Some History & Some Hiking.

“Quien no conoce el bosque chileno, no conoce este planeta. De aquellas tierras, de aquel barro, de aquel silencio, he salido yo a andar, a cantar por el mundo.”

- Pablo Neruda

Google translate, or even better, Spandict, is amazing. But the above, like many things, just reads so much better in Spanish.

Not pictured: "El bosque Chileno."

    

The past month has been almost entirely spent in Santiago. But wait, there’s more. Since Santiago is quite a big place of which I have only seen a small proportion, and since time is always in short supply, this isn't such a bad thing on the whole. This past month has allowed me to a.) save money for the next adventure (so the next post will have more travel content than fluff) and b.) get to know what is around me a lot better than simply knowing the quickest way to duck out of the cold into the metro every morning. This past month has seen my becoming more acquainted with the challenges of teaching English to a variety of age-groups and students, with my immediate surrounds, with Santiago’s inefficient drainage, with some of the more scenic areas near the city, and lastly, with some of the local dog gangs which roam (and own) the streets at night. I am not permitted to talk about them, though. All I can say is that they’re planning something.

Since I am here to teach the English language and hopefully learn as much of the Spanish one as I can, it is only fair that I talk a bit about that. I am a huge fan of language in all of its forms as every language possesses a uniquely evolved way of talking about a topic in a way that no other language can. Akin to superpowers, every language has its own speciality as a team of masked superheroes would in a bad Marvel sequel. Chilean Spanish in particular is so well suited for talking about emotions and sensations, and as I learn a little more than how to order an Empanada without onions I am finally beginning to appreciate it for just how beautiful it is on so many levels. Appreciating a foreign language is best done through music, as listening changes it from being a communicative challenge to something much more worthwhile. While my appreciation for Spanish grows, my appreciation for English unfortunately falls whenever I am asked “Why?” by a student who expects me to be able to explain why this rule is absolute except for those three hundred exceptions which follow no reason or rhyme. In English, as my friend Peter said, “flammable and inflammable mean the same thing, whilst fallible and infallible do not. A house can burn down while it burns up, and feet smell and noses run.” This is not always easy to justify, and the older the student the harder it is to pretend to know and put it off until the next lesson.

The view from the roof of my building.

When I am not teaching my hybrid American/British/South African English to children and businessmen, I try to get to know the immediate area around my flat. As it happens, there is quite a lot in it. Skyrises, gigantic foodmarkets, and blacked out “coffee shops” aside, a few quieter “Barrios” (neighbourhoods) are well within walking distance and usually covered with street art, coffee shops where the waiting staff are fully clothed, bars with a wide selection of artisanal beers and some fine dining if you’re into that sort of thing. These areas are also more cosmopolitan than much of Santiago allowing some insight into immigrant life in the capital.    

In addition to being rich in culture, this part of town is also rich in history, most of it violent. I live a few blocks up the street from “La Moneda” metro station. Better known to me as “the warm place” on the way to work before 7am or “the oven” on my way home in the evening. The station is named after the substantial government buildings/palace next to it. In addition to playing host to most of the protests of today (we get emails asking about the latest protest-turned-water party and often don’t know which one is being referred to), the earliest government infrastructure, as set up by the Spanish, can be found all around my apartment block.

La Moneda

La Moneda is particularly impressive, boasting some dark history of its own. It was here that the democratically elected Socialist president Salvador Allende took his own life on the 11^th of September 1973. The dates and names of events like these are remembered in street names and subway stations; although one is never sure which side of history is being commemorated. As his presidential compound was bombed by General Pinochet’s airforce, as all public media, military, and police had turned against his Socialist government, Allende took to the air to deliver a final message to the Chilean people. An extract of a much longer speech (found here in original form - http://www.marxists.org/archive/allende/1973/september/11.htm):

“Placed in a historic transition, I will pay for loyalty to the people with my life. And I say to them that I am certain that the seed which we have planted in the good conscience of thousands and thousands of Chileans will not be shriveled forever. They have strength and will be able to dominate us, but social processes can be arrested neither by crime nor force. History is ours, and people make history.” – Salvador Allende

With explosions audible in the background during this historic (and chilling) radio address, with the palace surrounded by tanks, Allende defiantly promised a better future for Chile – specifically one without him in it being used as a “pawn” - before shooting himself with a golden AK-47 given to him by Fidel Castro. The rest is controversial, multiple accounted, confusing, and ultimately painful history which continues to haunt Chile to this day. By no means is the legacy of Pinochet’s rule viewed in the same negative way by all Chileans, however – as a referendum on the continuation of his rule many years ago clearly showed.

The Palace, looking a lot better for wear than on 11/9/73.

