Back to the Basics...

Today I finally had the time to sit down and just draw...and I'd actually forgotten how much I love it. I often get so wrapped up in life and classes and such that I forget how much I love to just return to the basics of art. I love art...more than anything; I see the world as a painting with light and shadows jumping off of buildings and falling leaves swirling in slow motion. But sometimes I forget how much I love the fundamentals of art. It's one thing to see the world through the eyes of an artist, but to actually live as an artist is a different story.

I wasn't in the mood today to begin my homework for this week (which thankfully is all art based, but I still occassionaly don't wish to draw my hand or my foot when it's been made a mandatory act), so instead, I took my sketch book, pencils, and inks and curled up under my blankets (it's still freezing here) and just drew. I still have one of the sketchbooks from the funambulist trade, and therefore was able to flip around and do as I pleased. I've been rather neglectful of the sketchbook, which I believe I've actually had for about a month now (sorry guys...I promise I'll ship it out soon), and was rather surprised when I looked at the clock to realize that I had spent a number of hours wrapped up in the book which I hadn't touched in so long. Having said this, I think I might go finish one of my drawings from before...happy sketching!!!

An Afterthought of Extreme Appreciation...

I realize I just posted what could be considered a small novel, but I had a random thought that's been floating in my head for the past few days and I'm hoping that writing it down will help it settle for at least a little while. I've been thinking a lot about the differences in language between english in spanish, and there are a few things that strike me as completely peculiar. In english, when we want to change the subject of a sentence such as "i left" to "he left" or "you left", the verb stays the same. But in spanish, you have to change the verb as well. To use the previous example "Yo salí" would become "él salió" or "Tú saliste." So when you speak, you don't really need to include in a subject such as "yo" (I) or "tú" (you), because it comes pre-packaged with the verb. It's also really bizarre to think about the fact that when I mistakenly say "yo conozco" instead of "yo sé"...to me, I've gotten a whole word wrong, but when translated literally, I've said enough to get my point across (both translate to "I know," but in the first, "know" is used to describe people, where as in the latter, "know" is used to describe information and knowledge), but to them, I've used a completely different word...there is no translation to another language to help them better understand what I meant...I've simply used the wrong word. This may not make much sense --at times it doesn't even make sense in my head-- but I've been struggling to put it to words, and for the moment, I'm afraid this is all I can muster. I'll work on translating the whirlwind of thoughts a bit better...

To go along with this, It's been a bit of an odd experience being "the foreign kid." To try to stand in front of a class and explain a photograph in regards to philosophy when your vocabulary is still rather basic is quite challenging. I never know if I'm getting my point across or not. Thankfully my conjugation has severly improved, and I am able to speak without as many pauses before my verbs, but my vocabulary is still severly lacking when it comes to casual conversation. You'd be surprised how different it is to go from a classroom to the country. I thought I had a decent vocabulary, but I've realized how much I use small, common words such as "just" (as in "i just finished my homework"), and how they don't really teach you those in classes. I've really come to value each and every word...

And speaking of valuing things...I would like to take a moment to express to everyone how much I now appreciate michigan book and supply and michaels. I wanted to use wood for my project in one of my classes, and I realized that I have no idea where to buy wood. I have no clue where there is a hardware store or a general craft store. They have an art supply store with canvas and paint, but they don't even workable fixitive or matt medium. I wanted to do photo transfers as well, but I have to find a way to do them without matt medium...ahhhhhh Please cherish the stores that you have...I know I will when I return...

ok...so that was supposed to be short...although in all fairness, I did say that I was long winded today. On that note, I'm off to cook some food...

Grab a cup of coffee...


...this one's going to be a long one...and if you're in a climate like this one, you could probably use it anyway. I'm freezing. I don't know what it is about the cold here, but it seems far worse than michigan, winter, weather; which seems completely impossible since they don't even get snow down here unless you venture into the mountains. But somehow, the cold here is more bone-chilling than a Michigan winter. I can't seem to shake the chills. It feels as though the cold has seeped into not only my bones, but my blood stream as well. One factor of this is the fact that heat is not used here as it is back in the states. Where I'm currently staying, heat is only used occasionally, and only at night. I come home every day and walk over to the heater, sticking out my hand with my fingers crossed, hoping that they decided to turn on the heater today. And the classrooms at the college...wow. For one, the building is made of concrete...cold. Two, the art rooms are underground...cold. and three, they don't turn on the heaters unless you walk upstairs to the office and request the remote...how difficult. It can be 70 degrees outside (which it has reached some afternoons) and yet I'll be wearing two shirts, a sweatshirt, a jacket, and a scarf in the classroom and still be freezing. Needless to say...I'm praying for spring.



To dish on the weekend news I promised, Friday night, myself and a few other exchange students stayed in and bonded over some pisco. The English played their "cheese" (an english term for the music to top all music) and we all laughed as we discovered that one of their favorites is the theme song to Bay Watch...those crazy Britts...

I spent all day saturday holed up in my room, painting a self-portrait...ewwww I loathe self-portraits. Something about having to stare at myself for hours on end and interpret what I see is completely unappealing. Go figure. But the end result was better than expected, so I can't complain much.



