Time Travel

Time is a weird concept, especially when studying abroad. On my computer screen, I keep track of three different time zones: One for my parents (-8hr), for my friends back in the States (-5hr), and of course, one for London (0hr). Meetings and phone calls are usually scheduled at extremes – early in the morning or late at night. When I call my parents, I am often a day ahead, well into my daily activities. Groggily, they’ll tell me that they just woke up.

 

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A screenshot of my computer screen.

 

In addition to the thousands of miles of ocean that separates the United States from the United Kingdom, the time differences seem to enhance the obvious distance between the two. While I sleep, things are happening in America. They always are. Yet, rather than being exposed to a constant stream of updates and fragmented soundbites, I hear about things long after they have already happened. The information I receive is more complete and the time that I spend taking everything else in is neatly condensed into one or two articles or a podcast recapping everything that has happened.

 

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Big Ben

 

Although it is difficult to keep track of everything while abroad, the delay that these time differences have created are also a welcomed breath of fresh air. In a way, it has given me the opportunity to escape the narrow fixation that, as Americans, we often have on local news. Instead, what is happening in the United States only encompasses a fraction of what I pay attention to. Globally, the world is changing, things are happening, and time is passing. Yet, I find that being in London – a few hours ahead of the place that used to make up my world, has allowed me to take in the present while simultaneously broadening the way in which I think about international affairs. Although my semester is coming to an end, I find myself thankful for Big Ben and the time that I’ve spent learning about the world based on a different clock.

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Filed under Elizabeth in England, Western Europe

Overcoming Loneliness in Chile

The past three weeks of my study abroad program have been spent traveling. We spent a week in Putre and then had one day back in Arica to unpack and re-pack all of our things before we headed to the south of Chile. Our first stop was Temuco area. Here we spent most of the out time in Maquewe, which is a town 20 minutes away from Temuco. Despite it’s proximity to a city, Maquewe has no cellphone service, most houses don’t have internet, and there is no store or plaza around. It’s a very rural, spread out town that consists essentially of houses, farms, a hospital, and a school. Each day, for me to get to the hospital for class it was a 25-30 minute walk on the “highway.” There are buses that go from Maquewe to Temuco but other than that there was no public transportation system. Here is where my feeling of loneliness started. The house I was staying at was one of the farthest houses from the hospital. While I was staying with one other girl from the program, I felt very separated from my friends and I missed the ability to leave my house to just walk around small shops near the plaza.

Things didn’t really get any better when we left Maquewe to do our small group study of one of the other small towns around Temuco. I was in a group of three other girls going to Chol-Chol. Within the group, I definitely felt like I was an outsider. Most of the conversation came back to sororities or other topics of conversation that I could not really join in on. It didn’t help that in the afternoons we got trapped in our hostel because of the pouring rain. Again we had no internet but there was no cellphone service. For the entire time that I was in Chol-Chol I still had a feeling of isolation. I was really looking forward to our time in Pucón and hoping that it would be better and in reality Pucón did end up being a better situation. Maybe it was because we traveled as a group to some waterfalls, lakes, and hot springs. I was also just really excited to have a two days of free afternoons to explore and take a break from the constant class and lectures that we had the week before.

 

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Hot springs in Pucón!

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Some of the waterfalls we went to see in Pucón.

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Nicole and I on the other side of the falls.

 

After our two day mini break in Pucón, we headed to Santiago. This is where my feeling of isolation hit me the hardest. During check in, I somehow ended up without a roommate. The second night in Santiago I had spent an hour in an Entel store trying to get my phone to work since I can’t receive phone calls. I was with a group of people from the program who were also trying to fix their phones. When we got back to the hotel, the other girls I was with rushed out to go to dinner with a friend who was studying in Santiago. It was getting kind of late at that point and I was trying to find someone who was still around the hotel and hadn’t eaten yet. I didn’t have much luck and the messages that I sent out to people weren’t getting responses. After about another hour I heard back from one group of people who were in the city eating. I headed out to try to join them. I got on the metro and then was using my phone to get me to the restaurant address when my phone suddenly lost all data. I couldn’t find my way to the restaurant so I had to call my friends to find me at a street corner and I sat there for about 20 minutes.

