Villa Grimaldi

On Friday the 9th of May our group made a trip to Villa Grimaldi. A former detention and torture center of the Pinochet regime.

Our guide, a former detainee and torture victim painted a very vivid picture of the experience at the Villa.

When someone was detained by the DINA (Pinochet's secret police) they were put in the back of a truck, blind-folded, hog-tied, and beaten. They were driven in through the service entrance of the villa, untied and forced out of the truck.

Upon arrival the DINA would perform what they referred to as the "Bienvenido" or welcoming. This consisted of surrounding the detainee and beating he or she to a state of unconsciousness, they were then doused with freezing cold water and taken to the first torture chamber.

In the first torture chamber the detainees were forced to strip; if this was not done quickly they were beaten again. The detainee was then strapped to the "Parilla" or grill, which was basically metal bed-frame to allow the conduction of electricity through the body. The detainee was then tortured anywhere from one to three hours.

The detainees where kept in cells large enough to hold a bed and nothing more. They were given less than ample food, and were allowed to use the bathroom once a day. Obviously the conditions were horrible. They were generally taken for torture once a day, which could have been at any time.

If the first torture chamber was not substantial, the detainee was taken to another room which had a chair in which the detainee was strapped too and tortured using a technique called the telephone. The torturer would stand behind the detainee and slap his ears with open hands, causing immense damage and pain to the ears. This room also contained a double parilla in which the detainee would be put on the bottom and a friend or loved one would be tortured above him.

Another form of torture used at Villa Grimaldi was water boarding, something our government claims is not torture.

Our guide told us something very personal about his experience in Villa Grimaldi. At one point he was brought into a room of other prisoners and left to wait there. He supported himself on the door because he was having a hard time standing. Another prisoner approached him and offered him a cigarette. Because of this gesture of kindness our guide knew that this other prisoner was a DINA informant, it was the only way to get cigarettes.

The other prisoner asked our guide about himself, so our guide only told him what the DINA knew about him. The informant knew there was more information and he said the following to our guide, "Look, they tortured me the same as you, and I said nothing. They raped my wife in front of me, and I said nothing. Then they tortured my six month old child in front of me, and I broke. What would you have done if it had been you?" Our guide said that after this he could not judge anyone who was an informant because of that very question.

Santiago, te amo

Dear Santiago,

You have stolen my heart with your distinct culture and quaint smog. The way your transportation system literally brings people together is utterly charming.

Your university is something truly amazing. The students are not just university students, they are undeniably Universidad de Chile students. There is nothing quite like throwing a molotov cocktail just for the hell of it. I've heard the rush is better than coke(a cola).

Many cities have pollution issues, undoubtedly so do you, but it seems as though your methods of battling it are a bit unorthodox. Cliche Catholic schoolgirls making out with much older "pololos" in every public park will probably not clean the air, nor will the thousands of stray dogs. Perhaps a protest could stop it?

I love your double standards. We can't have the morning after pill because that would cause the teenagers to have rampant irresponsible sex in the metro stations, but we can have sex on television after 10pm. Oh, and if you want some "sweet and low-cut" with your coffee, there is always cafe con piernas.

I must confess to thee, Santiago, my love. I have been a bit cynical of you in the past few paragraphs, but I honestly do love your idiosyncrasies.

As far as the arts are concerned, you are incredible. Politically and economically, you cut off your nose to spite your face. It takes great effort to create true change with you. It is never easy to be ahead of your time anywhere, but for some reason you drive those who are to death.

I know we can make this work, but maybe you should get some therapy.

Un asado chileno

I had my first ever cook out with my host-family this weekend. It was a bit different to say the least. 

The most entertaining part was starting the fire. First we had to fill the bottom of the grill with dirt, because you can't put hot coals directly on the metal; fair enough. We then made newspaper rings, covered them with coals and lit them. I felt this was a substantial way to get the fire going; wrong. We needed more "combustible" so my host-father proceeded to "clean out" old work papers. We burned more papers than Nixon. After about an hour or so of "cleaning", the fire was ready.

We started with hot dogs and chorizo, and finished with chicken and steak. The chicken and steak had enough salt on them that I thought they had fallen into the dead sea, but the chorizo more than made up for it.

After dinner we went to the house of a close friend of my host brother, who is almost like another brother in the family. Lucas is going down south to work for a year; putting his studies on hold. The entire family sang him a goodbye song. I've never seen two families so close like that.

Profesora, te odio

The following is an excerpt from this morning's spanish class translated to english: 

Teacher: Can someone please describe to us what their home nation looks like using the terms we just discussed?

(A pause for maybe slightly longer than human reaction time)

Teacher:HALOOOOOOOOOO

Nick: Kill me.

