Travels, Part 2

The weekend after Tigre, I went to Córdoba, the capital city of the province with the same name. The second biggest city in Argentina, Córdoba has lots of well-preserved colonial architecture, as well as seven universities, making it historically interesting and currently vibrant. Although the city itself is huge, it is walkable and possible to see in a day with enough energy. Since there are lots of interesting towns near the city, we, like many people, spent a day in Córdoba, and spent the rest of our time doing day trips.


We spent the first day in the city itself, giving ourselves a tour first of the main plaza, which featured the original cabildo (local seat of Spanish government, see picture below) and a church built in the same era (see above). More than anything, I was interested in the exhibit outside, a tribute to people disappeared from Córdoba during the military dictatorship of the 70s. The exhibit featured clotheslines strung across the narrow street in between the cabildo and a church (not the one pictured above) with pictures of the disappeared people hanging on them. Most interesting was the graffiti written on the side of the church, calling the institution out on its complicity in these disappearances and accusing it of similar offenses today.


After that, we went to several small but interesting museums. First, the historical museum, built in the 18th century mansion occupied by Rafael Nuñez, former governor of Córdoba and then Viceroyal of the Río de la Plata. Although the exhibits went into slightly too much detail about the way Nuñez and his family had lived, it was a beautiful old house with a great courtyard in the middle and featured such ridiculous things as a private chapel and a music room. It was one of those old houses that looks reasonably sized from the outside, but has endless winding passages that lead to rooms previously invisible. Being the history nerd that I am, I'm always interested in seeing things like reconstructed bedrooms and servants quarters, so I very much enjoyed myself. We also went to the museum of fine arts, which was very small and in an interesting, old house. I had mixed feelings about the artwork itself, which ranged in time periods. Some was beautiful, but a decent amount was very so-so. Nonetheless, we all agreed that the museum itself was well-organized, aesthetically pleasing, and an all-around pleasant place in which to spend time.

At the end of the day, we met up with Silvia, my host mom's cousin who lives in Córdoba. She teaches at a university right on the Manzana Jesuítica (Jesuit Block), a world heritage site featuring a church, university and high school, all built in the 17th and 18th centuries. We met Silvia, as well as two of her students and a fellow teache at a café on the corner. They were all incredibly nice and seemed genuinely excited to take time out of their days to show us their city. Unfortunately, we had shown up almost an hour late, due to confusion with directions, so they didn't have much time. We walked into the courtyard of the high school, where they told us a bit about the history of the area, and then essentially guilted us into taking the official tour by forcing us to decide in front of the guide. We had arrived at 7 that morning after an overnight bus ride, so we were all tired and not much in the mood. Nonetheless, we all agreed later, the tour ended up being the best part of the day. We learned first about the history of the church. The tour guide focused on the way the architecture reflected the different attitudes the Jesuits held towards blacks and indigenous people. While they considered the former sub-humans who they could use for slavery without issue, they gave the indigenous people slightly more credit, considering them worthy of skilled crafts and conversion to Christianity. The church featured an entire half devoted to indigenous Christianity, and was in large part constructed by this group. After that, we moved into the school portion of the block (all three buildings were connected), where we saw beautiful old bibles and other books. We also saw an old classroom that had been used for thesis presentations, and learned about the incredibly high pressure manner in which students received (or attempted to receive) their doctorates. Basically, the student would sit on a high podium in the middle of the room. On one side sat all of his friends and family, and on the other side all those in the city who had already received their doctorates. The latter group questioned him while former group sat and watched. Only the student's tutor sat in his area of the room, the one form of symbolic support allowed him. If the student passed, he would parade through the city with all the other academics. If not, he would find out immediately in front of all his friends and family. I found it really interesting to learn about the central role education has always played in Córdoba. It's still considered Argentina's university center, and it has also been the center of several important student movements, including the one that won free and open education in Argentina. My experiences at UBA have made me very interested in the different ways of viewing and enacting education, and this historical quirk added another piece to the puzzle.

We had chosen Córdoba for that particular weekend because Villa General Belgrano, a small, nearby town up in the sierras was celebrating it's very own Oktoberfest, the third biggest in the world. On our second day, we took the bus to what felt like an alpine village in Germany. Though the town really does have a high German population, these features were surely exaggerated for the benefit of tourists. Nonetheless, the town was charming, the surroundings were beautiful, and the beer was good. It was basically an all-day party, featuring a parade of people in traditional German, Italian and Swiss costumes, as well as, more confusingly, Greek, Nordic, Arabic and Japanese ones. We ate pretzels and did folk dances of questionable origin and just enjoyed the lovely spring day. Please note the two men with pointy hats in the background of this picture.

