Week 2 In Cordoba

I´m slowly getting into the Argentina lifestyle--dinner anywhere from 10:30 to midnight or even after. I still wake early, which is nice since my housemates, all staying up later than me, sleep til 11 or so, allowing me quiet time to read, study Spanish, work on my blog or the project I came down here for.

The past week and a half has had its ups and downs. I started Spanish lessons with a Angentine who teaches English, but had never taught Spanish. I´m now at a school so feel I´m learning much more. I still can´t speak much, but am overcoming some of the hurdles I´ve stumbled over in the past. I´m staying in a house with college age students who all speak Spanish well. While I´ve always managed to fit in with other younger people on my volunteer vacations, I fit in less well here. Maybe because they are all college age. At least the woman I´m in Spanish class with is more my age, so I´m hoping we´ll get together some outside class, but that won´t be for a week or so.

I´ve had several meetings, two with a governmental cabinet that is sponsoring a summer program for people with disabilities. It´s just starting because of a change in the administration, so they´ve now missed much of the Summer, which begins in December here. In the first meeting, there was a big question of me even going because of my lack of Spanish, but they like my resume, and I guess they think the participants will benefit from meeting people from other countries. The second was to cover logistics, more for the Argentine team than the French girl and I. We´re off later today for the Sierras, the low lying mountains just west of Cordoba. In total there will be 600 participants, with our group being around 50. Being in the mountains along a river, there are many outside activities planned. I´ve volunteered to be the photographer which will provide some stimulus even if I can´t understand what´s being said.

Yesterday we met with the Director of AYSAND. This is the organization for which we will prepare a marketing plan, along with the French girl, she also being "muy" helpful in translation. It was a long meeting, the Argeninian way, meandering conversations wih mate, the local drink here. It´s a cup packed with what appears to be loose tea leaves that you drink from a metal strainer/straw with or without sugar. One person drinks all the mate, then it´s refilled with hot water for the next person. There´s always a master of the pot, making sure everyone who wants mate gets their turn.

There are many things common among non-profits between here and the states, so my experience in Minnesota will be helpful. This organization, which works with children with disabilities, is much in need of funds, tools, equipment for patients and basic office equipment. They do have two computers but don´t currently have access to the internet at their office. They are about midway through the construction of a new building but don´t have the funding for the other half, the first half being funded by the government. The vast majority of their budget is government funded, which is precarios. Government funding once stopped for 8 months, and the staff stuck it out the whole time without salaries. Now that´s commitment, and a marketing story. They´ve apparently put together marketing materials as needed, but were only able to provide me with one piece from 1999. Needless to say there are many opportunities here, and a willing staff to move plans forward. With the new building, they can provide services to the community for a fee and petition for more government funding, which will certainly help their financial situation since their patients are at the poverty level.

The custom here is to greet each other with a kiss (just one side). This applies in all situations from what I can tell. So here we are in business meetings, being introduced to directors in the government and kissing each other hellow and goodbye. I certainly can´t see me doing this in the states, but maybe we can learn something from this custom. What´s funny is that my French friend says this is the custom in France, but they don´t hug, nada.

I´m going with the flow here, and the flow means I must now finish my collage for my introduction at camp tomorrow morning.

Adios.

First Impressions of Cordoba, Argentina

If I was a typical tourist, I would not have been whisked from the airport by Julio, my Argentinean mentor, and taken to a gathering of 10 locals in an upper middle class home, complete with swimming pool, and to enjoy paella, wine, champagne, and mate (a South American form of tea drunk all times of the day). Julio arranges for volunteers to work with non-profits here and is a management consultant/accountant. Of the others I was observing and seldom understanding were a sports reporter, a race car reporter, their wives or girlfriends, and an owner/manager of buildings. The conversation touched on religion, politics, but missed money. People here are following the race between Clinton and Obama, but don’t seem to know much about McCain or Romney. It seems I can’t escape American politics, but it’s nice to have a little distance from it. I do get the headlines every time I turn on my computer.

