Sunday, November 7, 2010
Primavera
Spring, a word that conjours a coil of metal ready to release all of it's energy, is the perfect word for this time of year. The catalyst of the change of general attitude is the national day of Chile, the 18th of September, which sweeps the country in happiness, and drapes her sometimes drab winter buildings with the bold colours of her independence: the white of the fading snow, the blue of her depthless sky, and the red of her soul and the blood of the people. In spring, this blood courses stronger, thicker, among the brotherhood who reside in her body. The women swing their hips a little more provocatively after shedding their winter cocoons of trousers in favour of skirts, and the men vocalise their appreciation with the virile of freshly sexed adolescents. Life is celebrated, as it should be after the darkness of the andean winter, and the good things - family, dancing, conversation, food and drink - are enjoyed. This spirit will be tempered, almost suffocated, in the stifling summer heat, but for now that music continues and the people smile and enjoy.
Surfing curves
Most people don't know this about me, but I am a prolific writer. I never said that any of it was any good, and in fact most of it is a complete waste of space, but it is what I do to try and marry the ideas in my head together. So here is one that usually would be part of the 90% that never sees the glare of a public forum.
It seems to me like nothing in Chile is straight.
It occurred to me today as I crossed one of the main motorways that cuts through Santiago. It consists of three lanes of traffic in either direction, split by the metro track which runs immediately between the two. The metro tracks are not dead straight as I expect from train tracks, but curve gently first in one direction and then the other. Being familiar with rush hour mayhem I know that this minute curvature facilitates the humiliating experience of falling on a complete stranger penned in either directly in front of you, or directly behind you, as the train hurtles from one station to the next. Metro surfing as it were. Alameda, the main thoroughfare of the city is similarly discordant to the straight lines of convention, with several gentle curves adding interest to the already mystifying lane system that barely functions most days.
Metaphorically speaking, this gentle curve and lack of true directness extends into Chilean culture. When asked direct questions, Chileans will almost never answer in the negative. Saying no is impolite. Rather, you will find yourself believing that yes you are meeting for dinner tomorrow night when in fact they have no intention. It is not a true wish to mislead, these are not corners in the train tracks, rather a wish to not disappoint and to let you down gently. Something will come up, usually family related, and the plan will fall through. Just a gentle curve in the tracks. For a laid back kiwi, this is not too much of a difficulty, and I adjusted fairly easily to these "flexible" plans. But I have witnessed many an upset foreigner, more accustomed to direct plans than surfing the chilean curves, fall on the person in front of them as the train sailed around a gentle bend. It is all part of the process of learning to surf not only the metro, but also the customs of this fascinating country.
It seems to me like nothing in Chile is straight.
It occurred to me today as I crossed one of the main motorways that cuts through Santiago. It consists of three lanes of traffic in either direction, split by the metro track which runs immediately between the two. The metro tracks are not dead straight as I expect from train tracks, but curve gently first in one direction and then the other. Being familiar with rush hour mayhem I know that this minute curvature facilitates the humiliating experience of falling on a complete stranger penned in either directly in front of you, or directly behind you, as the train hurtles from one station to the next. Metro surfing as it were. Alameda, the main thoroughfare of the city is similarly discordant to the straight lines of convention, with several gentle curves adding interest to the already mystifying lane system that barely functions most days.
Metaphorically speaking, this gentle curve and lack of true directness extends into Chilean culture. When asked direct questions, Chileans will almost never answer in the negative. Saying no is impolite. Rather, you will find yourself believing that yes you are meeting for dinner tomorrow night when in fact they have no intention. It is not a true wish to mislead, these are not corners in the train tracks, rather a wish to not disappoint and to let you down gently. Something will come up, usually family related, and the plan will fall through. Just a gentle curve in the tracks. For a laid back kiwi, this is not too much of a difficulty, and I adjusted fairly easily to these "flexible" plans. But I have witnessed many an upset foreigner, more accustomed to direct plans than surfing the chilean curves, fall on the person in front of them as the train sailed around a gentle bend. It is all part of the process of learning to surf not only the metro, but also the customs of this fascinating country.
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