Change of address and then some

Happy holidays, everyone.

As some of you know, I am back in South America, this time in Patagonia accompanied by my fearless traveling cat, Peanut, who wanted to come see for herself what Latin America was all about. We arrived just over a month ago and until at least March 2004 will be in southern Chile, where I am coordinating a project organized by Rainforest Action Network to provide training in fundraising and organizational development to small environmental and indigenous groups working to protect the native forests of southern Chile and Argentina.

Peanut and I arrived in Buenos Aires (Argentina) in early November. In the three months since I had left the city on my way home to the U.S. the last time, the city had been transformed by the arrival of spring. The trees covered with bright green leaves and lavender blossoms, and the air filled with the scent of blooming jasmine and the sound of chirping birds conveyed a sense of life and hope that had been missing when I visited in the winter. The signs of rebirth made everything feel less stark and bleak and provided a reminder that even in the face of ongoing economic woes, nature marches on.

While the posh London department store Harrod’s has reopened its Buenos Aires branch and the finance world is forecasting a turn for the better in the Argentine economic tide, the scene on the streets indicates that economic recovery is still far off for the average Argentine. It’s true that the financial district appears a little less besieged – the banks have finally managed to sandblast away the layers of graffiti that adorned their walls, and I saw no sign of the lunchtime crowds that used to demonstrate daily outside of the banks – but there is a noticeable increase in security throughout the city. Bulletproof-vested police vigilantly patrol the streets, in some neighborhoods appearing on practically every street corner, part of the gover nment’s effort to stem the rising tide of secuestros express, or so-called ‘express kidnappings’. Generally nonviolent and motivated by poverty rather than politics, these entail picking up people in wealthy neighborhoods and releasing them after escorting them to ATMs to lighten their financial load. In October, the governor stationed an additional 3,300 police on the streets to guard against this as well as other trends such as the hijacking of upscale restaurants, another in-and-out operation where the hijackers take over the premises, clean out people’s wallets, and promptly depart. Many restaurants and almost all places of business have markedly increased security, installing metal bars on windows and permanently locking their doors, opening them only to let customers in and out. There has been a noticeable increase in people begging at outdoor cafes too, but whereas earlier they had requested money, they now come in search of food. Armed with Tupperware, they display an ability to deftly clean off diners’ plates as well as the table’s bread basket and condiments (right down to the mustard packets) before the waiters even notice.

Peanut and I spent ten days in Buenos Aires, much of it inside due to torrential rains and the need to study for the GRE, which I was able to take at the Buenos Aires computer test center. We then jumped on a bus to begin our transcontinental journey (Buenos Aires is on the Atlantic coast, and Chile on the Pacific), stopping first in Córdoba, the geographical center of the country, to visit friends, finish up grad school applications (journalism school) and beat the heat by consuming mate­-infused iced lemonade. The region was in the midst of a drought so severe that the town’s lake had completely dried out, conditions that hadn’t been seen in almost twenty years, when a similar drought had uncovered bodies dumped in the lake by the military dictatorship of 1976-1983. While Peanut adapted quite readily to the siesta, it took me a while to adjust to the late social hours, where dinner begins at 11:30pm and bedtime is rarely before 2am. The one night that I went to bed at the embarrassingly early hour of 12:30, my friend’s three-year old daughter was still up.

After spending Thanksgiving here – where I made a sweet potato dish to lend a hint of autumn to the high 90’s weather – we continued our journey south. As we made our way across the pampas, the central mountains gave way to vast stretches of dusty plains covered with hardy brush and the occasional sheep. Twenty-six hours later, we emerged in the so-called Switzerland of Argentina, a region of forested and snow-capped Andean peaks, turquoise lakes, and a vivid display of spring flowers – bright, bright yellow Scotch Bonnet along with lavender and pink lupine. The geography isn’t the region’s only Alpine feature. Lutheran churches, Germanic architect ure, and a spate of chocolate and crafts shops reflect the German and Swiss heritage of the area’s inhabitants who, enticed by the Argentine government’s land grant program, immigrated to the region in the mid-1800’s. This history is also reflected in many of the people, whose piercing blue eyes and outwardly reserved nature—quite different from the boisterous and gregarious Argentine personality that I had become accustomed to—suggest an ancestry different from the Italian and Spanish predominant in other parts of the country. Food such as fondue, apple streudel, and torta selva negra (Black Forest cake) prevail on restaurant menus, and street names such as Otto Goedecke, Elflein, and Beschtedt are more common than the Galtieri, Scalabrini, and Carranza streets common in other cities.

