Two months gone by in South America. It's hard to believe.
Tomorrow I leave the continent for the less-warm pastures of Europe for the next two months of the journey. It's unbelievable to think this trip is already one third over. But hot damn have I learned a great deal about traveling, the cultures I've had the privilege to experience and myself. In this post I'll share some of my biggest takeaways and aim to share why this first segment of the journey has been so powerful. Oh, also, Merry Christmas!
Diversity is a Beautiful Thing
Every day of travel, I'm blown away by how many people there are in this world, how many perspectives exist and how many different ways a life can be lived. Every unique organism contributes their own energy which shapes their experience and influences everything around them. This lofty sociological/spiritual lens gets refocused and retooled every day and continues to blow my mind in all the right ways.
Humans are these walking strokes of paint that can glow red with anger, blue with misery, orange with energy, purple with passion, yellow with hunger, pink with possibility and thousands more colors representing thousands more emotions at any moment. All of these strokes can be smeared together in an exponentially large number of ways. And the brushes that paint these strokes - family, work, culture, upbringing, expectation, customs - vary from place to place and from person to person. And while we oftentimes reduce other people to the lowest common denominator of relation or disposition in order to comprehend more efficiently, every once in awhile we need to be reminded that every one of us is the way we are for a reason and, within the limits of our own realities, can change shapes and colors in an endless number of ways each and every day.
Sure it would be easier to live in a world in which every person and emotion fell into a nice little box with a proper shape and size. But the more of the world I see, the more I realize that humans are perfectly messy creatures that refuse to be contained and whose beauty can only be experienced by realizing their potential rather and embracing their diversity. And although the differences that make us who we are make the world more complicated, it's these differences that make the world more colorful.
You Have to Cut Yourself Some Slack
There have been a countless number of times in the past two months where I've beaten myself up. It happens often when I make a choice and then realize soon after there was a better choice I could have made. This most often happens with monetary expenditures - I'll buy food then realize there was a cheaper option that would have been better, I buy a gift then realize there's the same object for half the price next door, I only have one day left in the country and I run out of cash but still have to pay for some items in cash so I have to withdraw money and take the hit of the foreign client withdrawal fees. Money aside, I'll beat myself up for taking the wrong mode of transport to a destination, I'll beat myself up for failing to use the proper Spanish word I know I knew but didn't realize I knew it until after the conversation ended. I'll beat myself up for not being more social on Christmas Eve when I know it would have made me less homesick and sad. These are just some of the ways in which I've beaten myself up.
I've also been beaten up. I've encountered natives that stare at me with a look of utter contempt as soon as I set foot in a building. I've had employees in grocery stores and cafes give me zero lenience with the language barrier and when I don't understand something they say, they'll just repeat the same three words I don't understand louder and more slowly, which doesn't help anybody. I've had tons of people laugh at me for looking stupid while I attempt something that to them is so simple, like taking a number at the deli or paying the proper bus fare.
In the first month, when any of the aforementioned unpleasantries would befall me, my instinct would be combative - either indignation at myself for my foolishness or contempt for the other for their lack of grace. But after the first month of my travels, I began to learn something incredibly important - this shit happens. It happens everyday and will continue to happen. I am an outsider in a foreign country trying desperately to learn the proper modes of conduct. There are SO many variables that are outside of my control. But there are some variables that are under my control. I can be more patient with myself. I can have more grace with myself. I can forgive myself. And I can just simply cut myself some slack and move on instead of dwelling on my mistakes.
In relation to the other, again I can control some variables. When I accidentally call the wrong floor in the elevator because I think the ground floor is the first floor and it's actually a floor below that and there's that awkward moment where the door opens on the first floor and everyone stares at me because I don't get out, I can at that moment laugh. I can at that moment shrug. I can at that moment apologize and make a silly face. While others will continue to judge me, I can at least attempt to show them that I'm aware of my own shortcomings and that I'm working on it.
While the above paragraphs could read as a diatribe, I don't mean them to be. I also don't want them to be interpreted as complaints. I try to keep this blog insightful and positive where possible. But this is probably the realest issue I've faced and one that I must continue to work on over the next several months of travel. And I think we could all use the reminder that, despite the different circumstances, we all need to have grace with ourselves, we need to be patient with ourselves and we need to remember that we are humans that never have the full picture and always make mistakes. And that is okay.
