Friday, July 30, 2010

Heavier things

There's a lot I want to say about my first 5 days here. In such a short amount of time, I feel that I've been inundated with a million thoughts, experiences, questions a minute. It's not overwhelming in the sense of being stressful or unpleasant, but it's a lot to process and a lot to think about. I'm going to try to sort out some of my first impressions of the country here, but by no means are any of these thoughts fully-formed opinions; on the contrary, I have no doubt that my understanding of this incredible country will grow and expand and change every day, every week that I'm here.


Perhaps because I am really only meeting people in this specific circle of politically active, educated people, many of whom work at the Comisión or are family members of employees, I feel like Argentine life is extremely informed by the recent past and by recent and current politics, and it comes up all the time in conversation. One of the most puzzling/interesting/complex/upsetting topics that keep coming up:


Los desaparecidos: Although I'm having a great time here, every day at the Comisión I'm learning about the last military dictatorship and the human rights atrocities that were committed. We discuss it in class, in meetings at the Comi, over coffee after class...


For those who don't know, from 1976 through 1983 Argentina was ruled by a brutally repressive right-wing, anti-communist military regime. Argentines refer to this as "the last (most recent) military dictatorship," a distinction that is needed because in the 20th century, Argentina saw something like 5 or 6 military coups, resulting in periods of unstable democracy alternating with periods of military rule. During the last dictatorship, the regime systematically targeted leftist activists, journalists, intellectuals, college students, unionists, workers, teachers... basically anyone who dared voice an opinion against the regime. They justified their actions as a war against communist/Peronist/leftist terrorist groups-- which did really exist, but in relatively small numbers. However the regime used this excuse to implement a far-reaching system of terror, including clandestine prisons/torture centers and targeted any "subversive" -- including those whose thoughts, opinions, actions were viewed as subversive. All told, the military "disappeared" about 30,000 people: meaning they kidnapped and detained them in secret prisons, tortured them, and eventually killed them.


For years, impunity laws protected the torturers, military leaders, and everyone who was complicit in these human rights atrocities. Finally, in the last ten years, the perpetrators are being systematically tried. The Comisión that I'm always talking about is a governmental human rights organization that has several functions. One of them is to help provide evidence in the trials that are still going on. Another is to preserve memories of what happened and try to foster dialogue and understanding, particularly among young students.


To that end, they have started a project in which thousands of high school students embark on a research project that has to do with how the dictatorship impacted their own community in some way or another. They work for a year and finally produce a book, film, play, or something else that reflects their findings. We watched one of these, called "N.N." -- "No nombre" / No name. The documentary was about the cemetery workers and firefighters in their community who had the task of collecting bodies found in the river and burying them without names and off the records. The regime employed a practice of "death flights": flying plane-loads of drugged prisoners over the ocean or the river and dropping them alive into the water below.


The documentary was unbelievably powerful and subtly examined the issues of guilt/complicity that are so complicated...

those workers who buried those bodies clandestinely without saying anything played somehow into the machine of terror. A small role, perhaps, but a role nonetheless. So you could argue that they were in some way complicit, guilty.... but yet, on an individual level, what could they have done? Risked their own lives for people who were already dead? What responsibility do we have exactly do we have to speak out, to protest?


This is something that almost makes me sick to think about. There's just no satisfactory answer. This is how I see it: we could probably agree that the person who was dumping living people out of a plane bears a personal responsibility for their actions, is personally guilty. Same for whoever ordered them to do so. But then along down the line are the ordinary volunteer firefighters who also obeyed orders... but do they also bear guilt? If not, then where is the line drawn? What about the police officers who organized the burials and kept the victims' identities hushed up? When is there a collective guilt that society shares, and when does each person bear responsibility for what they did or didn't do?


Heavy, heavy questions, no?


On radiators and toilets.

