I am writing this from an airplane thousands of feet over the driest desert in the world. It is somewhere between Arica in the North of Chile and Santiago in the Center. The terrain is astonishing—miles and miles of nothingness. Somewhere on this trip, the mountains of sandstone will turn to mountains of some other kind of stone, and they will be covered in snow. And imagine that the same country, as far south from the center as I am now north, is covered in glaciers like Alaska.
Here's a picture of us in the desert around Arica.
In Arica, it never rains. I don’t know if it ever has in history. But today, I met a girl of 20 years old and she has never seen rain in her life.
“If you had been there in Egypt, what kind of welcome would you have given?”
Try translating that into Spanish. That’s just what I did today, when I did my first presentation in Spanish for a group of Christian young adults today. I definitely bit off more than I could chew, getting all theological with the topic of why people should volunteer with refugees. I referred to the story of baby Jesus and family fleeing to Egypt just after the birth to escape Herod, who was killing all the boys under age two. I then suggested it was interesting to wonder what kind of welcome they received in Egypt. And, this led to the crucial question—which I repeated three times in the presentation for emphasis—if you had been in Egypt, what kind of welcome would you have done? It was such a strong point that I couldn’t resist (and I’ve never heard it used before).
But, my gosh, the verb tenses! I pulled out the textbook and Amy helped too. Still, we got it wrong, and Juan was kind enough to correct it before my presentation. The presentation went well. It was 30 minutes, with a Power Point and all. I was seriously nervous, but it went pretty well. Juan is great and was there to tie up any loose ends after the presentation. Oh, and the correct translation is:
¿Si hubieses estado allí en Egipto, que tipo de bienvenida le hubieras dado?
How’s that for some crazy subjunctive verb tenses?
When we first got married, one of the first interesting things that we did “as a married couple” was to sponsor a child through Compassion International. This is a Christian organization that connects sponsors with kids in developing countries. We sponsored a kid named Edwin from Bolivia back in 1994. In 1998, I encouraged our band Caedmon’s Call to partner and endorse Compassion as other artists do. And Amy and I went on tour with the band that year to talk about Compassion with people at the concerts. That same year, we got to go on a trip with the organization to see their work in Bolivia. There, we met Edwin, 10-years-old. We got to spend a day with him and share dinner with his family. Afterwards, we kept in touch by letter and later by email, and always hoped we would see each other again.
Now, Edwin is with us in Arica. I had emailed him that we were in Chile for three months, and he made arrangements to come. Flights were expensive, but he found a bus for about $70 each way from Santa Cruz, Bolivia to Arica, Chile (a 25 hour ride). He was really committed to coming. To take time off for a week at the university, he had to miss a whole month (and they go by month-terms). This means, he’ll be doing double work next month to make things up.
It is so amazing to see him. He is 19 now, and a great young man. The kids are having such a good time with them, are speaking to him in Spanish and teaching him some English too. In fact, we’re having such a great time that we’re arranging for him to come to Santiago with us for a week after Arica. He’s never flown on a plane, so it will be great for him. And he’s never seen a city like Santiago..
Arica is totally different from Santiago. Santiago prides itself in being European, and the people are very European too—I hate to make it so simple—but basically formal and very white. Arica, on the other hand, is more like the Latin America I am familiar with—Mexico, Costa Rica, Panama. The city is full of brightly-colored buildings, the environment is casual and lively, and the people are all shades of brown. I like it here.
e Arica’s slogan of “Siempre Primavera” “Always Spring”). Zander started walking into the water because he had spotted something and sure enough it was starfish—dozens of them all over the rocks just a couple feet off the shore. We picked one up for a picture.
Arica is an oasis surrounded on all sides by the desert. But when I say desert, I’m not talking about Arizona or any other desert I’ve ever seen. I’m talking about miles of sand, sandstone and rock without a single twig of grass, plant, weed or anything alive. We drove through it today, and for 3 hours, we did not see a thing—no plants, no animals, no birds, no people. It’s very very weird.
We were headed to Lake Chungara, one of the highest lakes in the world. It is at 4.500 meters (about 14,000 feet). We started the journey at sea level in Arica, on a road that goes along the beach. Then, over the course of five hours (which was supposed to be three), we reached the high plateau that goes all the way to Bolivia. There, there is rain and cactus and shrubs. With this, comes animals, especially at the lake, where we saw flamingos, llamas, lampacas, and plenty of other birds.
Part of the experience is the altitude, and tour companies take bottles of oxygen for customers to breath. We took only bottles of water and a special blend of herbal tea that the native people use for the altitude. Reaching that altitude so quickly can make you sick, and Juan who
drove us up got some altitude sickness for the first time in his life—mostly it was a headache. The kids, thankfully, were OK, but a combination of the altitude and the long drive made all of us feel sluggish. Here's a llama sticking his head in the window looking to be fed.