After finally arriving at my home away from home, I learned that my new housemates were at the park. I left my luggage packed and we went to meet them. Little did I know they were biding their time in Parque Sarmiento for dinner. After getting acquainted with fellow volunteers—a French woman, a Spanish woman, and two Americans, and Diego, the house manager, we meandered to city central for a buffet at about 9:30 p.m. We were among the first ones there. This was some spread, and all for less than $10 U.S., including wine and pop. I’m going to get fat down here at this rate.

Today is my first day on the “job”. After a relatively sleepless night due to the heat (which I know is hard for those in the northern part of the U.S. to even comprehend at this time of year), I awoke minutes before meeting my Spanish tutor, who I didn’t even know would be here, not that I could have prepared myself any more for our first encounter. He’s actually an English teacher. I’m his guinea pig for teaching Spanish. (Apparently the regular Spanish teacher went on holiday, without giving much advance notice). We’ll see how this goes with my smattering of Spanish.

My next meeting was a briefing with Julio, Catherine—the French student who I will be tutoring in writing a marketing plan and Veronica, the volunteer coordinator. This week we’ll develop questions and thought about what should be included in the marketing plan for a 13-year old non-profit organization that works with children who have disabilities. Next week, at the expense of the Argentine government, Catherine and I will go to the Sierras for a program in which we will spend time with children who have disabilities and their parents. The following week, we finally meet with AYSAND, the non-profit for which we will write the marketing plan. That’s what I’ll then spend the rest of my time here doing, as well as taking a few side trips to see more of central Argentina.

Santiago or Valparaiso?

Given one day to spend in and around Santiago, there are several options. Given that the day was Saturday, the options were limited as many businesses and shops close down on Saturday afternoon. Though I love living in a big city, I don’t tend to stay in them when I travel. Maybe this is because I’m traveling alone, and feel safer in smaller areas, or because the cities I’ve visited don’t offer experiences I’m interested in. You’ve probably figured out, I didn’t spend the day in Santiago. I did visit a museum on my first stay here, and walked about city centro. This time, thinking that I’d visit vineyards in Argentina, I was drawn back to the Pacific to Valparaiso and Vina del Mar. Valparaiso is the older of the two cities. Vina del Mar is more upscale and touristy. There are former castles scattered around, making one reminisce of Europe.

Chile is one of the biggest producers of copper in the world, making me think it should be more prosperous than it is. Chile, Argentina and Brazil are said to be the most financially sound of the South American countries. With that said, some physical therapists said that their skill would only pay the equivalent of $6,000 American dollars. That’s not much. House cleaners only make $3,6000 annually.

The exchange rate here is approximately $500 Chilean pesos to $1 American dollar. Some people were trying to divide by 500 to get the conversion. I on the other hand preferred to forget about all these 0’s and double the amount. For example. $10,000 Chilean pesos equals $20 American dollars. Some shops readily accepted American dollars, which did come in handy. Exchanging currency from Chilean to Argentinean is best done at the border. Apparently the Argentines don’t want to be bothered with Chilean money, much like the Croatians didn’t want Bosnian money. Argentina should be much simpler for determining cash equivalents. $1 equals 3 Argentinean pesos.

Under the Sea, Under the Maoi on Easter Island

Such clear, pretty aquamarine waters. The visibility is only mired by the winds stirring up the seas. Easter Island is a spectacular place to dive, not necessarily for the fish, which I’ve come to know and love, but more for the coral. Coral, as hard as it is, suffers from exploration by scuba divers, as much as I hate to admit this, by anchors, by weather, global warming, etc. Easter Island’s surrounding reef hasn’t suffered from these things so is exquisite. The area abounds with many types of corals that even my untrained eye can appreciate. It is so healthy—no crowns of thorns, no destruction by anchors, no coral bleaching, and very minimal breaks by divers. The water is not Caribbean warm, so I wore a 5 ml wetsuit with a hood for a very comfortable dive. I could have dived every day, yet only got in four dives, missing the dive to Bird Island, so I guess I’ll just have to come back.