There’s another notable demographic in the region – Argentina’s indigenous people. In the mid-1800’s, advances in technology prompted the government to develop an agricultural economy based on the exportation of meat (made possible by the introduction of refrigeration) and raw materials such as wool to fuel Britain’s growing textile industry. Both of these industries necessitated land for livestock grazing and spawned a drive to expand governmental control ever southward into land inhabited by the indigenous Mapuche people. Government efforts to assert control over the region included railroad construction, the installation of a telegraph system, and the passage of a land grant law to encourage colo nization by European immigrants. These initiatives were complemented by the 1878-1882 Desert Campaign, whose express purpose was to secure control of indigenous land. Led by General Roca, the campaign ultimately gained over 15,000 tracts of land and drastically reduced the region’s indigenous population. Current government figures estimate that there are 70,000 Mapuche remaining in Argentina, and graffiti in the area’s towns testifies to a continued indigenous presence. The statue of General Roca in the main center of the town of Bariloche has been defaced with graffiti proclaiming “Todavía estamos” (“We’re still here”) as well as “Marichi weu”, the Mapuche resistance slogan meaning “we will win ten times”.

While many Mapuche today live in urban centers, there are numerous communities still living in relative isolation. As Peanut and I wound our way over dusty Patagonian backroads to Chile, signs in Spanish and Mapundungun (the Mapuche language) welcomed us to Mapuche communities, although they were nowhere in sight. In a tiny rental car hardly equipped for off-roading, we bumped over terrain whose rough gravel and pockmarked roads (closed most of the year for good reason), ensured a relatively solitary journey, and we shared the road only with cows, sheep, horses, goats and the occasional man on horseback. The dry, desolate, and at times lunar, landscape reminded me of parts of the U.S. Southwes t, in particular Nevada.

We crossed into Chile somewhere deep in the Andes, conducting border formalities in the shadow of one of the region’s snow-covered volcanoes. It felt decadent to hit paved road again, and since Chile is no more than 150 miles at its widest point, we blasted across the country and arrived on the Pacific Coast in less than two hours. As we headed south, the landscape became an increasingly lush and verdant temperate rainforest, whose beauty was interrupted by incursions of fresh clearcuts and pine and eucalyptus plantations.

After spending three months of this year in Argentina, it’s become a second home to me, and crossing into Chile was the first time I felt like I had finally left home. In addition to obvious differences in currency and language (Chileans speak a much more standard form of Spanish than Argentines), there are subtle cultural differences that both Chileans and Argentines alike attribute to the countries’ different immigration histories. Chile’s immigration was more exclusively northern European and did not include the massive Italian and Spanish immigration that Argentina’s did, which—I am told –is the reason for Chile’s more formal and law-abiding culture. After a month in lawless Argentina, I was sho cked to see people in Chile faithfully using their directional signals (even on one-way streets!) and to discover that I was back in a land where pedestrians actually have rights. There is a much more visible police force here too, and things are noticeably more officious. Exchanges in stores and restaurants seem more formal, and people address me with the formal Usted instead of the informal tú (or vos) as in Argentina.

Despite the sometimes-awkward cultural adjustments upon arrival in a foreign country, after six weeks on the road it is a relief to have a place to call home. Peanut and I have settled in Puerto Montt, a port city of 125,000 at the end of the Pan American highway (the route that begins in Alaska and winds its way down the west coast of North, Central, and South America) and the virtual end of continental Chile. Beyond this point, the terrain breaks up into a fragmented series of islands and archipelagos. We’re at latitude 42, far enough south that the sun sets at around 10pm only to rise again a mere eight hours later. Although the summer solstice is almo st upon us, the weather still gets cold, alternating between periods of intense rain and delightfully sunny and clear days with spectacular views of the surrounding fjords, volcanoes, and snowcapped mountains. Our A-frame cabin has a gorgeous view of Osorno volcano and plenty of room for visitors…

Traveling with a cat presents its own unique challenges and delights and has revealed a maternal side I didn’t know I had. While there have been a few misadventures (including the time Peanut escaped from her carrier to conduct one of her famed “hall monitor” runs during the flight to Buenos Aires), on the whole things have gone quite smoothly. Peanut has displayed incredible patience and endurance on some less-than-accommodating voyages by bus, car, and plane, and knows when to stay silent to escape detection by unsuspecting bus conductors and hotel clerks. She’s demonstrated impressive bladder control as well as an ability to use her litterpan in some space-challenged places such as airplane bathrooms. She has charmed her way across the continent with her green eyes (quite unusual in this part of the world, we’re learning) and ample belly (also unusual in this land of scrawny cats). Her mellow nature has earned her the nickname of La Gata Zen (the Zen kitty), and she has also exhibited a psychic ability to predict when we are within minutes of our final destination. For those who simply must know more about the intricacies of journeying across South America with a cat, I will be compiling some sort of logistical guide, so send on any questions or queries so I can incorporate them.

For the holidays, I’ll be heading east to a mountain wilderness along the Argentine-Chilean border to go hiking in native rainforest and swimming in pristine lakes. Peanut will be staying at the ranch of a friend of a friend, accompanied by thirty horses, nine pudú deer (native to Patagonia, and only 34 inches tall), fifteen parrots, and a bunch of other animals. We’ll be sure to update you on our adventures and in the meantime send our best for a peaceful holiday and new year—

Much love,
Hannah

Puerto Montt, CHILE
December 19, 2003