I spent my last day Córdoba alone, overwhelmed by homework and not interested in the horseback riding trip my friends were taking. I went to Alta Gracia, a small town about an hour outside of Córdoba to see the Jesuit estancia (farm) there, another colonial world heritage site. The building and adjacent church were beautiful and interesting, although not very different from what I had seen the first day in Córdoba. I learned a bit about life on the estancia and the activity of the Jesuits throughout Argentina, and then began my trek to the bus station. I think I enjoyed this part more than anything that day, because I saw a large chunk of Alta Gracia. Although it wasn't a particularly interesting town, I realized that I get a thrill just from traveling itself, seeing people and things I've never seen before. As I walked past rows of houses, some dilapidated on dirt roads and others fairly large and new-looking, I thought of all the people in the world, and imagined a life in this little town on a hill top in the province of Córdoba in Argentina. It's amazing how many people there are in the world, and how many different ways they live their lives. To me, traveling isn't necessarily about seeing the most beautiful or interesting of these, although as a tourist, it's hard to get out of that circuit. It's just about going into the world and seeing what I find. To me, this is maybe the most exciting way I can spend my time, as well as the best way to really learn about the world around me.

Travels, Part 1

Two weekends ago, FLACSO, my study abroad program, took us on a trip to Tigre. Tigre is the biggest town in a river delta area about an hour outside the city. We stayed on a resort on a small island about an hour away by boat from Tigre. FLACSO takes us on two trips - one educational and one recreational - and this one was very much the latter. We got off the train to one of the first warm, sunny days of spring and almost immediately got on our guided boat trip to the island. The guide talked to us about life on the delta islands, which consists of taking boats to school and to the supermarket, and of being vulnerable to the hot, humid summers and cold, wet winters. Soon, we arrived at the hotel and spent the day relaxing. There was a "nature trek" which consisted literally of a twenty minute stroll in the woods (a pleasant stroll in pretty woods, but still). Besides that, I spent the day sitting in lawn chairs in front of the river, talking to friends, reading, and eating the copious amounts of food FLACSO provided for us. At night, there was karaoke, made more lively by the beer and wine FLACSO also provided, and after that a campfire, complete with sing-a-long songs and a guitar (dad, you would have loved it).

More than anything, it was lovely to get out of the city for a night. Buenos Aires is great because it's the cultural and political center of Argentina; I will never run out of things to do. At the same time, it was wonderful to hear the quiet, to walk on grass, and to be surrounded by water instead of clogged streets. I can't say I saw a different side of Argentina, since all I really saw was the hotel. Nonetheless, it was a great place to spend the weekend, and I had a lot of fun.

The Part Where It Gets Awesome

Over the past few weeks, my Spanish has improved an unbelievable amount. I understand nearly everything that people say to me, and I can speak with confidence in an uninterrupted flow. Before, if someone spoke to me without warning, I always needed to ask them to repeat themselves. I simply couldn't switch my brain to Spanish mode without concentration. Now, I absorb bits of conversation I hear in the subway, on the street, and everywhere else I go without thinking about it. I should qualify that there are still certain days and certain conversations where something just doesn't click. My friend who has been here for almost a year says he still feels that way sometimes. But now that I can effectively communicate without too much effort, I'm focusing on improving my accent. My mouth has lagged behind my brain, refusing to move in the way I want it to. My jaw and tongue muscles are often sore at the end of the day, and I get irrationally jealous of two-year-olds who can roll their 'r's.

With my newfound ability to communicate, the city seems like such a friendlier place. I have finally figured out the very complicated bus system and have also generally gotten my bearings. This means that previously disastrous events, like a missed bus stop or a wrong turn, are just parts of my daily routine. Between strikes, traffic jams, subway break downs, and clogged sidewalks there always seems to be something impeding me from getting where I need to go. But now I know alternate routes to all the places I go on a regular basis. I've also learned to accept the rhythms of the city and go with them. It helps to know that if I show up late anywhere, for any reason, all I have to do is roll my eyes and say "D line again."

This new level of comfort has coincided with the realization that my time here is passing far too quickly. Ever since I realized that the two month marker was on it's way, I have been making a concerted effort to see and do as much as I can every single day. Before, when my Spanish was worse, classes were a huge challenge that took up a lot of my time. Now that I can do homework without too much effort, I've realized that my classes here are really easy, at least compared to the ones at Wesleyan. This is in large part because they're designed for students who also work full time jobs. But because this does not apply to me, I have a lot of free time, which I've been using to explore. I'm also beginning to travel around the country, which is something I'll definitely write about soon.