Sunday was zoo day. I'm not a huge supporter of the idea of a zoo with its cages and small, unnatural spaces, but I still love to visit them. A part of me is already looking forward to returning when I have a full day to sit and draw. The zoo here, however, broke my heart. Much like the dogs roaming the streets, the animals gave me a wide-eyed, "please help me" look as I passed by each cage. I was rather astonished at the large number of animals crammed into small spaces. There were even some animals, such as the hippo, which were confined to a cage in solitude. I couldn't help but feel complete sympathy for what I'm sure is a tortuous life that they're forced to live.



One animal that I found both intriguing and disgusting at the same time was the camel. There were two of these giant animals in a particularly small place, and both seemed to be rather dirty, more so than your average camel --not that I've seen that many in my life...but from what I would imagine. But the two still seemed to have an immense amount of character. One did not stand up once, but instead lay in the sand with this giant grin on his face, turning his head from side to side so that one could see his face from every angle. The other chose to stand and strut about, showing his particularly pronounced humps as well as hanging dangerously far over the fence that was confining him to his "sanctuary".





After the zoo trip, my friends and I returned home to the fresh vegetables we had bought that morning from the weekly market, and decided to cook a proper sunday dinner. I didn't think that I could find a family here, but I certainly did. I had a particularly good time chopping garlic and peppers, and was more than thrilled with the results: a well balanced meal. what a thought!!! I've been realizing recently that my diet here has consisted mainly of bread, cheese, and ham. Not the healthiest of combinations. So you can imagine my excitement when I finally had fresh fruit and vegetables to eat.

Now that my game of catch up has ended, I have a few random observations and thoughts to share --if you would like to take a bathroom break...now would be a good time... I'm rather long-winded today, so I'm not sure how much longer I'll continue on...please accept this adorable photograph as my apology...



Today I witnessed first-hand just how different arts are here in comparison to the United States. In my "general projects" course, I was well aware that the goal of the course was to develop and explore how you work and what interests you as an artist. I'm not sure if other students were unaware of this, but the professor spent about an hour discussing what she meant by exploring what you want to do with your projects. And the students still questioned her when she asked everyone what medium they preferred and tried to explain how each one could be used for the current assignment. I wanted to scream out and ask them all why they didn't grasp the fact they were responding to the topic presented. I could not understand why they didn't accept the freedom and simply run.

Then later today, I had a meeting with my group for my art history course. We were supposed to be discussing how pointillism influenced modern art, but instead, I showed them a few photographs of my work that were on my laptop, which sparked a conversation about classes and personal art preferences. This was my first real conversation about art with Chileans, so i was particularly interested. The two students both pulled out discs with examples of their flash works, which we viewed in conjunction with one I had completed freshman year. I was shocked to hear that they do not have classes using any sort of computer programs at the university. I offered to teach one of them MAYA --or at least attempt to teach-- after he explained that he had previously tried to learn the program on his own and failed miserably. Maybe it was sympathy from experience that led me to volunteer to delve back into the depths that exist in the program...but either way, I have a feeling he's going to take me up on the offer... gulp.

I was also particularly intrigued to hear that one of my assistant professors is doing his thesis on stop animation, and I'm looking forward to discussing the medium and sharing experiences with him. I have a feeling that he might be interested to hear what I have learned at U of M after having seen the lack of facilities and opportunities for digital media down here. I'm excited to hear that my experiences truly are different and that I can learn and share things with students here. True, it will be nothing like the funambulists back home, but there's an opportunity for a community here...and that's nice to discover.



I think that I'm going to wrap this up on that rather pleasant note... But before I do, I'd like to mention that the photograph above has not been altered in any way. On my way to the zoo, I encountered this strip of houses which appeared to be in black and white, punctuated with a house of bright blue and yellow. I was rather captivated, and after staring for a few minutes and making sure my eyes were not fooling me, I snapped a picture, and continued along...

Ahhhh I have so much to say, but no time whatsoever... after my typical 8:30am to 8:30pm monday, I'm exhausted. I was drawing the same model for about 10 hours today...ridiculous --I can't imagine how she feels. And to top it off, I have a 9am class tomorrow. So on that note, I'm off to bed. I shall return tomorrow to share my weekend...it included a trip to the zoo and my first official, home-cooked, well-balanced meal. that's right folks...I actually cooked real food --well sort of. Details to follow...

I only just dragged my sleepy, little behind out of bed about an hour ago, but I can already tell that the 10 hours of sleep did wonders. So here I am, with a yogurt and some toast, rejuvenated and ready for the day--or at least a shower, and then the day can come at me full force.

Last night, I went to my first official "asado", which is a more or less a barbecue. I went with my usual group of international friends at the invitation of a guy who made friends with Patty, one of the girls here from Georgia. We showed up at this unnaturally large and gorgeous house (in case I've failed to mention this before, the houses near the city here are on the smaller side, while the houses in the mountains are unnecessarily large and luxurious) to find that this particular asado was traditionally the "guys night out" sort of a gathering, and here we were, four girls and only one guy to add to the group. But we were made to feel right at home on the small outdoor patio while the guys took turns grilling hot dogs and pork throughout the night (the grill was running from about 10:30 to the time we left at 2:00). Drinks were shared --and by drinks, I mean multiple bottles of Pisco, the country's traditional liquor, and one lone bottle of beefeater gin (which made me think of Michael of course...) which the host was consuming at a surprising pace. I've discovered that the reason liquor here is so cheap, must be because of the amount people can consume. No glass went empty for longer than the time it took to reach for the ice bucket and the nearest bottle of Pisco.

