In the US, I keep hearing about the cases of repeat offenders STILL being allowed to drive and getting away with hurting and killing people with mere fines. The most recent case of 16-year-old Ethan Couch who killed 4 people and injured 9 while driving drunk is a reflection of our problem. Yes, there are a multitude of reasons for why he got off (affluenza? really?), but I think a significant reason is that we have created a culture that tolerates drunk driving WAY too much. Even if he didn't care about the consequences that might result for others, maybe if we had stricter laws he may have thought twice about his actions.
Second impressions: 5 things I love
Ya, you betcha I love my hot-dish producing tropical Minnesooota, dontcha know?
The things that came to mind in the first few days back:
1.) Workout culture. I joined a gym. IT FEELS SO GOOD. The US is a bit obsessed with working out, but after being in a country where people will tell you to take the bus instead of walking 2 blocks, it's refreshing. Almost every kid is part of a sport here (maybe it's just a reflection of the extreme competitiveness of our culture). Almost all of my muscles are sore; is it sick to say that I'm not sore enough?
The things that came to mind in the first few days back:
1.) Workout culture. I joined a gym. IT FEELS SO GOOD. The US is a bit obsessed with working out, but after being in a country where people will tell you to take the bus instead of walking 2 blocks, it's refreshing. Almost every kid is part of a sport here (maybe it's just a reflection of the extreme competitiveness of our culture). Almost all of my muscles are sore; is it sick to say that I'm not sore enough?
2.) Minnesota Nice. I love being able to walk down the street and smile at people, strike up random conversations with the man helping me renew my license, and in general walk around and look people in the eye without feeling weird. Chileans are very nice people, once you poke a little and get to know them. It's a relief knowing I don't have to instigate all the time.
3.) Minnesota Snow. When we were about to land, I was almost overcome with emotion because I was so happy to see the snow draping over pine tree branches and wide expanses of ice from lakes and snowplows getting the snow off the airport runway. Hearing the snow crunch beneath my boots, throwing snowballs, eating snow, feeling the snowflakes melt on my face and rest on my eyelashes, and being so bundled up I can barely move is HOME.
4.) Diversity. Chile didn't have as much racial or religious diversity as I had hoped. Granted, I'm so used to my high school/college communities that make an effort to increase diversity. In Chile, I maybe saw one or two people of "color" on my metro ride a month, one gay couple boldly holding hands and one religious institution that wasn't Christian. I appreciate the "melting pot" of the US more and more. One place I see diversity in its fullest is in my church community. I went to church for the first time in months, and felt so much love for the community that prides itself in its diversity and progressive values of inclusion, open-mindedness, and pure love for the stranger and less fortunate. We are in a building that houses three different denominations, and it's such a cool feeling knowing that even though we have different names for our belief systems, we still have the same foundations and the same purpose.
5.) Education. I went to elementary, junior, and high school for free. And the education was astounding: I had the opportunity to take AP and IB classes for free; allowing me to learn how to write and communicate my ideas. I understand that I was still extremely lucky and privileged with my situation, being a white girl in the suburbs with a supportive family and resources at my disposal. At least the colleges I applied to looked at more than just the ACT score I got. In Chile, the only way to get into respected colleges is to get a good score on the PSU exam at the end of high school. No essays, no extracurriculars, no recommendation letters, no opportunity to tell your story.
Final reflections (for now)
Trying to think about everything I've learned and experienced is like trying to accurately portray my thoughts when I was 5. It just doesn't work. Your memories change over time, with the addition of other experiences that change your perception and analysis of the recordings in your brain. Your neuronal pathways may remain biologically the same, but your skills to analyze them grow and you constantly critically reflect on everything that's happened. We read a book called "Mi país inventada" (My Invented County) by Isabel Allende, which explores this idea in depth: how your perceptions about an event, or a whole country, depend completely on your emotions at the time of the experience and your emotions when you recall those memories. So, 9 days until Christmas, in my 3rd year of college, in the living room at my house in the US, here are my final (for now) reflections on my life in Chile.
I'm not sure how to start other than the cheesy but classic lesson most people learn while abroad: "Live life, dude." I learned how to really live in the present. In a previous post, I talked about how my constant need to plan and control was hindering my full appreciation of the experience I was living in Chile. Now at the end, I know I can live in the moment without worrying about controlling the future. What will happen will happen. Relax, and enjoy. I wouldn't have been able to form the relationships with people in Chile if I was worried about what would happen once I got back.
The ability to live in the moment depends on many things: being flexible and appreciating freedom. I would often ask my host mother what exact time we would leave to go somewhere, but I would never get a concrete answer. I would get frustrated and panic a little because I didn't have that structure that is so ingrained in my brain from the US. My home country is full of structures, institutions, and processes that create such an ordered society. But I became much more flexible and accepting of a little chaos and disorder, which ultimately gave me more freedom. Chile, although it attempts to mirror the US in many ways, has a different concept of time that helps create a more free society. You're not supposed to show up at a friend's house stressed or worried that you won't make it on time. Come when you're ready! It's not a big deal if you're half an hour late! It sounds like a superficial example, but it's hard to put into words the freedom I felt in Chile.
I also learned how to give myself what I want. As I learned to live in the moment, to be flexible, and to be free, I gave myself permission to explore other career options. One reason why I wanted to be a doctor, now that I realize it, is because I would have the next 8 or so years of my life "planned" out. Graduate from Grinnell, go to med school, specialize, residency, blah blah blah blah blah. But that's honestly just so stupid. I can't control my life that far ahead of me! So, I scrapped pre-med and will be taking classes in philosophy and history, along with my Spanish seminar on dialectology and neuroscience. I'm the most excited I've ever been for a semester at Grinnell. I gave myself permission to abandon a plan that wasn't making me happy, and permitted myself to explore something different. I'm thinking about maybe going into education, seminary, peace corps, Fulbrights... who knows where I'll be. And I love the mystery, there's so much more possibility.
It's hard to give yourself what you want when you don't trust your own gut. That's another thing I learned. I went to the Atacama desert alone, because I felt it was the right thing to do: I met people from all over the world and could look off into the sunset without feeling the need to talk. I made a last-minute decision to go to an event for exchange students in September because it felt like it's what I should do that night: I met some amazing people that were a huge part of the rest of my experience in Chile. I opened up to my host mother and talked with her like I would a good friend because it felt right: I learned so much from her that helped me process and understand more about Chile and myself. Sometimes you just have to go with what the back of your mind is telling you. That's where the richest experiences come from.
Some things that were reinforced:
-Listening to all the things my host family talked about and experiencing the temazcal ceremony (look it up, if I start describing it this post will never end) made me realize that I need to respect the delicate soil, plants, air, and water that make up our survival rock.
-Family is important.
-I have an absolute obsession with a language. Learning a new language literally opens up a whole new world and changes the way you think.
-God is awesome.
-A variety of opinions and viewpoints is what enriches our experience.
-I never really idolized the US, because it has some really disgusting history with its indigenous populations and its involvement with the Chilean dictatorship and Latin America in general. But there are quite a few things we do pretty well, like education. Even though there are ways it can always be improved, I'm so lucky I learned how to communicate and think critically for free up until college, and that I have lots of help to finish my education.
But now, the biggest challenge is fighting the routine imposed from the countless structures surrounding me in the US to keep all these lessons alive. I don't want to exist in the US and have my abroad experience shrink to just another chapter of my life that came to a close. I want it to continue living through me.
Thanks for reading this messy "conclusion",
Athena
I'm not sure how to start other than the cheesy but classic lesson most people learn while abroad: "Live life, dude." I learned how to really live in the present. In a previous post, I talked about how my constant need to plan and control was hindering my full appreciation of the experience I was living in Chile. Now at the end, I know I can live in the moment without worrying about controlling the future. What will happen will happen. Relax, and enjoy. I wouldn't have been able to form the relationships with people in Chile if I was worried about what would happen once I got back.
The ability to live in the moment depends on many things: being flexible and appreciating freedom. I would often ask my host mother what exact time we would leave to go somewhere, but I would never get a concrete answer. I would get frustrated and panic a little because I didn't have that structure that is so ingrained in my brain from the US. My home country is full of structures, institutions, and processes that create such an ordered society. But I became much more flexible and accepting of a little chaos and disorder, which ultimately gave me more freedom. Chile, although it attempts to mirror the US in many ways, has a different concept of time that helps create a more free society. You're not supposed to show up at a friend's house stressed or worried that you won't make it on time. Come when you're ready! It's not a big deal if you're half an hour late! It sounds like a superficial example, but it's hard to put into words the freedom I felt in Chile.
I also learned how to give myself what I want. As I learned to live in the moment, to be flexible, and to be free, I gave myself permission to explore other career options. One reason why I wanted to be a doctor, now that I realize it, is because I would have the next 8 or so years of my life "planned" out. Graduate from Grinnell, go to med school, specialize, residency, blah blah blah blah blah. But that's honestly just so stupid. I can't control my life that far ahead of me! So, I scrapped pre-med and will be taking classes in philosophy and history, along with my Spanish seminar on dialectology and neuroscience. I'm the most excited I've ever been for a semester at Grinnell. I gave myself permission to abandon a plan that wasn't making me happy, and permitted myself to explore something different. I'm thinking about maybe going into education, seminary, peace corps, Fulbrights... who knows where I'll be. And I love the mystery, there's so much more possibility.