Chile remains quite divided on the issue. For many, Pinochet was a great leader whose policies guided Chile towards fulfilling its economic potential; attributing the country’s modern success as a South American economic powerhouse to his rule. Modern Chile owes itself to Pinochet. Others, however, see the decades of military rule as nothing more than decades of misery, disappearances, and violent repression; while the current prosperity has only helped to create and entrench even wealthier upper class. And so it is that tensions between the left and the right help define Chilean politics and society today. “The pie” of prosperity is definitely a lot bigger now, it is just a question of who gets to enjoy its delicious slices of high standards of living at this point. Unfortunately, I do not know nearly enough about this country’s fascinating history and political climate – more to follow.

A couple of sunny weekends have given me the chance to head a little way out of the city for a very refreshing quick hike or two. The first of these saw me and a small group take a bus in the early hours to a closest access to the Andes from Santigo: Cajón del Maipo. A beautiful deep valley which narrows as it climbs into the Andes, Cajón del Maipo is rich in farmland, small villages, and of course some incredible scenery. As the small bus wound its way higher and higher up the valley, tar road gave way to gravel and the mountains became increasingly barren. The morning light was catching the dust on the road to dramatic effect but it was too early for me to navigate the contents of my bag for a camera. 

This Zam-Buk tin is a long way from home.

Close to the top of the valley, lies the town, or rather the small collection of chalets, of Baños Morales which served as our starting point. It is difficult to describe hiking in too many adjectives, other than the fact that it was absolutely perfect and the fresh air (coupled with the most delicious glacier-melted water I have ever tasted) gave me the energy to run up and down the dusty paths until I ran into some wild looking horses who wanted a quick word. After a couple of hours of pushing up this secondary valley on foot we reached the glacier we had heard so much about. Unfortunately it was mostly underground or a layer of dirt which took the shine off of it to an extent but still, my first glacier up close so I can’t complain. I’m sure I’ll be seeing more. A second and more spontaneous hike was taken up Manquehue mountain, the tallest immediate peak to overlook Santiago and a invigorating steep climb up for the view. Unfortunately our view was only of the Andes, as Santiago was hidden beneath a warm and cosy blanket of carbon dioxide, sulphur, and particulates. Sipping on some Pisco while enjoying an uninterrupted view of a large section of the mountain range has been a personal highlight of my time here.

The view was pretty decent. 

And a bit about the weather (thrilling). The first rain I have seen fall since leaving Brazil cleared the air one weekend and created the circumstances for a perfect cough-free run the next day, coupled with amazing views of Los Andes (a very welcome reminder that they are in fact there and are stunning to look at from street level). The second bout of rain lasted for two days, led to city-wide cancellation of school and assorted mayhem, a lot of flooding, and an even clearer view of the snow-covered peaks which surround Santiago. Although school was cancelled, English school was not, resulting in some interesting cross-city treks with a fair bit of barefoot (praying not to step on anything) wading across completely blocked highways. Santiago has apparently not seen such a huge volume of rain in many years; creating yet another meteorological statistic for journalists and lazy bloggers to bandy about; while the planet’s increasingly heavy handed hints continue to be ignored. 

I stopped outside La Moneda to listen to some wise words from this old fellow.

As I mention almost daily, the commutes are a major part of life here, and on the bright side, every trek across town is different and provides the opportunity to see something you wouldn’t notice if you travelled the same path every day. Bus-rides seldom pass in silence, with an incredible variety of musicians and singers hopping on to serenade bored passengers. Many of these performers are incredibly talented and are rewarded accordingly; some are not. On my way home one night I was treated to the sight of a female police officer defeating her male counterpart in an arm wrestle in the back of an open police van. I was honoured to witness Chile’s finest hard at work.

La Vega market.

 Although the metro itself is usually at best a mildly depressing experience at rush hour, I was delighted to witness two young parents assist their toddler in completing educational activities on their phone’s touchscreen (identifying and naming colours). I have also learned a lot on my metro journeys. The most useful so far being the rules of engagement in passenger on passenger violence. The rules are fairly simple: if you say “permiso” (excuse me) in advance you are more or less legally entitled to do anything to anyone on the train; so long as you assault them with your bag, elbow, knee, or shoulder only. The only other rule is that the train has to be full in order for your aggression against other commuters to be justified. My height sets me at a great advantage in most of my recent bouts of elbow to shoulder train combat - however this tactical edge can be rendered useless by a low swing of a handbag as an angry geriatric escapes through the closing doors.

I am aware that this is a travel blog, so I promise the next post will actually involve some travelling (the flight has been booked so there’s no escaping it). 

My street.

The bridge over to Barrio Brasil on a nicer day.

I haven't checked this all for gang-signs or swearwords.