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.