Now that I have had some time to reflect on my experience of six days in Cumbres Calchaquíes, I want to share ten of the lessons I learned from the people in these mountain communities. But first, I think it would be helpful to orient you, reader, to the location of these mountains! I didn’t even know where I was going when we began our early morning excursion, but a quick Google Maps search has solved that problem for me. I am living in San Miguel de Tucuman and our trip took me to the mountains labeled on this map as “Cumbres Calchaquíes.” The red tag on the map marks Chasquivil, the town where we stayed.

Now that it’s clear where I went, I will share some of the things I learned and observed.

#1.) Horses are superhero animals

Because los Cumbres Calchaquíes are so high above sea level and so rocky, the only way to reach the more elevated towns nestled in the valleys is on horseback. Before this excursion I had never ridden a horse before, simply because my life in suburban Massachusetts had never necessitated travel on horseback nor presented the opportunity to try it. Additionally, I had never climbed a mountain. The realization that I would not only have to ride a horse, but also trust it to carry me nearly 2,500 meters (about 8,000 feet) above sea level was a bit jarring for me, to say the least. Nevertheless, I mounted a horse named Moro, put my feet in the stirrups, and grabbed the reins as we began our climb up to Chasquivil.*

*Note: our trip began with a ride in a truck, which could not take us any further because of the slippery conditions. In order to get from the place where the truck left us to where the horses were located, each member of our party had to ride on the back of a motorcycle through the jungle for about 20 minutes. (Sorry, mom and Gram). This was my first – and hopefully last – time on a motorcycle. I preferred the horse.

In order to get the horse to move, I was told by Margarita, our guide and the owner of the horses, that I would have to kick the horse in the ribs. This is the universal horse signal that means “move,” but I physically could not get myself to kick the horse. I already felt so bad for sitting on his back – I didn’t want to also kick the poor thing! I tried asking Moro nicely, in both English and Spanish, to please start walking, but he must speak French or some other language because he did not move at all. Finally, Margarita gave Moro a slap with a branch and he started to walk. I was surprised at how much I moved back and forth as the horse walked along, but I very soon got the hang of it and felt fairly comfortable in the saddle. Moro took me up to Anca Juli, the village where Margarita lives, and then I switched to a larger brown horse with no name (I just referred to him as “Friend”). Friend was a bit faster and more receptive to commands than Moro, so I was happy to have him as my ride for the more arduous sections of the journey.

I learned that horses can swim AND can see in the dark! We had to cross many shallow rivers and streams, but I learned from the sisters that in the rainy season the horses sometimes must swim to get across the water. Horses can also apparently see perfectly fine in the dark, a trait that horses and I surely do not share. Because of the rainy weather and mud, our arrival in Chasquivil did not happen until after the sun had set. I worried about how we would get to the school where we were staying, seeing as we only had a few small flashlights and had a large valley to cross. I was informed, though, that horses basically have night-vision and would have no problem navigating the rocky crags and flowing streams that stood between us and a warm bed. Although I was a bit skeptical, Friend proved to be an excellent night guide. He never tripped or strayed off course, even in the pitch black.

My horse on the way down the mountain, El Oscuro, was equally adept at navigating the path, although he had the good fortune of traveling with my in the broad daylight. I was amazed at how great the horses’ footing was: they step so carefully on the flattest parts of rocky slopes and expertly avoid muddy patches or other unstable areas. I suppose I could go on forever about how pleased I was with the experience on horseback! Here are some photos of my new horse friends.

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#2.) Marian devotion is very strong in Chasquivil and the surrounding communities

One of the main reasons for our visit, aside from volunteering in the school, was to dedicate the chapel at Chasquivil and restore patroness of the town, Nuestra Señora del Carmen, to its rightful place. Sister Valeria worked for an entire year to painstakingly restore all of the details on this Marian image, including the tiniest details of the face, hands and feet. Here’s how it turned out:

Even though the weather was definitely less than optimal on Saturday and Sunday, people from a variety of mountain communities participated in the procession that led from Anca Juli to Chasquivil. The purpose of the procession is to carry the image of the virgin to its new home in the chapel. The parade up the mountain (on both horseback and on foot) included drums, accordion and violin, as well as prayer, singing and even fireworks.

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The dedication that the residents of these communities have to the Virgin was very eye-opening to me. In the U.S., I have never seen an image of the Virgin like I have seen here in Argentina, and I was not familiar with this type of devotional imagery. The parishioners, including children, reach up to touch the image and then make the sign of the Cross. If there are three images in the room, as there were on Sunday in Chasquivil, the people will touch each one, following each touch with the sign of the Cross. I learned from observing this practice and listening to Fr. Daniel’s homily that the images are a palpable reminder of God’s love and the protection that Mary offers to us. Not only are the images beautiful to look at, but they also bestow an important message: the love and protection offered to us by the Holy Family is palpable and ever-present on earth.