Keep An Open Mind
I think more often than not, we get in our own way more than other people get in ours. Expectations, fears, inhibitions, routines, norms - they all dictate our behavior and limit our perceived scope of possibility. We exist inside systems that largely dictate our behavior and the lens with which we perceive the world. We will build up ideas in our own heads of the way things should be and generate expectations for ourselves and others that oftentimes keep us from fulfillment.
When you're thrown into a world where everything - the people, the places, the food, the norms - are radically different from what you're used to, there are two ways people react.
The first way is you cling to what you know and what you think is "right" based on your background and confront the world keeping those ideals in tact. You filter anything that comes your way with an immovable bias and your provincial outlook on life means you miss so much. While the genuineness of this approach is somewhat admirable in spirit, this way of going is futile and results in more conflict than harmony.
The second way is you realize you have a specific background, which means you will automatically perceive the world from a certain perspective. Keeping that in mind, you realize your way of living is but one in a billion and through opening your mind to new possibilities, you feel more fully, are affected more intensely and are moved more quickly. Your pursuit then is not validating your own worldview but understanding where your worldview fits in to the larger picture and, much like an art collector, investing in pieces that represent your journey, amassing a collection that speaks to where you've been and who you've become. This approach strives for enlightenment and through lessening the presence of the self, keep us more in tune with the world.
Needless to say, my goal on this journey is to lead with the latter approach. While by no means perfect, every day I feel myself getting better at opening up, allowing vulnerability, questioning my own reality and experiencing life more fully. It's been messy but all great things in life are.
I trust Europe and, after that, Southeast Asia will both continue to kick my ass and mess with my perspective. And I wouldn't have it any other way. Onward ho!
Tuesday, December 26, 2017
Thursday, December 14, 2017
the fire within
It's December. It's 91 degrees. I'm drinking a hot cortado. There's at least two things wrong with this sentence.
After a month in the wilderness the return to the big cities (Buenos Aires and Santiago) has been jarring. As mentioned in previous blog posts, immersion in nature can provide a mastery of mind - the feeling that you manage the pacing, openness and wholeness of your thoughts. In the city, it's the opposite. Your over-stimulating surroundings penetrate your mind and warp the pace of your thoughts. Your only choice is to develop a thought funnel through which you can somewhat helpfully siphon and redirect information as is necessary to allow you to function properly. At times when I'd most like to breathe easily and absorb my surroundings, I instead find myself with my head down, shooing aggressive vendors and dodging rogue drivers.
So why did I come back to the big cities? One reason. Culture.
As lovely as nature is, it's unable to give you insights to the people, values and heart of a country. As I laid out clearly at the get-go, my objective for this trip is to immerse myself in different cultures in an effort to gain perspective and learn more about the world. The cities, however hectic, dirty and fatiguing they may be, are essential to understanding a culture. And for this reason alone, I love them!
I spent a few days in Buenos Aires this past week but as I will be heading back there for Christmas and the loneliness of the holidays abroad will surely inspire a subsequent blog post, this post you're now reading will focus mostly on Santiago. Even though I've only been here for a couple days, I feel like I can share some of my observations.
The people here have a clear fire within that propels their movement through the world. Whether it's manning their small shops, conversing with friends or walking down the street there's a vitality that cannot be ignored. When so many organisms each possess this fire, it leads to a palpable electricity in the city and a vibrancy heretofore unimagined. This energy, however, does not take the form of intensity. I think many people in NYC, for example, have a fire within. But the people of Santiago manage to carry this fire while also keeping a pep in their step, a perpetual swag and a lightness of being that's inspiring and fun to be around. You get the sense that they simultaneously care deeply about themselves and the people around them but do not hesitate to laugh or let their guard down.
One of the weird things I do while traveling in cities is I find pockets of the society to observe behavior. Think of it like people watching but just in a more specific setting. Yesterday this impulse encouraged me to buy a beer and walk to the skate park. Municipal skate parks can be a lot of things but boring is not one of them.