It's hard to give yourself what you want when you don't trust your own gut. That's another thing I learned. I went to the Atacama desert alone, because I felt it was the right thing to do: I met people from all over the world and could look off into the sunset without feeling the need to talk. I made a last-minute decision to go to an event for exchange students in September because it felt like it's what I should do that night: I met some amazing people that were a huge part of the rest of my experience in Chile. I opened up to my host mother and talked with her like I would a good friend because it felt right: I learned so much from her that helped me process and understand more about Chile and myself. Sometimes you just have to go with what the back of your mind is telling you. That's where the richest experiences come from.
Some things that were reinforced:
-Listening to all the things my host family talked about and experiencing the temazcal ceremony (look it up, if I start describing it this post will never end) made me realize that I need to respect the delicate soil, plants, air, and water that make up our survival rock.
-Family is important.
-I have an absolute obsession with a language. Learning a new language literally opens up a whole new world and changes the way you think.
-God is awesome.
-A variety of opinions and viewpoints is what enriches our experience.
-I never really idolized the US, because it has some really disgusting history with its indigenous populations and its involvement with the Chilean dictatorship and Latin America in general. But there are quite a few things we do pretty well, like education. Even though there are ways it can always be improved, I'm so lucky I learned how to communicate and think critically for free up until college, and that I have lots of help to finish my education.
But now, the biggest challenge is fighting the routine imposed from the countless structures surrounding me in the US to keep all these lessons alive. I don't want to exist in the US and have my abroad experience shrink to just another chapter of my life that came to a close. I want it to continue living through me.
Thanks for reading this messy "conclusion",
Athena
A Chilean Thanksgiving
I have way more reasons to be thankful than I can even begin to comprehend.
Today in clinical observation we went a rather different route and went to Hogar de Santa Clara (Home of Santa Clara). This place houses up to 17 children living with HIV/AIDS who have been neglected the proper care from their parents. They live here for typically 6 months to a year, with ages ranging from 2 months to 15 years, while they work with the family to teach them proper care or to find a new family for the child. We played with 2-month-old babies, helped organize and clean the building, and ate lunch with some of the children. I'm so thankful for my family and their ability and willingness to take care of me when I was sick or injured. I'm so thankful that the worst health problems I've had to deal with are minor broken bones and asthma. I'm so thankful I could witness the children's instincts to show sheer joy with the simplest things in their lives.
The day after, I celebrated thanksgiving with my host family and some friends. My host family had no idea what Thanksgiving meant and how it originated, so it was finally my turn to share a concrete piece of my home culture. We had a huge dinner, with food cooked from scratch from each person who came. So many salads (Chilean definition of salad: one or two vegetables mixed together with a mixture of oil, lemon juice, and salt as dressing), the cranberries I'm always able to successfully make (in whatever country now), coleslaw (the Chileans thought it was SO weird to put mayo, sugar, and apple cider vinegar on cabbage, but they still thought it was good) and my grandma's stuffing recipe, with rosemary instead of sage. Sage just didn't appear in any of the stores I ran to.
I said goodbye to my host sister's boyfriend, David, who served as a wonderful guide to Chile's sights and offered so many unique perspectives on current events and Chilean youth culture. I didn't know that would be the start of a long string of many goodbyes I would go through in the last few weeks of my stay here. I'm so thankful for all the time I got to spend with the people I met here. I'm so thankful for the conversations we had around the Thanksgiving table. I'm so thankful that I could feel so much happiness and love from people who were complete strangers 4 months ago.
I said goodbye to my host sister's boyfriend, David, who served as a wonderful guide to Chile's sights and offered so many unique perspectives on current events and Chilean youth culture. I didn't know that would be the start of a long string of many goodbyes I would go through in the last few weeks of my stay here. I'm so thankful for all the time I got to spend with the people I met here. I'm so thankful for the conversations we had around the Thanksgiving table. I'm so thankful that I could feel so much happiness and love from people who were complete strangers 4 months ago.
Prepping the final 3 weeks
I never thought I'd get to this point. I only have 3 weeks left in Chile! I have no homework and no plans, I feel so free! I'm planning on going to yoga and running everyday (I have less than 2 months until the track season starts... SO out of shape), going to concerts, taking some day trips to areas a little outside Santiago, hopefully going to a soccer game, riding the metro and getting off at random stops to wander the city, hanging out with my Chilean friends, and doing as much as I can in the few weeks I have left. Granted, I'm getting off to a GREAT start today... I slept in until 6 pm because of a late-night salsa, merengue, and cumbia dance party. But Monday is a whole new day!
As far as current things that have happened...
I ran a 5k with the Color Run, visited a rural healthcare post outside Santiago and realized how important health is to a community as a whole, finished up all my classes, gone to a few farewell parties, and had some great conversations with my host family (like always) and with Maya and Natalie from my abroad program while we were trying to finish up a final project. I also learned how to dance cumbia! That's one thing I'm really going to miss about Chile: how people actually know how to dance socially instead of just twerking.
In my clinical observation this week, I observed a cardiac bypass surgery. I felt dizzy for the first 3 hours; so I definitely know that it's a trend associated with needles and doctory-things. It was SO intense and SO cool. I saw the actual heart beat, the lungs inflate and deflate with each breath, and the importance of working as a team. Every person in that surgery room had an equally important role; they all moved and conversed like it was a perfectly choreographed dance. My favorite person to watch was the woman in charge of laying out all the instruments and handing them to the surgeons. She knew the surgery so well she could hand them whatever tool they needed before they asked. Every observation I go to I think that it's my favorite. This experience has been incredible.
We had our last meeting with our program on Thursday, November 21st for a Thanksgiving dinner and farewell/cultural re-entry session. We received a pin from the program with the US and Chilean flags crossed, and I hate to admit it, but I almost started bawling right then and there. I realized how not ready I am to go back to the US. I've established a whole new way of life here, lived in a different reality, learned so much, formed a new family, new relationships, and a deep connection with this place. Chile holds many of my "firsts": first airplane ride, first catholic mass, first solo travel adventure and hopefully the first of many more times I learn about a new culture and deepen my understanding of Spanish. How do I just leave all those new experiences behind and go back to the routine of home? It will be an infuriating comfort, I'm sure. People have changed back home, life went on, and it'll be a process to adjust again. I'll have to keep the same open mind I came here with when I go back.
I'm sure the next 20 days will fly by; no matter how hard I try to control the passage of time it will always slip through my fingers like grains of sand. So much to see, feel, touch, taste, hear, remember, and understand. Live it up. :D
See you all in a few weeks,
Athena
PS: Now on to organizing a shopping list for the Thanksgiving dinner I'm going to try to cook. Hopefully I don't set any towels on fire like last week when I tried to help my host mother cook... :)
As far as current things that have happened...
I ran a 5k with the Color Run, visited a rural healthcare post outside Santiago and realized how important health is to a community as a whole, finished up all my classes, gone to a few farewell parties, and had some great conversations with my host family (like always) and with Maya and Natalie from my abroad program while we were trying to finish up a final project. I also learned how to dance cumbia! That's one thing I'm really going to miss about Chile: how people actually know how to dance socially instead of just twerking.
In my clinical observation this week, I observed a cardiac bypass surgery. I felt dizzy for the first 3 hours; so I definitely know that it's a trend associated with needles and doctory-things. It was SO intense and SO cool. I saw the actual heart beat, the lungs inflate and deflate with each breath, and the importance of working as a team. Every person in that surgery room had an equally important role; they all moved and conversed like it was a perfectly choreographed dance. My favorite person to watch was the woman in charge of laying out all the instruments and handing them to the surgeons. She knew the surgery so well she could hand them whatever tool they needed before they asked. Every observation I go to I think that it's my favorite. This experience has been incredible.
We had our last meeting with our program on Thursday, November 21st for a Thanksgiving dinner and farewell/cultural re-entry session. We received a pin from the program with the US and Chilean flags crossed, and I hate to admit it, but I almost started bawling right then and there. I realized how not ready I am to go back to the US. I've established a whole new way of life here, lived in a different reality, learned so much, formed a new family, new relationships, and a deep connection with this place. Chile holds many of my "firsts": first airplane ride, first catholic mass, first solo travel adventure and hopefully the first of many more times I learn about a new culture and deepen my understanding of Spanish. How do I just leave all those new experiences behind and go back to the routine of home? It will be an infuriating comfort, I'm sure. People have changed back home, life went on, and it'll be a process to adjust again. I'll have to keep the same open mind I came here with when I go back.
I'm sure the next 20 days will fly by; no matter how hard I try to control the passage of time it will always slip through my fingers like grains of sand. So much to see, feel, touch, taste, hear, remember, and understand. Live it up. :D
See you all in a few weeks,
Athena
PS: Now on to organizing a shopping list for the Thanksgiving dinner I'm going to try to cook. Hopefully I don't set any towels on fire like last week when I tried to help my host mother cook... :)
A new reality: the public healthcare system in Chile
For those of you unfamiliar with the healthcare system in Chile, here's a brief overview:
There are basically two options for insurance: FONASA, the public insurance that is funded by taxes which 75% of the population is signed up for, and the ISAPRES, the private insurance an individual can buy based on their own health needs. Because of this system, and this is a huge generalization, the insured population is divided between the young, healthy, and rich that can afford Isapres and the old, sick, and poor that sign up for Fonasa. If you have Fonasa, you can only go to public hospitals and clinics unless you can pay for private centers, which boast low wait times for surgeries and better quality healthcare overall. Public hospitals suffer from a lack of resources and are often understaffed, sometimes leaving people waiting days in the emergency room and months for surgeries.