This was really the pinnacle of my loneliness. I was sitting in front of a bank on a dimly lit street corner in Santiago at 9:00 at night alone, just waiting for people to find me. During this time I really felt alone and forgotten. However, this feeling was about to finally lift starting the next day. The next night I asked one girl to let me know what her plans for the night were, instead of trying to make last minute plans and sulking in my room. She texted me around 8:30 and we went out to dinner with three other girls and then we walked around Santiago looking at different restaurants and cafes until midnight when we returned back to the hotel. The following day, a girl came to my room and told me that she had somewhere that she needed to show me. So we put on our running shoes and she took me to a park. I was a little confused why we were there until I saw the climbing holds on a building. She had run past this the other day and thought of me. I was so happy, not just to have found a climbing wall but also I was happy to know that she had thought of me. We hung around to watch people climb and then jogged back to the hotel.

 

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Some of the climbers in the park in Santiago.

 

That night was the birthday of a girl in the program and so we went out to dinner with her at a Mexican restaurant nearby the hotel before buying ice cream at a grocery store and working on homework in the hotel conference room. However, it wasn’t really until Saturday that the feeling of isolation completely lifted. Saturday was our one free day in Santiago so eight of us decided to take a bus to Valparaíso for the day. We took the bus in the morning and made the 10:00 am walking tour of the city where we got to see the former prison, many murals, a cemetery, and hear a lot of the history of Valparaíso. The tour ended around 1:00 and we found a lunch place right by the street fair. Our lunch was very disappointing – our soup was just fish broth, and my friend’s seafood bowl tasted like nothing. But the food we found at the street fair made up for that. After touring the fair and getting little gifts for friends back home, we headed out to explore more of the city’s famous murals and see the open air museum which is a collection of murals created in the 1990s.

 

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A mural we found in Valparaíso

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Song lyrics painted on stairs in Valparíso.

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“We are not hippies. We are happies.”

 

By the end of the day, we were exhausted and ready to get back on the bus to Santiago. As I sat on the bus, I realized that I hadn’t smiled or laughed that much since we left Putre. I had probably laughed more that day than for the entire two weeks of traveling we had done before. It wasn’t that people hadn’t wanted me around or had forgotten about me, it was that I had let it get to my head. I let all the little moments, the little accidents, build up in my mind and turned them into a much more extreme situation that it was in reality. Before, I felt like I was being pushy asking if I could come along to dinner or on little adventures, but that day in Valparaíso made me realize that I needed to make the effort to be part of the group. I needed to ask if I could come because otherwise I wouldn’t do anything and that, above all, made me feel isolated and like an outsider. There was, in reality, no one stopping me from participating except myself.

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The Champagne Lifestyle: A Regional Privilege

In my last post, I wrote about how food is a major part of French culture, and how exploring food has pushed me to explore the culture and the meaning of French life. One important aspect I thought I should’ve included in that post is wine. While it’s included in the spectrum of food and drink, I realized that wine as an entity deserves a whole separate post to celebrate its meaning, varieties, and traditions in French culture. Then I thought, if the goal of my blogging is to educate, enlighten, and encourage intercultural learning and studying abroad, I thought it might be nice to showcase an important part of my own personal exploration of this aspect of French culture. And for me, this isn’t wine, which is huge all over the world and not always specific to France… this is champagne.

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I live in Reims, a small city at the epicenter of the Champagne-Ardenne region. While wine is native to all parts of France, with wine vineyards and wine makers spanning all over the country and even the world, true champagne has a unique history and is a product and luxury based solely in the Champagne-Ardenne region. Now I know what some of you might be thinking. Some of you might want to refute my statement. After all, prosecco, the Italian sparkling wine, is basically the same thing and (obviously) isn’t from France… and what about sec, Germany and Austria’s own sparkling wine product? And again, what about the sparkling wine products in the USA, some of which are marked as “champagne” but made in the US? Well, champagne’s exclusivity to the region has everything to do with its history in France, and the creation of a luxury market solely for marketing purposes that has given France an immense spotlight in culture and celebration. As a matter of fact, in 2006 the champagne industry successfully protected its name by outlawing the use of the word “champagne” on any other product’s marketing or labeling – unless it was grandfathered in (as are certain products in the US). Products like perfume and yogurt have been sued and taken off the market for advertising its products to have the smell or even taste of champagne, so one can imagine how important the image is to those keeping the champagne traditional alive and well today.

 

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On a champagne tour with a friend… I’ll never turn down the offer to try fancy champagne!

