2/3 of the Lucenos do Chile

Charlie, our fearless chauffeur. Passes curve 39.

Our first prom picture in the Andes

No lift lines, GP. Ticket, gear, and classes 18$.

A surprise sighting of Michele Pachelet, presidenta of Chile. The blonde. Almost shook her hand, Dad will be beating himself up about that for the rest of the trip!

Ricardo, head of security at the presidential palace gives us a private tour. Launch 5 cards came in handy, thinks dads a rescue swimmer.

Couldnt pass up a shot of dad in his new coat, next to the president's orange tree.

As the sun sets, we found the southern cross. At the top of Cerro San Cristobal, looking out on Santiago. Photo taken by Cameron, moms new best Australian friend.

Chilean and New York family.

Look at all the pisco! Not another one!

An eventful trip to the Pacific. Stories to come. Couldnt find a sea lion or horses on the beach.

Now we are off to Buenos Aires, pictures and tales of the Tonto rubio to come. Miss you all and thinking of you. Adios, chau. SHAAA!

Through the lens

Sunset at Copacabana. A trout meal for less than 3$.


Donkeys and llamas carry goods up and down the vertical hills and terraces of the Isla.



You dont need to be 21. Ha! Isla del Sol is run by families who open their houses and yards to be hostels or little restaurants where their 8 year old daughter might be your waitress.









A house that stood alone on the pass from the South and to the North end.





Isla del Sol

The Sacred Stone. Here on the island, they honor the creation story of the Inkas. The sun´s son and the moon´s daughter were born out of Lake Titicaca. They walked north from the icy lake until their golden staff would stick in the ground. They crossed the dry and brittle altiplano until they arrived in Cuzco, where their staff easily slid into the ground. For this, Cuzco is known as the ¨Navel of the World¨.

One of the motor boats that bring you around Isla del sol. They are usually blessed, with painted wood and a tiny smoking motor. Legend has it that if you were to fall overboard, the fishermen wouldnt rescue you. Instead, you would be given to Pachamama (Mother Earth) as an offering. Our captain, Felix assured us they rescue the tourists.

Main square and catedral in Cuzco. All around it are bars, discotecas, and balconies where you can get a coffee and a sandwich. Beware of the plaza at night where you can be bombarded by people shoving cards in your face and trying with all their power to have you come to their bar, restaurant, dance club! When in doubt, run.

Famous rock of 12 angles found in Cuzco´s wall. It says that this rock is holding the wall together, its 2 meters deep and the angles are supposed to help if their was ever to be seismic activity.

Festival in Cuzco, we are here right at the beginning of their solstice festivals. They say that Cuzco is always celebrating.. each morning we were woken up by voices on microphones and music from the main plaza.

Wheres my marker?

Chileans have this joke. It gets them every time.

Tell any Chilean you are headed on a long bus journey, and before you even vocalize your destination... theyre laughing and telling you, you better bring a marker. At first I didnt get it.

In the last 5 days Ive taken 3 journeys on buses.
Santiago-San Pedro de Atacama, 25 hours.
San Pedro de Atacama- Arica, 11 hours.
Arica-La Paz, Bolivia, 9 hours.

Now I get it. Its to draw that line that runs down the seat of your pants. You lose it on these bus rides. And now Im wondering, wheres my marker!?

After the program ended we headed to San Pedro de Atacama, in the north north north of Chile. Its the driest place in the world. Its a small town full of hostels, artesania, family food restaurants, and adventure excursions. After a fuerte program, it was nice to be on vacation and see incredible places. Im with 3 incredible friends, we are working our way around South America. Already its been too much to put in words but Ill try.

-Visited salt flat, 3rd largest in the world. Full of shrimp, flamingos, and coral reef looking salt.
-Walked around deep blue lakes, rimmed with white potassium sand and golden grasses. Tricks you into thinking youve stumbled upon the alps.
-Went mountainbiking into the Valle de la Muerte... incredibly dry desert with sand dunes, rocky walls, and sandboarding tracks. Tried my luck with the sandboard... Hiking back up a massive dune in the middle of the driest place in the world, at 4,300 meters gives you a whole new appreciation for chair lifts.
-Watched the sunset in Valle de la Luna, one of the best places to see stars. Hiked across dunes and a walled crater.
-Watched the sunrise among the Geyesers de Tatio. Geysers which spew vapor from large nest looking holes or tiny snake looking holes in the ground. The background was volcanos.
-Took a thermal "bath" near the largest geyser... a hot spring strategically placed where the Chilean tour guides line up to watch the tourists, an experience!
-Ate llama. Quite tasty, salty, 0 cholesterol.
-Made some new friends in the hostel, at one point there was 5 languages going on in the same conversation. A striking contrast between the North Face travellers lugging mineral water and packs and the Northern Chileans, mostly watching....

