Voy grande o voy a casa

Oh wow, time truly does fly when you're having fun...and also amazing experiences that run the gamut from just hanging out in bars with friends to visiting La Victoria and La Sebastiana (Pablo Neruda's house in Valpo). I intended to write about food in my next post, but that will have to wait because I want to provide pictures too and I haven't been remembering to snap photos before devouring the culinary goodness that I find here! Next time, no worries.
We finished our seminar series this past week, which is nearly impossible to believe because it is sort of the first tangible marker in the passage of time here. Now we have more free time in the next week and a half or so as we wrap up Spanish classes before half the group (13 students) heads North to Arica and the other half (myself included) heads South to Temuco for our indigenous village study excursions (two weeks). We are also all planning our independent study projects (ISP) which will be conducted from May 5 to June 5. Even though a huge reason for choosing this country and this program for my study abroad experience was my interest in gender studies and women and politics, I have actually decided to explore a different topic for my ISP. During my first couple weeks here I found myself totally fascinated by the issues with political mobilization of Chilean youth and voting patterns, so I have decided to research this for my ISP. More specifically, I want to interview and possibly survey university students about political disillusionment, what political participation means to them, and so forth. I will continue to live with my fabulous, love-them-to-bits host family in Viña and do my research at two nearby universities and possible la Universidad de Chile in Santiago via day trips. It's fun to see the variety of subjects that interest my fellow students here—indigenous rights, public health, women's rights...it's all there. Que bacán.
When we went to La Victoria, we visited the house of André Jarlán, a Catholic priest from France who lived and worked in La Victoria in the 1970s and 80s. After a protest in 1984, he was assassinated via a gunshot through his bedroom window that killed him while he was reading the Bible. To maintain the memory of his life and work, his supporters established La Escuela de La Victoria. In the house, we saw his room where he died and it is truly a moving experience to stand there and see where the bullet hit his armoire, the desk where he was sitting, the bed whose sheets have not been changed since his death, etc.
This past week we studied the dictatorship and its human rights abuses more closely. Given my past study of this era in Chile's history, I was very interested in what the program had planned for us this week—sometimes it was emotionally intense, but all of it is worthwhile. We had our Tuesday seminar with Jose Cademartari, who was the economy minister for President Salvador Allende before being exiled during the dictatorship. To be in the same room with someone who literally worked for Allende and dealt with the golpe estado (coup of September 11, 1973) is indescribable. On Thursday, for our last seminar, we were with a human rights lawyer who patiently answered all of our broad questions about the dictatorship as well as other human rights issues in Chile like sexual health education (i.e. the lack thereof) in schools.
Then Friday (yesterday) we had our last day excursion to Santiago, where we first met with two women who are part of la Agrupación de familiares de Detenidos Desaparecidos. One (whose name I unfortunately cannot remember) is the daughter of a desparecido ("disappeared") and subsequently grew up not knowing the whereabouts of her father (or if he was even still alive). The other woman, Gabriela, spoke very openly about her experience as a 21-year old wife whose husband disappeared. At first, these women seem like any other kind and outgoing Chilean that I've met here. Gabriela is 55, smokes (also, like many Chileans that I've met here—but this is another story for another day), and has dyed her hair a shade of pinkish-red that is not natural to any human I've ever met. But when she put on the tag with the photo of her husband that she made all those years ago, it's like you're talking to a 21-year old who just wants to know where the hell the government took her husband. These women are very accustomed to speaking openly about their experiences the history of the era and at times it was easy to momentarily forget that they really did—and do—live this horror every day of their lives.
Our next stop was the cemetery with a memorial to those who "disappeared" during the dictatorship. It's hard to really describe the feeling of sitting there, staring at this huge wall of names, realizing that each one represents a life that probably ended abruptly and painfully. Like seeing the Vietnam memorial wall with all the names, it's hard to take in and hard to describe.
Finally, we went to el Parque por la Paz ex Villa Grimaldi. Villa Grimaldi was one of the torture centers that were used during the dictatorship. Now it is a peace garden and memorial to remember and educate about the egregious abuse of human rights that took place there. We had the honor of being accompanied throughout the day by a survivor of Villa Grimaldi who now works with Proyecto Puerto, one of the community work activities that a group of SIT students do (I'm with T.A.F., a different one). I feel bad—I forget her name too! Lo siento.
I thought that the first two parts of the day were hard, but this was definitely the most emotionally draining and overwhelming. A day later, I still cannot completely believe that I stood next to the swimming pool that they used to fill with snakes and then put los detenidos ("the detained") in to torture them. Most if not all of the buildings were demolished right after the dictatorship ended and in their place there are memorial gardens and artwork. But it was still a completely inexpressible experience to walk on the grounds knowing that we were standing was where our friend and guide was tortured with her fellow detenidos. It was hard just to be there—I honestly don't know where she finds the strength to talk so openly about her experience there and take students like us to the actual location. Incredible. I guess I could say that a theme of the past couple weeks, from La Victoria to yesterday, has been "touching history"--it's amazing to move past books and lectures and really be there.
After such a draining day, I was exhausted and didn't carretear (go out, as in parties/clubs/bars/restaurants/anything else) last night and instead slept for an amazing and totally necessary 11 hours. Last weekend, however, I legitimately left the house on Saturday night around 9 and returned from a series of bars and a club (El Huevo, a.k.a the most gigantic and insane club you will ever see in your entire vida) after 5 on Sunday morning. Holy cow. It was extremely divertido/fun though J
Before I close with a few pictures of last couple weeks, I want to say MUCHAS GRACIAS to some people that totally made my life with some fabulous items received via el correo/the mail. First I received a totally awesome letter from the amazing Judy B. (a.k.a the Jim to my Pam, the cookie dough to my ice cream) complete with a tear-out from an old YM magazine that brought back some serious memories of butterfly hair clips and glitter gel. Then I got my Easter basket box from mi madre and proceeded to share Jelly Belly jellybeans with everyone at Casa SIT and then return home to read every single page of the issue of People with the Oscar coverage. THEN I got my Easter basket box from Aunt Peggy & Uncle Steve with more yummy dulces (I am eating a milk chocolate bunny ear right now, no lie) AND THE NEWEST JODI PICOULT BOOK which I am alternating reading with a contemporary Chilean novel that I bought here. To receive these tokens of home is awesome—love to everyone, everywhere—¡nos vemos!

PS: The title of this post is the result of some very entertaining conversations with my compañeros about "what if we tried to say current English phrases in Spanish"—hence, voy grande o voy a casa (I go big or go home!).

Sunset at Reñaca At La Sebastiana, l-r: Juliane, Erika, Brooke, Angela, me.


View of Valpo from Pablo Neruda's bedroom. With mi amiga Emily at the restaurant at the end of our excursion yesterday. You can sort of see the pitcher (on the right) that held an interesting beverage that apparently was beer with ice cream mixed in--I tried it and lived to tell the tale. The tale is that I won't be trying it again, but many others liked it!