When I arrived, I walked through the gates and found a somewhat inconspicuous plot of grass on the perimeter of the circular park and I just observed life for at least 90 minutes. It was a Wednesday evening around 7pm, a time when most young Americans would be fixing themselves dinner while watching TV after a long day's work. Instead I stumbled upon a "popping" oasis of Chilean hipsters ranging from 12 - 40 years old drinking, laughing and "hanging" without a care in the world. Many came to skate and that was clearly the central focus - skaters like flies dodging in and out of imaginary lanes at impossible speeds, each respecting the other and giving a decent share of "props". The folks closer to me stationed on the outskirts of the park were huddled together, either lovers leaking into each other's arms or a tight-knit group of friends swapping stories and "hot goss". It was as if everybody had just been released from a pen and were living life with reckless abandon. It was as if everybody collectively understood the need to live life to the fullest. It was as if there was something that had kept them from living it up in the past which now demanded they make up for the lost time. Which leads me conveniently to my next and much heavier topic.
This afternoon I spent the better part of three hours immersed in the exhibition at the Museo de la Memoria y los Derechos Humanos (Museum of Memory and Human Rights). In addition to visiting the home of one of my all-time favorite poets, Pablo Neruda, this museum was very high up on my list. I knew there had been a dictatorship and massive political turmoil in the past several decades in Chile. But I wanted to learn the full story.
If, like me, you found yourself uninformed about the military dictatorship of Chile from 1973-1990, I encourage you to read up on it. While I would first and foremost recommend this museum, I understand that making a pilgrimage to Santiago probably isn't on your weekend agenda. At the risk of severely oversimplifying the ordeal, I'll just say that on September 11, 1973, a CIA-backed coup d'état overthrew the socialist government of Chile and established a 17-year military dictatorship that resulted in the government-ordered persecution, torture, exile and/or execution of thousands of Chilean people.
Walking through this museum and witnessing firsthand evidence of this traumatic period, provoked many feelings. Most of them sad. Many inspiring. There were hundreds of radio broadcasts, press clippings and videos that captured the events as they unfolded. There were testimonials from survivors about the gruesome methods in which they were tortured. There were beautiful memorials that demanded respect and introspection. And there were countless examples of heroic bravery, immense courage and the persistence of the spirit that illuminated the darkness throughout. In addition to informing me of this major world event, the museum instilled in me the realization that governmental shifts of this magnitude still occur to this day and made me even more weary of the current political situation in America. But this isn't about America. It's about Chile.
As soon as I stepped out of the doors to the museum I found myself possessing an even deeper appreciation for every person I passed on the street. I suddenly understood the nature of the spirits I'd spent the past couple days observing. The fire each person carries is one born from a period of extreme persecution, stoked with extremely personal trauma and endured by generations prior and generations to come. But more importantly it is also a fire that comprises the very fabric of the social identity. It is a fire that bonds and unites in a way that only overcoming collective injustice can. And a fire that shines brightly, inspiring others to grasp hope amidst periods of adversity.
Sure the dictatorship ended more than 27 years ago. Which is the entirety of my time on the planet. But the effects of that period are still felt by people here. And while I've talked to exactly zero Chileans about the dictatorship, I can tell through observation that despite the unspeakable tragedy that occurred during this period in history, the aftermath of the events sculpted a society and people whose strength and bravery knows no bounds. Moreover it has lead to an understanding of how important freedom is. How necessary it is to fraternize with those you love. And the realization that however brightly a fire burns, it weighs very little. And if it takes hipster shenanigans at a rowdy skate park to illustrate the impossible triumph of the human spirit, so be it.
After a month in the wilderness the return to the big cities (Buenos Aires and Santiago) has been jarring. As mentioned in previous blog posts, immersion in nature can provide a mastery of mind - the feeling that you manage the pacing, openness and wholeness of your thoughts. In the city, it's the opposite. Your over-stimulating surroundings penetrate your mind and warp the pace of your thoughts. Your only choice is to develop a thought funnel through which you can somewhat helpfully siphon and redirect information as is necessary to allow you to function properly. At times when I'd most like to breathe easily and absorb my surroundings, I instead find myself with my head down, shooing aggressive vendors and dodging rogue drivers.
So why did I come back to the big cities? One reason. Culture.