Today in my clinical observation, I had the opportunity to observe the emergency room at Hospital Sótero del Río. It's a public hospital in an area of Santiago with fewer resources than wealthy Providencia, where I live. It was an exhausting day, but I learned a lot about the realities of the public healthcare system in Chile.
I arrived at 9:30 am in the waiting room, which was already packed with people, and got shown back to the actual room where patients are treated and met the doctor I was going to follow for the day. He was very friendly, outgoing, and upbeat. As the day went on, my respect for this man increased exponentially as I saw how he maintained his positive attitude in light of the circumstances he works in. The emergency room's main room has 15 beds, separated by curtains, with just a computer and an IV stand next to each. There are three rooms that open into the main room, each with different roles: the first is the waiting room where people wait hours to be treated, the second is for people waiting to take blood tests, x-rays, or other exams. The third one is reserved for people who were hospitalized. There aren't enough beds, so four to five different IV's hung in front of a row of patients sitting in waiting room chairs.
To start the day, the doctor talked with a man who's liver was failing due to alcoholism. I could see the yellow eyes from jaundice; he was only 49. After that, the doctor spent a while filling out the patient's "ficha", the physical document that stays with the patient during their hospital stay that has all the medications, tests, medical history, and other relevant information, and organizing the ficha's of other patients. Although they have a computer system which logs the medical history, it's not available to every patient. The electronic system also serves as a mode of communication between different parts of the hospital, so the doctors can request different tests and send patients on their way. The system broke down twice, so the patients were stuck in limbo and the doctor's were unable to move on to other patients while the system got fixed.
After that, I moved on to the "sala de reanimación", basically the room where the most vital attention is given. Although the room was technically outfitted for 3 beds, there were 5 in the room. The most attention was being given to an 83-year-old woman who was moaning in pain and not breathing well. The doctors were discussing what to do, and they came to the conclusion that they should perform an intubation on her. They explained to her what was going to happen, said "Usted va a dormir ahora" (you are going to sleep now), and she nodded her head. I didn't realize that that would be her last communication with the world; she passed away after more than an hour of chest compressions. I was surprised at how much it didn't affect me; I guess surviving my mother's passing really did make me stronger. While they put her under, it was fascinating seeing all the doctors and nurses working as a team. They communicated and trusted each other during the entire process.
After those pleasant experiences, we went to lunch. It was really weird, transitioning from the enclosed emergency room with all the noise and movement, to going outside where a strange calm envelopes the rest of the hospital. While I was eating lunch with the doctor and the supervisor of the emergency room, it was hard for me to separate the ER environment from two normal people having a conversation about what they were going to do for the weekend. I guess that's something you learn on the job, separating your work from the rest of your life.
After lunch, the activity in the ER picked up noticeably. Stretchers from ambulances were used as beds because of the shortage. People were standing in the hallways because their weren't enough chairs. Because of my white lab coat I need to wear for the observations, people came up to me thinking I was a doctor and telling me their symptoms and asking when they were going to be seen. I constantly repeated myself saying "no soy doctora; no trabajo aquí" (I'm not a doctor; I don't work here). I heard the phrase "hay que esperar" (you'll have to wait) more times than I could count.
The second half of the day was WAY more exhausting than the first. I think it was because I started to feel trapped: I was in this place where clearly so many people needed help, but I couldn't do anything. I just sat and watched. I couldn't help the doctors organize the fichas, send requests for exams, listen to patients, I felt helpless because I didn't know anything. The doctor I was shadowing kept the same understanding and level of patience throughout the whole day, and didn't show any signs of exhaustion. I guess that's something else you get from the job, endurance.
This observation was the most challenging (even though I didn't come close to fainting once!!) but by far the most valuable. I saw a new reality and learned some truths about the quality of public healthcare in Chile. Most of all though, it reinforced in my brain that some of the most important and valued work someone can do often goes unrecognized. The doctors who work in the public system don't get paid as much as in the private sector. But they stick with their jobs because they know these people need help and they know they're needed, even though they know they can get more of a monetary reward working in the private system.
Now that I've seen Chile's public ER, I need to see one in the US to compare how bad the discrepancy is. The US has SO much and people never realize it and appreciate it enough. I wish there was a way we could balance out the quality of healthcare for everyone in the world. Such a Miss-Congeniality-world-peace-style desire, but one can dream, right?
It's a right, not a privilege, to have a functioning body that allows you to pursue happiness. And nothing should stand in your way of achieving that.
There are basically two options for insurance: FONASA, the public insurance that is funded by taxes which 75% of the population is signed up for, and the ISAPRES, the private insurance an individual can buy based on their own health needs. Because of this system, and this is a huge generalization, the insured population is divided between the young, healthy, and rich that can afford Isapres and the old, sick, and poor that sign up for Fonasa. If you have Fonasa, you can only go to public hospitals and clinics unless you can pay for private centers, which boast low wait times for surgeries and better quality healthcare overall. Public hospitals suffer from a lack of resources and are often understaffed, sometimes leaving people waiting days in the emergency room and months for surgeries.
Today in my clinical observation, I had the opportunity to observe the emergency room at Hospital Sótero del Río. It's a public hospital in an area of Santiago with fewer resources than wealthy Providencia, where I live. It was an exhausting day, but I learned a lot about the realities of the public healthcare system in Chile.
I arrived at 9:30 am in the waiting room, which was already packed with people, and got shown back to the actual room where patients are treated and met the doctor I was going to follow for the day. He was very friendly, outgoing, and upbeat. As the day went on, my respect for this man increased exponentially as I saw how he maintained his positive attitude in light of the circumstances he works in. The emergency room's main room has 15 beds, separated by curtains, with just a computer and an IV stand next to each. There are three rooms that open into the main room, each with different roles: the first is the waiting room where people wait hours to be treated, the second is for people waiting to take blood tests, x-rays, or other exams. The third one is reserved for people who were hospitalized. There aren't enough beds, so four to five different IV's hung in front of a row of patients sitting in waiting room chairs.
To start the day, the doctor talked with a man who's liver was failing due to alcoholism. I could see the yellow eyes from jaundice; he was only 49. After that, the doctor spent a while filling out the patient's "ficha", the physical document that stays with the patient during their hospital stay that has all the medications, tests, medical history, and other relevant information, and organizing the ficha's of other patients. Although they have a computer system which logs the medical history, it's not available to every patient. The electronic system also serves as a mode of communication between different parts of the hospital, so the doctors can request different tests and send patients on their way. The system broke down twice, so the patients were stuck in limbo and the doctor's were unable to move on to other patients while the system got fixed.
After that, I moved on to the "sala de reanimación", basically the room where the most vital attention is given. Although the room was technically outfitted for 3 beds, there were 5 in the room. The most attention was being given to an 83-year-old woman who was moaning in pain and not breathing well. The doctors were discussing what to do, and they came to the conclusion that they should perform an intubation on her. They explained to her what was going to happen, said "Usted va a dormir ahora" (you are going to sleep now), and she nodded her head. I didn't realize that that would be her last communication with the world; she passed away after more than an hour of chest compressions. I was surprised at how much it didn't affect me; I guess surviving my mother's passing really did make me stronger. While they put her under, it was fascinating seeing all the doctors and nurses working as a team. They communicated and trusted each other during the entire process.
After those pleasant experiences, we went to lunch. It was really weird, transitioning from the enclosed emergency room with all the noise and movement, to going outside where a strange calm envelopes the rest of the hospital. While I was eating lunch with the doctor and the supervisor of the emergency room, it was hard for me to separate the ER environment from two normal people having a conversation about what they were going to do for the weekend. I guess that's something you learn on the job, separating your work from the rest of your life.
After lunch, the activity in the ER picked up noticeably. Stretchers from ambulances were used as beds because of the shortage. People were standing in the hallways because their weren't enough chairs. Because of my white lab coat I need to wear for the observations, people came up to me thinking I was a doctor and telling me their symptoms and asking when they were going to be seen. I constantly repeated myself saying "no soy doctora; no trabajo aquí" (I'm not a doctor; I don't work here). I heard the phrase "hay que esperar" (you'll have to wait) more times than I could count.
The second half of the day was WAY more exhausting than the first. I think it was because I started to feel trapped: I was in this place where clearly so many people needed help, but I couldn't do anything. I just sat and watched. I couldn't help the doctors organize the fichas, send requests for exams, listen to patients, I felt helpless because I didn't know anything. The doctor I was shadowing kept the same understanding and level of patience throughout the whole day, and didn't show any signs of exhaustion. I guess that's something else you get from the job, endurance.
This observation was the most challenging (even though I didn't come close to fainting once!!) but by far the most valuable. I saw a new reality and learned some truths about the quality of public healthcare in Chile. Most of all though, it reinforced in my brain that some of the most important and valued work someone can do often goes unrecognized. The doctors who work in the public system don't get paid as much as in the private sector. But they stick with their jobs because they know these people need help and they know they're needed, even though they know they can get more of a monetary reward working in the private system.
Now that I've seen Chile's public ER, I need to see one in the US to compare how bad the discrepancy is. The US has SO much and people never realize it and appreciate it enough. I wish there was a way we could balance out the quality of healthcare for everyone in the world. Such a Miss-Congeniality-world-peace-style desire, but one can dream, right?
It's a right, not a privilege, to have a functioning body that allows you to pursue happiness. And nothing should stand in your way of achieving that.
One day in Santiago
So I've been posting realllllllllllly long winded posts about what I've been thinking, but I haven't posted anything about what I do on a day-to-day basis. So, without further ado...
Monday 4/11/2013:
7:30: ALARM!!! snooze...snooze...snooze...
