Puerto Montt. Puerto Varas. Osorno. Parque Nacional Rosales. Lago Todos Los Santos. The Chilean Lakes District. The true gateway to Patagonia. For most backpackers and travelers, this is their first major exposure to adrenalyn pumping activities and the grand beauty of Patagonia. It´s a place to hike, to peak a volcano, to flyfish, to sea kayak. I think that if I visited this area in December, I would have spent my days trekking through mountainous forests and my nights camping under the cold starry sky. But these last few months have provided me with a wealth of experiences and with that a change in desires and priorities. As such, I experienced the Lakes District in a completely different way and I believe that an analysis of this distinction will shed a fair share of insight on my previous personal transition and my future traveling plans.
When I decided to start the traveling portion of my Chilean adventure, I noted that I would have to transition from campesina to tourist, from worker to traveler. But my time in the Lakes District has shown me that this mental shift is much easier said than done. Although I was now traveling, my priorities still revolved around el campo. Of course I was still mezmorized by the massive natural landscape: the huge Lago Llanquihue and the three overpowering distant volcanoes. And of course I still took the opportunity to hike through an aging rainforest to find a hidden waterfall. But it was el campo that moved my heart. It was el campo that caught my attention.
I began to notice the shift when I left Pucon. My eyes were drawn to endless vistas of green pastures dotted with grazing cows, to the continuous billboards and advertisements for fertilizers, seeds, and antibiotics, and to the overwhelming presense of milk companies and dairy factories. Rather than settle down in Puerto Varas, the typical backpackers center, I chose to stay outside of Puerto Octacy, a tiny farming village 50km north. There, I spent my days aimlessly wandering through the network of dirt roads and taking in the beautiful sights of the lonely farmhouse, the green fields, the freshly picked potatoes. I spent my morning and my nights lying outside, listening to the distant sounds of cowboys rounding up their cows, of campesinos chopping wood and building barns, and of farm animals talking amongst themselves. Everything I saw, I connected to el campo. The fresh local produce overflowing the town´s minimercados, the signs outside of the rural schools boasting of the fresh and healthy local food they feed their children, the signs leading into each driveway stating the name of el fundo and which giant coorporation sponsors their products, the out-of-place suburban-style neighborhood quickly built to cheaply house the influx of local migrant workers, the looming whitewashed factories bearing the names of Nestle and Colum, the billboards advertising the ¨saving-grace¨products of Bayer and Monsanto. Everything I thought, I connected to el campo. Small farms and local food mixed with huge industries and profitable exports. Fresh produce and government-issued milk. A country that values its farmers and its agricultural production but is still losing its population to the forces of urbanization and globalization.
As I walk these roads and meet these people, I´m overwhelmed to the point where my racing mind goes blank. But I continue on, not knowing what I´ll find next or what realization I´ll make. All I know is that for now I want nothing more than to spend each day aimlessly walking amongst the green pastures, under the blue sky, and within the world of el campo. This is the reality I want to explore. The reality of el campesino. Family. Beauty. Work ethic. Purity. Defense. Friendship. Neighbors. Networks. Business. Love. Pride.
At least that´s the current gameplan...until I change my mind again...
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Sunday, March 20, 2011
The Adventure Begins: Sponteneity, Transitions, and Changes (Wednesday, March 15--Day 126)
I made a big decision yesterday. I decided to change my plans and skip the next farm. For the past four weeks, I had been looking forward to going to work on a remote potato farm on the enchanted island of Chiloe. It would have been a beautiful experience, and I certainly would have learned a lot (especially since Chiloehas over 120 types of potatoes). But, here`s the thing. If I worked on the farm, I would only have a few weeks to see all of Northern Chile. That`s not enough time to do it justice. There`s so much to see. Places are so far away. And I don`t want to rush from plan to plan to the point that I miss the opportunity to be spontaneous. So no fifth farm. Instead, today I start my month and a half vacation!
That means that there is a big mental transition I have to make. First of all, I have to realize that now, I am a tourist just like everyone else. I am no longer a migrant worker, hopping from farm to farm. But because that is still a part of my story and my identity as a foreigner, I have to realize that every other tourist may also have equally exciting stories. Second of all, I have to learn to listen to myself each and every day. I now have the freedom to decide what I want to do every single day. There are no schedules or plans. This is all me. This is freedom. And freedom, as described by one of my friends who hiked the Appalachian trail, can be a very overwhelming feeling. So it is time to get in tune with myself and to get in tune with what is around me. It is time to explore Chile, to meet people (tourists and Chileans alike), and to learn whatother types of realities are out there. It`s exploration time!
Of course, this is me we`re talking about, so of course there is a rough game plan. Basically, I want to spend a few days in the Lakes District. I`ll be staying with a friend of Irma`s who owns a hostel out in el campo. We`ll call this my transition time. Then I will go to Chiloe for a week or two, depending on the weather and how I`m feeling. I`ve heard really wonderful things, and I am very curious. And from there, I will book it North as fast as I can (although I`ll probably stop in Concepcion to see the earthquake`s effects, Talca to see a woman about the Fulbright Scholarship, and Valpairiso to get a hair cute). Then onto the North to see the desert, the stars, the mines, the ghost towns, and the mountains.
Life`s either a daring adventure, or nothing at all!
PS. Don`t worry. I`ll be safe. I think about Boston and Montana every day, and I wouldn`t do anything to jeopardize my homecoming.
That means that there is a big mental transition I have to make. First of all, I have to realize that now, I am a tourist just like everyone else. I am no longer a migrant worker, hopping from farm to farm. But because that is still a part of my story and my identity as a foreigner, I have to realize that every other tourist may also have equally exciting stories. Second of all, I have to learn to listen to myself each and every day. I now have the freedom to decide what I want to do every single day. There are no schedules or plans. This is all me. This is freedom. And freedom, as described by one of my friends who hiked the Appalachian trail, can be a very overwhelming feeling. So it is time to get in tune with myself and to get in tune with what is around me. It is time to explore Chile, to meet people (tourists and Chileans alike), and to learn whatother types of realities are out there. It`s exploration time!
Of course, this is me we`re talking about, so of course there is a rough game plan. Basically, I want to spend a few days in the Lakes District. I`ll be staying with a friend of Irma`s who owns a hostel out in el campo. We`ll call this my transition time. Then I will go to Chiloe for a week or two, depending on the weather and how I`m feeling. I`ve heard really wonderful things, and I am very curious. And from there, I will book it North as fast as I can (although I`ll probably stop in Concepcion to see the earthquake`s effects, Talca to see a woman about the Fulbright Scholarship, and Valpairiso to get a hair cute). Then onto the North to see the desert, the stars, the mines, the ghost towns, and the mountains.
Life`s either a daring adventure, or nothing at all!
PS. Don`t worry. I`ll be safe. I think about Boston and Montana every day, and I wouldn`t do anything to jeopardize my homecoming.