Walking slowly at that altitude, you breath fast and hard like you were running at sea level. Running at that altitude—well, you just don’t do it or you are guaranteed to get sick.
Our kids are spoiled, I know, with all their travels. As of today, Jacob has been to seven countries and Alexander six. I know it’s crazy, but it is for a reason. #1, they just are going along for the ride with us. #2, It is very important for us that our kids understand the breadth of the world and its people in order to be productive and successful in the ever-changing world.
we went just long enough to have a lunch, which was much cheaper than Chile (I got a plate with chicken, sausage, pork, beef and some other beef for $5). Then, we went to the market and bought a few souvenirs. While we didn’t expect it to be too different from just across the border, it was. The people were very beautiful looking, with dark and reddish skin, just like you imagine Peruvians.
It cost Amy about $7 today to go to church. The whole family went to the Methodist Church that is involved in the refugee work. They have a tradition that everyone who has celebrated a birthday in the last week has to come forward and put pesos in a box--$100 pesos per year, which makes $3.600 for Amy.
This evening, I went with Juan from FASIC to visit a Pentecostal church that supports the refugee work. The church was basically made out of scrap plywood and the metal from an old shipping container. They had plastic lawn chairs for pews.
along. I totally don’t believe in admiring people for what they lack. But it was really interesting to see people who would choose to go to church in a plywood box when there are plenty of fancy Christian churches in town with bathrooms that aren’t outside in the dusty backyard. I have a lot of respect for that. Here's me and the pastor in front of the church
Today, we all flew to the very northern end of Chile (just 20 miles from the border) to a town called Arica. I had to come for work because there are many refugees here who come by land through Ecuador, then Peru, and enter Chile.
There’s about five McDonalds in the Centro of Santiago, but they are only mildly popular.
Maybe it was the wine, but last night’s dinner was surreal. We were invited by a Chilean family, but I was greeted when I entered with a real, authentic, “Howdy partner!” It was a friend of theirs, an American born in Houston, who has lived in Latin America for more than a decade and is an expert in bird sounds. He can identify a thousand bird calls and has recorded more. He contributes to the top bird call website in the world
Then, the host, asks me if I know Keith Green, the Christian musician. I say that I’ve heard of him, so the host starts to crank up loud worship music on the stereo, in English.
One of the cute things about Santiago is that there is a store for everything. Need a plastic bag? Go to the plastic bag store. Need a little wheel for a rolling chair? Go to the little wheel store. Need a printer cartridge? Go to the printer cartridge store.
This will also drive you crazy. I had this great idea to mail my Dad a bottle of wine from Chile for his birthday, which was yesterday. I bought a bottle of a sort and brand that is unique to Chile. My friend told me that the post office has service to pack and box things, but after waiting in line there for an hour yesterday, I learned they were out of all boxes.
So, today Amy offered to help. The people at a different post office told her that they also did not have packing supplies, but they referred her to the Styrofoam store. Seriously, the Styrofoam store. There, she found Styrofoam packing supplies of every shape and size, including one for the bottle of wine. But boxes-- of course not!--this is the Styrofoam store, of course. So, she got referred to the box store, which indeed had boxes, but alas, no tape. For that, you would need to go to…you guessed it…the tape store.
The bikes in Santiago are really great. I would not say this is really a “biking city,” and I would never ride a bike in the congested city center, but there are a good number of people who ride bikes around town. And the bikes are the sort that are made for people to actually ride. It’s ridiculously hard to find such bikes in the US because the bike market there is obsessed with racing road bikes for rich Lance-wannabes and mountain bikes for people who want to be cool and outdoorsy. These are not bikes for people—meaning regular people—to ride—meaning not race or take into the mountains. Bikes for people to ride have the following characteristics:
I can’t tell you how many people in the US have told me they want to buy a bike with these characteristics. But if you do find one with the physical characteristics, typically it will be made by a big-name brand and have a big price tag. This negates the whole equation because if your bike is so valuable that you worry about it being stolen, you won’t go out and ride it to the store.
In Santiago, you see bikes old and new with these traits, and they are cool. They look inexpensive and utilitarian. The most popular brands are Oxford (made in Chile) and Bianchi. Oh, on the weekends, the Lance (or more likely Eddy) wannabes do come out on expensive machines.
This is the first time that Amy has celebrated a birthday in another country. And this was the first time we have tried to shop for Amy’s birthday in another country. Our friend Samuel spent the day with Amy, teaching her how to make Chilean-style empanadas. We improvised birthday decorations and wrapped up her Mexican food as a present.