7:55: a car alarm goes off with its typical pattern of sirens, honks, and beeps. It's not just a simple "beep beep beep". Well, if the city's waking up, I guess I should too.
8:00: Breakfast! Usually oatmeal, but sometimes the Chilean tecito (tea) and hallulla or marrequeta (bread) with butter and jam hits the spot.
8:30: Do homework I haven't done yet or work out or write in my journal or blog.
10:30: Walk out my door!!
10:31: Walk back in the door. Forgot my keys. Forgetting your keys in your room here is definitely worse than on campus... I can't just call up my host mom and be like "hey... leave work and let me in".
I walk outside down Pedro de Valdivia, the street that runs through the municipalities of Providencia and Ñuñoa. It looks just like any street in the US, except there's probably some stray dogs laying in a sunbeam and TONS of posters of politicians' faces running for office (presidential elections are in mid-november).
10:35: Walk by the park maintenance workers who are... surprise surprise... literally flooding the grass with water. Everywhere in Santiago where there's grass, I always see people with a hose watering it or sprinklers on for hours drowning the blades until lakes of mud and dead grass form.
10:35: Arrive at the bus stop. I look around and see faces of typical Santiaguinos: women with gorgeous long brown hair and brown eyes, professionals with dark colored clothing on their smartphones, college-age guys with long hair/dreadlocks with sunglasses and their headphones in. But I definitely stick out as a gringa with my lighter eyes and general "aura". I miss the diversity of my college and the US.
10:45: The micro finally arrives!! I get on and pay with my blue bip! card that everyone needs to ride public transport. Sometimes a musician gets on and plays his guitar and sings classic Beatle's tunes with improvised English lyrics or classic Chilean songs. Towards the stop where everyone gets off for the metro, they go along the micro asking for tips and then leave to catch the next.
11:00: Get onto the metro. SO HOT. It's now summer here and there's no air conditioning in the subway system, so it gets pretty stuffy. I usually pull out my cell phone and play solitaire or sudoku (...look casual). About halfway through the metro ride the train goes above ground and I can see other parts of Santiago; the mountains always remain in view.
11:20: "Estación San Joaquin" buzzes over the loudspeaker and I get off with dozens of other students at the Pontificia Universidad Católica. I never see anyone wearing PUC sweatshirts or tshirts because college is a time where students can really express their personal style after years and years of school-logo emblazoned uniforms.
11:30: Religiones y Cristianismo (Religions and Christianity)! Today we started our final unit about Christianity. It's been a really interesting course about all the different kinds of religious beliefs around the world, and the professor often makes really interesting comments about Chilean and US culture. It's pretty clear to me that a Christian bias comes through his teachings, though, as he often makes some off-color comments that make me realize this is a VERY catholic university.
1:05: Once again, the professor lets us out late since he got carried away reading from a book.
1:10: Back on the metro! Ugh. There's a couple eating each other's faces right next to me. PDA is everywhere in Chile. I don't really understand what's so romantic about a metro-make-out-session, but to each their own I guess?
1:30: Back to the IES center where I'll heat up my lunch and eat frantically before class.
2:00: Español para Gringas! (haha, that's not the title of the course, just one my Chilean friend suggested. But that's pretty much what it is, a Spanish class to help us poor lost gring@s understand Chileans) Today we had a man called Eledin Parraguez come in and talk to us about his experience in the integration programs from the 1970's. The "integración" was an effort of the Allende presidency to have poor students study at the rich private schools, to prove that those with less resources could be just as successful as wealthy people if given the opportunity. He was the inspiration for the Chilean film "Machuca", which is about a poor boy who is integrated into a rich private school and makes friends with a wealthy peer just before the Pinochet dictatorship started. It shows the "golpe militar" (military coup) of September 11th through the children's perspective. I highly recommend watching it, it highlights many of the divisions within Chile that still are prevalent today.
4:00: Medical Spanish! Typical day; we talked about healthcare for the elderly and discussed how it differs in the US vs Chile. Chile's population is growing older, but there are only 30 geriatric doctors in the entirety of Chile for their aging population. Then we had our vocab test. The last one, YAY!!
5:30: I walk home from the IES center, down Manuel Montt, Francisco Bilbao, then Pedro de Valdivia again. This is my FAVORITE part of the day, just walking around the city and taking it all in. Hearing people talk on the phone in Spanish, reading Spanish street signs, the constant impatient honking, the occasional car blaring reggaetón or "Black and Yellow" (**see below), and the general sounds of the city make me SO happy (except when boys honk, whistle, make kissing noises, or yell things at you. The "piropos" are DEFINITELY things I could do without in Chile).
6:00: Arrive home!! Do some homework and chill before my host sister comes home. Then we'll have "once" (elevensies!! hee hee, more bread but with palta (avocado) or scrambled eggs with a tecito) and chat about the day or religion or education or some other interesting topic.
And then... write in my journal about the day and go to Sleeeeeeeeeeep.
**this one just happened once and it was an older guy listening to it in the car. I remember cruising through St. Louis Park with Ellyn and Jackie eating Arby's and trying to rap. We were SO COOL. So the combination made me lawl. :) Miss you guys!
Monday 4/11/2013:
7:30: ALARM!!! snooze...snooze...snooze...
7:55: a car alarm goes off with its typical pattern of sirens, honks, and beeps. It's not just a simple "beep beep beep". Well, if the city's waking up, I guess I should too.
8:00: Breakfast! Usually oatmeal, but sometimes the Chilean tecito (tea) and hallulla or marrequeta (bread) with butter and jam hits the spot.
8:30: Do homework I haven't done yet or work out or write in my journal or blog.
10:30: Walk out my door!!
10:31: Walk back in the door. Forgot my keys. Forgetting your keys in your room here is definitely worse than on campus... I can't just call up my host mom and be like "hey... leave work and let me in".
I walk outside down Pedro de Valdivia, the street that runs through the municipalities of Providencia and Ñuñoa. It looks just like any street in the US, except there's probably some stray dogs laying in a sunbeam and TONS of posters of politicians' faces running for office (presidential elections are in mid-november).
10:35: Walk by the park maintenance workers who are... surprise surprise... literally flooding the grass with water. Everywhere in Santiago where there's grass, I always see people with a hose watering it or sprinklers on for hours drowning the blades until lakes of mud and dead grass form.
10:35: Arrive at the bus stop. I look around and see faces of typical Santiaguinos: women with gorgeous long brown hair and brown eyes, professionals with dark colored clothing on their smartphones, college-age guys with long hair/dreadlocks with sunglasses and their headphones in. But I definitely stick out as a gringa with my lighter eyes and general "aura". I miss the diversity of my college and the US.
10:45: The micro finally arrives!! I get on and pay with my blue bip! card that everyone needs to ride public transport. Sometimes a musician gets on and plays his guitar and sings classic Beatle's tunes with improvised English lyrics or classic Chilean songs. Towards the stop where everyone gets off for the metro, they go along the micro asking for tips and then leave to catch the next.
11:00: Get onto the metro. SO HOT. It's now summer here and there's no air conditioning in the subway system, so it gets pretty stuffy. I usually pull out my cell phone and play solitaire or sudoku (...look casual). About halfway through the metro ride the train goes above ground and I can see other parts of Santiago; the mountains always remain in view.
11:20: "Estación San Joaquin" buzzes over the loudspeaker and I get off with dozens of other students at the Pontificia Universidad Católica. I never see anyone wearing PUC sweatshirts or tshirts because college is a time where students can really express their personal style after years and years of school-logo emblazoned uniforms.
11:30: Religiones y Cristianismo (Religions and Christianity)! Today we started our final unit about Christianity. It's been a really interesting course about all the different kinds of religious beliefs around the world, and the professor often makes really interesting comments about Chilean and US culture. It's pretty clear to me that a Christian bias comes through his teachings, though, as he often makes some off-color comments that make me realize this is a VERY catholic university.
1:05: Once again, the professor lets us out late since he got carried away reading from a book.
1:10: Back on the metro! Ugh. There's a couple eating each other's faces right next to me. PDA is everywhere in Chile. I don't really understand what's so romantic about a metro-make-out-session, but to each their own I guess?
1:30: Back to the IES center where I'll heat up my lunch and eat frantically before class.
2:00: Español para Gringas! (haha, that's not the title of the course, just one my Chilean friend suggested. But that's pretty much what it is, a Spanish class to help us poor lost gring@s understand Chileans) Today we had a man called Eledin Parraguez come in and talk to us about his experience in the integration programs from the 1970's. The "integración" was an effort of the Allende presidency to have poor students study at the rich private schools, to prove that those with less resources could be just as successful as wealthy people if given the opportunity. He was the inspiration for the Chilean film "Machuca", which is about a poor boy who is integrated into a rich private school and makes friends with a wealthy peer just before the Pinochet dictatorship started. It shows the "golpe militar" (military coup) of September 11th through the children's perspective. I highly recommend watching it, it highlights many of the divisions within Chile that still are prevalent today.
4:00: Medical Spanish! Typical day; we talked about healthcare for the elderly and discussed how it differs in the US vs Chile. Chile's population is growing older, but there are only 30 geriatric doctors in the entirety of Chile for their aging population. Then we had our vocab test. The last one, YAY!!
5:30: I walk home from the IES center, down Manuel Montt, Francisco Bilbao, then Pedro de Valdivia again. This is my FAVORITE part of the day, just walking around the city and taking it all in. Hearing people talk on the phone in Spanish, reading Spanish street signs, the constant impatient honking, the occasional car blaring reggaetón or "Black and Yellow" (**see below), and the general sounds of the city make me SO happy (except when boys honk, whistle, make kissing noises, or yell things at you. The "piropos" are DEFINITELY things I could do without in Chile).