With the scene set, you could guess that the night was filled with interesting conversations and plenty of laughter. A fraction of the guys spoke english, so when the few who couldn't were unable to clearly express their points, a yell was sent across the table to someone who could translate. It was a great night to practice my spanish, and a great night to interrogate the guys about their culture.

One comment in particular stood out to me above all the rest. Perhaps it's because I have heard it before, but it stood out to me when my friend Nico, a Chilean native who I met through an odd family connection, said the same thing only a few weeks prior. "Americans are so cold." Now I know that for them, the comment was a generaliztion and not meant to be directed toward me in particular, but I'm still taken aback by it. I have always considered myself to be a very open and warm person, and I find my friends to be the same, so hearing this is a complete shock. But after thinking twice, I realized that in comparison to the Chilean culture, we North Americans really are cold. Now I'm not saying everyone, because I still consider the majority of my friends to be as inviting as one could get, but a lot of people really are. Here, people get together with their entire family --grandparents, aunts, uncles, couzens and all-- at least once a week and with their close friends multiple more times. So people here consider "cold" to be when you don't spend at the very least two and three days a week with your friends and family and greet everyone you know, and even those you don't with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Now I'm sure that the kiss and hug greeting isn't what's keeping us from leaving the cold label behind in a cloud of dust, but when you think about our country and how an average 25 to 45 year old spends their time, very little of it is with their family or with their friends unless their friends happen to share the same employer. But here, they spend every last free minute with their family and friends. To them, that's what comes first. I think we could learn a thing or two from this small, southern country...

Let the Catch-up begin...

OK OK OK...I've been rather neglectful of my blog recently, but I got beat pretty hard with the busy stick these past few days and am just now able to sit down and have a breather. So much has happened in the past few days that I really don't even know where to start. For one, I took this photograph on one of buses --or micros as they are called-- on my way home one day (just for you andy). This guy was one of the few who "tricked out" their bus...I think they should have a Pimp My Ride show here for busses..that could be fun...



The bus system here is still a little bit weird, but I'm slowly beginning to realize that there is no actual system. True, the same buses run the same routes, but they all stop running at different times at night depending on how the driver feels that day. I suppose I've been spoiled with the overly consistent bus system in ann arbor. I'm used to knowing that the bus I need will be outside my door every 8 minutes. But here, you can sit for 45 minutes and not see a single bus, and then see two drive by in a row. The inconsistency is incredibly frustrating when you have a class at 8:30 in the morning and it takes at the very least an hour to get to the school...so by the time I add in my extra time for the inconsistency, I find myself leaving my house at about 6:30 every monday and tuesday morning. Ewwwww

This leads me to my next update: classes. So my schedule consists of four classes. Monday morning and night, tuesday morning, and thursday morning--yes...they only have classes one day a week here. It's very rare to have a class that meets more than once a week. My art classes are flirting with a four and half to five hour length, but thankfully we are allowed multiple breaks. Unfortunately, however, the breaks are cigarette breaks. Which I'm not one to be particularly bothered by people smoking around me provided it's not blown in my face. But here...everyone smokes. And that's not even an exaggeration. You are hard-pressed to find someone here who does not smoke. We have about 10 minutes for a break in class, and some of the students smoke 2 and 3 cigarettes...every break. And then...the most bizarre part of it is when I walk down the street to the bus stop, and I see young kids walking out of the nearby high school smoking--and we're talking freshman and sophomores here, which I know happens in the US as well, but here it's almost every one of the kids. It's so bizarre to be a minority here walking down the streets without a cigarette in hand.

Goodness...I sure went on a rant with that one. To get back on topic, I found out that my monday morning class is actually a figure drawing class, which I'm really excited to take. It seems as though we're going to spend the whole semester drawing from live models, working on gesture drawings and a few larger, more complex works (although don't quote me on this...my spanish is still a bit shaky). My painting class is also using a model, which I'm rather excited for as well. Although the whole class is in oils, which I have never used --a peculiar fact considering how i consider paint to be my main medium. If anyone happens to have any quick tips for oils...I would gladly welcome them. My general projects course is kind of like a CFC class, but a little bit more traditional. In fact, when I was speaking to one of the students and she found out that I attend u of m, she said "art there is more abstract isn't it???" Apparently our country has a reputation here as being a bit 'weird and out there', while here they stick more to the traditional methods.

I believe I mentioned in my last post how I had to go into the "centro" for inspiration for a project, and this photo is what i wound up with.



I went from a reading that I was given about the concept of the inside and the outside of a city, and found this lamp which is a typical "pretty" object that one could find around the city here, and below it, is a slightly vulgar stencil of a woman in a very small top, which better represents the voice of the people of the city. I'm going to use this as a starting point for a sort of layered collage piece about the image and truth of the inner and outer city.

One thing that particularly fascinates me here is the juxtaposition of contemporary and historical styles. You can walk down the street and go from a building that is hundreds of years old with pillars and archways and gorgeous molding, and then right next to it, you'll find a 40 story building made of solid glass windows. It's almost as if there is no middle ground; like people settled here hundreds of years of ago, and after creating the beginnings of a town, they decided to stop. Then for some reason, they began to build again just a few years ago.