As lovely as nature is, it's unable to give you insights to the people, values and heart of a country. As I laid out clearly at the get-go, my objective for this trip is to immerse myself in different cultures in an effort to gain perspective and learn more about the world. The cities, however hectic, dirty and fatiguing they may be, are essential to understanding a culture. And for this reason alone, I love them!
I spent a few days in Buenos Aires this past week but as I will be heading back there for Christmas and the loneliness of the holidays abroad will surely inspire a subsequent blog post, this post you're now reading will focus mostly on Santiago. Even though I've only been here for a couple days, I feel like I can share some of my observations.
The people here have a clear fire within that propels their movement through the world. Whether it's manning their small shops, conversing with friends or walking down the street there's a vitality that cannot be ignored. When so many organisms each possess this fire, it leads to a palpable electricity in the city and a vibrancy heretofore unimagined. This energy, however, does not take the form of intensity. I think many people in NYC, for example, have a fire within. But the people of Santiago manage to carry this fire while also keeping a pep in their step, a perpetual swag and a lightness of being that's inspiring and fun to be around. You get the sense that they simultaneously care deeply about themselves and the people around them but do not hesitate to laugh or let their guard down.
One of the weird things I do while traveling in cities is I find pockets of the society to observe behavior. Think of it like people watching but just in a more specific setting. Yesterday this impulse encouraged me to buy a beer and walk to the skate park. Municipal skate parks can be a lot of things but boring is not one of them.
When I arrived, I walked through the gates and found a somewhat inconspicuous plot of grass on the perimeter of the circular park and I just observed life for at least 90 minutes. It was a Wednesday evening around 7pm, a time when most young Americans would be fixing themselves dinner while watching TV after a long day's work. Instead I stumbled upon a "popping" oasis of Chilean hipsters ranging from 12 - 40 years old drinking, laughing and "hanging" without a care in the world. Many came to skate and that was clearly the central focus - skaters like flies dodging in and out of imaginary lanes at impossible speeds, each respecting the other and giving a decent share of "props". The folks closer to me stationed on the outskirts of the park were huddled together, either lovers leaking into each other's arms or a tight-knit group of friends swapping stories and "hot goss". It was as if everybody had just been released from a pen and were living life with reckless abandon. It was as if everybody collectively understood the need to live life to the fullest. It was as if there was something that had kept them from living it up in the past which now demanded they make up for the lost time. Which leads me conveniently to my next and much heavier topic.
This afternoon I spent the better part of three hours immersed in the exhibition at the Museo de la Memoria y los Derechos Humanos (Museum of Memory and Human Rights). In addition to visiting the home of one of my all-time favorite poets, Pablo Neruda, this museum was very high up on my list. I knew there had been a dictatorship and massive political turmoil in the past several decades in Chile. But I wanted to learn the full story.
If, like me, you found yourself uninformed about the military dictatorship of Chile from 1973-1990, I encourage you to read up on it. While I would first and foremost recommend this museum, I understand that making a pilgrimage to Santiago probably isn't on your weekend agenda. At the risk of severely oversimplifying the ordeal, I'll just say that on September 11, 1973, a CIA-backed coup d'état overthrew the socialist government of Chile and established a 17-year military dictatorship that resulted in the government-ordered persecution, torture, exile and/or execution of thousands of Chilean people.
Walking through this museum and witnessing firsthand evidence of this traumatic period, provoked many feelings. Most of them sad. Many inspiring. There were hundreds of radio broadcasts, press clippings and videos that captured the events as they unfolded. There were testimonials from survivors about the gruesome methods in which they were tortured. There were beautiful memorials that demanded respect and introspection. And there were countless examples of heroic bravery, immense courage and the persistence of the spirit that illuminated the darkness throughout. In addition to informing me of this major world event, the museum instilled in me the realization that governmental shifts of this magnitude still occur to this day and made me even more weary of the current political situation in America. But this isn't about America. It's about Chile.
As soon as I stepped out of the doors to the museum I found myself possessing an even deeper appreciation for every person I passed on the street. I suddenly understood the nature of the spirits I'd spent the past couple days observing. The fire each person carries is one born from a period of extreme persecution, stoked with extremely personal trauma and endured by generations prior and generations to come. But more importantly it is also a fire that comprises the very fabric of the social identity. It is a fire that bonds and unites in a way that only overcoming collective injustice can. And a fire that shines brightly, inspiring others to grasp hope amidst periods of adversity.