And so continues an hour and a half every wednesday. To call it frustrating is an understatement. I believe maddening is more to the point.

Whenever someone is talking she wants us to act interested and say things like, "Oh really?" because that is what latinos do; according to her. I am neither latino, nor do I care about the geographical specifications of Massachusetts.

We then somehow got on the topic of rain in southeast Asia, and someone asked how to say, "Monsoon", the teacher explained how to say it but then said that she was not sure whether or not there are monsoons in southeast Asia. I raised my hand and said that, in fact, there are monsoons in southeast Asia. To this she responded, "Oh really, you know this for a fact?" I reaffirmed the fact that monsoons occur in southeast Asia to which she responded, "So you've experienced this then?"

No, I haven't. But I get the effing discovery channel, and I've seen Forest Gump. Globalization rules.

I did, however, have a revelation about her teaching style. It is actually very effective. If I don't make errors when I speak, I don't have to hear her speak. Win win. My spanish gets better and she stays quiet.

In other news, my Latin American politics class is canceled for tomorrow, this would be the 5th class that will not be occurring. I love this country.

La Universidad de Chile

With the second week of classes, I have finally attended two classes. Within the first week we had a Spanish placement exam, and several canceled classes. I actually was not able to register for classes before they started, it's a pretty great system.

This week I arrived to my 8:30 AM class only to discover that it was canceled. The total amount of time I will spend in class for this week is 8 hours and that includes the 2 hours of class that are part of my abroad program.

Now I'm not one to complain about not having class, so let's look at the bright side of my Latin American politics class being canceled. It seems that I am actually learning something about Latin American politics. The only difference is that I can't bribe the guy at the front desk to call me if there isn't class so I don't have to drag my ass halfway across the city on the Tokyo subway at 7:30 in the morning.

As far as the main campus goes, I do believe it is the stereotype of stereotypes for college campuses. If you wish to participate in some experimental activities you needn't look further than the campus itself as the police are not allowed inside the gates.

I do believe that having a good hairstyle is illegal in Chile, given some of the styles that I have seen. If you fancy the mullet, buy your plane tickets now. My personal favorite look is the girl with half of her head shaved and the other half is past her shoulders. I have yet to figure out what statement she is trying to make, but I think it has something to do with heroin and not enough hugs.

La Burocracia

I recently had the pleasure to experience; first hand, the Chilean bureaucracy. All persons living in Chile under anything other than a tourist visa must register their visa with the international police at one office, then take their registration information to another office to register for an identity card.

Clearly this is the best way to run this system. Of course I want to go wait for an hour at one office to receive a sheet of paper telling me I have to go wait in line at a place that is across town. Things should be so simple.

So last monday I decided to show up at the Civil Registration office at 11 in the morning, thinking this was sufficient. Never in my life have I been so wrong. There is a deli type number system in hell, I mean the office. When I arrived the number on the board was B-62, the number I chose was D-35. When I decided to leave; roughly one hour later, the number was B-72.

The next morning I returned at 7:45 with the appropriate documents. More than ready to wage war on this system. I was already 15 people back when I got in line outside the building. I waited for 45 minutes until the doors were opened to the public. As soon as people entered the gates chaos ensued. I witnessed a grown man cut an old woman in line, and justify it to her with the logic that the line was outside the gate. Once I made it to the number dispenser I pulled a 76. I only had to wait 10 turns!

I then realized why cutting was an absolutely necessary phenomenon of that dreadful office. Each person you cut in front of is literally saving you 5-10 minutes of your life. Perhaps one day, Santiago can have one registration office. That is a world in which I would like to live.

Que te vayas bien, Catcher!

O Catcher! My Catcher! Our great journey is done;

You have drooled over every snack, you never missed a crumb;

The big guy is near, your squeaks I hear, as you prepare your greeting,

To your bed you do not heel, your bone in mouth and gleaming:

Squeak squeak bark! bark! bark!

O its just the cat instead,

Elsewhere my Catcher lies,

Your sleeping cold and dead.

O Catcher! My Catcher! Rise up and sound off!

Rise up- for you the scraps are flung- for you the big guy whistles;

For you Iams and canned pumpkin- for you the cat is punking;

For you they call, Smokey and Morgan, their eager noses rising;

Here Catcher! Dear brother!

This arm beneath your head;

It is some dream that at the vet,

You're sleeping cold and dead.

My Catcher does not answer, his nose is pale and still;

My brother does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;

The boy is in Chile safe and sound, his voyage just begun;

The world stops not, massive lot, continues with things to be done;

Drive, O cars and fly, O planes!

But I, with mournful tread,

Walk the world where my Catcher lies,

Sleeping cold and dead.