My final class, now that I've gotten completely off track yet again, is an art history class. I'm still struggling with the lectures, but I managed to wade through the almost 300 pages of reading with surprising ease, and was able to walk away with the general concept of all of it. My professor for this class, has actually asked me to teach his two younger children english. Now at first I was a bit frightened because I simply assumed that they didn't know any english whatsoever, but it appears as though they are taking english courses in their schools, and my professor simply wants me to reinforce the english, because english classes at public schools are not particularly strong. So it sounds as though he would like me to hang out with his kids, read to them and talk to them and such just so they can hear a correct english accent and practice what they know. Now that I know this...I'm rather excited...

On a side note...if you happen to read this colleen...I would love to post movies as well, however I don't believe this blogger allows for that. If you know of any way I can do this, let me know, because I have a couple of videos that I would love to post.

I think for now I shall cease my ramblings and leave you with a few images from last night... it was particularly foggy, and I had a fun time frolicking about and snappin gpictures on my way to a nifty brazillian club...enjoy...

Sign, Sign, Everywhere A Sign...



Ever since I arrived here, I've been taking note of the signs and symbols that are used. Last winter semester, I had my CFC class with Overmyer, in which we were to analyze and redesign a symbol set for our final project. Coming to this country has made me look twice at symbols both here and in the US, analyzing their level of success. I noticed on my way into my residence, there is a sign for general electric danger which is simply a lightning bolt with an arrow on the end. That was actually one of the symbols I had attempted to redesign last year...and I came up with a much better design if I do say so myself :) But today I noticed this sign in the "Centro Santaigo --the center of the city which is a grid of shops, sidewalks, and a few streets-- and I found it particularly interesting. It was on one side of a street sign, apparently signaling a sort of cross walk. However the sign has no indication of caution or danger...it is merely the same grey and red color as the street sign, and blends right in... how ineffective... (I say this partly because one of my friends here was actually hit by a car last night... he thankfully walked away with only a few bruises, but with the way people drive here, one would think that they would at least make an attempt to better mark the cross walks)

I also took note today of the use of english words and advertising symbols here. I was on the bus this evening when I noticed a neon sign on a building, saying "BAR", with a giant martini glass sitting on top of it. Now I suppose it's reasonable to think that other countries use a martini glass to signify alcohol or a bar, but they used the actual word "bar" as well...I've noticed that with a few other things here too. For one, they use the word "super" here. They say "super bueno" and such...which is very peculiar. I also received a flyer for a "fiestafuck" the other day --a fuck party??? The party had nothing to do with either sex or swearing...but it was called a "fiestafuck" --odd...

While I'm on my "graphic design" kick here, I feel the need to mention how I've taken for granted the ability to recognize brands back in the US. I remember my first trip to the supermarket here was unbelievably overwhelming. I made it through the fruit isle, no problem, but when I came to items such as yogurt and crackers and cookies...I was completely lost. I didn't know what was good, what was bad, or anything... As a funny story, I have an update on the pouch that I thought was peanut butter....yeah...not so much... I cut it open the other day, and imagine my surprise when I realized that "manjar" was caramel...haha...good thing I like caramel...because I now have a whole pouch to eat...

On a slightly more random note, I saw my first fly today. I hadn't noticed the lack of insects until I saw one today. Well actually, now that I'm writing this, I saw one a week ago at Viña del Mar, but either way...I've been here for almost three weeks, and I've only seen two flys. And having seen a fly today, I thought about the complete lack of flying insects, and because of this, there are no screens on windows here --which i LOVE...there's nothing like being able to hang your head out the window to get a better view of the Andes when you wake up in the morning :)

Vitamin C for the Soul...or at least for my throat...




I've just sat down with a large glass of horrifically processed orange juice which tastes more like Sunny D, hoping that there is still some sort of vitamin C content that will help my slightly scratchy throat. I don't like Sunny D in the least, but sadly, it is practically impossible to find fresh orange juice in this country. Now I'm not even a huge fan of the pulpy fresh stuff, but I at least drink juice that isn't neon orange...but alas..that is all one can find here. I first bought a carton of the juice which looks like it would be the equivilant of Minute Maid, and found it rather unsatisfying. The next bottle tasted of pure sugar, and thus I have returned to my original "Andina" juice...keep your fingers crossed for my increasingly soar throat...

On a different note, I discovered today that I now have about a 30 minute listening capacity for the spanish language. I had my art histroy class again this morning, and was doing very well through the beginning. I understood the general concepts of the lecture and even some of the more detailed comments, but then after 30 minutes, it all went down hill. I could slowly feel my translation skills creating a delay. And when I say I could feel it, I literally could sense a delay in my translation skills which would slowly grow until all of the professors words became one big jumble or nothingness decorated with a few spots of words such as "light," "shadow," and "symbolism." I then was left to sit, glass-eyed, and stare blankly ahead until break (the class is about 3 hours long with a cigarette/coffee break in the middle). After break, I was refreshed and ready for another 30 minutes, but once again, after that time was up...I was back to my trance. I'm hoping that since last week I had no translation abilities in that class, that within a few weeks I'll be able to last the entire class. Until then, I'm forced to survive on only a third of the lecture and the readings which are provided...which by the way...the readings assigned last week were about 150 pages for three different book excerpts...and after class today I was able to get the last book necessary, which was an additional 160 pages...in spanish...that's an insane amount. Although while wading through the first half last night, I found that when i began, i needed my dictionary multiple times per page, but by the end, I didn't need it at all. Go me!!! hahaa

One peculiar thing I wanted to mention while I'm discussing readings for my classes, is the method of class reading lists here. When books and excerpts are assigned here, you don't go buy the book, or even check it out of the library and read it. You go to the copy shop and get a photo copy of the reading...and I don't just mean some of the readings...I mean all of them. I have a stack about an inch thick of legal sized paper just for the first week of reading for art history...I can't imagine how much paper they use here. It has got to be insane...