Motivating the Hopeless (Saturday, March 12--Day 123)
For the last few weeks, or even the last two and a half months I suppose, I have been living in a blackhole of pessimism. Maybe it`s a Southern Chilean thing. Bad weather. Awful natural disasters. Huge identity complexes because they`re neither Santiago nor Patagonia. Maybe it`s a Mapuche thing. A long history of being forced from their land and a current struggle to maintain their traditions or retain a homeland. Or maybe it´s a campesino thing. Always working. Always depending on forces beyond their control, from climate to international demand. Always fighting against big industries in a battle that they don`t have time to fight. Always struggling to defend the value and worth of a way of life they treasure. It makes sense. I guess if I fit into any of these categories, I´d be a little stiff too. But I don`t want to create general stereotypes. After all, I know some lovely southern Chileans who bask in the opportunity to live in such a beautiful place. I´ve met some very smiley, free-spirited Mapuche who are proud of their tradition and are content with their lives. And I continue to come into contact with farmers who love their job and would rather die than change their course. So whatever the cause, one thing is for sure...Irma is by far one of the most openly unapologetic pessimistic people I have ever met in my whole life. And living with that is exhausting.
She´s not a bad person, by any stretch of the imagination. She is very generous and refuses to let anyone in her house go hungry. She has an incredible work ethic and a deep passion for life in el campo. She is spunky and lively and sharp, and remember, she is 70. But, she´s a Debbie Downer. A Johnny Raincloud. A Sad Sally. Pick a topic. Any topic.
Cities? They are crowded and dirty and disease infested. They are filled with people. And not just any people--the worst type--city people. Lazy. Traitors to el campo. Sinful. Worthless. Weak. Parasites. ¨Ay, Amanda, ¿còmo alguien puede vivir asì? ¡Ave Marìa!¨
Youth? The worst! There is no hope for our future! Glued to TVs and cell phones. They wouldn`t know good food if you plopped it in front of them. Lazy. Sex fiend. Faithless. Univerity graduate with no work ethic. Disconnected from nature and family. ¨Ay, y mis nietos son asì. Lo peor. ¿Qué vamos a hacer con los jovenes, hoy?¨
Natural Disasters? There`s nothing we can do. The earth is angry and we are powerless. If you don`t prepare yourself, you`re ignorant and naive for thinking you are invincible (as she often states about the people in Concepcion last year who received a warning from the US that a tsunami was going to follow the earthquake but they did not listen). If you do prepare yourself, you`re ignorant and naive for thinking you can outsmart nature (as she often stated about the people along the coast of Chile who fled their towns after Japan`s earthquake in fear of a tsunami). You can`t win. Whatever you do, you`re powerless.
Argentina? Fat and lazy people who spend all day drinking mate and sleeping through their siestas. A flat and brown country without any green, any fruit,or any rain (she`s never been there, mind you). ¨Ay, la gente allì son todo mal. No hace nada. Es asì, Amanda.¨ (That comment was in response to a statement I made regarding the prevalence of apricots in Northern Argentina.)
Other countries? Ugly landscapes. Unhappy and unhealthy people. No vegetables. No gardens. No farms. And don`t even get her started on the Germans.
The future? Hopeless. You better have faith in God, because nothing else will save you. We`re doomed. We`re all doomed. The farmer will carry everyone on his back, like the slave he is. ¨Ay las cosas que pasan en el mundo, Amanda.¡Què horible!¨¨
Work? Cuesta mucho. Un sacrificio mas grande.
Any day in general? ¡Què mal! ¡Eso no me gusta por nada! ¡Ay, otra dia Amanda!
Alright. Now that I write these things down, it doesn`t seem so bad. They just seem like semi-neurotic statements from an old woman who has lived a long, hard life. Fair enough. But let`s put this into context, shall we? I just came from a farm in Mendoza where all I heard every day was how the planet is heading for destruction, how the United States is an evil place, how everyone in first world countries is personally responsable for our global downfall, how there is no point to try to fight the system or save other people, and how the only thing you can do is find a plot of land and grow your own food because when shit hits the fan--which it inevitably will--you may be lucky enough to surive. Wonderful. And now I am here, in this beautiful place surrounded by wonderful animals, a hearty garden, and easilly accesable community support, and I wake up every day to hear how evil everyone is and how this work takes everythingand gives nothing. Joyful.
So how long before this excessive negativity kills the spark within me? Can I keep seeing the beauty of what`s around me? Can I keep fighting and dreaming of a brighter future? And if I manage to remain strong and optimistic until May, will my spark stay lit in the States? Because based on many of the Americans I am meeting and many of the Americans I already know, I fear that I am bound to continue trying to spread hope to a group of hopeless individuals. They´re not hopeless in the pessimistic,negative way of the campesino. They´re hopeless in the priveleged, self-righteous way of a people who live in a sheltered bubble. There`s no need for hope when everything is perfect. And everything is perfect for those who choose not to see theproblems in the world, who choose not to realizehow their life decisions impact those conditions, who choose to continue to consume rather than produce and share. What will I tell these people when they´re too busy watching reality shows, when they´re too concerned with getting the latest gizmo and most recent hummer, when all they can say about my experience is how ¨cute¨ it is that I´m ¨helping out those farmers down there.¨ How do I explain to them that the world needs to change, that the world can change, and that the world will change when they see no need for such a transition?
But despite every negative word I hear and with every fearful thought about my return, there have been so many moments that have rejuvenated me, that have given me hope for my world, hope for our future, hope for my country, and hope for my ability to make an impact. It`s the site of communities coming together to celebrate. It`s an email from a friend telling me how inspired he is by the students he teaches. It`s a small conversation with a little girl who wants to grow up to be a teacher and a good mom. It`s the random encounter with an older American woman who believes in the value of traveling, of enjoying life, of appreciating differences, and of staying current. It`s the latenight conversation with two New Yorkers who spoke lovingly and admirably about living in a community that values farmers, small business, the elderly, and community development. It`s the somewhat overwhelming visit by 58 American exchange students who, like so many students at BU, have so many plans for the future and ideas for change. It`s the thoughts of the people I have worked with in non-profits around the States, of the IHP alumni who are now working all over the world, of the people at BU´s CSS and ORL, of the parents and teachers and volunteers and leaders and busins owners in communities around the States. These people are not hopeless. They breath hope. They live hope. They spread hope. And I`m with them.
So what`s the key? What makes these people of hope different than the pessimistic Irmas and Margots of the world or the blinded priveleged Americans in the States? They know something. They know that work along does not bring fulfillment. If someone works hard for the morality of hard work, they´ll grow exhausted and bitter.If someone works hard to accumulate more, they´ll die restless and jealous. They know that endless wandering won`t bring themjoy. If they`re always moving so fast, they`ll miss the details. If they`re never connected to any place or thing or person, they`ll lose their sense of humanity. Work and adventure, when accompanied with a hope for something better, brings you joy. So work for a better world and share that faith in humanity. Lead a life of adventure but make know that you`re leading towards a happy ending. Keep reminding yourself that the world is beautiful and try your best to inspire otherswith optimism. That`s what I`ll be doing, because I won`t let a few negative campesinos and a lot of blind compatriots destroy a spirit that can change the world.
She´s not a bad person, by any stretch of the imagination. She is very generous and refuses to let anyone in her house go hungry. She has an incredible work ethic and a deep passion for life in el campo. She is spunky and lively and sharp, and remember, she is 70. But, she´s a Debbie Downer. A Johnny Raincloud. A Sad Sally. Pick a topic. Any topic.
