Why?

Every day I wake up, revel in the warmth of my bed, and then about the same time I realize how frigid the air outside my nest is, the thought hits me: “I am in South America…what the *#$! am I doing here?!?!” Honestly, I can’t really answer completely, and neither have I been able to shake the feeling that I really am in that unpredictable, unstable, untamed continent where people lose eyes and legs and pick up parasites and don’t come back from. And then I have to calm myself down, since that’s exaggerated and too simple. I think. There is also a large difference between, say, Mexico City and Viña del Mar.

 Even so, Chile is the most dangerous place I have ever lived. Rome was a bit rough around the edges as well, but Italy did not have a military government/dictatorship a mere 40 years ago, nor does money get checked for legitimacy if it’s more than 10 bucks. It’s one thing to know about countries that openly shoot people for disagreeing with the government and quite another to find yourself inside of one. My host mom, who leans left, would say that police shootings still happen to Mapuche Indians, even though the Chilean carabineros are one of the most trustworthy police forces in South America. It doesn’t help that all the adults in charge of me reiterate often that it is important not to carry more than 10 $ in cash and to say goodbye my host mom says ‘be careful’. (Chilean mamas are notorious for fussing, however). It is also incredibly dirty. Having more dogs than people in a city takes a toll on the environs, and the public trashcans vie with the street for popularity. The roads here have also seen better days, since Valpo had quite a setback after the Panama Canal was built. I like that everything functional is used until it is simply not functional anymore, rather than being replaced when something new or more aesthetic is available, but it also makes for a more disheveled appearance in the cities. That said, I am having a hard time judging how dangerous the real Valpo and Viña are – am I haunted by the bogeymen of stereotypes from a pampered society or am I a dumb gringa that needs to stay on her toes? Probably both. For now, maintaining a constant level of vigilance is my MO outside the house.

 What AM I doing here? I could be safely snuggled up in Gonzaga U taking classes with people like me, learning from excellent professors, eating normal food, and spending time with my loved ones. BUT I am finding a whole different way of looking at the world, and I am finding that seeing the places Europe and the US has exploited for centuries and continues to exploit is a lot harder on my conscience than reading a history book. I am seeing a whole new people that survive in this crazy place and think it’s normal. There’s some Spanish bookshelves growing in my brain as well, but I think the most valuable thing I’m going to do here is overturn the bookshelves about history and culture and rearrange and rewrite some of the books. Those are my reasons for now; I think others will be forthcoming.