Sure the dictatorship ended more than 27 years ago. Which is the entirety of my time on the planet. But the effects of that period are still felt by people here. And while I've talked to exactly zero Chileans about the dictatorship, I can tell through observation that despite the unspeakable tragedy that occurred during this period in history, the aftermath of the events sculpted a society and people whose strength and bravery knows no bounds. Moreover it has lead to an understanding of how important freedom is. How necessary it is to fraternize with those you love. And the realization that however brightly a fire burns, it weighs very little. And if it takes hipster shenanigans at a rowdy skate park to illustrate the impossible triumph of the human spirit, so be it.
Tuesday, December 5, 2017
The Town Created for Tourism
El Chalten. A tiny mountain town created in 1985 for the sole purpose of quenching travelers' wanderlust to see Mt. Fitz Roy. If you're looking for empirical evidence, how about a population of 1000 that swells to several thousand every year during peak season? It's a hikers' haven where everyone is clad in high-end outdoor gear (yes, it's a thing and typically, in topical fashion, the brand of choice is Patagonia) and takes full advantage of the post-hike 4-7pm Happy Hour, which takes over literally every establishment in town.
Despite that harsh initial assessment of its inhabitants and their reason for being, the town IS cute. It has just about everything one would need for a week-long stay including nice restaurants, microbreweries, souvenir shops and hostels galore. The town's only firetruck is this old-school red-plated cruiser that looks like it came from the 50's. There's wild dogs abound that love chasing motorcycles and defending their turf. And I've yet to see a gas station here... But the best feature? There's mountains and trails in literally every direction and in such close proximity! Just pick a street to walk down and chances are it will lead to a gorgeous view.
But let's get back to the people. As a result of the large backpacking presence, the town really doesn't have much of a culture of its own. It's a town built on transience and quick day-trips. When you're here you get the feeling you're in Argentina but you also get the feeling this town and the land around it could just as easily be excavated and thrown into another distant location. The only glimpse of Argentinian culture shines through the shop owners and local workers.
I've never seen anything like it. Most touristy places usually don't begin that way. There's typically a culture in place prior to the tourism boom which is part of the initial draw. But when a place begins to draw a multitude of outsiders, the infrastructure must adapt to accommodate this influx and the spot often drops the "hidden" portion of its "hidden gem" tag, for better or for worse.
"For better or for worse?" - that's the question right? Having traveled South America for roughly six weeks and having spent time in Central America prior to that, I find there to be a love/hate relationship when it comes to locals and tourism. On the pro side, a surge of outsiders means more money spent locally, more business and an overall boom for the economy. This rise in local consumption means alterations in capital, production, spending, accommodations and, when escalated rapidly enough, can lead to a massive shift in the overall look and feel of a place. When the latter occurs, the culture inevitably changes or becomes frustratingly magnified in such a way that only the standout representations of a place (such as the figure of Jesus in Rio de Janeiro) that were once totems become tchotchkes. The locals slowly lose touch with their roots and their priorities often shift to pleasing and accommodating the needs of tourists, which are often massive and lofty.
But shifting from the theoretical back to El Chalten, the beauty of this place is that the nature is the culture. And it's unchanging. While sure there's cosmetic changes to paths and wear from all the foot traffic, the point is that the culture here is not a product of the people but the people are a product of nature's culture. And as soon as you walk out of the city and hit the trails, this becomes clear. The culture of the thriving trees, the culture of the emerald lakes, the culture of the pristine glaciers and the culture of the razor-sharp mountain ranges - it's steadfast and man couldn't change it even if he wanted to! Looking at the Fitz Roy range at sunrise is like staring into God's open mouth. It's just breathtaking. Or breath-giving, depending on how far you want to take the metaphor.
As I've mentioned in other posts, maintaining this connection to our natural surroundings is vital and how unbelievably fortunate I have been to spend countless hours immersed in this nature over the past month. No matter what state of mind you're in when you're heading out on the hike, by the time you return to town, you've been through nature's euphoric cycle of challenge, contemplation, stillness, growth, reflection and exertion that keeps you coming back again and again. Though it may be difficult, I will try to internalize the lessons I've learned from nature and carry this knowledge with me through the duration of my travels and life beyond.