Cities? They are crowded and dirty and disease infested. They are filled with people. And not just any people--the worst type--city people. Lazy. Traitors to el campo. Sinful. Worthless. Weak. Parasites. ¨Ay, Amanda, ¿còmo alguien puede vivir asì? ¡Ave Marìa!¨
Youth? The worst! There is no hope for our future! Glued to TVs and cell phones. They wouldn`t know good food if you plopped it in front of them. Lazy. Sex fiend. Faithless. Univerity graduate with no work ethic. Disconnected from nature and family. ¨Ay, y mis nietos son asì. Lo peor. ¿Qué vamos a hacer con los jovenes, hoy?¨
Natural Disasters? There`s nothing we can do. The earth is angry and we are powerless. If you don`t prepare yourself, you`re ignorant and naive for thinking you are invincible (as she often states about the people in Concepcion last year who received a warning from the US that a tsunami was going to follow the earthquake but they did not listen). If you do prepare yourself, you`re ignorant and naive for thinking you can outsmart nature (as she often stated about the people along the coast of Chile who fled their towns after Japan`s earthquake in fear of a tsunami). You can`t win. Whatever you do, you`re powerless.
Argentina? Fat and lazy people who spend all day drinking mate and sleeping through their siestas. A flat and brown country without any green, any fruit,or any rain (she`s never been there, mind you). ¨Ay, la gente allì son todo mal. No hace nada. Es asì, Amanda.¨ (That comment was in response to a statement I made regarding the prevalence of apricots in Northern Argentina.)
Other countries? Ugly landscapes. Unhappy and unhealthy people. No vegetables. No gardens. No farms. And don`t even get her started on the Germans.
The future? Hopeless. You better have faith in God, because nothing else will save you. We`re doomed. We`re all doomed. The farmer will carry everyone on his back, like the slave he is. ¨Ay las cosas que pasan en el mundo, Amanda.¡Què horible!¨¨
Work? Cuesta mucho. Un sacrificio mas grande.
Any day in general? ¡Què mal! ¡Eso no me gusta por nada! ¡Ay, otra dia Amanda!
Alright. Now that I write these things down, it doesn`t seem so bad. They just seem like semi-neurotic statements from an old woman who has lived a long, hard life. Fair enough. But let`s put this into context, shall we? I just came from a farm in Mendoza where all I heard every day was how the planet is heading for destruction, how the United States is an evil place, how everyone in first world countries is personally responsable for our global downfall, how there is no point to try to fight the system or save other people, and how the only thing you can do is find a plot of land and grow your own food because when shit hits the fan--which it inevitably will--you may be lucky enough to surive. Wonderful. And now I am here, in this beautiful place surrounded by wonderful animals, a hearty garden, and easilly accesable community support, and I wake up every day to hear how evil everyone is and how this work takes everythingand gives nothing. Joyful.
So how long before this excessive negativity kills the spark within me? Can I keep seeing the beauty of what`s around me? Can I keep fighting and dreaming of a brighter future? And if I manage to remain strong and optimistic until May, will my spark stay lit in the States? Because based on many of the Americans I am meeting and many of the Americans I already know, I fear that I am bound to continue trying to spread hope to a group of hopeless individuals. They´re not hopeless in the pessimistic,negative way of the campesino. They´re hopeless in the priveleged, self-righteous way of a people who live in a sheltered bubble. There`s no need for hope when everything is perfect. And everything is perfect for those who choose not to see theproblems in the world, who choose not to realizehow their life decisions impact those conditions, who choose to continue to consume rather than produce and share. What will I tell these people when they´re too busy watching reality shows, when they´re too concerned with getting the latest gizmo and most recent hummer, when all they can say about my experience is how ¨cute¨ it is that I´m ¨helping out those farmers down there.¨ How do I explain to them that the world needs to change, that the world can change, and that the world will change when they see no need for such a transition?
But despite every negative word I hear and with every fearful thought about my return, there have been so many moments that have rejuvenated me, that have given me hope for my world, hope for our future, hope for my country, and hope for my ability to make an impact. It`s the site of communities coming together to celebrate. It`s an email from a friend telling me how inspired he is by the students he teaches. It`s a small conversation with a little girl who wants to grow up to be a teacher and a good mom. It`s the random encounter with an older American woman who believes in the value of traveling, of enjoying life, of appreciating differences, and of staying current. It`s the latenight conversation with two New Yorkers who spoke lovingly and admirably about living in a community that values farmers, small business, the elderly, and community development. It`s the somewhat overwhelming visit by 58 American exchange students who, like so many students at BU, have so many plans for the future and ideas for change. It`s the thoughts of the people I have worked with in non-profits around the States, of the IHP alumni who are now working all over the world, of the people at BU´s CSS and ORL, of the parents and teachers and volunteers and leaders and busins owners in communities around the States. These people are not hopeless. They breath hope. They live hope. They spread hope. And I`m with them.
So what`s the key? What makes these people of hope different than the pessimistic Irmas and Margots of the world or the blinded priveleged Americans in the States? They know something. They know that work along does not bring fulfillment. If someone works hard for the morality of hard work, they´ll grow exhausted and bitter.If someone works hard to accumulate more, they´ll die restless and jealous. They know that endless wandering won`t bring themjoy. If they`re always moving so fast, they`ll miss the details. If they`re never connected to any place or thing or person, they`ll lose their sense of humanity. Work and adventure, when accompanied with a hope for something better, brings you joy. So work for a better world and share that faith in humanity. Lead a life of adventure but make know that you`re leading towards a happy ending. Keep reminding yourself that the world is beautiful and try your best to inspire otherswith optimism. That`s what I`ll be doing, because I won`t let a few negative campesinos and a lot of blind compatriots destroy a spirit that can change the world.
Buen Provecho: Part 5: La Comida Mapuche (Monday, March 7--Day 118)
So apart from all the wood chopping, tomato saving, and animal caretaking I have done over the past month and a half, I have also learned to cook A TON of Mapuche food. As part of Chile´s ecotourism network, Irma and her family often host large tour groups as well as individual families. They come for the afternoon to spend time in the Ruka (Mapuche thatch building), to listen to Irma´s stories, and to eat. And boy...do they eat. Here´s what I´ve been cooking...
Sopaipillas. First, we whip up a buttery bread dough and let it sit for about a half hour. We then break the large mass into smaller pieces (about the size of a chestnut) and roll them into perfect smooth dough balls. After they sit for about fifteen minutes, we flatten them slightly and put a hole in the middle. From there, we fry them in scalding oil that has been heating up over the open fire. When they are golden brown on each side, we take them out and serve them. Essentially, they are Mapuche donuts. But what makes them so special is that we serve them with a variety of sauces including fresh honey, homemade jam,and pebre (a salsa-like concoction made with tomatoes, onions, coriander, chili pepper, lemon, salt, and olive oil).
Catuto: Now this is some traditional Mapuche food. First, we boil fresh wheat seeds (these have neither been ground or dried, so they might be hard to find in the typical super market). When they have boiled for about an hour and a half, we drain the water (save the brown wheat water because it can be used as a medicinal drink when someone is feeling sick). We then grind the wheat with a metal hand grinder (not sure of the Brookstone equivalent) and it forms a sticky, pasty, somewhat chunky wheat paste. Irma then takes a small handful, while it is still hot,and rolls it multiple times with a large stone. After it has been sufficiently flattened, stretched, and mixed, she rolls it into the shape of an elongated diamond (it is meant to symbolize a fish). There are two ways to serve this dish. One, fresh with honey and jam. Two, fried with garlic and served with pebre. My personal favorite. It is a really weird dish to describe. One would think it would taste and feel like heavy bread, but it is much more...squishy? I don´t know, I still cannot describe it. Dense though. That`s for sure.