6:00: Arrive home!! Do some homework and chill before my host sister comes home. Then we'll have "once" (elevensies!! hee hee, more bread but with palta (avocado) or scrambled eggs with a tecito) and chat about the day or religion or education or some other interesting topic.
And then... write in my journal about the day and go to Sleeeeeeeeeeep.
**this one just happened once and it was an older guy listening to it in the car. I remember cruising through St. Louis Park with Ellyn and Jackie eating Arby's and trying to rap. We were SO COOL. So the combination made me lawl. :) Miss you guys!
Clinical Observations AKA Time reserved for Athena to almost faint (and other thoughts)
The main reason why I came to Santiago was because my study abroad organization has a program called the Clinical Observation Seminar. Since I'm one of those "maybe-I'll-just-go-pre-med-because-I-have-no-idea-what-else-I'd-do-with-my-life" students, I decided it'd probably be a good idea to observe some doctors and interact with patients before I do a full-blown commitment to med school (aka... a commitment to taking biochem and physics at Grinnell). Although I haven't yet made a definitive decision one way or the other, I've learned a lot about Chile's healthcare system and my own limits when it comes to doctor-y things. Like needles. Apparently they're not my best friend.
We started out the class with theory lectures about how private insurance and public healthcare works in Chile. There are basically two options: FONASA, the public insurance that is funded by taxes which 75% of the population is signed up for, and the ISAPRES, the private insurance an individual can buy based on their own health needs. Because of this system, and this is a huge generalization, the insured population is divided between the young, healthy, and rich that can afford Isapres and the old, sick, and poor that sign up for Fonasa. If you have Fonasa, you can only go to public hospitals and clinics unless you can pay for private centers, which boast low wait times for surgeries and better quality healthcare overall. Public hospitals suffer from a lack of resources and are often understaffed, sometimes leaving people waiting days in the emergency room and months for surgeries.
For the practical part of the seminar, we go in pairs to spend Thursdays with different medical centers. First, my partner and I went to a dialysis center where we learned about how the blood is filtered when the kidneys no longer function.We talked to many patients about their experiences with the clinic and about life in general. The day was going splendidly until the time came for one of the nurses to stop the dialysis for one of the patients. Standing by the machine and realizing that soon the nurse would be pulling out the needles from the mass of scarred veins and arteries made me... just a tad dizzy and nauseous. I thought I was just suffering from lack of sleep and dehydration (excuses?).
The next week, we visited the maternity ward. We changed out of street clothes and into scrubs (they are SO comfy!) so that we could observe some live births, an emergency surgery, and a C-section. We observed an anesthesiologist perform an epidural. Almost fainted. Then we observed some nurses working with a woman who was about to give birth. Almost fainted. At the end of the day, we observed a C-section. What happened? You guessed it. Almost fainted at the end of the surgery. I'm glad I know my body well enough so I can sit down as soon as I know it's getting bad... otherwise I would have become a patient instead of an observer! If this trend keeps up for my observations for a family clinic, emergency room, and a cardiac surgery, I think it'd be safe to say that I should pursue a career in medicine that doesn't involve being a doctor.
Apart from learning my physical inabilities when it comes to clinical work, I've learned a surprising amount about the Mapuche culture from the seminar. The Mapuche are the largest remaining indigenous population in Chile; 85% of the indigenous people are Mapuche. I've been learning a lot about them in many of my classes; their religion in theology, their basic anthropological information in Native Cultures, and how intercultural exchange occurs with medicine in the seminar. We had the opportunity to visit a Mapuche "ruca", which is a hut in an area about the size of half a block in Santiago where the Mapuche can practice their culture, festivals, and traditional medicine. Anyone can consult a machi, the Mapuche healer, as an alternative to western medicine.
Learning from a professor and a machi (the mapuche healer) about the benefits of intercultural dialogue and practices has made me realize how valuable this experience has been for me as an individual potentially entering the medical field. A lot of people study medicine because they love science. You study ochem, physics, biochem, and learn about all the metabolic pathways and which drugs are used to treat which illnesses and how analgesics work in the brain to stop pain. What about sociology, psychology, and anthropology? What about understanding the various social, economic, and religious reasons for why people will seek healthcare for certain occasions? Often times these are added on as an afterthought and differing perspectives aren't fully understood and therefore are less respected. But the necessity of recognizing that not every individual operates under the western, scientific medical paradigm that dominates society and suffocates the system is SO important. Reading The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down in high school introduced this topic to me, and now I actually can apply it and see it in action. Study abroad kind of rocks.
Kind of rotating to a different topic/afterthought that's still a little relevant...
The discussion about the importance of intercultural dialogue and listening to other perspectives made me realize how much my internship this summer has prepared me for this trip. I spent the summer interning at the Christian Conference Center in Newton, IA, the place where I attended church camp for 10 summers. Being able to step back and grow in my faith and listen to other people's journeys was such a valuable experience looking back now.
I got much more involved in and passionate for my denomination, the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ). Being a disciple, to me, means being open-minded and recognizing the importance of listening to other perspectives on God and religion. Only through listening will you be able to expand your own knowledge about God and your role in the world. Reaffirming that my own point of view is one tiny sliver of the truth about God has been an important lesson I've learned and developed through this summer and this study abroad experience. I've learned more about how other people contribute to my life and how they add to my rich experience with God and the world around me. It's refreshing to understand that there is not one truth; rather, a messy but beautiful web of experiences and beliefs between people that form my faith in God.
Thanks for reading my hodge-podge thought pensieve. :)
Til later,
Chao!
We started out the class with theory lectures about how private insurance and public healthcare works in Chile. There are basically two options: FONASA, the public insurance that is funded by taxes which 75% of the population is signed up for, and the ISAPRES, the private insurance an individual can buy based on their own health needs. Because of this system, and this is a huge generalization, the insured population is divided between the young, healthy, and rich that can afford Isapres and the old, sick, and poor that sign up for Fonasa. If you have Fonasa, you can only go to public hospitals and clinics unless you can pay for private centers, which boast low wait times for surgeries and better quality healthcare overall. Public hospitals suffer from a lack of resources and are often understaffed, sometimes leaving people waiting days in the emergency room and months for surgeries.
For the practical part of the seminar, we go in pairs to spend Thursdays with different medical centers. First, my partner and I went to a dialysis center where we learned about how the blood is filtered when the kidneys no longer function.We talked to many patients about their experiences with the clinic and about life in general. The day was going splendidly until the time came for one of the nurses to stop the dialysis for one of the patients. Standing by the machine and realizing that soon the nurse would be pulling out the needles from the mass of scarred veins and arteries made me... just a tad dizzy and nauseous. I thought I was just suffering from lack of sleep and dehydration (excuses?).
The next week, we visited the maternity ward. We changed out of street clothes and into scrubs (they are SO comfy!) so that we could observe some live births, an emergency surgery, and a C-section. We observed an anesthesiologist perform an epidural. Almost fainted. Then we observed some nurses working with a woman who was about to give birth. Almost fainted. At the end of the day, we observed a C-section. What happened? You guessed it. Almost fainted at the end of the surgery. I'm glad I know my body well enough so I can sit down as soon as I know it's getting bad... otherwise I would have become a patient instead of an observer! If this trend keeps up for my observations for a family clinic, emergency room, and a cardiac surgery, I think it'd be safe to say that I should pursue a career in medicine that doesn't involve being a doctor.
Apart from learning my physical inabilities when it comes to clinical work, I've learned a surprising amount about the Mapuche culture from the seminar. The Mapuche are the largest remaining indigenous population in Chile; 85% of the indigenous people are Mapuche. I've been learning a lot about them in many of my classes; their religion in theology, their basic anthropological information in Native Cultures, and how intercultural exchange occurs with medicine in the seminar. We had the opportunity to visit a Mapuche "ruca", which is a hut in an area about the size of half a block in Santiago where the Mapuche can practice their culture, festivals, and traditional medicine. Anyone can consult a machi, the Mapuche healer, as an alternative to western medicine.
Learning from a professor and a machi (the mapuche healer) about the benefits of intercultural dialogue and practices has made me realize how valuable this experience has been for me as an individual potentially entering the medical field. A lot of people study medicine because they love science. You study ochem, physics, biochem, and learn about all the metabolic pathways and which drugs are used to treat which illnesses and how analgesics work in the brain to stop pain. What about sociology, psychology, and anthropology? What about understanding the various social, economic, and religious reasons for why people will seek healthcare for certain occasions? Often times these are added on as an afterthought and differing perspectives aren't fully understood and therefore are less respected. But the necessity of recognizing that not every individual operates under the western, scientific medical paradigm that dominates society and suffocates the system is SO important. Reading The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down in high school introduced this topic to me, and now I actually can apply it and see it in action. Study abroad kind of rocks.
Kind of rotating to a different topic/afterthought that's still a little relevant...
The discussion about the importance of intercultural dialogue and listening to other perspectives made me realize how much my internship this summer has prepared me for this trip. I spent the summer interning at the Christian Conference Center in Newton, IA, the place where I attended church camp for 10 summers. Being able to step back and grow in my faith and listen to other people's journeys was such a valuable experience looking back now.