 

Since the 17th century, the Champagne region has been home to producers of fine-quality champagne. Its international status as a fine, high-level celebration drink didn’t take off until the 1950s, so how did champagne managed to thrive in French culture for almost 300 years before that, stemming only from this regional area of France? Well, champagne’s taste, its essence, and its distinction from the tastes of the only once-fermented wine products has allowed it to hold a defined position on the French palette and in its culture. Additionally, the business associations formed by the grandes maisons (the large houses) of champagne and the vignerons (growers) has allowed the mass production of champagne to sustain throughout history, despite battling epidemics including phylloxera of the 1860s (which nearly destroyed France’s grape industry), economic recessions, agriculture depressions, and many more.

 

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One of the larger champagne houses in the region, the Taittinger house, is continuously putting wonderful works of art on its bottles, ad campaigns, and sometimes its caves.

 

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Another grande maison, Pommery, is well-known for having modern art installments updated yearly in its ancient caves. This is one way the current owner & president showcases their diverse interests in cultures other than that revolving around champagne.

 

What makes champagne unique are the interesting terroirs of the French land (its soil, distinctive flavor, and minerals), and the rich history of the product which lies specifically within the region. My exploration of the culture so far has come from visits to champagne houses (so far Pommery and Taittinger), and a marketing course I’m taking, Luxe Marketing: Champagne & Wine. Through examining its making processes (which includes ancient techniques that to this day requires manual labor and emphasizes traditional methodology) to the way it is marketed (to whom, by whom, how much is allowed by export, what people are targeted to drink champagne and for what purpose) we can see that champagne has made a name for itself that isn’t soon to shift.

 

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Descending into the caves of Pommery, we got a chance to see where and how their famous Brut champagne is made. Judging from the popularity of the champagne tours I’ve been on, this industry certainly isn’t dying… international visitors consistently show up to learn about this fascinating product and its wonderful traditions.

 

A significant part of my experience in Reims has been based around champagne. My friends and I have gathered to sip champagne, and I was introduced to the city by visiting the Pommery champagne house (a few days after my first lovely meal at Le Gaulois). Now my friends and I sip cheap (but still delicious) champagne in the spring air, as we all talk and laugh about our classes and tell stories about home. I bring bottles to friends as a thank you for hosting me, and have already sent some home as presents for friends and family. Before, I had never really drank champagne other than trying it once or twice on New Years. But now, drinking champagne makes me feel like I’m truly experiencing the region I live in, and getting to know an intimate and historical part of this area. While I love Paris and sometimes pine for the big city life I left behind in NYC, my experience in the Champagne region has allowed me to experience the beauty and impact of nature in the things we consume. It has given me a reason to delve deeper into France’s rich culinary history, and for that, I’ll say cheers!

 

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Sipping champagne at the end of a tour with some close friends. Cheers!

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When in Rome…Don’t Go Home

One of the best reasons to study abroad in New Zealand is the long break that students get in the middle of each semester. Two weeks is standard, but spring break here at the University of Canterbury is three weeks, and it’s going on now.

Back when I had a girlfriend in California, the plan had been to fly home and visit her. After we broke up last month, it took me a long time to decide what to do with my already purchased plane tickets.

My first thought was to fly home and stay with my parents instead. They would have been happy to have me, and I had reason to visit. Besides getting to see family and friends, I could have finally replaced my lost driver license, something that has been a limiting factor here in New Zealand.

Going home would have been the safe, familiar choice. That’s why I gravitated toward it initially. But as the days passed and the time for a decision drew nearer, I realized what a missed opportunity that would be.

The comforts of home can wait. This is probably the only time in my life I will have three weeks’ vacation in New Zealand, and there’s still so much of this spectacular country I haven’t seen. With only hours to spare, I cancelled my plane tickets for a partial refund.

By the time you read this, I will be on a thousand-mile road trip with my German flatmate, Marius. I’m lucky that he recently bought a camper van for this purpose, and that he hadn’t yet found a travel companion.

Ordinarily, I would feel the need to meticulously plan for a trip like this, a trait I get from my dad and that was reinforced during my four years in the Marine Corps. For this trip, however, I think it’s important that I not overthink it. This semester, I’m learning to accept that it’s impossible to plan for everything. Even if it were possible, I’m not sure that I’d want to. Proper preparation reduces the risks involved, but it also takes away from the fun and adventure. Knowing what’s going to be around every corner makes for a sterile experience.