Pastel de Choclo: You can find this all over the place in the Lake´s district, especially during the months of January and February. This is corn season, and the Chilean capesinos and Mapuche people eat as much corn as they possibly can. Pastel de choclo can be made a variety of ways, and every person has their own preference. Sweet. Salty. Crunchy. Buttery. So some of the additives as well as the type of corn used can be modified. But this is how we did it. Using massive, unsweetened corn, we separated the kernels from the husk and immediately sent them through the hand grinder to make a liquidy mush. We then cooked that corn with milk, salt, and basil. Meanwhile, we heated up a meat-onion-hard boiled egg-olive mixture to use as the base of the pie. In individual, oven-safe bowls, we linedthe bottom with the meat mixture and put the corn on top. After that baked for about 45 minutes, we topped the pie with a very light dusting of sugar to give it a carmelized, crunchy, semi-sweet bite. Mmmm.
Pishco: In Mapuche, pish means everything and co means water. So this is basically a delicious vegetable soup madeby putting everything in water. Add what you will and spice it as you like. Make sure to top it with merkèn (a hot pepper spice) and coriander, because they use that on EVERYTHING.
Soup: Every day. Made with whatever garden goodness is in season.
...and much more. But these were the basic staples. Ooph the pancita is growing happily!
Sopaipillas. First, we whip up a buttery bread dough and let it sit for about a half hour. We then break the large mass into smaller pieces (about the size of a chestnut) and roll them into perfect smooth dough balls. After they sit for about fifteen minutes, we flatten them slightly and put a hole in the middle. From there, we fry them in scalding oil that has been heating up over the open fire. When they are golden brown on each side, we take them out and serve them. Essentially, they are Mapuche donuts. But what makes them so special is that we serve them with a variety of sauces including fresh honey, homemade jam,and pebre (a salsa-like concoction made with tomatoes, onions, coriander, chili pepper, lemon, salt, and olive oil).
Catuto: Now this is some traditional Mapuche food. First, we boil fresh wheat seeds (these have neither been ground or dried, so they might be hard to find in the typical super market). When they have boiled for about an hour and a half, we drain the water (save the brown wheat water because it can be used as a medicinal drink when someone is feeling sick). We then grind the wheat with a metal hand grinder (not sure of the Brookstone equivalent) and it forms a sticky, pasty, somewhat chunky wheat paste. Irma then takes a small handful, while it is still hot,and rolls it multiple times with a large stone. After it has been sufficiently flattened, stretched, and mixed, she rolls it into the shape of an elongated diamond (it is meant to symbolize a fish). There are two ways to serve this dish. One, fresh with honey and jam. Two, fried with garlic and served with pebre. My personal favorite. It is a really weird dish to describe. One would think it would taste and feel like heavy bread, but it is much more...squishy? I don´t know, I still cannot describe it. Dense though. That`s for sure.
Pastel de Choclo: You can find this all over the place in the Lake´s district, especially during the months of January and February. This is corn season, and the Chilean capesinos and Mapuche people eat as much corn as they possibly can. Pastel de choclo can be made a variety of ways, and every person has their own preference. Sweet. Salty. Crunchy. Buttery. So some of the additives as well as the type of corn used can be modified. But this is how we did it. Using massive, unsweetened corn, we separated the kernels from the husk and immediately sent them through the hand grinder to make a liquidy mush. We then cooked that corn with milk, salt, and basil. Meanwhile, we heated up a meat-onion-hard boiled egg-olive mixture to use as the base of the pie. In individual, oven-safe bowls, we linedthe bottom with the meat mixture and put the corn on top. After that baked for about 45 minutes, we topped the pie with a very light dusting of sugar to give it a carmelized, crunchy, semi-sweet bite. Mmmm.
Pishco: In Mapuche, pish means everything and co means water. So this is basically a delicious vegetable soup madeby putting everything in water. Add what you will and spice it as you like. Make sure to top it with merkèn (a hot pepper spice) and coriander, because they use that on EVERYTHING.
Soup: Every day. Made with whatever garden goodness is in season.
...and much more. But these were the basic staples. Ooph the pancita is growing happily!
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Things I Miss: Update (Thursday, March 3: Day 114)
1
1. American Football
3. Oversized Cotton Hoodies
4. Pool
5. Yellowstone
6. World news
*I took Peanut Butter off the list for now. Maybe the food is better in Chile or maybe I have made it through rehab. But either way, the craving is gone.
Mi vida con niños: My life with children (Tuesday March 1: Day 112)
There are two things I have consistently stated about children. One: They see and experience a completely different world than we do. Two: They make me horribly uncomfortable. Maybe these two are connected. Maybe kids make me so uncomfortable because despite my dedication to empathy and my anthropological training in relativism, I still cannot see their world. Or maybe I just don´t like kids. Either way. The point is that over the past three weeks, I have had an enormous amount of exposure to children, and while I still don´t understand them and although my attention span is still limited, I have learned a thing or two and my tolerance has grown.
When I first arrived at Kila Leufu, there were kids all over the place. There was a really wonderful German family staying with us for three weeks, and they had an eight month old son and a three year old daughter. Then of course there are Irma´s grandchildren, two of whom, nine year old Yoerma and one year old Francisco, come to the house every single day. So this isn´t like Mountain Sky where I can work a kid´s shift, hang out for a few hours, and spend the rest of the day regaining my sanity. This is kid central. All the time. While I work. While I sleep. While I meditate. While I eat. While I cook. While I rest. And these kids are curious, energetic, clingy family members. This is a different ball game, ladies and gentlemen, and I was in way over my head. But, once I adjusted to my place in the household, once I learned what I was expected to do and whatadditional services I could offer, I began to find time to appreciate the company of children. We played together. I asked them questions and I answered theirs. We shared stories. We laughed. We hung out. And I learned a few lessons that, while you may already know, were completely new to me.
Kids are smart. Children, from infants to youth, apply an incredible sense of logic in the attempt at making sense of the big, unknown world around them. They are rather observant and they pick up on things really quickly. Francisco, for instance, just started coming to the farm two months ago. Before that, he barely spoke and he never left the house. Now, he has names for all of the animals on the farm and he knows the feeding schedule. Every day for two months, he followed his grandfather around the farm, watching him interact with the animals and observing the daily routine. So when his grandpa sits down for his afternoon mate, Francisco almost instantly goes to get his grandpa´s shoes and starts pointing to the door and saying ¨coco¨(his word for chicken). Even in the three weeks that I have been here, I have seen him learn new words, new places, and new connections. He cannot talk, per se, but he can sure as hell communicate. That is one of the most impressive things I have picked up on: kids have remarkable communication abilitities. Effa-the three year old german--talked all the time. She knew a few Spanish phrases--the important ones like ¨¿Quieres jugar?¨ )Do you want to play?) and ¨Què rico¨ (How delicious!). But most of the time she just rambled on and on in German. I didn´t understand a word she said, but I knew she was brilliant. It was in her eyes. It was in the way she used her hands and moved her head. It was as if her words could barely keep up with all the thoughts going through her head, so she relied on the rest of her body to express herself. Brilliant. And once that ability to observe combines with their ability to communicate, kids are an unending source of knowledg. One day, Yoerma and I were talking when we stumbled upon the topic of mothers. Instantly, Yoerma asked if I wanted to be a mother. When I hesitated, she immediately said that she understands because ¨Mothers have to sacrifice a lot.¨ Now I have no idea if her mom has used those words before or if she had somehow put that together on her own, but either way it is still a remarkable (and somewhat daunting) realization for a nine year old to have. How impressive, though, that a nine year old is already empathizing with other people and understanding human emotions. Remarkable.