Into the Twilight Zone...


This weekend was my first official adventure here in Chile. This monday and tuesday there were no classes, so myself and 9 other international students decided to do a bit of exploring. Our original plan was to rent a cabana in the Andes and go skiing, but we didn't make plans far enough in advance, so we ended up renting out a room in a hostel in a town a few hours south of Santiago, called Chillan. After a 5 hour bus ride, we arrived in the seemingly empty town and proceeded to search for our residence. Sarah's expression in this picture sum up the group sentiment quite well...one of frustration, confusion, and complete exhuastion after our five hour bus ride...



We eventually found our residence a few blocks from the bus station. We were given a small room containing ten beds and one table. The room smelled of dust and there was only one single fluorescent light bulb lighting the entire space.



We were quite skeptical, but were quickly served dinner by the man who owned the residence. Our stay at the hostel cost about 8 dollars a night, which included breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Our first two meals were served by the sweetest little girl named Pia. At one point, I was standing with her in the hall when she decided to show me where we were staying on a map of the city of Chilan. She stood on her tip toes and pointed to a spot on Itata street, and then proceeded to ask me where I was from. I told her I was from the United States. After hearing this, she once more stood on her tip toes and proceeded to search for the United States on her small map of the city. I couldn't help but chuckle to myself at her innocence, but it was quite obvious from her reaction that the people of Chilan are rather sequestered.



The town was rather deserted the entire weekend, but I found it particularly intriguing. The houses were painted in bright and obscure colors, and the streets were lined with trees waiting for the spring's sunlight to blossom. Half of the streets were paved with cobblestone, and on our way out of the town on Tuesday, we even saw a horse-drawn carriage. Walking down the street felt as though one had walked into a completely different dimension, straight out of a story book filled with color-enhanced photographs.





I found an array of interesting details throughout the town, such as the broken bottles that lined the top of this wall. I've noticed in Chile that all of the houses seem to be fenced in, and a majority of the fences and walls are adorned with some sort of menacing trimming such a as small metal spike trim that seems to be rather popular. This house, however, had a combination of barbed wire and broken glass bottles protecting it's contents.



The town seemed to be more of a ghost town, save for a number of stray dogs and an occasional pedestrian or taxi cab. The area seems to be rather poor, however there was an interesting contrast in a few of the buildings and a few vehicles that I found parked on the side streets.



I also found that the buildings that seemed the most run down and in need of attention were the most interesting. There was so much character in this small, empty town. I could have gotten lost for hours, wandering through the maze of streets decorated with brightly colored buildings and bare trees.





When we arrived on Sunday, we were surprised to find out that there was a ski resort a few hours from our hostel. So monday morning, we piled into a rented van with two guys we met at the bus station -- a native of the town and another exchange student from New York. The 12 of us drifted in and out of sleep during the two hour drive, and awoke half way through the trip to find that we were surrounded in snow. We pulled over to put snow chains on the van tires, and then proceeded onward for another 45 minutes up the mountain.

After a long wait in a confusing ski rental building, a group of 6 of us wandered out onto the slopes, with only one having previously been on a slope. Poor Patty tried her best to teach us the basics, but being rather new to the sport as well, she had a very difficult time doing so. Mark and I managed to get enough of a grasp to venture out onto an actual path with Patty after a couple of hours on the practice hill.



The mountains were absolutely gorgeous. I had never been on an actual ski slope before, but I think the Andes far surpass anything back in the United States. I insisted upon taking out my camera and snapping pictures every time I fell --which was quite often on my first time down the slope. I was in complete awe of the scenery, and quite often found myself slowly drifting toward a cliff while I was looking at the mountains off to one side. Thankfully the three of us made it through one of the easier paths two times, complete with a few trips on the ski lift --something of which I've always been both petrified and intrigued. I am by no means an experienced skier today, and still don't know how to stop without running into a snow bank or squatting and dragging my butt until I slow to a stop, but I am able to say that I first learned to ski in the Andes mountains.



On a bit of a different note, the slopes were an interesting experience because I noticed at one point while waiting for the lift, that a lot of people there were speaking english. This isn't all that surprising when you think about it since the Andes are a big attraction and it's currently ski season here, but what I found interesting was that I didn't really notice for a while that my native language was being spoken. I've reached the point where I think in spanish --or at least attempt to-- and have to think twice when spelling cognates in english, but I'm apparently not completely adjusted to living here. If I were, the english language would have seemed out of place to me. So I suppose I still have more adapting to do...and I must admit that I'm actually rather excited for it.