I credit my cycling for teaching me this life lesson. Despite a pair of recent rainstorms, I’ve now put 400 miles on my bicycle. I’m closing in on my goal of riding through every square kilometer of Christchurch and its suburbs. I carefully plan each ride to cover as much new ground as possible, but once I’m out on the road, I allow myself to detour if I see something interesting. Whether I’m on the predetermined route or wandering impulsively, I find that my best memories are unplanned.

 

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In downtown Christchurch, Cranmer Square is covered with crosses bearing the names of the thousands of Canterbury residents who died in World War I. It’s part of a nationwide effort to commemorate the fallen on the War’s 100th anniversary.

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Christchurch is home to a couple of wizards. I first saw them at a Waitangi Day celebration in February. Here they are again, this time enjoying afternoon tea on New Regents Street. The large sculpture across the street is one example of the hundreds of works of public art around the city.

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Looking west toward the Avon River from Cashel Street in downtown Christchurch. From left to right: a bike share program (free for the first 30 minutes), the Bridge of Remembrance war memorial, and a public ping pong table (paddles and balls included).

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This week I rode 12 miles to the next town north of Christchurch, Kaiapoi (population 10,200). I crossed the main bridge in town just in time to snap a photo of this kayaker on the Kaiapoi River.

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My favorite things about Kaiapoi were the pedestrian bridges across the Kaiapoi River, which connected miles of paved paths along the tops of the river banks.

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The 2010/2011 earthquakes liquefied floodplains in and around Christchurch, including land in Kaiapoi (pictured here). About 10,000 houses were condemned and demolished, leaving behind only the streets and the driveways. There is much debate over how to repurpose this “red zone,” but nothing has been done yet.

 

For example, roadwork often forces me to deviate from my route, but I love the challenge of having to find a way around it. The most creative solution I once found was to carry my bike through an adjacent cemetery, then squeeze through a fence to get back on track.

On another ride, I was passed by a portable building that was being towed by a slow-moving car. I sprinted to catch up, then drafted behind it, coasting for several hundred meters before it turned off the road.

One day, riding back from the farmlands north of the city, my route was cut off by a flooded road. Rather than turn around, I decided to pedal through the shin-deep water. It was unpleasant at the time, but it makes me smile to think back on it now.

 

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Not all cycling surprises are fun ones. Here I had to ride through a puddle the size of a pond. My shoes got soaked, but it was worth it, because I was way out in the country. Turning around would have added six miles to my ride.

The best rides have multiple surprises. A couple Sundays ago I stumbled upon an old outdoor cycling track. There was no one around, so I took it for a spin! Then, back on the road, miles later, I chased after a convoy of classic cars until I found the show where they were gathering.

 

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On a recent ride, I detoured through Denton Park, where I discovered this velodrome. Originally built for the 1974 Commonwealth Games, it is now open to the public. Zooming around its steeply banked curves was nerve-wracking, but fun!

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Back on the road after leaving the Denton Park velodrome, I noticed I was being passed by dozens of classic cars. I chased after them for more than a mile trying to find out where they were going. Just when I was about to give up and turn around, I discovered a meeting of the Canterbury Branch Vintage Car Club.

 

All these unexpected encounters have happened in the few weeks since my last blog post. Just like the improvements to my social life I wrote about then, again I am learning to embrace uncertain situations for the new experiences they offer.

 

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The fun part about cycling through an unfamiliar city is that I never know what I’ll find. This middle-class neighborhood has a street with my name on it!

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A friend invited me to try the high ropes course at Adrenaline Forest. We made it all the way to the highest platforms!

 

Wanting to be more relaxed and accepting of the unknown is what convinced me to spend my break in New Zealand, and it’s the same approach Marius and I have agreed to have on our road trip. We have a general plan, but nothing is set in stone. We’ll figure out the details as we go! For the first time in a long time, that suits me just fine. I’m finally learning to let go.

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A Home Away From Home

Often I mention the extravagant trips I take with my program or the exciting things that happen here, but rarely have I talked about my everyday life. Although occasionally the day-to-day routine can seem mundane at times, I thought it would be interesting to tell of my average week here and what it entails.

Monday through Thursday, I have at least one class per day. When I wake up in the morning I go downstairs to the quaint kitchen where three Ghanaian women work and order some of my favorite breakfast food (usually porridge with honey and bananas) or grab a fruit smoothie from the convenience store on my way to class. My host campus is quite large, so typically I try to take the school shuttle on the especially scorching and humid days as to not show up to class looking like I’ve just got out of the shower.

