November 9: Outskirts

Word of the day: porte- size (Chilenismo?)
bote- touch, as in when you lightly tap the ball in soccer to control it.

Today was a really weird day. I got back to Santiago right before 9, giving me just enough time to make it to my internship. Memories of my weekend of green were quickly assaulted by a lot of harried people and pavement. It made a lot more sense why every single person I talked to in the South expressed their dislike of Santiago.
Being in Villa San Luis kind of depressed me a lot today. Every time I go there, I want there to be a magic cure for poverty, an incredibly simple and fast solution that will bring everyone’s lives up to a standard that by my estimation is liveable. But the truth is, life goes on, beautiful or not. Collectivos and buses come and go, goods are bought and sold in the feria and in the streets, children go to school, babies are born. Redemption is nowhere visible in the big picture, but there’s a glimmer in the small things: the women in the taller becoming friends and planning a barbecue and an exposition, the few hopeful murals that don’t get painted over with graffiti and the children who have a safe place to play and learn in the Trampolin center. For better or worse, life goes on.

I’ve been thinking a lot about physical space again today both as a globalized entity and one that has a sense of place. I tried out a new micro route today, wanting to see more of Maipu, which didn’t really happen, but still gave me a look at another peripheral comuna, Cerrillos. The bus passed by scenery that seemed indistinguishable from run down areas of the US. A busy stream of cars, gas stations, disused factories and other vacant buildings, graffiti. At one point I even saw “All cops are bastards” written in English, which really threw me for a loop. I’ve already written about the imposition of neoliberal policies has lead to a convergence of the way elite areas appear(see any of my frequent rants about Las Condes/Parque Arauco), but are the places neglected by these models also converging?

Another thing I felt really cognizcant of today was the de-marcation of space. Much of the farmland in the South is marked with light fences but small farm houses are open to the road, which in some of the more remote areas of Chiloé were spaces in which animals simply wandered. This is in the complete opposite of Santiago where everything is gated, iron- fenced, put in place. I couldn’t help thinking on the psychological effect this must create. While gates may protect against crime, doesn’t also a culture of sharing and knowing your neighbor? How can you casually greet iron bars?

Realizing I only have a month or so left is terrifying, absolutely terrifying. Having declined the option of extending for a whole year, I’m wondering if I made the right choice. Will what I will gain intellectually from being back at Tufts be on par with what I would gain personally and linguistically from staying in Chile? Have I changed as a person as much as I wanted to, and in the right ways? I’m trying to not see this as an end point. You never can know where you will end up in life and I want to keep all of my options wide open. While I often wonder if my ability to not get attached to things is damaging, it may be useful in the long run. If anything, I’ve realized how adaptable I am this semester. Apart from people and decent coffee, I don’t really miss much from back home. My friends joke about how I’m supposedly a “bad american” since I’m often ignorant of music, movies, tv and don’t have much of a nostalgia for the foods or fashion of home. While in some ways I’m starting to see this as an element of elitism that I need to exise, I think I am well equiped to absorb other ways of being. Not to compare myself to a whiteboard by any means though: if anything, this experience has shown me how deep seated my prejudices and habits are, whether for fault of my nationality or not: my impatience, desire for instant results, directness, independent working style, etc, etc.