Chile’s Andes to Easter Island’s Moai

The public transportation system in Chile is subsidized by the government so that’s what I used to get back to Santiago, at 1/100th the price I paid to get to Cascada de las Animas, 2 hours SE of Santiago. Yes, I did mean 1/100th. I took a bus to the metro, then the metro to within a few blocks of my hotel in Santiago Centro. On Saturday things start winding down at 2pm, about the time I got to my hotel in Santiago, so I had time to get a few essentials, stop at Museo Chileno De Arte Pre Colombino, and have an early dinner. I skipped the terremoto, an ice cream and wine drink that Lonely Planet recommended, because the famous La Piojera drinking den looked a bit too seedy for a single female. The area I was in was more of the business district and didn’t seem the safest place to be, especially on a Saturday night. It was only one night, and then I was off to Easter Island, or what’s locally referred to as Rapa Nui.
For many Chileans, as well as those from other countries, this is the trip of a lifetime. Rapa Nui is a five hour flight, or a ten-day boat ride from South America. 43,000 visitors arrive annually to this 117 square kilometer island on flights that come only several days a week, even during high season. That’s more than 10 times the population. And actually the horses here outnumber the people, but it depicts a form of wealth for the islanders. The spirituality of the island doesn’t take long to reach you. The moai are everywhere—300 of various sizes, and some with ochre-colored top knots, are scattered along the coast of an island that is the result of three erupted volcanoes, complete with miles of now collapsed volcanic tubes. Another 100 lay in the quarry, unfinished.

The massive carved torsos of the moais still have archeologists puzzled over how they got from the quarry to the coastline. Some weigh as much as 90 tons. We visited the quarry where these moai were carved, and told how they were transported up to 20 or 30 kilometers to their final thrones, those being ahu, which actually were burial places of the family members. There are about 250 ahus, some supporting more than one maoi. The moai were a tribute to the wealthy. Each was built in the image of the person it was attributed to. They were positioned to face the interior of the island. One could consider the moai a form of converter. Energy, power and spirituality come into the moai and the moai in turn, converts this energy and projects it out to the people of his tribe. The eyes that were put in place as the final touch were to bestow this energy, power and spirituality upon their lineage. The custom stopped around the 1700’s when western civilizations infused the island with their religions and missionaries (bringing horses with them).

The moai’s were actually destroyed by the people that believed in them. It’s the common story of “us” vs. “them”. Rapa Nui was becoming overpopulated. (In fact, there was five times the population 500 hundred or so years ago compared to the present day.) There was not enough food and water to go around. Deforestation had already occurred and the fields were maxed out. Enemies would topple the moais to destroy the energy/power of spirituality that the moai’s were presumed to be bestowing upon their living relatives. They were always pushed face down to ensure their energy was eliminated. Given that these moai’s were up to 90 tons, this was not an easy task. Further destruction was from pirates in the 1700’s - 1800’s who sought treasures from the ahu’s, the “thrones” of the moai’s

There still is an annual celebration of the bird man that takes place in February. The original festival was a year of preparation for warriors who were to participate in the birdman competition. There warriors were to climb down a vertical cliff with only their bodies for tools, swim 1/5 kilometers to an island, confiscate a particular bird’s egg (I missed what kind of bird this was from), then swim the 1.5 kilometers back to the mainland, climb the vertical cliff and present it to the former year’s birdman, intact, without a crack. The warriors carried it in a cloth they wrapped around their head. The winner reigned for a year, and of course brought much prestige to his tribe. Villages were built especially for use only during the time of the festival, even more exclusive than the buildings used for the Minnesota State Fair. The houses were built in the shape of a boat, and were used only for sleeping. The entrance was wide enough for one person, and people had to crawl into it. That way spirits nor enemies could invade the quarters and it also moderated the temperate. Cooking was done outside the sleeping quarters.