We got to La Paz, Bolivia, the highest capital city! We are enjoying the Bolivian life for a day here, finding good food, helpful people excited to share their culture, and we are taking all safety precautions, I promise! Ive never been so responsible in my life, Mom and Dad!
-Found the best coffee in La Paz.
-Had 2 La Paz old ladies create a COA for us, to ceremonially burn when we travel to bring us good luck and have our wishes come true. It has herbs, confetti, a llama statue, candy, a silver paper, a golden paper. We have to each put 12 coca leaves on it, make a wish to Panchamama.
Our friend Freddy, a city tour guide, said we were the first tourists he met who made their own Coa, he certainly got a kick out of that one. Ill let you know how it goes!
-Visited cobbled streets filled with silver jewelry, wool crafts, al paca hats and gloves, seed necklaces.
-Went to the witches market, where you can buy any spell potions, llama fetuses to ceremoniously burn, animal fur, and lots of other things we didnt ask about...
-Went to the Museo de Coca, to unlock the mystery of this plant!
-Ate breakfast, dinner, lunch for $1 each.
-Had our fortunes read by a guide, who reads them with coca leaves...

A lot. I know. Pictures, I promise. News, I promise. Its been a wonderful few days and there is lots more to come.
Tomorrow we leave for Copacabana at 8 am.
Lake Titicaca to follow.
Staying on an island with families (hopefully) for a night or 2.
Crossing into Peru to Cuzco.
Macchu Picchu and Aguas Calientes.
Lima for flight to Chile.

disclamer: stolen from Abi:

Salt flat in Chile.

Lake trip.

Mountain biking through the Valle de la Muerte.

Sandboarding, heading down... a slow process.

Sunset at Valle de la Luna.

beginnings and endings

Our program ended last Wednesday. No sooner was I back from Buenos Aires; typing up my thesis & changing from Argentinean spanish to Chilean spanish that we were back where we started this whole journey... Hotel Pacifico in Algorrobo. For what seemed like only moments our group was back together... I couldnt help but notice how different we all are. Not only the physical; ubiquitous fanny packs, high top converse, checkered chilean scarves and cool knit bags...the change went deeper. Looking back on these last 3.5 months, this program was more than I could have ever expected. More than study abroad. My biggest fear coming here, more than the language, the culture shock, the academics... was the group. Who were they? 11 out of 12 girls? What would we be like together?

And now I know, the group was everything. I think I had an idea of studying abroad and facing all the challenges of being independent... but what I found instead was the comfort of good friends, an amazing director, and the undeniably feeling of true relationships. I think more than anything these last months I have been amazed by the human capacity to share. Ive had 4 host families who opened their doors to me, shared who they are (however they care to define themselves) and who have affected me in their own unique ways.

Personally, Ive met people who I could never forget, people who have inspired me and surprised me. People who I feel as though Ive known for longer than 104 days. To be able to share something so strong, so complex, eye-opening... how could we ever pretend to be the same 12 people who landed here a few months ago?

Going to the airport, half of us stayed and half left. Airports are always marking beginnings and endings. As much as it seemed like the ending of something, watching our friends walk away... these strong, intelligent, and passionate people... we were all smiling. Because this program was the beginning of something. I'm trying to hold on to that feeling. After all, we have more control of our beginnings and endings than we think.

Not all programs are like this, not even all SIT programs. Our director whose been doing this for 9 years, said that no one wants this program to end, there was something different about this one...

20 minutes in Chile & 2 underwear sightings

Im back in Santiago. We landed yesterday to a big cloud of smog... Santiago in winter. I found myself standing in the same jeans, with the same backpack, ringing the bell of the house on Simon Bolivar. Deja vu..... 2 months earlier, standing in this same place-- with no idea what to expect. This time the family came to greet me at the door. It was nice to see familiar faces, and they were all smiling when they hugged me and followed me into the room that they had rearranged (bye bye most uncomfortable hard as rock pillow!!!). Within twenty minutes I had downed the Chilean bread and palta (avacado) that I had oh so dearly missed and was gearing up for a siesta... ah....

Before I could do so my 88 year old Chilean host grandmother knocked her steaming hot cup of tea onto her lap, and all I could see was steam rising from her purple skirt. For a moment we were both frozen- in shock or fear or disbelief. Another second went by and she was up on her feet, jumping around in little circles waving her skirt back and forth. It was only me and her in the kitchen, what do I do!?
She first brought her skirt up by her shoulders and then, with only a second thought, pulled her skirt down around her knees. Unfortunately she also had on a slip, and bloomers and tights. She tried getting these down too (do I help? do I call for help? Do I invade her personal personal space like that!)...
So now she has her skirt and slip hugging her knees, her white bloomers she is puffing out with her hands... and Im trying like Ive never tried before in my life, not to laugh.
Because at the same time, she is still jumping around in little kangaroo circles, saying oo-oo oo-oo in distinct Chilean grandma but with her skirt and slip around her knees. You can imagine what kind of a picture this would be.
Finally she lets out a laugh, I let out a laugh. We laugh and then she waddles out the door to find a bathrobe. What do you do in this situation!!!??
Two seconds later, as Im supporting myself on the refrigerator recovering; my host mom comes in with two pairs of underwear in her hand. One is a very large stark white pair of Hanes. The other is a dark blue pair of Chilean mens briefs (very brief briefs). Are they mine? She wants to know... they found them when they rearranged the bed.... No, I swear Ive never seen them before. Nor would I ever be caught dead in underwear like that. They arent mine, especially not the blue ones, ah! Two chilean eyes look back at me "this is your underwear." No, its not, its not, please dont make me take it... The eyes think, they focus on me, they wait, okay, I believe you. The mystery of the abandoned underwear continues...
Oh, I forgot what it was like to be here in Santiago. Oh, the shenanigans.