Beautiful Surprises


This country continues to thrill and surprise me each and every day. I went to Satoru's opening last night with one of my professors here. It was a great show, although I wasn't able to spend as much time there as I would have liked. My professor drove me tot he show with his wife and son. I think that riding in that car was one of the more humbling experiences in my life. I was sitting in the back seat with my professor's son (who did not speak english) and when he started rambling on to his parents about school and such. I was in complete awe and shock that this tiny child (maybe around 7 years old...) was able to speak such good spanish and I was still struggling. It seems normal since Spanish is his native language and not mine, but sitting next to him and not being able to participate in the conversation was a very weird experience. I really don't think I've ever felt so misplaced and humbled. And then the boy did something that was even more surprising. We were driving through a "not so nice" area of the town and he reached over and locked my door, saying "It's not safe here..." That one small gesture from a child was so touching... we didn't speak at all, and yet he still made sure to lock my door for me.

I was so mesmorized by that child. It was fascinating to sit and watch him, unable to understand what he was saying, having to rely simply on his actions and facial expressions to decipher what he was saying. Not being able to ocmmunicate normally with others has given me such a different view on things. I'm left to rely on inflexion and volume and gestures to determine what is being said to me. I don't think i've ever paid such close attention to such simple details...

So I just got back from a rather frustrating day of classes. Before I delve into that discussion I have to mention last nights activities. I ventured out to a discoteque (in case I haven't mentioned it...discoteques are clubs here...but if you use the term "club" it refers to a brothel..so you have to be careful) for what is called "miercoles po" (miercoles being wednesday and po being a random term used here originating somehow from exchange students, but having no actual meaning...it's kind of just a fluff word). Well miercoles po is supposed to be this thing where every wednesday night foreigners get together at a different location to drink and dance and just mingle with people who might happen to speak their own language. This wednesday it was at a bar which happened to have no name...and things were great for the first few hours. People were nice, we danced a bit, sat and talked, met some new people, spoke some spanish..just had a general good time. Well first I have to say that the past two times I've gone to discoteques it's been a lot of fun. People here don't "grind" on eachother like they do in the states. When you dance with someone, there is still usually some space between you. And no one just comes and forces themselves on you. People actually ask before they start dancing with you...and when you say no...they usually leave you alone. Well at this miercoles po...i guess people think they can get away with anything (or else i was just lucky the last two times), because I was grabbed and groped and tugged at and followed and all sorts of things. The entire second half of the night, I didn't have one minute to just dance with my friends...I was constantly being accosted (and at this point the place had become packed beyond capacity and we were all sandwiched together). So needless to say...I felt like I was at a club at home (not to mention the fact that this was the first club that played rap music...I heard 50 cent and snoop dogg where as the other clubs had played either 80s music or alternative stuff). And to top off the evening, I went to find my snow vest that I had worn and left on a table with everyone else's jackets...and to my extreme dismay, someone had taken it. We searched the area top to bottom and even moved tables, but my vest was no where to be found...sooooo sad

To get to today's events...I was already not in the best of moods --still bitter about the night before-- when I rolled out of bed this morning at an hour far earlier than I desired. And then, I arrived at my first actual "lecture" course --art history of the twentieth century. Now I don't like typical art history, but I had spoken with the professor beforehand (who thankfully speaks english) and he explained that the class was more about analyzing more current works and comparing and contrasting iconic art with non iconic art--so i was interested. Well the class was beyond frustrating. I might even go so far as to the say it was my most frustrating moment yet. I knew the topic and I was familiar with the philosophers and artists he mentioned (Niche and foucaux...yay Gero!!!) but I had no idea what he was actually saying about them. I felt so helpless sitting there knowing that I knew the topic extremely well but was completely unable to participate or even just listen and know what was going on. After class, however, I spoke with the professor and he was extremely supportive and sympathetic. He said that readings would be assigned every class and that they would discuss the next day's lecture and that he also put his lectures online, so if needed, I could go back and reread the lectures.

So in the end...things have worked out ok thus far...but not without extreme levels of difficulty and frustration. --and so I once more continue with the struggle...



oh...and on a side note...tonight I am attending an opening for Satoru Takahashi :) It sounds really interesting...I'll post more after...

Room with a View


I thought I would start out this morning by posting a picture of my room so you can see where I've been sleeping for the past week. It's not particularly glamorous (and I apologize for the quality of the picture) but it's home for the time being. I'm going apartment hunting today, so we shall see what turns up. The hostle is nice for now, but five months without my own kitchen --i do have my own bathroom a few doors down-- might get a bit old. Not to mention, I now have new friends who would prefer a better location. --we currently are located in the middle of the suburbs.




This next picture gives you an idea of why my room isn't so bad. I get to wake up to this view every morning :) How fabulous is this??? I don't know how people can walk around all day and not look at the Andes... I'm sure I'll get used to them with time, but they're still so stunning. ("sublime" if you will...hahaa)



As I'm sitting at my desk, I have a pile of coins staring me in the face, so I thought I might as well give you a taste of the coins here while I'm at it. Back in the states, there are a lot of people that detest change. I know I'm not a huge fan of using it (although I do keep it in a big jar and exchange it when the jar is filled), but here, they are essential. You use coins for a lot of things. Busses for one, only accept coins (and I myself ride the bus at least twice a day). You also use them to tip people (such as the guys who "assist" you in parking your car in parking lots...a completely superfluous task) and pay tolls (there are lots of tolls here for those who drive themselves). Sorry for the quality of the picture, but you get the gist. I threw in our own coins to give you a size reference and a source of comparison. If you'll notice, the first three coins all display the same profile (I'm in the process of searching who's that is) and the third contains the country seal (the old version that is...the new version, which is below, contains the same face as the last coin. It reminds me of our dollar coins back home). The teeny tiny coin is worth 5 pesos, the next is 10, the third 50, the fourth 100, and then 500. To give you a basic idea of how much these are worth, I believe the american dollar is currently worth about 560 pesos.