We walked all over town looking for the perfect cake. Interesting that vanilla is not too common here in Chile (it’s really common in Mexico). But the kids decided on something unique to Chile—a cake made of manjara—a caramel-like sweet that is used in all kinds of baked goods here.
This was one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen. We rented a car and headed for the mountain, hunting for snow. After a 12-mile drive on a dirt road that took an hour, we ended up at this lake, bordered by steep slopes. So steep that when the kids climbed on the snow, I was thinking of the headline “Clueless Texan Didn’t Know the First Thing About Avalanche Avoidance.” I told Amy I felt like we were at the beginning of a Rescue Heroes video. The kids froze their hands having a snowball fight and we made a snowman too (named “Snowie”).
I was really jealous to see groups of cyclists riding the curved, fun-sloped, empty paved road that led to the dirt road.
The good news is that they don’t have Wal Mart in Chile. I asked my co-worker Ely about it and she had never even heard the name. American business is all over Chile, but I guess not Wal Mart (yet).
The bad news is that they have do Wal Mart in Chile. Well, a store just like it. It’s called Jumbo and what’s worse is that I went there today. I wanted to buy Amy some tortillas and Mexican food stuff for her birthday, and my co-worker Juan told me Jumbo had a Mexican food kiosk.
Chile is full of playgrounds. There must be more playgrounds per capita than anywhere else in the world. In all the parks, of course, but also in any random public space—on the sides of roads—there are playgrounds. Some new plastic ones like in America, and some fun old ones with dangerous stuff like real see-saws and merry-go-rounds. Still others somewhat creative and improvised-looking, with logs stacked up in fun ways. Definitely more variety and creativity than you find in the US. The playground near our house even has this little library booth, so parents can borrow books to read while their kids play. How cool is that?
Chile has a culture that lets kids be kids. Unlike in many/most Latin American countries, children do not work here, selling things in the streets. Some help their parents in their shops after school, but this is far different than some eight-year-old kid sitting on the streets trying to sell trinkets.
Lots of kissing here in Chile. First off, people greet with kisses (women-women and men-women), a simple cheek-to-cheek air kiss. It’s taking a while to get used to, because it feels so intimate for an American. I thought it might just be for friends, but it is for anyone you meet. Even the president of Chile (a woman) and congress members greet each other in this way.
Alexander claims that every day he is getting more kisses from his teacher, and now he is up to about 18 a day. Funny thing is that, since they are kisses on the cheek, he thinks that only cheek kisses are appropriate in Chile, and will not let us kiss him on the lips now.
Also, public display of affection is all over the place here. Teenagers kiss in the parks and streets. And even married older adults (imagine that) hold hands and kiss passionately in public spaces. It’s totally respectful and not inappropriate, but it’s making me feel like a cold American.
The question of the day is how do you say “cheesy” in Spanish. Not cheesy as in chips and queso, but cheesy as in “Titanic” or Gwen Stefani or Dancing With the Stars. Tonight we visited our friends Pablo and Samuel and we had a great time talking while the kids watched videos. We started talking about funny words, and cheesy came up. It’s such a great word, and so impossible to describe even in English—you just know it when you see it. And especially hard to describe when, based on our earlier conversations, I knew that everything I considered cheesy, one of them would consider cool. And vice versa. I mean, they like American Idol, the Pussycat Dolls, and the above-mentioned Gwen Stefani. And, when I said I liked Enrique Iglesias, they cringed. So, the funny thing is that I looked up cheesy on a website that features discussion boards for words for students of other languages. And there was five pages, over fifty entries, debating the meaning and use of the word in English. Guess we’re not the only ones intrigued by the word. Check it out.
The other funny thing is that billion and the Spanish billion are totally different numbers. And after the four of us tried to discuss which was which--four liberal arts majors talking about math and talking in two different languages--I had pretty much forgotten what exactly a billion in English was, much less a billion in Espanol. Samuel’s brother, a computer engineer who probably could have straightened out atleast the Spanish billion, was drowned out by the more adamant, and more confused, voices. It was fun to be able to let loose and laugh at our inability to communicate on a seemingly simple matter.
another library, which ended up being modern and beautiful and filled with a colorful and fun kids section. It had a great collection of books in Spanish, and the most pitiful collection of English books you can imagine—about a dozen old, obscure, poorly-written, publisher-reject picture books. Fortunately, Jacob could read the Spanish books, and Amy and I just translated the Spanish picture books for Alexander. We stayed there for three or four hours and the kids were so happy. We were happy to learn that we could get a library card, but the system is not so easy as the US. You have to pay $8 for the card, and you can only check out one book for the first two visits. Then, if you’ve been a good library patron, you can check out a whopping three books. This will take some getting used to, considering in Houston it’s our habit to check out about 25 books at a time, and the limit at the Houston library is something like 100 books. Here’s our friend Edwin in front of the library.