Classes here last two hours and they only meet once a week, so this was an adjustment for me when I first arrived. There are not many assignments either, but when there is, you can bet that it is going to be group work. This also reflects the sense of community that is evident all across Ghana. Not to mention there is a huge emphasis on group discussion and tests. Although it may not be my traditional style of education, it’s refreshing to get a feel for a learning style other than the one that I’ve grown up with.

 

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My host campus has plenty of events to attend. This one was a presentation that my friend Christian got to speak at. We all try to get involved in the local events/activities at the university.

 

After class on Tuesdays and Thursdays, I usually make my way to the hospital. As a part of my service-learning class, I had to choose a location to volunteer at while I am here. Since I am a nursing major, I decided the best course of action would be to try and get some experience at the university hospital in the children’s ward. My days here are never exactly the same. Sometimes I get to have conversations with a sweet and stressed mother whose baby was born with some complication. Or occasionally I’ll get to play with restless children while their fatigued mothers attempt to get some rest. I have to admit however that my absolute favorite activities at the ward revolve around learning from the nurses. They have taught me how to check vitals, let me assist with drawing blood, and showed me how to change an IV.

 

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This is one of the mothers who I had the chance to sincerely connect with at the hospital. Her name is Edwardin and I treasure the time I got to spend with her.

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On my way home from school, I sometimes stop at the nearby market and grab some rice and chicken or goat kebabs for dinner. But maybe if I am feeling adventurous, I’ll have a bowl of banku and ground nut soup, a dish that contains fermented corn and cassava and is adored by locals. I also joined the University of Ghana swim team, so it’s typically off to practice for me! A school night usually consists of me talking with friends at the hostel, and then a refreshing cold shower on my way to bed.

 

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Myself and some other international students on the ISH (International Student Hostel) swim team! We did fairly well in this competition, and it is a blast getting to know some of the students from other halls!

 

When Friday rolls around, I have to admit it is my favorite part of the week. Often I’ll explore Accra on little day trips by trotro (the main form of public transportation) or hang around the hostel eating my favorite snack (this little marvelous packaged ice cream called FanIce.) My local friends offer neat sights for me to go and visit, and each outing always blesses me with something new to be learned. I love the life that I have made for myself here, and can not wait to see what else the future has in store.

 

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Locals usually purchase animals such as chicken or goat at the nearby markets, and then transport them on the trotros. It still makes me giggle a little when I see chickens in the seat ahead of me.

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One of Ghana’s treasures is the Aburi Botanical Gardens. These gardens are home to a variety of plants, but this carved tree was definitely one of my favorites. It had intricate designs of bodies and animals all throughout.

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As Accra is located on the coast, there are plenty of beaches to visit. This particular beach is called Bojo Beach, and to get there one has to take a canoe across to a tiny island where one can relax in the gorgeous sights, or take a dip in the Atlantic.

 

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Gilman Scholar Elizabeth’s Favorite Things About London

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Goodbyes are the Hardest Part

Have you ever met someone and within a very short amount of time felt an immediate close connection with them? I have thought I felt something like this before but I never could have imagined just how close you could get to someone in five days.

Five days ago my program traveled to Putre. Putre is a small rural mountain town on the border of Bolivia. For our five days there we were staying with a homestay family in groups. There were three other girls and myself staying with a family in Putre. Throughout the entire time we were there, our host family was so welcoming and caring.

Our mom gave us small flutes that had llama/alpaca designs and said Putre on them at lunch the first day together. The first night at dinner we had an amazing conversation about religion. Our mom asked us if we were religious. This can sometimes be a very touchy subject but she was very open to hearing everyone’s opinions and beliefs. We talked about being spiritual without adhering to a specific religion and about Buddhist beliefs as well as Christianity. At the end of the conversation she even said to us that our differing beliefs about religion would not separate us. After dinner we even went to the Evangelical church that she is the pastor of and participated in the service. It was very different from religious services I have attended previously. The majority of the time we were in the church we were singing. For every song there was a video that accompanied it. Some of the songs we sang in Spanish and for these the lyrics were part of the video projected up on the wall of the church. Many of the other songs we sang came from a hymn book. In the book each song was written in both Spanish and Aymara, the native language of a large majority of the people who live in Putre. Because we were there, they decided to sing in Aymara for us. These songs all had videos to accompany them with images of people in traditional clothing in fields with different animals or in water playing instruments and singing. We followed along in our hymnals trying our best to sing in Aymara. For the first two songs it was really challenging but it got much easier as we started understanding the pronunciation. After singing two songs in Spanish and four or five songs in Aymara, our host-mom read a gospel passage and started her homily. Then came the Sign of Peace. After that we all headed over to another small building next to the church that had a kitchen and an dining room with several long tables. On one table there were three plates of sopapilla that had been made before church and cups of tea. We sat there for about 20 or 30 minutes just talking to the other members of the parish. They were all so welcoming of us.

