I spent Sunday drinking mate, shelling beans, being quiet and writing. Last week was full, especially the nights, passed in many cobblestone and well-worn spaces.
I went to Santiago on a bus by myself, followed wheat-pasted signs on the walls which lead me to an Anarchist book fair where I spent the day meeting people and discussing the education system, the Chilean student movement, queer visions of anarchy and Mapuche political prisoners on hunger strike against discriminatory dictatorship-era laws (like the so-called “antiterrorist law” which unfairly deals significantly greater sentences to Mapuche people for being “terrorists” for crimes like arson, or alleged arson). I ate free vegan food and spent all of my spare change on interesting propaganda and literature and art and took the bus home at night to celebrate my friend Alejandra’s 22nd.
On Saturday I participated in a Critical Mass. (For those who don’t know, Critical Masses are big group bike rides practiced all over the world). This ride was in opposition to the Hinzpeter Bill which, if passed, will effectively prohibit all forms of protest or demonstration, including blocking traffic and covering your face. Most of us in the ride covered our faces as we took the streets of Valpo and Viña, including my favorite participant; a 12 year old who came on his own and lead chants about the fascist state and the fucking pigs and cordially waved goodbye to everybody at the end as he biked off alone. I will be getting my own bike soon and begin a whole new relationship with these streets.
Despite everything that is filling my life here, my thoughts are often with my friends back home; all of the gorgeous young people about to graduate from Beloit and take strides along their paths, my little sister Maya who’s the coolest 13 year old I know, and everyone else in my life that I am so proud of.
I take myself on dates. Movies, walks, to read at the beach. Often I run into people I know, which is sort of astounding to me given I’ve only been here for two months. I think I’m dating this city.
I’ve been paying special attention to the moon. Tomorrow it will be full. It is becoming fall; the ocean wind is chilling even in the day and I crunch the big brown leaves that fill my neighborhood sidewalks when I walk home. The nights here are textured and filled with new people, smells, music. Valparaíso in the dark is a twinkling labyrinth of colorful alleyways and mystical hills. The longer I am here I am able to see more and more of its layers and textures.
I am so thrilled to learn from you about other cultures – I’ve had only one trip to Europe (which i loved) and limited contact with other cultures in Michigan and my patients in Florida. I’ve retired (for the second time). Papa and I spend a lot of time with the Food Pantry provided by our church family – and Papa helps prepare the meals on Sunday evening at the church free for the community – the economy shut-down has hit hard here and I spend a lot of time talking to the homeless and know where many of them “live”. I also work at the local Hospice facility as a volunteer, sitting with dying patients, singing to them and just listening while they tell me their life stories. Like you, I would miss my music and books (you really are my beautiful granddaughter). I also miss the crunch of fall leaves in the woods and on the streets. I would love the markets and hearing all the different languages and dialects. My best friend became totally deaf two years ago and I learned our own version of sign language so we could still communicate. She has now had two chochlear implants so she can hear again, but sometimes prefers the absolute silence which we fill with hand motions. She, too, misses music the most. I love taking my Nook to the beach and sit on the shore watching the waves and the surfers more than reading some days. Papa and I both had cataracts removed so I no longer have to wear glasses, except to read. It’s very freeing to see people face to face, instead of through a pane of glass. I’m so happy that you have found your music again – it will last you all of your life. I can’t wait to hear more of the Mapuche people. Love every minute of your time around those who don’t know you but will learn to love you anyway as you will learn to love them. It’s the differences that make each of us so special – and you are special to us, too. We love and miss you. Love, Nana and Papa
Comment by Gayle Marsh — May 2, 2013 @ 1:45 pm