If you are fortunate enough to know that kids are brilliant and you are fortunate enough to have the opportunity to travel, then I hope you are smart enough to use children as tools to understand other cultures. On a basic level, kids are great language teachers. They are harsh teachers, and they will openly tell you when you have said a word incorrectly or used the wrong phrase. But they´re also judgefree friends and great charades players, and they are fantastic people to explain the definitions of unknown words. More than just language teachers, kids can also show you a lot about the cultural norms and social relations of a particular society. For one, you can just observe them. By people watching children (in the noncreepiest of ways possible), I have seen how teenage girls act around strangers and cute boys, how young kids respond to their given freedom to explore nature and their local towns, and how kids of all ages act toward family members. When I see something that I don`t understand, that`s when I just ask. Yoerma has taught me that her friends pollute so much not because they aren`t taught about the environmental impacts of their actions, but because their lazy. Oh. She has also taught me that it is not necesary to say please when you ask for things. In fact, ¨Dame la sal¨ (Give me the salt.) is informal, and means that you are on a friendly level with the person. If you didn`t know them or didn`t feel comfortable, that`s when you would say please.
Not only has living with children taught me a lot about other cultures, but it has also afforded me the opportunity to learn a lot about myself. Kids are observent and they are honest. They pick up on subtleties and they´ll tell you about them. For instance, did you know that I sing A LOT? And not just humming beats or singing a few lines. I sing when I talk, and make words like bueno and gracias flow like musical notes. I would have never known that if Yoerma didn`t start copying the way I speak and laughing every time that I sing. Also, did you know that I`m an adult? Yeah. Apparently I aged. I asked Yoerma what she wants to do when she grows up and her response was ¨You mean when I`m an adult like you? Be a mom!¨ So not only am I a grown up adult, but also I missed the Chilean mom-train. Shame. But I don`t have to be told everything. I`ve picked up on some things all on my own. I learned that I will let out the purest, heartfilled laugh when I see a kid accidently get sprayed with water and start to smile. I also learned that I have neither the energy nor the desire to become a mom, who are by far the strongest and bravest people on the planet. Don`t worry though, I also am starting to get the sense that although the maternal instinct hasn`t come through, it may be slowly seeping out from somewhere deep inside me. Despite all my distaste for children, there are few things I like more than seeing a child smile, than watching a little girl grab her mom´s hand and whisper in her ear, or than making sure a nine year old girl who has never had a birthday party has the most memorable day with a cake, with a house filled with homemade decorations, with presents, with games, and with all her cousins (Mom, I think this came from you! You would have been proud. I learn from the best!).
So yeah. Children. Oh the things you learn and the people you meet.
When I first arrived at Kila Leufu, there were kids all over the place. There was a really wonderful German family staying with us for three weeks, and they had an eight month old son and a three year old daughter. Then of course there are Irma´s grandchildren, two of whom, nine year old Yoerma and one year old Francisco, come to the house every single day. So this isn´t like Mountain Sky where I can work a kid´s shift, hang out for a few hours, and spend the rest of the day regaining my sanity. This is kid central. All the time. While I work. While I sleep. While I meditate. While I eat. While I cook. While I rest. And these kids are curious, energetic, clingy family members. This is a different ball game, ladies and gentlemen, and I was in way over my head. But, once I adjusted to my place in the household, once I learned what I was expected to do and whatadditional services I could offer, I began to find time to appreciate the company of children. We played together. I asked them questions and I answered theirs. We shared stories. We laughed. We hung out. And I learned a few lessons that, while you may already know, were completely new to me.
Kids are smart. Children, from infants to youth, apply an incredible sense of logic in the attempt at making sense of the big, unknown world around them. They are rather observant and they pick up on things really quickly. Francisco, for instance, just started coming to the farm two months ago. Before that, he barely spoke and he never left the house. Now, he has names for all of the animals on the farm and he knows the feeding schedule. Every day for two months, he followed his grandfather around the farm, watching him interact with the animals and observing the daily routine. So when his grandpa sits down for his afternoon mate, Francisco almost instantly goes to get his grandpa´s shoes and starts pointing to the door and saying ¨coco¨(his word for chicken). Even in the three weeks that I have been here, I have seen him learn new words, new places, and new connections. He cannot talk, per se, but he can sure as hell communicate. That is one of the most impressive things I have picked up on: kids have remarkable communication abilitities. Effa-the three year old german--talked all the time. She knew a few Spanish phrases--the important ones like ¨¿Quieres jugar?¨ )Do you want to play?) and ¨Què rico¨ (How delicious!). But most of the time she just rambled on and on in German. I didn´t understand a word she said, but I knew she was brilliant. It was in her eyes. It was in the way she used her hands and moved her head. It was as if her words could barely keep up with all the thoughts going through her head, so she relied on the rest of her body to express herself. Brilliant. And once that ability to observe combines with their ability to communicate, kids are an unending source of knowledg. One day, Yoerma and I were talking when we stumbled upon the topic of mothers. Instantly, Yoerma asked if I wanted to be a mother. When I hesitated, she immediately said that she understands because ¨Mothers have to sacrifice a lot.¨ Now I have no idea if her mom has used those words before or if she had somehow put that together on her own, but either way it is still a remarkable (and somewhat daunting) realization for a nine year old to have. How impressive, though, that a nine year old is already empathizing with other people and understanding human emotions. Remarkable.
If you are fortunate enough to know that kids are brilliant and you are fortunate enough to have the opportunity to travel, then I hope you are smart enough to use children as tools to understand other cultures. On a basic level, kids are great language teachers. They are harsh teachers, and they will openly tell you when you have said a word incorrectly or used the wrong phrase. But they´re also judgefree friends and great charades players, and they are fantastic people to explain the definitions of unknown words. More than just language teachers, kids can also show you a lot about the cultural norms and social relations of a particular society. For one, you can just observe them. By people watching children (in the noncreepiest of ways possible), I have seen how teenage girls act around strangers and cute boys, how young kids respond to their given freedom to explore nature and their local towns, and how kids of all ages act toward family members. When I see something that I don`t understand, that`s when I just ask. Yoerma has taught me that her friends pollute so much not because they aren`t taught about the environmental impacts of their actions, but because their lazy. Oh. She has also taught me that it is not necesary to say please when you ask for things. In fact, ¨Dame la sal¨ (Give me the salt.) is informal, and means that you are on a friendly level with the person. If you didn`t know them or didn`t feel comfortable, that`s when you would say please.
Not only has living with children taught me a lot about other cultures, but it has also afforded me the opportunity to learn a lot about myself. Kids are observent and they are honest. They pick up on subtleties and they´ll tell you about them. For instance, did you know that I sing A LOT? And not just humming beats or singing a few lines. I sing when I talk, and make words like bueno and gracias flow like musical notes. I would have never known that if Yoerma didn`t start copying the way I speak and laughing every time that I sing. Also, did you know that I`m an adult? Yeah. Apparently I aged. I asked Yoerma what she wants to do when she grows up and her response was ¨You mean when I`m an adult like you? Be a mom!¨ So not only am I a grown up adult, but also I missed the Chilean mom-train. Shame. But I don`t have to be told everything. I`ve picked up on some things all on my own. I learned that I will let out the purest, heartfilled laugh when I see a kid accidently get sprayed with water and start to smile. I also learned that I have neither the energy nor the desire to become a mom, who are by far the strongest and bravest people on the planet. Don`t worry though, I also am starting to get the sense that although the maternal instinct hasn`t come through, it may be slowly seeping out from somewhere deep inside me. Despite all my distaste for children, there are few things I like more than seeing a child smile, than watching a little girl grab her mom´s hand and whisper in her ear, or than making sure a nine year old girl who has never had a birthday party has the most memorable day with a cake, with a house filled with homemade decorations, with presents, with games, and with all her cousins (Mom, I think this came from you! You would have been proud. I learn from the best!).