When I first arrived, I thought my goal was to live life like a porteño and to make my time here feel like 'real life,' but from a different perspective. But I realize now that the best way to get to know a place, even when one has almost half a year there, is to take advantage of it in a way that locals typically don't. I've been doing this in small ways, like taking different walking routes, and in larger ways, like spending an afternoon exploring a neighborhood I don't know well. Through these efforts, I've actually observed a lot more about daily life and patterns here than I did before, sitting in my room doing homework. I will always be a foreigner here. That would be the case if I stayed here for ten years. But embracing my outsider perspective has been the best inroad into the city that I've found yet.

Las Madres, Part 2

Last Thursday was an important day at Las Madres' office, the two year anniversary of the disappearance of Jorge Julio Lopez. Lopez was disappeared during the military regime back in the seventies but survived. Two years ago, just before Lopez was scheduled to testify as a key witness against an important military leader, he disappeared again. Argentina, for all its problems, is a relatively stable democracy now, so the fact that this happened only two years ago, under the same leadership, is really scary. It also highlights the relevance of Las Madres' refrain: "Nunca Más" (Never Again). Las Madres' main activities today involve memory and searching for the truth about what happened in the past. But this event shows how easy it would be to slip back into the situation of thirty years ago.

Incidentally, this possibility has been raised in political conversations at my house several times lately. Both Elvira and her daughter Kata worry that the looming financial crash - which, they believe, would hit Argentina and the rest of South America harder than the United States - will swing the currently left leaning continent back over to the right, as has happened in the past. The Economist also made a similar prediction, although they were far less gloomy about it, staunch capitalists that they are.

Getting back to Thursday, Carmen told us to leave the office for awhile to go watch the march, which would be in honor of Lopez that day and would accompany other special activities at la Plaza de Mayo. The dynamic of the march was really interesting. First of all, on first sight, it looked like nothing more than a tourist attraction, as there were probably more representatives of the latter group than the former. The madres marched slowly to allow all the tourists to kneel in front of them and get good pictures (I did this too, so I can't criticize). I think if I hadn't gotten to know the madres before coming, I would have considered the whole event a sad spectacle. But now that I've gotten to know the organization better, I see that this is a great situation for them. Now that they are getting older, they want to spread their message to as many people as possible. Although these marches spread only a shallow awareness to those who don't already know Las Madres' story, they're still a great way to keep their image alive and spread it to whatever countries these people came from. And for every crowd of people who snap a few pictures and leave, there has to be someone who looks them up, tells a friend about the experience, etc. Thursday was an especially great day for people to come watch, because the Lopez story (as far as I know) didn't make international news. But the madres all marched carrying signs with Lopez' picture on them that read "Aparición con vida, ya!" (Appearance with life, now! It makes more sense in Spanish). At the end of their march, one of them read something describing what had happened to Lopez and what Las Madres and other human rights groups are currently demanding.

The other interesting part of the march was the presence of the other line, Asociación Madres de Plaza de Mayo. I don't understand the original reasons for the division, but now the other line represents a much more radical wing of Las Madres. Given how warm and welcoming Las Madres have been to me, I was surprised to see such open hostility between the two groups. But then again, it shouldn't be too shocking that people with the gumption to fight a murderous dictatorship get angry and show it. Both branches of Las Madres marched in the same circle around the plaza, but in obviously distinct groups. While Línea Fundadora held up the Lopez signs, the other branch marched in support of Evo Morales and workers rights, carrying rainbow flags that symbolize indigenous people and other flags with pictures of Morales' face. While the madres from Línea Fundadora were still marching, the other group stopped to read from their own literature, chanting so loudly they drowned out Línea Fundadora's chants. They also left them with little space in which to march, forcing them to walk in a single file line for part of the time. When Línea Fundadora stopped to do their own reading and chanting, the other group was already done, but otherwise the same thing would have likely happened.

After watching the march, we went back to the office, where another group of American students from a different exchange program was visiting, and we watched Las Madres' presentation with them. Because a whole group of madres spoke, I got to hear different perspectives and stories from Carmen's for the first time, all of which were very interesting. The most upsetting part was the story of two different madres, both of whose kids were disappeared as punishment for their involvement in Catholic charity groups that gave food and medical care to children in the poorest parts of Argentina. While working on a different project today, I learned of a 6-month-old girl who was disappeared along with her mother. I also read about an entire family that was disappeared, all of whom, including the 8 and 10-year-old kids, listed as "subversive persons" in police files. It's stories like this that make me see the complete insanity of this regime (and the many others like it that have existed and continue to exist). It ostensibly carried out these acts to fight communism, which has never even been popular in Argentina, but stories like this invalidate any attempts at justification or even reasoning.