“Microenterprise” is a fancy word for teeny-tiny business. I think it’s great to see the streets of Santiago lined with individuals selling everything from snacks to clothing to toys to more and more snacks. But as a refugee client told me, it isn’t so great. It’s only because people can’t find regular stable jobs that they are driven to have to invent something to scrape out a living. This client prepares peanuts with flavors that are a bit exotic in Santiago, such as coconut (remember Santiago is not tropical), and sesame seed (from Asia, I believe). Because the government does not allow you to officially own a business until you have been in Chile for two years, newly-arrived refugees can’t have their own food kiosk. So, instead, this client supplies his products to others, who sell them on the streets. Each small packet costs him 15 cents to make, and he sells them for 25 cents. He averages 100 sold a day, for a total of about $10/day.
I went today with the FASIC caseworker to this refugee’s home and to see his workspace. It was a modest home, just one room, but he had worked hard to turn an empty room into a gleaming, clean work area. It was great to see where a family lives, see some kids, and to see the ambition of this family. He is an eloquent speaker and loves to share the story of his family, and the many other Colombian refugees in Chile. He gave me permission to publish and share his photo with others. And, he gave me two packs of peanuts!
Yesterday for the Indepence Day celebration, our friend Paola invited us to her house out in Grecia (Greece). Her family lives in a house, and they were cooking out, much like we would do in the US for the 4th of July. Amy counted seven different kinds of meat. I didn’t count, but I ate plenty. Paola’s nephew was there, three years old, and so it was good for the kids to have someone to play with. The family was so nice, generous, and helpful—traits that we have found throughout Chile.
Today, we went to the annual military parade at Parque O’Higgins (named for the general who liberated Chile from Spain—whose name was O’Higgens—go figure). It was a long parade, with soldiers of all the different forces marching in grand, slow lines—in full regalia and armed with weapons. The highlights were the special mountain forces unit (with skis, ice-climbing helmets, and sub-machine guns), the snow rescue unit (with St. Bernards wearing mini-barrels on their collars), and flyovers from F-16 and Mirage fighter jets.
We came home tired and thinking we have certainly done everything to celebrate Chile independence day. And, to compare, Chile celebrates their independence much more (and longer) and flies many more flags, than we do in the good ol’ USA.
Imagine a country that is peaceful, confident, and secure. Imagine an event attended by all the political elite of a country—congressmen, supreme court judges, generals from all the military services, and the president herself. Then, imagine that this event has less security at the door than a Houston Astros baseball game. Imagine that I, a foreigner, could simply walk up with a paper invitation, enter without going through a metal detector, pat-down, or bag check, sit on the second row, and as the not-so-popular president walks within three feet of me, reach into my pocket to pull out a camera and shoot this picture.
Today I attended the Te Deum Ecumenico, an ecumenical church service held annually on this, the Independence Day for Chile. I received an invitation last week at an Ecumenical Luncheon, and I wasn’t sure what it was. But then Claudio from FASIC told me I should go, and our Chilean friends were shocked that I had an invite. So, of course I had to go. The service was held in the huge, ancient Cathedral in the Plaza de Armas close to our apartment. I was seated with other guests—church people, school directors, etc—on the second row on benches that faced the center, where a red carpet led to the altar. Dignitaries filed in, important-looking people in fine suites, and religious garb, smiling and getting their pictures taken. It made me wish I had a friend next to me to explain to me who everyone was. The military leaders were the most impressive, their old Prussian-style uniforms bearing gleaming medallions, insignia and with sabers at their sides. Then, of course, there was the president, Michelle Bachelet, who rode to the ceremony in an open convertible that passed slowly through the streets of Santiago. When she entered, she received a standing ovation.
The ceremony itself was so beautiful. The music, a mix of earthy, indigenous sounds and European high church, was dramatic and moving. Prayers and words were shared Protestant, Orthodox, and Catholic leaders (with the Catholics of course getting the most airtime). There was also a prayer by Muslim and Jewish leaders. The theme of the prayers and sermons was on the importance of unity, brotherhood, and progress for the country. It’s just the kind of thing you would hear in any country at such a service. But considering this is a country, and a church community, that was divided by the “us and them” ethic of a dictator not so long ago—these words have profound meaning. My favorite part of the ceremony was when about twelve pairs of people brought forward flowers for the altar. Each group represented a different group of Chileans, from the urban modern folks, to farm workers, to several different groups of indigenous people. It was really moving.
The whole ceremony was shown on live TV. And though there were cameras circling the whole time, the only time that Amy and the kids saw me on the TV set was after the ceremony when the press were interviewing politicians out front of the cathedral, and I was walking around trying to see who these famous guys were.