Some of the most immediately notable things are the small, every-day differences:

  • The flushing mechanisms on toilets are strange. Sometimes I stand in the bathroom for five minutes trying to figure out how to flush.
  • There is no central heat here. It makes sense because the weather is generally so mild, but on a cold, rainy day like today it's truly freezing in the Comisión and at home. As a matter of fact, I think this is great; much more environmentally friendly, and everyone gets along fine bundled up and drinking plenty of hot beverages. Furthermore, the radiators have are old-school-- if you peer inside, there's a fire burning... and we do a lot of peering as we huddle around the radiator warming our hands during class breaks.
  • I am useless at lighting the gas stove. I keep singing my thumbs.
  • The dollar is incredibly strong here. For about US $2.50 or less, I enjoyed an enormous afternoon snack of café con leche, delicious fresh orange juice, and three (big!) medialunas- delicious, sticky sweet croissant-shaped pastries. Yesterday I went out and spent more money than I intended to... but it was still only about $10.
  • Speaking of oranges, the streets are lined with orange trees bursting with fruit. It's beautiful; I'll make a mental note to take some pictures.
  • There are a fair amount of stray dogs here. I feel sad when I see them, but mostly because they are really cute and I want to pet them but obviously don't. They actually seem pretty well-fed and healthy looking, and I have to think there's a lot of worse fates a dog could have. Although it is heart-breaking when they are curled up so very tight right outside a bar door on a cold night, enjoying the occasional blast of warm air from inside.

Plaza Moreno




A few pictures of the central Plaza Moreno, home to a giant cathedral, un montón of people, and a very strange and slightly creepy street show for children.

Eating alfajores, a very typical sweet made of layers of cake-like stuff and dulce de leche.


One of the four seasons statues in the plaza. (winter?)

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Tuesday, July 27, 2010

Un paseo por calle 51

Today we had class from 10:00 to 1:00: an intensive Spanish class. It went well; the teacher, Marcela, is very nice. After, we shared a birthday cake with the other employees of the Comisión; it was Liliana the librarian's birthday. Cake with layers of dulce de leche-- yum!!!

After this, we took advantage of the beautiful day to take a stroll through central La Plata. Here are a few pictures:


In Plaza San Martin, right by the Comisión.


A government building of some sort.

Headless statue



A pretty typical street.


Interesting, politically-charged graffiti is all over the city, often protesting policies of impunity. A lot of the graffiti poses the question "Dondé esta Julio Lopez?" - "Where is Julio Lopez?"-- a man who was disappeared and detained in a clandestine prison during the military dictatorship and disappeared again in 2006 right before giving final testimony in a trial of human rights violations. (This I found out from doing a quick wikipedia search: read more here; it's very interesting.)

The Teatro Argentino: an enormous, fairly hideous structure, but inside it's a very nice theater. I can't wait to go see a performance there: it hosts operas, ballets, and concerts. Coming up soon is Swan Lake-- the most incredible thing is that the price for general admission is 24 pesos-- somewhere around 6/7 dollars! And even less for students. What a deal for a night of opera! (Also, the other side of this building is where a bunch of boys come and skateboard-- Raymond would be coming here a lot!)


I'm not sure what this building is- something from the government. Beautiful! Unfortunately I had forgotten to put my memory chip back in, so I could only take these pictures and didn't have space for any of the Catedral, which was lovely. We're going to go back to go up the cathedral tower and see the city, so I'll post pictures then!
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Monday, July 26, 2010

La Llegada




Well. After about 48 hours of travel, including 3 hours on the runway in Chicago and an unplanned night (and day) in Atlanta, I am finally here in La Plata! My bags are not, but they should be arriving within the hour if all goes as planned.