Soup for the soul...


So here I sit...having just made myself a bowl of soup and what I'm calling a Chilean english muffin --The standard bread here looks very similar to our english muffins...or maybe more like the muffin you get for an egg mcmuffin sandwhich from mcdonalds --but faaaar better of course. They're these flat little circles that peel apart in layers sort of like a crescent roll. And they taste amazing when they're toasted (which I did of course --but in a frying pan, since my residence does not have a toaster..I have to go back to the olden days of toasting things over a gas stove that is lit from a match...no joke). Food here is relatively similar to back in the states (yes...i'm using the term "states"...if you say "america", some people here are offended since they're technically americans as well, being from south america), but the things that are different, are pretty bizarre. For example, it's harder to find normal water here than it is to find carbonated water. Everying is "con gas." You have to speaclly order "agua sin gas" at restaurants unless you want carbonated water. Also, I tried to buy peanut butter in the supermarket the other day, and it was outrageously expensive for a teeny tiny jar. But then today, I found what i believe is refrigerated peanut butter (I'll get back to you once I try it), but in pouches in the butter and margarine section. I'm slowly getting used to things though. Today I made a solo trip to the mall down the street where I bought a frying pan a couple of knives. I then proceeded on to the "panadería" for some fresh Chilean english muffins, and then to the supermarket for a general shopping trip --all of which were successfully completed in spanish.

Today also marked my second day of classes here in Chile. I now have a new found sympathy for foreign exchange students. I have never been so frustrated in my life. It feels awful to be the "dumb kid" who has to have things repeated about four times in order to understand. And even then, I sometimes just smile and say I get it when in reality, I still have no idea what was said. Having said this, I really can't complain too much. Everyone has been extremely nice and helpful, which apparently hasn't been the case for most of the other exchange students. Apparently other people have been pointed at, laughed at, and completely ignored by people. I, however, have been much better received --which only solidifies my love for the arts and my fellow artists (I'm the only exchange student out of a bout 20 or so studying art). My first class didn't exactly jump to be my friend, however by today, people were speaking with me, and I received a great number of the kisses --people here will give a kiss on the cheek for both greetings and partings. My class today consisted of a whopping four people (myself included) which I will admit was insanely intimidating. At least in the other classes I could shrink back and not speak if I wasn't sure what was going on, but this is certainly not going to be the case here. I believe there are a few more students who should be in the class, but for today...it was a bit difficult. But once again... the artists pulled through, and everyone was extremely sympathetic. My professors have been great as well--one actually bought me lunch my first day and gave me a ride home (it's about a half hour bus ride and half hour walk...so at 9pm when my class is over...walking alone could be a bit sketchy for a blonde girl here).

I set out after class today all excited to explore and take pictures since I was done with class at about 4 (or 16 as they would say here), but to my dismay, when I got off the bus and crossed the street to my first destination, the rain began to fall --and it has not stopped since. I managed to snap a few quick pictures of the university before I left today, which are here, but that's all I was able to manage.





Here are some other pictures I've taken in the past couple of days. This first one is of one of the guards outside of what I believe is the Chilean version of the White House. It has about three courtyards in the middle that are open to the public.




Here is a view from the top of San Cristobal Hill. This hill is rather large, and the top allows one ot view the entire city of Santiago --cloud of smog included. There are little "pods", similar to those of a ski lift, that will take you up and down the hill. I haven't ridden in them yet --our "orientation" for the university drove us to the top-- but i definitely intend to do so.




This is a view of the sunset on Providencia, the main street in Santiago.



Here is a view of the Andes from the building where I applied for the cedula de identad --country ID card...similar to a driver's license. The place reminded me of the DMV (I waited for over two hours with one of those arrowhead-shaped number slips), although with amuch better view.




This final image is one of the foot bridges that cross the river which runs through the park in the median of Providencia (did you follow that???)

Looks a bit like a prison...

So I had orientation for la universidad del Desarrollo Thursday and Friday this week. I had to take a bus up to the university, which is close to the base of the Andes. It took about a half an hour for me to walk to the nearest bus stop that was along the route to the school, and then the bus ride itself was about half an hour. All I can say is that my legs are going to be amazing by the time December rolls around...The half an hour walk is not only the way to the bus stop, but that's also the closest metro station and the closest area of the main stretch of the city.

The bus system here, or the "microbuses" as they are called, is a bit surprising. First off, there are two main kinds of busses. The old yellow ones, which are rather dirty and a bit disgusting, and the newer green buses, which are really nice, better than the ones in ann arbor even. Apparently the city has been revamping their microbus system and all of the old busses are supposed to be replaced with the green ones by october of this year. Some Chileans expect it to happen, while others aren't quite as optimistic in the time frame. I rode one of the yellow busses up to the school, and while it was no walk in the park, it really wasn't all that bad. The buses do, however, drive like everyone else in the city: ridiculously. Riding on a bus or in a car here always feels like it could be the last thing you do. People drive within an inch of the car next to them and don't even begin to brake until they are only a few feet from the person in front of them.