So yeah. Children. Oh the things you learn and the people you meet.
La Comunidad es real: Community is real (Sunday February 27th: Day 110)
Today is Pucon´s 128th birthday. Happy Birthday, Pucon. Every year, the town celebrates by hosting a great festival. A classy ceremony. A nice parade. A yummy barbeque. The whole shebang. This year, the whole family went because Irma--the owner--was invited by the municipality to receive an award in recognition for her contributions to agrotourism and for her dedication to maintaining Mapuche culture. The celebration began around 11am in the central plaza outside of the town hall. After the mayor spoke and the national anthem was sung, Irma and five others (a murse, a young athlete, a fire fighter, an artist, and a teacher) were personally presented their awards in front of a panel of city and national officials and the crowd of people lining the streets. Then, around 1pm, the parade began. It seemed like everyone was accounted for. Representatives of local Mapuche communities marched in their traditional garb and held a banner noting when they were founded and what they have done to further develoop their community. Agriculturalists and farmers road through on tractors and wagons carrying their crops and produce. Football clubs, teachers associations, nurses, elderly, firefighters, students from the local tourism college, transportation workers, municipality representatives, street cleaners, parks department, associates from the department of health, garbage collectors, tailers and artists, construction workers, mountain rescuers, workers from the tourist industry and adventure outfitters, kids, adults, restaurants. Every category was covered. And as they marched through the streets, the crowd lining the sidewalks clapped and the mayor personally thanked each group for their commitment to the desarollo of Pucon. This community day--simple and staged--was by far one of the most powerful displays of community I have ever experienced, and it couldn´t have come at a better time.
I know that nostalgia--that oh so powerful emotional catalyst--can partly account for the power of today´s experience. I couldn´t help but be transformed back to those summer days in Hopewell Junction, New York when my parents and I would wander through lines of booths set up at the local rec center. If you asked me then why I loved that day, I would probably talk about the bouncey houses, the elephant ears, or the free sand art. But loking back, what has stuck with me was that feeling of being part of something--of being one proud happy family in a sea of other proud happy families all walking around, enjoying the company of friends and neighbors, and celebrating the place they call home.
Personal memories aside, there is another, more powerful, reason that today´s experiences in Pucon left me with tears in my eyes and a smile so big it hurt. Call it what you will. Another coincidence or some divine force bringing together all possible support networks at once. Regardless, it resulted in yet another much needed reality check.
You may have noticed that the tone fo this blog has taken a turn for the worse over the past month or two. It is still insightful and provocative. But it reeks of pessimism and negativity. Inspiration, not shock value, is my goal. But the more that I have seen, learned, and experienced, the more hopeless I have become. Our global situation and our national state are so dim and grey that it seems there is no way to overcome our current or future challenges. Doomed. Maybe. But I am not about to throw in the towel. Life is too short and beautiful to bathe yourself in constant worry about physical survival and destruction. Now, I don´t take back any of the observations I have made or the suggestions I have noted--after all those realities still hols truer than ever. However, I would like to propose a more optomistic reality and I would like to thank the city of Pucon. the love of my life and my personal inspiration Matthew, as well as a belated thank you to Bill McKibben the arthur of Deep Economy for reminding me what I love about this world, why I love celebrating this life with others, and how we can continue fighting to save the life we love.
So what is real? Community. Community is the reality that will support our lives, will save our future, and will--fortunately--make us the happiest we can possibly be. Human beings are social creatures. Even the most independent of us in today´s hyper-globalized, fast paced, super competitive world still relies on those around us for support, for the exchange of goods and ideas, and for love and affection. But just because we are social creatures that does not mean we are any less of an indivudal. We all have our own passions and skills to contribute to society and to ensure our own personal fulfillment. The problem today is that with cell phones, internet, and mass production, time and space have become so contorted and our values so botched that we can neither comprehend nor recognize the concept of a present local community. Instead of individuals using our abilities to strengthen our society, we are ¨individuals¨ working for our own economic wealth and defining ourselves by the things we buy and wear. In order to survive and in order to be truly happy, we must once again compture the notion of community. We must return to a society where everyone participates by offering to do and share what it is they love, and while everyone else respects and utilizes the contributions and talents of those around them. It isn´t farfetched.
In Pucon, it takes each and every person to make this community. What is wonderful is that the municipality and the population realizes and acknowledges the interdependence of such a diverse population. A citizenry from a range of heritages--from german settlers to Mapuche natives--all working in a variety of professions, all participating in a hodgepodge of activities, and all living together under the Chilean flag. This community celebration may appear unnecesary and routine, but its implications are huge. If a city takes pride in its citizens, people will take pride in their city. If others acknowledge a person´s worth, that person and that person´s children will acknowledge their own worth. This isn´t flashy. This isn´t particularly modern. But it is genuine and powerful in the most priceless of ways. It`s community.
So what then does this mean for us? For me and for you? For our friends and for our neighbors? Well, for those city-folks and working professionals who were getting worried and apprehensive, it means that we don`t all have to become farmers (although for reasons of health, sanity, and environmental protection everyone still should have their own garden and buy only locally produced food). What it does mean is that we must each work in a field that we are passionate about that will contribute positively to those around us. This may require a lot of soul searching. You´ll have to try and you´ll have to fail. You´ll have to go against the grain and you´ll have to be creative. But you won´t be alone. This will also require some external help. So listen to the teachers and the community leaders who are here to inspire you to be better than you thought you could be. The more they push you, the more you should listen. And on a larger scale, it is going to require a huge cultural revolution. We must shift our values. Rather than admiring investment bankers and flashy celebrities, we must admire our construction workers, our nurses, our teachers, and our farmers. We must shift our priorities. Rather than celebrating ´good deals´ and ´big bargains,´ we must stop buying cheap foreign products and start buying local quality goods. We must shift our notion of progress. Rather than measure our economy´s strength in terms of GDP and the number of new houses that are built, we must start looking at how our economic activity strengthens small communities. We must bring our world back to a human scale, back to a world of neighbors, of family gardens, of community days. This is not impossible, and this can and must start with you. So inspire others with optomism and with integrity. Learn about yourself. Ask questions constantly. Take interest in the skills of those around you and appreciate what they can teach you. Buy local and learn about the producer. Listen to your teachers and thank them for their passion. Be a citizen and go to town meetings. Have compassion and be present. Tap into your own potential. Live. Love. And keep fighting. And if you feel like you´re fighting this seemingly hopeless battle alone, realize that you´re surrounded by people who are fighting just as hard, they´ve just chosen a different ´weapon´ to fight with. Together, in community, we can create and live the reality we´ve always dreamed of.