I got much more involved in and passionate for my denomination, the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ). Being a disciple, to me, means being open-minded and recognizing the importance of listening to other perspectives on God and religion. Only through listening will you be able to expand your own knowledge about God and your role in the world. Reaffirming that my own point of view is one tiny sliver of the truth about God has been an important lesson I've learned and developed through this summer and this study abroad experience. I've learned more about how other people contribute to my life and how they add to my rich experience with God and the world around me. It's refreshing to understand that there is not one truth; rather, a messy but beautiful web of experiences and beliefs between people that form my faith in God.
Thanks for reading my hodge-podge thought pensieve. :)
Til later,
Chao!
13 down, 7 to go (Wait... What??)
In the post where I did a mini-overview about the first third of my stay in Chile, I thought I still had all the time in the world to explore Chile and get to know its people better. Now that I'm down to my last third, I feel a little bit crunched for time. This "third" of my stay, mid-September to mid-October, was characteristic of a few things: traveling, homesickness, and developing a new feeling of home.
I spent of lot of weekends away from Santiago, traveling to Bolivia/Chirimoyas, La Serena with Coquimbo and Valle del Elqui, and most recently the classic venture to the Atacama desert in northern Chile. I've only seen a little bit of the top half of this country, but Chile has the coolest and most gorgeous sights I've ever seen. Even though I've seen so many different things on my road trips around the states (only have Hawaii and Alaska left to see!) the different hemisphere provides radically different climates and really interesting geography.
A six hour drive north of Santiago brought me and my two friends Hudson and Nick to La Serena and Coquimbo, coastal cities that are a springboard for experiencing the more central Valle del Elqui (Elqui Valley). La Serena offered a wonderful view of the Pacific with dolphins swimming in the surf and an interesting archeological museum with a mummy and a moai statue from Easter Island.
In Coquimbo, we went to the top of the Cruz del III milenio (The Third Millenium Cross) that was built to commemorate 2000 years of Jesus' birth. It was really neat, with panoramic views of the city, ocean, and cordillera from the top of the cross and a mini-museum of catholic artifacts. It also had a series of life-size statues depicting the "final journey" of Jesus' crucifiction and resurrection.
Next, we traveled to the central part of the country to see Valle del Elqui. This region is famous for its grape crops that are used in the production of pisco, the very Chilean hard liquor which is pretty much a less processed version of white wine. Usually they mix it with cola to make "piscola" or add some other things to it to make "pisco sour", which basically tastes like margarita mix. A bit south of Santiago is where you'll find all the vineyards, where the Mediterranean climate predominates.
In mid-October, I traveled alone for 5 days in San Pedro de Atacama, a base for exploring the vast and arid Atacama desert. I met people from all over the world at my hostel, and the main streets of the town are always crowded with tourists. I went on four tours where I saw awesome rock formations in Valle de la Luna (Valley of the Moon) and climbed through a cave/tunnel, floated in Laguna Cejar (higher concentration of salt/lithium than the Dead Sea) and saw a gorgeous sunset at Laguna Tebinquiche, saw the Tatio Geysers and swam in a hot spring, saw gorgeous reflections of the snowcapped mountains in the altpilanic lagoons and felt like I was in Middle Earth. There are SO many beautiful views I tried to capture with my camera, and my album on facebook has some comments about the pictures. It's very clear why this town is so touristy with all the views it has to offer, and people tend to come here to see some of the sights and then hop over to Bolivia. The completely superficial swing-through of the areas made me abhor tourism. I would much rather stay in one place for a longer period of time and actually form a connection to the land and the people than just check off some views from a list. In the end, traveling alone boosted my confidence in my ability to trust myself, provided more opportunities to meet new people, and made me appreciate the beauty of not really having a plan.
During the traveling and the routine of school in the second third of my stay, I became painfully aware of how much I miss my original home in SLP. During almost the entirety of September, I had Christmas carols stuck in my head and couldn't wait to get home for the holidays. I browsed through all the Halloween decorations on target.com when the Halloween displays in local stores left much to be desired. I had extreme cravings for pineapple Domino's pizza at Grandma's house and a cinnamon-sugar bagel with strawberry cream cheese at Bruegger's Bagels.
But even with all this lame homesickness, the traveling away from Santiago made me miss the city and my host family. When I stepped off the plan from Bolivia, a friend picked me and my host mother up from the airport and said "Welcome home!" to me in English. Hearing those words spoken to me in my native language made a strong connection in my brain. Even though I've only been here for 3 months, I'm starting to call this place home. I walk down familiar streets, see the same people in my classes, eat Chilean comfort foods like manjar, and feel some Chilean pride when I think about how they're going to the world cup in Brazil in 2014.
The stability of familiarity and routine can never be underrated for me now, as I realize that in the midst of new experiences that shake my world (even though I still haven't felt seismic activity here because I've slept through them all) there is always comfort in knowing I have foundations and the ability to return home. This is a luxury I appreciate more and more, especially as I learn more in-depth about the ways the dictatorship shook this country and displaced so many people and ended so many lives. I wish I could stay in Santiago longer, I feel like I'm just starting to scratch the surface that is Chile.
So, with 7 weeks to go, I'm motivated to see how much more I can discover about Chile.
See you all in December,
Athena
I spent of lot of weekends away from Santiago, traveling to Bolivia/Chirimoyas, La Serena with Coquimbo and Valle del Elqui, and most recently the classic venture to the Atacama desert in northern Chile. I've only seen a little bit of the top half of this country, but Chile has the coolest and most gorgeous sights I've ever seen. Even though I've seen so many different things on my road trips around the states (only have Hawaii and Alaska left to see!) the different hemisphere provides radically different climates and really interesting geography.
A six hour drive north of Santiago brought me and my two friends Hudson and Nick to La Serena and Coquimbo, coastal cities that are a springboard for experiencing the more central Valle del Elqui (Elqui Valley). La Serena offered a wonderful view of the Pacific with dolphins swimming in the surf and an interesting archeological museum with a mummy and a moai statue from Easter Island.
In Coquimbo, we went to the top of the Cruz del III milenio (The Third Millenium Cross) that was built to commemorate 2000 years of Jesus' birth. It was really neat, with panoramic views of the city, ocean, and cordillera from the top of the cross and a mini-museum of catholic artifacts. It also had a series of life-size statues depicting the "final journey" of Jesus' crucifiction and resurrection.
Next, we traveled to the central part of the country to see Valle del Elqui. This region is famous for its grape crops that are used in the production of pisco, the very Chilean hard liquor which is pretty much a less processed version of white wine. Usually they mix it with cola to make "piscola" or add some other things to it to make "pisco sour", which basically tastes like margarita mix. A bit south of Santiago is where you'll find all the vineyards, where the Mediterranean climate predominates.
In mid-October, I traveled alone for 5 days in San Pedro de Atacama, a base for exploring the vast and arid Atacama desert. I met people from all over the world at my hostel, and the main streets of the town are always crowded with tourists. I went on four tours where I saw awesome rock formations in Valle de la Luna (Valley of the Moon) and climbed through a cave/tunnel, floated in Laguna Cejar (higher concentration of salt/lithium than the Dead Sea) and saw a gorgeous sunset at Laguna Tebinquiche, saw the Tatio Geysers and swam in a hot spring, saw gorgeous reflections of the snowcapped mountains in the altpilanic lagoons and felt like I was in Middle Earth. There are SO many beautiful views I tried to capture with my camera, and my album on facebook has some comments about the pictures. It's very clear why this town is so touristy with all the views it has to offer, and people tend to come here to see some of the sights and then hop over to Bolivia. The completely superficial swing-through of the areas made me abhor tourism. I would much rather stay in one place for a longer period of time and actually form a connection to the land and the people than just check off some views from a list. In the end, traveling alone boosted my confidence in my ability to trust myself, provided more opportunities to meet new people, and made me appreciate the beauty of not really having a plan.
During the traveling and the routine of school in the second third of my stay, I became painfully aware of how much I miss my original home in SLP. During almost the entirety of September, I had Christmas carols stuck in my head and couldn't wait to get home for the holidays. I browsed through all the Halloween decorations on target.com when the Halloween displays in local stores left much to be desired. I had extreme cravings for pineapple Domino's pizza at Grandma's house and a cinnamon-sugar bagel with strawberry cream cheese at Bruegger's Bagels.
But even with all this lame homesickness, the traveling away from Santiago made me miss the city and my host family. When I stepped off the plan from Bolivia, a friend picked me and my host mother up from the airport and said "Welcome home!" to me in English. Hearing those words spoken to me in my native language made a strong connection in my brain. Even though I've only been here for 3 months, I'm starting to call this place home. I walk down familiar streets, see the same people in my classes, eat Chilean comfort foods like manjar, and feel some Chilean pride when I think about how they're going to the world cup in Brazil in 2014.
The stability of familiarity and routine can never be underrated for me now, as I realize that in the midst of new experiences that shake my world (even though I still haven't felt seismic activity here because I've slept through them all) there is always comfort in knowing I have foundations and the ability to return home. This is a luxury I appreciate more and more, especially as I learn more in-depth about the ways the dictatorship shook this country and displaced so many people and ended so many lives. I wish I could stay in Santiago longer, I feel like I'm just starting to scratch the surface that is Chile.
So, with 7 weeks to go, I'm motivated to see how much more I can discover about Chile.
See you all in December,
Athena
MOSAIC article
My good friend from Grinnell invited me to write an article for a magazine on campus about my experience in Chile, and I decided I could use it as a blog post! Here it is:
After
the whirlwind of grabbing luggage, going through customs and immigration, and
finding my group of fellow abroad students at the airport in Santiago, Chile,
my study abroad experience began. Since this was my first experience outside the
US, even my first airplane ride, I knew the next several months would involve
new experiences, foods, education systems, family structures, and cultural
practices. I had the expectation that Santiago would immediately feel different
from the US, but on the surface, it looks and operates just like any other big
city in the US: tall buildings, traffic, and typical US fast-food chains
popping up around every block. The first few weeks felt like I was just speaking
Spanish all day in the US.