Once I made it to the school (The absolute last stop on the line), I walked down the short street to the university. This is view I will get to see for the next five months...



The mountains are absolutely breathtaking. The only thing surrounding the university are houses (very expensive ones mind you...) and two high schools. So once you're on campus...you are pretty much in the middle of nowhere. As I got closer to the school, I looked at the sign in front of the building, and then looked at the building, and this is what I saw...



I couldn't help but think that I was approaching a prison or detention center. The building looks very cold and extremely intimidating. The inside of the building has a bit of an outside courtyard area with a roof and balconies on each of the floors. I only went into one of the rooms, but that room looked just like I was hoping it wouldn't...exactly like the outside. The inside of the walls was the same as the outside: cold, grey, cement. There was carpet on the ground, but it did little if nothing to warm up the room. I felt as thought I hadn't entered a building at all, but was still standing outside in the cold. I was however, very shocked when I went into the library. The library is not at all what you would expect from the building. It is decorated in yellows and oranges and warm wood. The multi-level room is extremely inviting, and if no other room offers as much warmth, I have a feeling I will spending a great deal of time there. The odd thing is, however, that you are not allowed to bring bags into the library. You have to check them at the door. We could not figure out if this was for security purposes or not, but you definitely are not allowed to bring back packs or anything else into the library.

This next picture is a view from one of the sides of the buildings. As I said...there is nothing but houses and mountains.



I suppose I should clarify a bit here, because right now it sounds as though I think the school is this terribly daunting and horrific place, but I really don't think that. Yes, it is terribly cold and a bit uninviting, but I have a feeling that once the weather warms up a bit, it will be a very nice place. And I actually haven't seen any of the rooms other than the one small auditorium I was in, so I can't say that all of the rooms share the same "prison" decor. I suppose I will find out on monday...

It's a little chile...

oh come on...everyone has thrown puns at me for months. I'm allowed to use them too. And it really is a little bit chile here. The current temperature is 50 degrees. Although here it's actually read in celcius...so that would be what...18??? I'm not really sure to be honest. Between the conversion of money, distance, weight, speed, and temperature, I'm kind of on overload. I'm carrying around like 30.000 pesos, and thinking it's a lot of money to be carrying on me, but in reality, it's only about 33 dollars or something. Keeping all of the conversions straight is getting to be really difficult. And on top of that...the language...ahhh the language!!! People here talk so incredibly fast!!! It's insane. They also don't pronounce 'd' or 's'. so 'gracias' becomes 'gracia' and such. It's basically impossible to understand someone just rattling off like normal. I have to ask people to slow down and even then it's still so hard to catch what they're saying. You have to just accept every third word and pray that the two you're missing aren't important.

Aside from all of that...the city is beautiful!!! My window looks out to the Andes mountains. The only thing in my way is a few palm trees and a couple of buildings. And yes, I did say palm trees. There are palm trees here; and plenty of them, especially in the area I'm at. I'm living in one of the suburbs of the city, so when you walk down the street you see lines and lines of houses on either side of the street, all smooshed together, and gated in with fences and walls --sometimes walls of trees and bushes. The architecture is gorgeous. The houses are a cross between the spanish style, yellow, stucco houses with the red, u-shaped shingles, and a completely different style. And the walls have a light smattering of graffiti, which of course makes me happy. Today I passed a stencil of Charlie Chaplin...go figure.

I remember being told two contradictory things as far as the male Chilean's reactions to foreigners. First...I was told that men would flock to any blonde girl. And second...I read that men are very shy, because Chilean women can be rather intimidating. Well...I'm here to tell you that the first story is definitely the more truthful. While walking down the street, I can't pass anyone without being stared at and or receiving a comment, or car honk, or whistle. While walking past a building under construction, the men (who were scattered among the fourth and fifth floors) all stopped working and clapped and whistled at me --they actually clapped... and when i walked behind a truck, they stopped...but as soon as I came back into view, they started again. Now, I have worked a landscaping job and often had truck drivers honk at me and what not back at home...so I've actually gotten rather used to just ignoring it, and it doesn't bother me at all anymore. But this...well that is probably one of the most uncomfortable and embarrassing things I've ever experienced. Walking down the street and having a large number of men actually clapping and whistling at you from four stories up...I think from now on I'll avoid large groups of men.

I actually made my first trip to the supermarket today as well. I bought a box of cheerios, a bottle of water, a jug of juice, and toilet paper. I went to buy milk, but soon discovered that all of their milk is one of the "dry food" isles. Meaning it's either powdered milk, or it's just warm. Which I'm not a big milk drinker to begin with, but as far as I'm aware, milk shouldn't be kept warm. So I suppose I'm going to have to further investigate the milk situation and simply eat dry cereal until then. And as far as the water...that was my second failed attempt to just buy a normal bottle of water. Both turned out to be carbonated. The first actually turned out to be apple flavored, which I thought was rather gross to begin with, but after sampling the plain flavor, I found it rather appealing. So now I'm attempting to leave the cap unscrewed to see if it tastes better once the carbonation is released...it probably won't, but it's worth a try. I tend to like my pop a bit more flat, so maybe water will be the same for me... And I suppose I'll just have to be more careful now that I know that carbonated water is so popular here.

Well...that should probably do it for now... hopefully I'll have pictures to post next time... until then...