¨It is too late to be pessimistic¨-Home
¨For community, it turns out, is the key to physical survival in our environmental predicament and also to human satisfaction¨-Bill McKibben Deep Economy
¨And we are not alone. One, we have eachother, but there are also so many people out there that care. The people I work with don´t have lofty goals of saving the world, but they care so much about the students in my school and they give all of themselves to help those few students. The world is full of people like that, these are the soldiers. They may not buy into global change, but they are doing their small part to make it happen. Find those people. Point them in the right direction. Learn from them.¨ -my diamond
I know that nostalgia--that oh so powerful emotional catalyst--can partly account for the power of today´s experience. I couldn´t help but be transformed back to those summer days in Hopewell Junction, New York when my parents and I would wander through lines of booths set up at the local rec center. If you asked me then why I loved that day, I would probably talk about the bouncey houses, the elephant ears, or the free sand art. But loking back, what has stuck with me was that feeling of being part of something--of being one proud happy family in a sea of other proud happy families all walking around, enjoying the company of friends and neighbors, and celebrating the place they call home.
Personal memories aside, there is another, more powerful, reason that today´s experiences in Pucon left me with tears in my eyes and a smile so big it hurt. Call it what you will. Another coincidence or some divine force bringing together all possible support networks at once. Regardless, it resulted in yet another much needed reality check.
You may have noticed that the tone fo this blog has taken a turn for the worse over the past month or two. It is still insightful and provocative. But it reeks of pessimism and negativity. Inspiration, not shock value, is my goal. But the more that I have seen, learned, and experienced, the more hopeless I have become. Our global situation and our national state are so dim and grey that it seems there is no way to overcome our current or future challenges. Doomed. Maybe. But I am not about to throw in the towel. Life is too short and beautiful to bathe yourself in constant worry about physical survival and destruction. Now, I don´t take back any of the observations I have made or the suggestions I have noted--after all those realities still hols truer than ever. However, I would like to propose a more optomistic reality and I would like to thank the city of Pucon. the love of my life and my personal inspiration Matthew, as well as a belated thank you to Bill McKibben the arthur of Deep Economy for reminding me what I love about this world, why I love celebrating this life with others, and how we can continue fighting to save the life we love.
So what is real? Community. Community is the reality that will support our lives, will save our future, and will--fortunately--make us the happiest we can possibly be. Human beings are social creatures. Even the most independent of us in today´s hyper-globalized, fast paced, super competitive world still relies on those around us for support, for the exchange of goods and ideas, and for love and affection. But just because we are social creatures that does not mean we are any less of an indivudal. We all have our own passions and skills to contribute to society and to ensure our own personal fulfillment. The problem today is that with cell phones, internet, and mass production, time and space have become so contorted and our values so botched that we can neither comprehend nor recognize the concept of a present local community. Instead of individuals using our abilities to strengthen our society, we are ¨individuals¨ working for our own economic wealth and defining ourselves by the things we buy and wear. In order to survive and in order to be truly happy, we must once again compture the notion of community. We must return to a society where everyone participates by offering to do and share what it is they love, and while everyone else respects and utilizes the contributions and talents of those around them. It isn´t farfetched.
In Pucon, it takes each and every person to make this community. What is wonderful is that the municipality and the population realizes and acknowledges the interdependence of such a diverse population. A citizenry from a range of heritages--from german settlers to Mapuche natives--all working in a variety of professions, all participating in a hodgepodge of activities, and all living together under the Chilean flag. This community celebration may appear unnecesary and routine, but its implications are huge. If a city takes pride in its citizens, people will take pride in their city. If others acknowledge a person´s worth, that person and that person´s children will acknowledge their own worth. This isn´t flashy. This isn´t particularly modern. But it is genuine and powerful in the most priceless of ways. It`s community.
So what then does this mean for us? For me and for you? For our friends and for our neighbors? Well, for those city-folks and working professionals who were getting worried and apprehensive, it means that we don`t all have to become farmers (although for reasons of health, sanity, and environmental protection everyone still should have their own garden and buy only locally produced food). What it does mean is that we must each work in a field that we are passionate about that will contribute positively to those around us. This may require a lot of soul searching. You´ll have to try and you´ll have to fail. You´ll have to go against the grain and you´ll have to be creative. But you won´t be alone. This will also require some external help. So listen to the teachers and the community leaders who are here to inspire you to be better than you thought you could be. The more they push you, the more you should listen. And on a larger scale, it is going to require a huge cultural revolution. We must shift our values. Rather than admiring investment bankers and flashy celebrities, we must admire our construction workers, our nurses, our teachers, and our farmers. We must shift our priorities. Rather than celebrating ´good deals´ and ´big bargains,´ we must stop buying cheap foreign products and start buying local quality goods. We must shift our notion of progress. Rather than measure our economy´s strength in terms of GDP and the number of new houses that are built, we must start looking at how our economic activity strengthens small communities. We must bring our world back to a human scale, back to a world of neighbors, of family gardens, of community days. This is not impossible, and this can and must start with you. So inspire others with optomism and with integrity. Learn about yourself. Ask questions constantly. Take interest in the skills of those around you and appreciate what they can teach you. Buy local and learn about the producer. Listen to your teachers and thank them for their passion. Be a citizen and go to town meetings. Have compassion and be present. Tap into your own potential. Live. Love. And keep fighting. And if you feel like you´re fighting this seemingly hopeless battle alone, realize that you´re surrounded by people who are fighting just as hard, they´ve just chosen a different ´weapon´ to fight with. Together, in community, we can create and live the reality we´ve always dreamed of.
¨It is too late to be pessimistic¨-Home
¨For community, it turns out, is the key to physical survival in our environmental predicament and also to human satisfaction¨-Bill McKibben Deep Economy
¨And we are not alone. One, we have eachother, but there are also so many people out there that care. The people I work with don´t have lofty goals of saving the world, but they care so much about the students in my school and they give all of themselves to help those few students. The world is full of people like that, these are the soldiers. They may not buy into global change, but they are doing their small part to make it happen. Find those people. Point them in the right direction. Learn from them.¨ -my diamond
Mi Vida con los Animales: My life with animals (Tuesday, February 22: Day 105)
Before I came to Kila Leufu, I was apprehensive. I thought I had made the wrong choice. I thought that because this farm emphasized cultural tourism, I wouldn´t learn anything about farming. Well I was so very wrong. Yeah, I´ve learned a lot about gardening and a lot about what it mentally takes to live this lifestyle. But most importantly--I have learned A LOT about animals.
First and foremost, animals are A LOT of work. They require a lot of personal attention. Just as a good gardener knows the ins and outs of her plot, a good caretaker knows each and every animal. He knows their personality, their oddities, their rhythm. He can tell when they´re sick, when they´re hungry, when they´re uncomfortable, and when they´re ready to mate. He knows how he can benifit from the animal and he understands that he will gain more by loving and caring for that animal. I know all this because I watch Antonio dedicate each and every waking hour to the care and management of his animals. I see the way he treats them, and I can sense the way he respects and loves them. And from what I can tell, despite all the work, they are worth it.
So much of the food we eat in this house comes from our animals. Every other morning, Antonio goes to milk one of our cows. As I have learned through the questions I ask and through accompanying him, we could have ´trained´the cow to give more milk, but we only take what we need so she only gives every few days. And although I don´t speak cow, I don´t think she really minds being milked. She is there waiting by the gate every time we are ready to milk her, and she patiently stands by as Antonio loosely ties her back legs and begins to confidently take out her milk. His touch is confident and swift. He is firm yet smooth. The motion is rather simple, and I picked up on it very quickly. Apart from the milk, we also collect around six to ten eggs each day. And if we want meat--chicken for soup or lamb for an asado--we just walk to the back yard. Okay, prepping a chicken is not as easy as going to the super market. It takes a little longer, and it is a little smellier. But snapping the neck isn`t that hard and gutting the bird isn`t too bloody. Besides, the taste is unreal (or super real I suppose) and at least I know that this chicken lived a happy free life and was fed delicious healthy food.