Geologically, Easter Island is the formation of three erupted volcanoes, which are evidenced in vast craters. It’s Summer here, which means the dry season, though it’s rained everyday I’ve been here. Some rain is a fine, fine mist, others have been downpours. All water used by humans on the islands is from rain water. The cliffs can be steep, sandy shores are few, horses abound, and commercialization is showing itself. Just about everything has to be shipped here from the mainland. And as is typical, whatever fresh fruit and vegetables that are grown here are few, and don’t keep well. There is still the small town atmosphere, but since many natives do speak English, this small town atmosphere may not exist in the next generation.

Cascada de las Animas, Chile

A lot can be packed into a few days and still have time to relax in Chile. The flight to Santiago was uneventful. Saw two movies and decided I really do like the personal screens Northwest and KLM offer compared to the shared screens American had on the flight here. Having fewer movies still didn’t convince my body or mind to sleep, so by the time I got here, I was tired. Despite that, I went on two hikes as soon as I got to Cascada de las Animas. I’d arranged for a car to pick me up from the airport and take me about 2 hours southeast of Santiago to an area in the Andes that’s been designated as a natural reserve in preparation for rehabilitating injured animals then releasing them into the wild.

Upon arrival, I dumped my bags in my room and went to the reception to arrange for activities. The women at the reception had to call the manager, who I learned is from Alaska, now married to a Chilean whose family has owned the land and operated this resort for years. The resort, or what’s called an estacionnes here, is run on Chilean time. Manager Joe thinks somewhat like an American and somewhat like a Chilean. It’s kinda funny cuz you don’t know what to really expect based on what he says. One surprise I had in planning my activities was not that some were based on the participation of multiple people, but that I might not be able to do some of them because not enough people had signed up for them. The reason this was a surprise is the guide books talk about how busy Argentina and Chile are in January. It sounded like Italy in August where everyone goes on holiday. I didn’t want to miss what this area had to offer, so made lodging reservations well ahead of time, and did end up getting to do everything I’d hoped when reading about the area. That included two hiking tours totaling 3 hours as soon as I arrived (the first in my Birkenstocks if that helps give you an idea about “as soon as I arrived” means). Boy did I sleep well that night with the windows open. The next day I took it easier. I hiked a bit and did one zip line over the river. This zip line was “pequeňo” compared to what I did in Costa Rica, but that’s where the sport originated, and we spent the bulk of the day doing it.

Last night I had dinner at the hostel I’m staying in with a woman I’d met from Seattle. Christina had been to the local market and brought back some “umas”, a homemade Chilean corn dish. Very good. It went well with the naturally grown tomatoes and avocados. And for fruit, we just reached up and picked peaches and plums. As we were finishing, the caretaker of the hostel came in with his guitar and serenaded us with romantic Chilean songs, one even written by his grandfather about how he met his wife—city boy and country girl. Others joined us, and even treated me to a Cuzco Sour, a drink I knew I liked from Peru.

Today I went horseback riding with an English woman (Jessica) I met on my first trek. Her husband (Simon) doesn’t like horses so stayed back to pack. We actually went on the same trail we’d hiked two days before. How different it was to see the Andes from atop a horse, rather than looking at our feet to make sure we were on firm ground. It’s extremely dry here. So between that and knowing there’s limestone everywhere, you can imagine how treacherous the hiking can be. The horses were used to this terrain, making them extremely sure footed. We relaxed and enjoyed the views, at least until the way down. Leaning back was at least making us feel we were helping out the horses at least a little bit. We saw goats, the male stud for the farm, a pack of what the locals have inner-bred—pigs and wild boars (apparently a nice specialty that I’ll try if/when I see it on a menu) and a fenced in straw-colored puma.