I woke up today and as I was washing my cup, looked out to the patio. The leaves have all changed since Ive been gone. The ginko tree has a skirt of yellow leaves below it. And the mountains, the mountains that were once so dry and brown and wrinkly are filled with white. They are illuminating, with what looks like snowy ski slopes filling the wrinkles of the Andes.
Its funny to come back to a foreign place and find it familiar.
Its hailing right now, my mind is in a million places. And I have at least 10 more pages of my thesis to write before tomorrow. But I just cant shake this image of my host grandma, her shiny white hair bobbing up and down as she jumps around the kitchen in her bloomers.... So I thought Id share.

I want to share someone with you.

His name is Oscar Lautaro Hueravilo. My advisor had set up an interview with him for yesterday at 7:30 at the Café de las Madres. Yesterday, I ran off the subway, got to the café, ordered a tea and quickly scribbled some notes. A few minutes later he walked into the café smiling; an older man with a bright red scarf and black moustache. I waved him over- he had no idea who I was, as we had never met before! He greeted me with 2 kisses on the cheek and sat down across from me. It was the easiest beginning to an interview I have ever had. He eased my nerves immediately and brought out a newspaper from his bag. There was a small picture in the bottom corner of two people, with 70s hair and black and white features. The man had the same moustache and features as Oscar.
“This is my son and my daughter-in-law” he told me.
I knew what happened to them. The picture was like so many pictures fathers and mothers here carry with them. Oscar and Mirta, the faces in the picture are 2 of the 30,000 people who “disappeared” during the dictatorship. Two people whose families are still waiting to find out what happened to them… two people whose crime was nothing more than being young and having dreams. He was 22, she was 23. He was studying to be a lawyer, was the president of the student Communist organization. She was a teacher, who loved Italian, English, and French. They had been together for 8 months and she was 6 months pregnant with their first child.
Their picture was in the paper because it was 30 years ago from Saturday that military men, dressed in civil clothes bombarded their apartment, bringing them both to the ESMA, the most notorious concentration camp/torture center in Buenos Aires. It’s been 30 years since Oscar has seen his only son.
Something so difficult to deal with, to process, is how the dictatorship took control of the Argentinean youth, of the future. How they ripped apart families, marriages, an entire country. I don’t have any children but I cannot imagine the feeling of losing your child to the government of your country; of the hope, the waiting, the despair, and the denial you must go through.
There are 500 cases of either pregnant women or children who disappeared during this time. We know now that most babies born in the ESMA or other places of detention were given to military families who couldn’t have children of their own. There is an organization of grandmothers who have fought for 30 years to find their own grandchildren, to reclaim those whose identities have been completely rearranged.
Mirta was 6 months pregnant- four months after she was taken away, a baby appeared at a hospital in Buenos Aires. Hidden in the baby’s clothes and blankets, as well as inside of a doll the hospital workers found a little paper with the name Emiliano Hueravilo. The baby also had a little mark on his ear that had been made with a pin. With these clues, the nurses were able to identify Emiliano as Oscar’s grandchild and in an act that you could call miraculous, Emiliano was returned to his paternal grandparents. Now Emiliano is 30, and his grandfather couldn’t be prouder of him. He is the first of 82 grandchildren who have been recovered.
I spent 40 minutes talking to his grandfather, originally Mapuche from Chile- a man who has fled Chile & Argentina- who suffered so much because of his work with work unions. The right to decent work is a human right, he has spent his life working to improve and uphold this basic human right.
This 74 year old man had more life in him than I can possibly express. After telling me his story he asked me about my family, what are their names, what are they like, what are your little siblings like? He gave me his phone number, we are going to keep in touch aren’t we? Do you have a camera, I want to remember you. He walked me to the subway stop and waited until I bought my ticket to leave, waving to me the whole time. It would take him an hour and a half to get back home. Its been a pleasure knowing you, he said.
Oscar loves to dance, he loves to spend time with his friends, drink mate. Oscar has suffered a lot of hurts but he doesn’t ever forget how lucky he is. I didn’t want to leave; I wanted to express how much one hour talking with him had affected me. I wanted to thank him, hug him, call my grandparents; I wanted to never forget how lucky I am.

Someday you might find yourself
toasting to good friends
in a cafe on a street
in which you know not the name.

Maybe one day you remember who
you used to be- the dreams that
on schoolnights kept you up late.
You remember, on a bus in
a nameless town looking out a
windowfull of mountains.

Have you ever written a word
on some paper, somewhere
and realized you've given it
a new meaning. You've given
it a memory.

There are times you might
get lost in thought
only to look up and find
someone someday
somewhere on the subway
is smiling at you.

Someday your expression
might change when you realize
You're exactly where you need to be.