Kila Leufu, however, is not totally self sufficient. Cheese takes too much effort and they cannot possibly live without kilos of sugar. So we buy things. Which, naturally, means we need to make money. Animals, because they take so much work, also bring in the biggest profit. We sheer and sell the wool from our sheep and llamas. We also raise pigs and turkeys to sell throughout the year (although we have a lot less turkeys than last year because they are hard to keep and often require personal medical attention). I was lucky enough to be here this year when a huge monetary transaction took place. Three years´ worth of raising and one year´s worth of business negotiations. All to sell 36 cows. And what a final transaction it was! We woke up at 3am to catch a ride with a truck that had left from Temuco at 1am that day. Because Irma and Antonio do not like to go to the city, they hire a middle man (this truck driver who happens to be a distant relative) to come to Pucon, pick up the cows, and bring them to the market in Temuco. Irma and Antonio don`t make as much money as they could, but they would rather avoid the trouble so they think it is worth it. By 8 am all of the cows were on the truck. Just as the last ones were being carefully led in by Antonio, Irma was signing the documents and receiving the money on a makeshift table (in reality a large cement block). Everything was done so precisely, so calmly, and so confidently. If I didn`t know any better, I would have thought we were participating in a major drug trade or weapons exchange, completed deep in the forest under the protection of dawn´s darkness. But then we drove to the local police station to have the municipality sign off on the trade so that the cows would be able to safely cross the state´s borders without suspision of theft. By 11am, our side of the deal was complete and by 1pm the cows were at the market being sold for a price we may never know. And to celebrate, we returned to the farm for our morning mate and to continue to work towards the next business transaction.
But I am a firm believer that one cannot simply work for profit. No matter what your job is, you need to enjoy it. The best part, then, about working with animals, is that you cannot help but enjoy it. They provide constant entertainment as well as loyal moral support. I cannot help but giggle every time I walk into the garden and the pigs in the nearby pasture come bolting towards the fence, oinking continuously in the attempt to sway me to throw them a scrap or two. And who needs TV when I can watch chickens and kittens play with each other for hours, always seeming so confused and curious about the world around them. They´re fascinating. And they´re beautiful. Toki, our dog, loyally follows Antonio around every where he goes. And Estrella, our mama llama, just gave birth two weeks ago to a spritely young baby girl. I got to watch the birth, and I stood by with a rope just in case she needed any help. But the baby was born without problems, and I have been watching her grow ever since. Within an hour she had found her equilibrium and was walking. By that afternoon she was making sounds and following her mom´s vocal commands. And by that night she was sprinting a few yards at a time. Now, she is all over the place, pouncing around like she´s been doing this for years. It´s beautiful.
The point is that with animals, there is never a dull moment. They are a lot of work, but like most things that require a lot of attention, the pay off is fantastic.
First and foremost, animals are A LOT of work. They require a lot of personal attention. Just as a good gardener knows the ins and outs of her plot, a good caretaker knows each and every animal. He knows their personality, their oddities, their rhythm. He can tell when they´re sick, when they´re hungry, when they´re uncomfortable, and when they´re ready to mate. He knows how he can benifit from the animal and he understands that he will gain more by loving and caring for that animal. I know all this because I watch Antonio dedicate each and every waking hour to the care and management of his animals. I see the way he treats them, and I can sense the way he respects and loves them. And from what I can tell, despite all the work, they are worth it.
So much of the food we eat in this house comes from our animals. Every other morning, Antonio goes to milk one of our cows. As I have learned through the questions I ask and through accompanying him, we could have ´trained´the cow to give more milk, but we only take what we need so she only gives every few days. And although I don´t speak cow, I don´t think she really minds being milked. She is there waiting by the gate every time we are ready to milk her, and she patiently stands by as Antonio loosely ties her back legs and begins to confidently take out her milk. His touch is confident and swift. He is firm yet smooth. The motion is rather simple, and I picked up on it very quickly. Apart from the milk, we also collect around six to ten eggs each day. And if we want meat--chicken for soup or lamb for an asado--we just walk to the back yard. Okay, prepping a chicken is not as easy as going to the super market. It takes a little longer, and it is a little smellier. But snapping the neck isn`t that hard and gutting the bird isn`t too bloody. Besides, the taste is unreal (or super real I suppose) and at least I know that this chicken lived a happy free life and was fed delicious healthy food.
Kila Leufu, however, is not totally self sufficient. Cheese takes too much effort and they cannot possibly live without kilos of sugar. So we buy things. Which, naturally, means we need to make money. Animals, because they take so much work, also bring in the biggest profit. We sheer and sell the wool from our sheep and llamas. We also raise pigs and turkeys to sell throughout the year (although we have a lot less turkeys than last year because they are hard to keep and often require personal medical attention). I was lucky enough to be here this year when a huge monetary transaction took place. Three years´ worth of raising and one year´s worth of business negotiations. All to sell 36 cows. And what a final transaction it was! We woke up at 3am to catch a ride with a truck that had left from Temuco at 1am that day. Because Irma and Antonio do not like to go to the city, they hire a middle man (this truck driver who happens to be a distant relative) to come to Pucon, pick up the cows, and bring them to the market in Temuco. Irma and Antonio don`t make as much money as they could, but they would rather avoid the trouble so they think it is worth it. By 8 am all of the cows were on the truck. Just as the last ones were being carefully led in by Antonio, Irma was signing the documents and receiving the money on a makeshift table (in reality a large cement block). Everything was done so precisely, so calmly, and so confidently. If I didn`t know any better, I would have thought we were participating in a major drug trade or weapons exchange, completed deep in the forest under the protection of dawn´s darkness. But then we drove to the local police station to have the municipality sign off on the trade so that the cows would be able to safely cross the state´s borders without suspision of theft. By 11am, our side of the deal was complete and by 1pm the cows were at the market being sold for a price we may never know. And to celebrate, we returned to the farm for our morning mate and to continue to work towards the next business transaction.
But I am a firm believer that one cannot simply work for profit. No matter what your job is, you need to enjoy it. The best part, then, about working with animals, is that you cannot help but enjoy it. They provide constant entertainment as well as loyal moral support. I cannot help but giggle every time I walk into the garden and the pigs in the nearby pasture come bolting towards the fence, oinking continuously in the attempt to sway me to throw them a scrap or two. And who needs TV when I can watch chickens and kittens play with each other for hours, always seeming so confused and curious about the world around them. They´re fascinating. And they´re beautiful. Toki, our dog, loyally follows Antonio around every where he goes. And Estrella, our mama llama, just gave birth two weeks ago to a spritely young baby girl. I got to watch the birth, and I stood by with a rope just in case she needed any help. But the baby was born without problems, and I have been watching her grow ever since. Within an hour she had found her equilibrium and was walking. By that afternoon she was making sounds and following her mom´s vocal commands. And by that night she was sprinting a few yards at a time. Now, she is all over the place, pouncing around like she´s been doing this for years. It´s beautiful.
The point is that with animals, there is never a dull moment. They are a lot of work, but like most things that require a lot of attention, the pay off is fantastic.
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