I haven't come to any conclusions yet, but working with las madres, as well as being in Argentina in general, has made me reconsider a lot of beliefs I previously held without thinking much about them (exactly the point of studying abroad, I guess). Specifically, I've been thinking a lot about what role governments should play in the world, what role they have historically played and about historical memory. Nothing concrete yet, but I'm sure I'll have thoughts to report in the weeks and months to come.

Politics and the Media

The biggest news here this past week has been the ejection of the American ambassadors from Bolivia and Venezuela, as well as the situation in Bolivia generally. In contrast, the New York Times (the only American media I get here regularly) dedicated little attention to the issue. On the one hand, the financial news in America is big and important, so I can understand decisions to displace other items for it. At the same time, the American media's coverage makes it really easy to miss some very important things that are happening down here. In large part, this rises from a simple lack of interest in a part of the world that still does not seriously threaten American interests. I also think it's difficult for the American media to make sense of these events in a way that doesn't completely clash with our self-image of America as defender or at leas supporter of democracy. The historical memory and cultural context through which South Americans view this event is completely different from the American perspective.

First, a bit of context: The current unrest in Bolivia centers around Moraeles' efforts to nationalize its natural gas industry. Most of the gas is in the richer, whiter, eastern part of the country, while the mostly indigenous west remains poor. This week, groups from these eastern provinces began to rebel violently against Morales' efforts. Morales accused America of supporting these groups and ejected the American ambassador.

It's easy to write off such accusations as crazy and to dismiss the ejection as a populist and largely symbolic move. But in South America, most adults have lived through at least one violent, repressive military dictatorship aided by America. My host mom, one of these people, considers it obvious that America is aiding the rebel groups in Bolivia, just as they've always aided the rich, white conservatives. Like several current South American leaders, Morales comes from a poor background and promotes leftist views. Despite the fact that most Bolivians are of indigenous descent, he is the first indigenous president of Bolivia. Many people I've talked to view the current political situation as an example of South America finally standing up to the meddling United States and to the oligarchy that invites these foreign powers. I should emphasize that I've been exposed to a very leftist current of Argentinian society, attending UBA and living with a liberal family. At the same time, support for Morales goes beyond merely leftist groups. Immediately after Morales ejected the US ambassador, the leaders of every major South American country met to declare their support for Morales. I think that decision is telling. Almost all of these governments at least lean to the left, but I think their support for Morales shows to a wider, very popular trend of rejection of American intrusion.

In my opinion, the relative dearth of New York Times coverage partially results from the clash between the South American conception of the situation and the North American one. To them, it is obvious, important, and unforgiveable that we supported their dictators. In America, that history rarely discussed. And if we ignore that context - the history of European and American interference in South American affairs with the help of the domestic ruling classes - it is difficult to understand the significance of everything that has followed.

Las Madres

This Thursday, I had my first day working for Las Madres. We spent the first hour and a half beginning our semester long project of summarizing declassified police files on note cards. Most of the madres are computer illiterate, so this will allow them to search through the police files quickly without having to use the internet filing system. It´s surprisingly difficult, because I actually have to synthesize rather than just comprehend Spanish. I find it really interesting to see exactly how the police were tracking Las Madres, and what they found important. At the same time, it´s definitely not the focus of our time there.

We spent the rest of our four hours listening to Carmen (our boss) telling her story. To summarize, the police kidnapped Carmen, along with her nephew, her daughter, and her daughter´s boyfriend, when they were eating dinner at Carmen´s apartment one night. Carmen spent three days in a basement somewhere outside Buenos Aires, enduring police violence, water and food deprivation, and the sight of her screaming, crying daughter after she had been tortured. After this time, the police released Carmen and her nephew, but they never saw her daughter or her daughter´s boyfriend again. This beginning part of the story was difficult just to hear, but Carmen told it matter-of-factly, like someone who had done so many times before.

She went on to discuss her subsequent search for her daughter, through which she discovered Las Madres, then an informal network meeting secretely in a church. As she explained their continued defiance of the military leaders, even after the founding members of the group were themselves disappeared, she concluded, ¨in the beginning, they called us the crazies of the Plaza de Mayo. And we were crazy. We didn´t know what we were doing. We were so stricken with grief that we didn´t understand we were confronting a dictatorshp. We just wanted our kids back.¨ Las Madres, according to her, started to get international attention when journalists in Buenos Aires for the soccer world cup began to film their march. The government tried to remove them, but Las Madres just kept marching. From here, they began travelling throughout the world (and continuing their activities in Argentina), helping to secure the international isolation and eventual downfall of the military regime.