After now having been on three treks of sorts in this dry dusty climate, it was time to try a water activity—white water rafting. I had to wait until the last day here to do it because that’s when a group of 45 Chileans arrived. 45 Chilean weekenders, 6 Chilean guides, 2 Chilean white water kayakers and 1 American. Now that’s being with the locals. It was fun to go down the class 3 rapids (5 and 6 during high water). We were told we’d have time to swim in what was said was 40 degree water (it was much warmer than that). What they meant was for us to slide out of the inflatable raft and hang on to it as it continued going down the river. Two from our raft chose to do so, and yes I was one of them. Oddly enough, a bit later, the same two ended up in the water again but not by choice. We all tucked our feet under the inflated seats, and that worked really well when weight was on them. The guy in front of me was large, so I felt very secure. I’d also noted he wasn’t exactly an athletic, so when he was lifted up by a wave, I quickly followed since my stabilizer had destabilized. We’d gotten great instructions before boarding the rafts, and even more when in the rafts which we then practiced, so I followed the instructions but before I could even wonder who/how I was going to be picked up, my raft was at my side. I was only submerged twice before that happened. Boy was I glad I’d scheduled a massage after the guide pulled me back in. That was wonderful. And now I’ve just finished salmon dinner crepe and am off to bed.

Enroute to Chile

Here I sit in the Atlanta airport, on a four hour layover before I get on the redeye flight to Santiago. I arrive around 8:30am. From there I’ve arranged to be transported to an area about 1.5 hours southeast of Santiago. It’s a nature reserve area called Cascadas de las Animas where I’m hoping to white water raft, ride horses, kayak and hike. Temps should be around 80 to 90 degrees. Rain shouldn’t be an issue because they don’t seem to get any in January on the mainland. Easter Island could be different, but that’s not for a few more days.

You’d think with all the travel that I’ve done, I’d have the packing down to a science, but no. I’m still doing things at the last minute, and just don’t quite get it all done before I leave. I now know that the new washer takes about an hour a load. That’s twice as long as my old washer. Ooops. At least the clothes will be clean. Wrinkled but clean. I also think the vacuum never made it back to its home. Oh well. I think maybe my housesitter will take care of that.

This trip is a bit different than the one I’d originally planned. In fact, it’s gone through several evolutions. The primary purpose was to go to Antarctica. I then built other things around that. I was originally going to go to Uruguay in November and work my way down to Ushuaia, Argentina to catch a boat to the frigid southern tundra. A friend from Minnesota goes down every year or so to visit the family she stayed with during a high school exchange program. I ended up backing out of that trip because Karly’s doctor, her feline vet, thought she might only have a few months to live. Not wanting to end her life early, I stayed in the Twin Cities, only to learn the boat I was scheduled to sail to Antarctica sunk the day after Thanksgiving. So much for a relaxing morning once I’d heard that news. It wasn’t until the end of the day that the news reported the “fist size hole from hitting ice underwater” sunk the ship in 3300 feet of water. It took several weeks before I first read about anticipatory environmental concerns of the oil and gas in these pristine waters.

Since one thing was based on another (alternating more rustic travel with indulgence), re-planning was in order. When was I going to go, what territory did I now want to cover? The focus changed from seeing penguins much of the first half of the trip, to the 6-week volunteer stint in Cordoba, Argentina. I’d always been excited about writing the marketing plan for a non-profit organization that works with children who have disabilities. I was sad to think this would no longer follow seeing whales and penguins, but I wasn’t going to back out of this. I never considered doing that. I’d made that commitment, and the sinking of my ship wouldn’t make me break this commitment.

Well, things are starting to come alive at gate E15. People are milling around, taking pictures of their little babies before they board the plane, the TVs are reporting the results of the New Hampshire primary. Hillary is marginally outperforming Obama (40% to 36%). McCain has just been touted as the “big” winner on the Republican side. Can’t say I’ll miss the campaigning, though it will be weird to go from this to the selected candidates when I get back in March.

This is the first time I’m taking my computer with me on vacation. That means I’ll have more on my blog, and maybe even more pictures. But I’ll end for now in order to get some exercise before getting on this redeye flight.

Hasta luego.