I
think a lot of this has to do with the way the country has progressed since the
20-year dictatorship that started on September 11th, 1973. Augusto
Pinochet, with help from the US government, organized a coup against Salvador
Allende’s left-wing administration to prevent the county from “falling into
communism.” Aftershocks of the dictatorship are still felt today: the
government has not offered apologies to families of the more than 3,000 “desaparecidos” (the
disappeared) or to the 30,000 victims of torture, leaving a large chunk of
society without closure. Most government officials who instigated the human
rights violations have not been brought to justice and some still work in their
departments. The rapid economic growth that accompanied the adoption of
westernized economic policies caused huge divisions between socioeconomic
classes. While Chile is often referred to as “Latin America’s success story”, the
“success” is really only felt by the upper classes. I live in the wealthier
part of Santiago and when I travel around and see different parts of the city,
it is very clear to me that not all of Chile benefits from what Pinochet began.
So
with a little more time and some knowledge about the country’s history and
current issues, I started recognizing some differences between Chile and the US.
While the divisions between social classes also exist in the US, in Chile the
different classes barely interact with each other. I had the opportunity to
attend a diverse high school and a college with a strong dedication to ensuring
that those with limited resources can still receive a quality education. Coming
to Chile, and seeing how the education system perpetuates the
socioeconomic divisions, I realize even more how unique of an experience I
have. Another difference appears in family structures. I would not necessarily
say that family is more important here than in the US; Chileans express their
love for each other in actions and words more so than back home. Interestingly,
this cultural difference becomes apparent in healthcare. In my seminar about Chile’s
healthcare system, we visited the Clínica Familia, a type of hospice care that
attends to the spiritual and physical well being of terminally ill patients. It
is the only clinic of its kind in the Santiago area and not very well known. A
Chilean family will usually take care of its terminally ill members at home,
but sometimes the family does not have the resources so the clinic will step in.
In the US, hospice care is fairly well known and is used a lot more often than
in Chile. It’s fascinating seeing how different cultural norms create unique systems.
In
the middle of September, I had the opportunity to travel to Bolivia and
volunteer with a small community called Chirimoyas. Established around 3 years
ago from a chunk of land previously owned by one landowner, the community is
working on making the land viable for crop production and developing the
community into a safe, healthy, and prosperous town for its members. In the
middle of the jungle close to the Brazilian border, I could slow down
completely and really look at myself from an outside perspective. These people
had no running water during our stay (the motor in the well was broken), the
children ran around barefoot playing soccer on hard, rocky ground, a little
girl told me she wanted my skin color because she thought hers was ugly, and
some the houses didn’t have walls to block the winds. This made me feel guilty
knowing that these people will work so hard to receive one small percentage of
the opportunities I have received through my sheer luck of being born in the
US.
Yes,
this experience made me grateful for the basic material goods I have in
Santiago and Grinnell, but it also helped me prioritize my life differently. Coming
from Grinnell, with the atmosphere entirely driven by how much you need to read
and how high you can get your grades before finals, study abroad has provided a
fresh start and a new perspective. There is no better way to develop awareness
about other ways of life than to actually live them, something no amount of
studying or reading can substitute.
Bolivia: Chirimoyas
For some thoughts on the rest of my trip to Bolivia, click here.
The highlight of my trip to Bolivia in September was a short visit to Chirimoyas, a community established around 3 years ago from a chunk of
land previously owned by one landowner. Valeria worked as a volunteer to get this
land out of the pockets of one person and back to the hands of the people. Those who settled there came from all walks of life, from
indigenous to city dwellers, but had one thing in common: they needed land to
start a new life and a fresh start. The community is working on making the
land viable for crop production and developing a safe,
healthy, and prosperous town for its members. It
was amazing finally seeing a type of agrarian reform in action,
instead of just hearing about the huge inequalities of land
distribution in South America from Spanish classes.
I had the opportunity to learn more about how this community started, meet some of the amazing people who live there, and experience life in Chirimoyas first hand, the struggles and the triumphs. This experience really made me slow down and appreciate everything I have. Even though the visit was shorter than I anticipated, only 3 full days, Chirimoyas left more of an impression on me than 2 years at Grinnell.
I had the opportunity to learn more about how this community started, meet some of the amazing people who live there, and experience life in Chirimoyas first hand, the struggles and the triumphs. This experience really made me slow down and appreciate everything I have. Even though the visit was shorter than I anticipated, only 3 full days, Chirimoyas left more of an impression on me than 2 years at Grinnell.
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| Bottom right: map of Bolivia. Bottom left: map of the region Santa Cruz de la Sierra. Top left: hard to make out, but the darker gray rectangular-ish region is Chirimoyas. If you're good at reading maps, you can see where Chirimoyas is located. Right above the "M" in "Jose Miguel de Velasco", a little to the west of the triangle indent on the eastern border of Bolivia. |
The trip from La Paz to Chirimoyas started out around noon on Sunday, the 15th of September and we finally arrived around 2 am Tuesday. 32 hours of driving was an adventure. The ticket salespeople in bus stations would drag us around trying to sell us their tickets, claiming their buses were the most luxurious available. Obviously they were just trying to make a sale. Then, from Santa Cruz to Chirimoyas, we had car trouble because the company hadn't done maintenance on the van for years. Then, the driver left us in a town 2 hours away from Chirimoyas saying that he didn't know the directions. But in the end we ended up getting there safe and sound. The views from the drive were unforgettable, so it made up for the logistical chaos.
We set up our tents in the town-wide gathering space because no one was awake. While I was lying inside the tent listening to the sounds of roosters crowing, dogs barking, and bugs zooming around outside, it began to sink in that I was in a completely different world.
The town had a completely different energy than anything I've experienced, it was close to the tranquility I've felt at campfires from church camp. The days were so long; the first day I was there it felt like a week. Not necessarily because a lot of things happened or because I was extremely tired. On the contrary, I felt rejuvenated and refreshed; time just seemed to pass differently there. Anywhere I walked, I could look people in the face and smile and get a "Buen Día" (good day) in return. That sense of community and connection reminded me a little of Minnesota-nice and the close-knit campus of my college.
In addition to the energy felt while I was there, the views of the surrounding forest were spectacular. We took a one-hour hike in the middle of the jungle, no path, to a rock that offered a magnificent view of the trees below.
One night, Valeria needed to make a cell phone call. So what did we do? Drove 10 minutes up the red dirt road and climbed to the top of another rock. The only place Chirimoyas had signal! That night we had clear skies and a full moon. At the top of the rock Valeria and I were talking about how we felt an absolute tranquility up here. The trees surrounding us, the moon shining down, the shooting stars... it was "paz total" (total peace).
And yet...
Poverty. All the while, I was thinking about this awesome article. While I was feeling rejuvenated, energized, and refreshed from being cut off from the city, I had this itch in the back of my brain. These people are suffering from a lack of resources. Even though they seem to live in a paradise, they struggle for everyday things we ALWAYS take for granted. The children only go to school until age 12. Even that's rare; some of them go to work before their done with their education because they need to make MONEY. The children play in the rough dirt road with flip flops or no shoes. Even though they could grow their own food, they don't have the farming resources so they eat the cheapest food they can find: rice and the peanuts they're able to cultivate, no vegetables. The papayas that grow abundantly on trees here are considered less valuable than water. The first day we had water no problem. The second day the motor broke and there was no water to wash your hands, clean the food, and drink. These people need to get resources like tractors and teachers in order to make their community into a sustainable, safe, and healthy town for the people who live there.
Like I mentioned before, Chirimoyas is working on getting the land ready for chia, sesame, and peanut production. They need the land in order to make a living. But the rainforest is shrinking every year. I got stuck in a moral dilemma while I saw some of that deforestation happen while I was cruising down the red dirt road in the back of a motorcycle wagon drinking a beer. It was a wild experience, living two realities at once: seeing people tear down the rainforest while seeing people living in poverty because they can't grow enough food right now. I'm not sure how to resolve this conflict in my head.
Valeria spends a considerable amount of time volunteering with Chirimoyas to start different programs that could bring money into the town, from making beehives to sell honey to creating a website to capture some tourism. While I only saw a completely superficial tour of the town, and barely got to know the people I shared meals with, I felt a really strong pull to go back and work with them on education or female empowerment. Time will tell whether I end up going, but I hope someday I can go back to Chirimoyas and get to know its people better, to step back from all the materialism and appreciate a different life.
 | |
| Welcome to the agro-ecological community "Chirimoyas" We slept in the building in the background the first night, and then to the left further back the other two nights. The building style is the norm. |
In addition to the energy felt while I was there, the views of the surrounding forest were spectacular. We took a one-hour hike in the middle of the jungle, no path, to a rock that offered a magnificent view of the trees below.
 |
| We climbed over fallen trees, ducked under hanging palm trees, and pulled off lots of ticks in the end. And I got a pretty bad sunburn. |
 |
| It stretched out all around us, for miles and miles. |
One night, Valeria needed to make a cell phone call. So what did we do? Drove 10 minutes up the red dirt road and climbed to the top of another rock. The only place Chirimoyas had signal! That night we had clear skies and a full moon. At the top of the rock Valeria and I were talking about how we felt an absolute tranquility up here. The trees surrounding us, the moon shining down, the shooting stars... it was "paz total" (total peace).