As a side note, this is obviously a very personal story, and I might normally be hesitant to post this on a public blog. However, Carment emphasized repeatedly the importance of remembering, talking about, and passing on her experiences. In fact, it´s the main reason they have this internship program at all. Over the course of the semester, we´ll conduct recorded interviews with Carmen and two other mothers, and also do a presentation for all of FLACSO about Carmen and Las Madres.

As I listened to her story, two realizations struck me. First of all, these terrible things - things that Americans typically only read about in newspapers - happen to real people. I´ve only spent two days with her, but Carmen might be the most amazing person I´ve ever met. Her husband died young, so when her daughter disappeared, she was left completely alone. By her own account, Las Madres gave her a reason to keep living, and it is clear that the women involved, in addition to being badass dictatorship topplers, also provide a support network for one another. Despite all she´s been through, Carmen is a sociable, sarcastic, and downright cheerful person. She told us a great story about being strip searched in a New York airport because she has a metal leg and couldn´t communicate that in English, and then joked with us about meeting Argentinian boys and drinking beer on the job.

Second, it´s incredible how much damage governments have done to people. I think in America it´s easy to become apathetic, because the government, relatively speaking, doesn´t affect our daily lives much. But that´s only because we´re lucky enough to have a government that, despite its many problems, is stable, democratic and thus unable to get away with organized, systematic violence against large swaths of its population.

I can´t believe I have this much to say after having only spent one week at Las Madres. Expect more as I get to know the people and their stories more fully.

La Toma

I went to UBA for my history class on Wednesday, to find a "toma," i.e. a taking of the school. Students had locked one of the two entrances and had moved all of the desks into the hallway,. At the open entrance, they had barricaded the entrance to the main hallway and stairs, and were standing on tables passing out literature and explaining the situation. I found a very friendly boy in a hammer and sickle t-shirt, and he explained the situation to me. Apparently, there had been an assembly of social sciences students the night before, and they had voted, with heavy encouragement from the professors who attended, to take the school. Although they're super into protesting here, a "toma" (I think) is a bit more serious. The last time they did it, in 2006, was in protest to the appointment of Atilio Alterini, a figure in the military dictatorship, to the position of Rector.

A group of students and a professor announced that they were on their way to the student march, so I decided to tag along. As I said, Argentinians like they're marches, so I've encountered quite a few since arriving. However, this was definitely the biggest one I've seen, and also the one with the most energy. It seemed like everyone marching was either carrying a sign, shouting into a megaphone, beating a drum, or leading the group in a protest chant. I'm terrible at estimating crowd sizes, but, for reference, I'm pretty sure we took up at least a city block. There were lots of social sciences student groups there, as well as student representatives of political parties, and supporting student groups from other facultades like engineering and architecture. We marched to the ministry of education building, where I met a very nice group of communications majors who answered my many questions, told me their opinions, and invited me to get a beer with them afterwards (we have plans to meet up again soon, which is really exciting for me).

As far as I can tell, two events precipitated this strike, in addition to the generally bad conditions at UBA. First of all, a ceiling beam fell on a student in one of the social sciences buildings last week. Also, the government announced that it will pay back its debt to the Paris Club that it repudiated in 2001, despite the fact that it hasn't increased UBA's budget since the 2001 financial crash and ensuing inflation (I'm still a bit hazy on the facts, so if someone, for some reason, knows I'm wrong, please tell me). If you're interested:, here's a better explanation of the debt repayment than I can give: http://www.cnn.com/2008/WORLD/americas/09/02/argentina.debt.ap/index.html.

The main student complaints are as follows: the lack of gas and water in the buildings, the lack of evacuation plans, the lack of salaries for professors, the insufficient number of classes, and the division of La Facultad de Ciencias Sociales among three buildings, which makes organizing more difficult. I can't quite figure out the relationship between UBA and the government. Obviously, its the main source of their money. Despite this reliance, students, professors and alumni all have some say over the allocation of this money and over other important decisions, which I find really interesting. One of my history professor's main complaints is that only full-time professors get to vote, leaving virtually all the staff disenfranchised.

I'm very curious about the inner-workings of UBA, and I still have a lot to learn. But attending the march was a great start, as well as a fun evening.