Saturday afternoon, after spending a blistering hot day in Atlanta, I managed to get myself switched to an earlier flight: leaving at 8:30 and going direct to Buenos Aires instead of connecting in Santiago. Thus yesterday I arrived to Ezeiza airport at around 7:30 a.m.. By the time I got out of customs and was able to check my email, I realized that the organizers of the program (Diego and Bettina) hadn't gotten my email saying that I was arriving earlier and at a different airport-- so my ride was not there to pick me up. I called Diego from the airport "locutorio" - in fact I think I woke him up, and he called (and woke up) Ricardo, the driver.
I've been loving how friendly the people are here- it seems normal to be much more affectionate with people you don't know than we are in the United States. After speaking with Diego, he said "Te mando un beso"-- I send you a kiss-- this from someone I've never met and had just woken up on a Sunday morning! And Ricardo greeted me with a kiss on the cheek and seemed genuinely happy to meet me. The kiss on the cheek seems to be the norm when meeting someone in a social situation. Already, the U.S. custom of shaking hands seems oddly formal and cold in comparison.

Ricardo drove me to La Plata, which only took about half an hour on the traffic-less Sunday morning. We arrived at Claudia's house. Claudia works a the Comisión por la Memoria (the organization that organizes the semester abroad). She lives alone, except for the William and Mary students that come every semester. I was a little worried that this would be awkward or strange- living just the two of us- but already I am beginning to feel at home. Luckily she is extremely friendly, but I don't feel like I'm obligated to spend a ton of time with her, if that makes sense- during the day, I think we just each do our own thing and then eat dinner together and talk.

The houses here are neat- really different from houses in the U.S. Each of the houses that Lauren, Dimelza and I are living in are at the end of a long outside corridor from the street. The door on the street offers access to all four little houses that are clustered around this hallway, almost like an apartment building but only one level. Claudia's is at the end of the corridor, and has a sweet little courtyard in the middle. The house is shaped like a backwards "C" as you enter it: first you walk through the office, then the dining area and kitchen, and at the back are the two bedrooms and the bathroom. It is small and simple, but painted bright colors and really charming. Here are some pictures of the house- unfortunately yesterday was rainy so it's all a little gray.


View of the courtyard from the dining area.

Dining area.

Kitchen (pardon the strange perspective)

Living room.
My bed!
My window

View of the courtyard from my window.


After I unpacked and showered, Claudia made us lunch and we talked for a while. We ate milanesas; breaded, fried pork cutlets, and salad- very yummy! Apparently they eat a lot of mayonnaise here, and a cheese the consistency of sour cream which we ate on the salad at lunch and later on pasta at dinner. (Dinner was more milanesas, and pasta with the cheese, spinach, and red pepper- very yummy!)

After this Dimelza came over and we had tea with Claudia and then met Lauren. Despite the rain and the cold (in the 50s), we walked around the city for a bit. Even in the gloom, it's a very pretty city; mostly one-story buildings, wide streets and lots of trees. Most places were closed because it was Sunday and it's also winter vacation for the students here for another week. We warmed up with cafés con leche in a "resto-bar" which was a little strange- we were the only customers there because it was an odd time in the afternoon but there were a bunch of people hanging up clothes on racks and setting up board games on the counter. On the wall in several places it said "BenSimon" which to the best of my knowledge is a line of shoes. They were also hanging paintings which appeared to be for sale, and there were books for sale too-- it was quite mysterious. Either it was really a "resto-bar-clothing/shoestore-bookstore-art-gallery-boardgame-store" or they were having some kind of strange event that night. Either way, it was delicious and warm. And, since the dollar is now worth almost 4 pesos, cheap!

After bundling up again we visited Lauren's home. She lives the closest to the University and Comisión, with Eliana and her two children. Elianas sister was there and her 6-year-old daughter Fran, who was quite a character. Then the sister's son, Gregorio, also 6, came home and greeted us each with a kiss on the cheek, which was possibly the most adorable thing I have ever seen!! Later we were talking about losing teeth and the tooth fairy, which Fran matter-of-factly informed us does not exist. I was devastated by this news, although they seemed to find my pain hilarious to behold.

Another odd thing that I've noticed so far: swearing seems to be much more acceptable here, with children and parents using not-so-polite language with each other. Fran in particular seems to have quite the potty-mouth.

Today is the first day at the Comisión, so I'm off in a few moments to meet the teachers, directors, etc. and learn about the class options. Hopefully my luggage will arrive before I leave so that I don't have to wear this same dress for a fourth day!







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