And yet...
Poverty. All the while, I was thinking about this awesome article. While I was feeling rejuvenated, energized, and refreshed from being cut off from the city, I had this itch in the back of my brain. These people are suffering from a lack of resources. Even though they seem to live in a paradise, they struggle for everyday things we ALWAYS take for granted. The children only go to school until age 12. Even that's rare; some of them go to work before their done with their education because they need to make MONEY. The children play in the rough dirt road with flip flops or no shoes. Even though they could grow their own food, they don't have the farming resources so they eat the cheapest food they can find: rice and the peanuts they're able to cultivate, no vegetables. The papayas that grow abundantly on trees here are considered less valuable than water. The first day we had water no problem. The second day the motor broke and there was no water to wash your hands, clean the food, and drink. These people need to get resources like tractors and teachers in order to make their community into a sustainable, safe, and healthy town for the people who live there.
Like I mentioned before, Chirimoyas is working on getting the land ready for chia, sesame, and peanut production. They need the land in order to make a living. But the rainforest is shrinking every year. I got stuck in a moral dilemma while I saw some of that deforestation happen while I was cruising down the red dirt road in the back of a motorcycle wagon drinking a beer. It was a wild experience, living two realities at once: seeing people tear down the rainforest while seeing people living in poverty because they can't grow enough food right now. I'm not sure how to resolve this conflict in my head.
 |
| The road that passes through inside the forest, leading to the peanut crops. |
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| The man driving the tractor paused to take a swig of beer before getting back to work. |
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| And it's... gone. |
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| This man is throwing peanuts in the air, using the wind to separate the dirt and leaves from the actual peanut. |
Valeria spends a considerable amount of time volunteering with Chirimoyas to start different programs that could bring money into the town, from making beehives to sell honey to creating a website to capture some tourism. While I only saw a completely superficial tour of the town, and barely got to know the people I shared meals with, I felt a really strong pull to go back and work with them on education or female empowerment. Time will tell whether I end up going, but I hope someday I can go back to Chirimoyas and get to know its people better, to step back from all the materialism and appreciate a different life.
Bolivia: La Paz and Samaipata
For 12 days, I had the opportunity to see more of South America by traveling around Bolivia. The main goal of the trip was to travel to Chirimoyas, a rural community in northeast Bolivia close to the Brazilian border. Established around 3 years ago from a chunk of land previously owned by one landowner, the community is working on making the land viable for crop production and developing the community into a safe, healthy, and prosperous town for its members. More details about my time there will come in a later blog post.
I traveled with Erika (my host mother), Valeria (a woman from La Paz Erika met during an earlier excursion to Bolivia), and Jesse (a 20-year-old from Holland traveling around South America who met Valeria). So many random connections between the four of us made me feel like it was something more than coincidence that brought us all together at this specific time and this particular place to experience Bolivia. It was a weird feeling. I'm very grateful I could experience such a beautiful country, travel with some really interesting people, and spend time with a rural community just starting to make their place in the world. Even though it was a very superficial tour of the country, with a great deal of time spent traveling from place to place, I still felt rejuvenated and a bit more connected to my place in the world.
La Paz, Bolivia
I definitely do not mean to offend or put down anyone who practices the Catholic faith when I say these reflections; they're just my personal reactions to what I was experiencing based on my upbringing and values.
I traveled with Erika (my host mother), Valeria (a woman from La Paz Erika met during an earlier excursion to Bolivia), and Jesse (a 20-year-old from Holland traveling around South America who met Valeria). So many random connections between the four of us made me feel like it was something more than coincidence that brought us all together at this specific time and this particular place to experience Bolivia. It was a weird feeling. I'm very grateful I could experience such a beautiful country, travel with some really interesting people, and spend time with a rural community just starting to make their place in the world. Even though it was a very superficial tour of the country, with a great deal of time spent traveling from place to place, I still felt rejuvenated and a bit more connected to my place in the world.
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| The route I ended up taking. The airplane ride made multiple stops there and back, allowing me to see some more of the geography of Chile: ocean, cordillera, desert... Chile seems to have it all. The sites in black are where I spent the most time. |
La Paz, Bolivia
A city like no other. The cerros of Valaparaíso/Viña del Mar in Chile cannot compare to the cerros of La Paz. The city is basically a bowl, with the buildings reaching up into the mountains and spreading across the hills. Although Valpo/Viña has colorful houses to paint the views, La Paz has earth with tones of green, gray, brown, and red to create a mural of natural colors. We spent 3 days here, at Valeria's house with her family. We got to celebrate the birthday of her daughter by climbing La Muela del Diablo (The Devil's Molar) and eating pies at a mini birthday party. Pictures obviously can't do the views justice, but I tried.
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| La muela del Diablo |
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| Driving up to La muela del Diablo, we got a chance to snap some photos of the city below. Absolutely breathtaking: clouds rolling over the mountainsides and the city enveloping the hills. The curving road full of huge potholes made it a little nerve-racking, but we still got to the top safe and sound. |
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| One of the many views at the top of La muela |
We wandered around the city and encountered paceñas (women dressed in
big ruffled skirts, shawls, and hats), markets that stretched for dozens
of blocks, hundreds of shops selling colorful textiles, and lots of
garbage. Unfortunately, Bolivia doesn't have a great infrastructure to
take care of the environment and there isn't much awareness about the
damage litter does to the land. So huge piles of garbage contaminate the
otherwise wonderful landscape. Overall, La Paz is one of the most beautiful cities I've ever been to.
Hopefully one day I can go back to learn more about its people and see
more of the views.
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| Paceñas: the woman on the left also has a backpack made out of colorful fabric, something seen almost everywhere. |
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| A small part of one of the many open air markets throughout the city. They're pretty much the norm. |
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| 3 guesses for what these are! :) Potatoes!! Bolivia is known for having all different kinds of potatoes. Tunta are made in a very complicated process that involves storing them in the high altitudes to freeze and preserve them. That's how they get their distinct white color. |
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| Cinnamon!! |
Samaipata, Bolivia
A very touristy town 3 hours outside of Santa Cruz. The drive there was gorgeous; we were following a mini river most of the time with bluffs and green forests on either side. In the town itself, some of the original architecture remains while some of the buildings boast a more modern feel. Some of the travelers who come through here are people who earn their living while they travel: they make jewelry or juggle at stoplights to earn enough money for food, lodging, and then a ticket to their next destination. While I don't have the mentality or the flexibility to live like that, I admire their strength and willingness to absolutely go with the flow.
The highlights of my time there include: having a monkey crawl on my back at an animal refuge
and discussions with my host mother about Catholic churches in Bolivia and the rest of the world. We wandered around two churches in Bolivia, one in La Paz and the other in Samaipata. We even crashed a wedding ceremony the night we stayed in Samaipata! I don't remember the last time I was in a Catholic church in the States, so I don't know how these pictures compare to the inside of one back home:
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| The church in Samaipata. According to my host mother, this is one of the more modest ones. You can see that the virgin image is front and center, with other saints surrounding it. On the sides, there were other statues of virgins and Jesus. Each town has its own virgin representing the community. At the back of the church, there was even a coffin that displayed a mannequin of Jesus's body, showing the wounds from the spear and the nails. I saw various people touch the statues and then cross themselves. |
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| The church of San Francisco in La Paz, clearly more extravagant than the one in Samaipata but still showing the same motifs of actual statues depicting saints and other holy figures. |
I felt very uncomfortable walking around these churches and seeing all the figurines. One of the most notable things in protestantism is the absence of all "idols," statues, or figures of Jesus and God. So that's what I'm used to seeing, and naturally what I most agree with. I think it's a bit weird that people will make images of the figures they worship. To me it makes it more tangible and in a way less meaningful than if you create your own personal image of God. Also, the fact that most people are still fed the image of a blue-eyed Caucasian Jesus bugs me. It reinforces that idea of "whiteness" equaling the ideal of purity and beauty. The fact that so much money has gone into decorating these churches with real gold and fancy fabrics instead of into directly helping others (something that many churches of all types struggle with) is another thing that makes me raise my eyebrows.
But with all that pushed aside, it was definitely a positive experience seeing the churches. Even though we have different ways of expressing and practicing our faith, we still worship the same God. That's one humbling fact that overpowers any sort of divisions within a church or between denominations.
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| Sorry guys, but baby Jesus was most likely not a rosy-cheeked redhead with that cut-and-paste hairstyle from the 40's. |
In general...
One thing that is super convenient about Bolivia is that it is SO cheap. Hostels are about 4 dollars per night and a huge plate of food is around 2 dollars. It does make me feel weird and a little guilty though, knowing that I'm taking advantage of their economy so I can travel. It makes me really aware of how privileged I am that I grew up in a place with clean food, water, and free education. For Bolivians, these are basic rights that people struggle to find everyday. I know that sounds like every other sentence anyone says when they reflect upon their experiences in "developing" countries, but it really is something you don't realize until you see it first hand. I'm incredibly grateful for four things: first, not having to pay for my primary education; second, having high quality education with resources that help me prepare for the future (things not even considered when the basics are still being worked on); third, that my native language was the same as the instructor's; and fourth, that I wasn't pressured at home to work in a dangerous mine for less than two dollars a day or in agriculture with dangerous pesticides.
Everyday in Bolivia brought something new and challenging, but I feel like I came out of this trip a little more comfortable with the unknown and little more trusting that everything will figure itself out in the end.
Stay tuned for the blog post about Chirimoyas, the biggest part of this adventure. :)
Hasta luego!
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