Tonight Andrew and I jump on a 24-hour bus ride up to the Northern Patagonian town of Bariloche. It's gonna be an adventure, to say the least. We'll do maybe one more hike in Argentina's chocolate capital but I'm beginning to realize the nature immersion portion of the South America trip is coming to a close. While I feel like I could continue to explore and learn from nature forever (and plan to as long as I can) the next leg of the journey will be a transition back to the urban as we make our way slowly up to Buenos Aires and part ways before I make my way to Santiago.
Despite that harsh initial assessment of its inhabitants and their reason for being, the town IS cute. It has just about everything one would need for a week-long stay including nice restaurants, microbreweries, souvenir shops and hostels galore. The town's only firetruck is this old-school red-plated cruiser that looks like it came from the 50's. There's wild dogs abound that love chasing motorcycles and defending their turf. And I've yet to see a gas station here... But the best feature? There's mountains and trails in literally every direction and in such close proximity! Just pick a street to walk down and chances are it will lead to a gorgeous view.
But let's get back to the people. As a result of the large backpacking presence, the town really doesn't have much of a culture of its own. It's a town built on transience and quick day-trips. When you're here you get the feeling you're in Argentina but you also get the feeling this town and the land around it could just as easily be excavated and thrown into another distant location. The only glimpse of Argentinian culture shines through the shop owners and local workers.
I've never seen anything like it. Most touristy places usually don't begin that way. There's typically a culture in place prior to the tourism boom which is part of the initial draw. But when a place begins to draw a multitude of outsiders, the infrastructure must adapt to accommodate this influx and the spot often drops the "hidden" portion of its "hidden gem" tag, for better or for worse.
"For better or for worse?" - that's the question right? Having traveled South America for roughly six weeks and having spent time in Central America prior to that, I find there to be a love/hate relationship when it comes to locals and tourism. On the pro side, a surge of outsiders means more money spent locally, more business and an overall boom for the economy. This rise in local consumption means alterations in capital, production, spending, accommodations and, when escalated rapidly enough, can lead to a massive shift in the overall look and feel of a place. When the latter occurs, the culture inevitably changes or becomes frustratingly magnified in such a way that only the standout representations of a place (such as the figure of Jesus in Rio de Janeiro) that were once totems become tchotchkes. The locals slowly lose touch with their roots and their priorities often shift to pleasing and accommodating the needs of tourists, which are often massive and lofty.
But shifting from the theoretical back to El Chalten, the beauty of this place is that the nature is the culture. And it's unchanging. While sure there's cosmetic changes to paths and wear from all the foot traffic, the point is that the culture here is not a product of the people but the people are a product of nature's culture. And as soon as you walk out of the city and hit the trails, this becomes clear. The culture of the thriving trees, the culture of the emerald lakes, the culture of the pristine glaciers and the culture of the razor-sharp mountain ranges - it's steadfast and man couldn't change it even if he wanted to! Looking at the Fitz Roy range at sunrise is like staring into God's open mouth. It's just breathtaking. Or breath-giving, depending on how far you want to take the metaphor.
As I've mentioned in other posts, maintaining this connection to our natural surroundings is vital and how unbelievably fortunate I have been to spend countless hours immersed in this nature over the past month. No matter what state of mind you're in when you're heading out on the hike, by the time you return to town, you've been through nature's euphoric cycle of challenge, contemplation, stillness, growth, reflection and exertion that keeps you coming back again and again. Though it may be difficult, I will try to internalize the lessons I've learned from nature and carry this knowledge with me through the duration of my travels and life beyond.
Tonight Andrew and I jump on a 24-hour bus ride up to the Northern Patagonian town of Bariloche. It's gonna be an adventure, to say the least. We'll do maybe one more hike in Argentina's chocolate capital but I'm beginning to realize the nature immersion portion of the South America trip is coming to a close. While I feel like I could continue to explore and learn from nature forever (and plan to as long as I can) the next leg of the journey will be a transition back to the urban as we make our way slowly up to Buenos Aires and part ways before I make my way to Santiago.
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| Fitz Roy at sunrise. |
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