 

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The view from just outside my homestay in Putre.

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A mural depicting llamas and alpacas.

 

Throughout the rest of our time in Putre I consistently felt so welcomed by our host family and also by everyone we met. Part of the program was talking to the Aymara traditional medicine providers in Putre. Señor Teófilo is the yatiri. His role in traditional medicine within Aymara culture is to communicate with different spiritual entities. He does this to read hojas de coca (coca leaves) for people. Within these readings he can tell you about your health, your job, and your love life. He can use this to help figure out if someone has an imbalance within their body that is causing them to be sick. Additionally, Señora Fausta is the qulliri/usuyiri of the town. A qulliri is the person who uses herbs to help cure illnesses and prevent illnesses as well. A usuyiri is a traditional midwife. Both of them were very welcoming and taught us so much. I even went to Señor Teófilo one morning to get my coca leaves read and Señora Fausta made me a jarabe (a solution of eucalyptus, honey, and a root of an herb called yareta) for my cough and bronchitis as well as a cream for muscle aches. I feel like I learned the most from them. Through them I saw the potential for intercultural medicine to succeed. They worked with the local health center to treat patients and they were so open to learning about and incorporating occidental medicine in their traditional practices. They used occidental diagnoses to help cater traditional remedies and medicines for their patients and they also understood which types of illnesses they were able to effectively treat and which ones they were better treated by occidental doctors. However, this system does not yet go both ways. The medics at the clinic in Putre change a lot. At least every four years there is a completely new medical team in Putre. This means that some of the doctors that come are more open and accepting of traditional medicine and its benefits than others and it presents even more of a challenge in creating a sustainable system of reciprocity between the two types of medicine to best benefit the patients in Putre and surrounding towns.

 

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Welcome pawa with the yatiri and qulliri/usuyiri of Putre.

 

The last night that we were in Putre the group of girls that I was staying with went stargazing and on the way back we saw that our host parents were in church so we stopped in. It was just about the end of the service so we stayed. At the end our host mom said that she was so happy we had come to Putre and that she hoped we learned a lot while we were here and that she had learned a lot from us. After that she asked us is if we wanted to say a few words about our time in Putre. We all said that we felt we had created a very strong connection with the people and the place in the short time we had been there and that we learned a lot about the Aymara culture. Then another woman from the parish started to close the service with a prayer. Her prayer lasted for five minutes or so. I have never heard so many well wishes for strangers in my life. A large part of her prayer was directed at us and wishing us well in life and in our studies. It was amazing to see someone who thought the best of everyone, even people she had only met twice for very brief instances. By the end of her prayer I was almost in tears and one of the other girls I was staying with was crying. The rest of that night was spent saying very heartfelt goodbyes to our host father since we wouldn’t see him the next morning. Our sister-in-law gave us hair ties that she had made for us. They were flowers made out of fabric with traditional patterns.

The next morning we left at around 9:30 but as we walked to the bus we saw our sister-in-law again. She was in a store and beckoned us in. Once we were in the store she asked us if we wanted any snacks for the ride home. As we started to get out our wallets she quickly told us no, she would be paying for whatever we wanted. It was very sweet. We each ended up getting a lollipop for the drive up Lauca National Park, where we were visiting before returning to Arica that day. It was very hard to get on that bus and leave behind Putre and our family. I don’t think I have ever connected to someone so quickly and with such strength before in my life. I couldn’t have imagined an better first trip out of Arica.

 

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Volcano of Parinacota in Lauca National Park.

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More mountains in Lauca National Park.

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Selfie with some vicuñas in Lauca National Park.

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More vicuñas in Lauca National Park.

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A viscacha in Lauca National Park.

 

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Filed under Brooke in Chile, south america