#3.) The children of Chasquivil are absolute bad a**es.

Pardon my French, but that’s the only term I can think of that adequately describes how determined, strong, sturdy, self-sacrificing, and awesome the kids in Chasquivil are. Volunteering at the public school in Chasquivil provided me a glimpse into what life is like for children living in these rural communities. The school where we worked and lived accommodates students from pre-K to age 17, providing not only an education, but also some meals and even beds for students who live especially far.

Attendance at the school is very unpredictable because many of the students struggle to make the often arduous journey from their homes to the valley where the school is located. Some students travel between one and two hours on foot to get to school, and then make the same journey back home at the end of the day. It is important to note that this trek to school is not a flat, paved road with signs pointing you in the right direction: it is hilly wilderness. La senda, or the worn path that one can follow to get from house to house in Chasquivil, is the only guide that provides a direction for which way to go. The path winds over big hills, rocky patches, and through flowing streams. Although the scenery is beautiful, the walk is not peaceful. Travelers must be wary of loose stones, patches of mud, and crooked tree roots that may cause a dangerous fall.

The children who attend the school at Chasquivil make this journey every weekday morning and afternoon so that they have the opportunity for an education. The students who live “close by” walk around 30 minutes to school as well; nobody has an easy commute! I was so impressed on Monday morning, a very cold, damp and dreary day, when students began showing up at the door. As they leaned in to give me a customary kiss on the cheek, I felt how absolutely freezing their poor little faces were! I wanted to bundle them up and sit them in front of the fire, but not a single one of them complained about the temperature, their wet boots, or their long walk. In fact, during the entire three days that I spent with the students, I cannot remember hearing even one complaint about their lifestyle. When discussing the long walks to and from school, the students always told me about their lives in a very matter-of-fact way, not in a way that I perceived as being a complaint or lamentation. I am so impressed by their dedication and strength, as well as that of their parents. Although I did not hear any grievances, I am sure that the parents of these students are well-versed in the art of persuasion, at least for getting the teen-aged students off to school!

Yet, despite all of these challenges, the students and teachers at Chasquivil were some of the most positive people I have ever met. The teachers who were there – Susana, Cecilia, Manuel, Ceci, Tatiana, and Juan – were the epitome of givers. They give their time, energy, love, and wisdom to their students while leaving behind their own families for three weeks at a time each month. Although the parents, teachers, and students bear the self-sacrificial nature of this school system with strength, I pray that something changes for this community so that getting an education does not have to be a burden.

#5.) God is quite the artist…

I have been fortunate enough to grow up right near the mighty Atlantic Ocean and not too far from the snowy mountain ranges of northern New England. Even though I love these beautiful sights from home, they are nothing compared to the beauty that is Cumbres Calchaquíes. On our way up the mountain on horseback the foggy weather barred us from seeing the landscape. It was impossible to see even 50 meters ahead, never mind the far-away mountain peaks. In hindsight, I think it was for the best that I was not able to see how high up our destination was. I might have lost my nerve a bit if I had known exactly how far we would have to travel to get to Chasquivil and how far Chasquivil would be from the rest of civilization. I suppose sometimes ignorance is bliss!

Upon beginning our descent from Chasquivil, though, there was barely a cloud in the sky. We were so fortunate to travel on a day with such bright sun and a clear horizon because it permitted us to see God’s wonderful handiwork! The pictures fail to capture how truly unbelievable the views were.

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#6.) …and zookeeper!

Something that I loved witnessing in the mountains was the way that the people both live alongside and live from their animals. Every home has animals that provide the family many of the things that they need to survive. Horses are basically a requirement for living in this environment because of their utility in transport. Some families raise sheep or goats, obtaining milk, meat and wool from their flocks. Others raise chickens, pigs, ducks and cattle, while pretty much everyone has a couple of dogs and cats, if not more.

During my last day of teaching primary school in Chasquivil I worked on the names of animals in English with the students. We went though a list of nine animals – cow, horse, chicken, duck, cat, dog, sheep, goat, pig – and discussed what noises the animals make and if any of the students had these animals at home. I was amazed that many of the students had all nine animals at home! If I had been teaching this same lesson in the city (or in most places in the US, for that matter), I am sure the students would have had much less contact with these types of animals. The previous knowledge and interest that the students had about these animals made the lesson more engaging and useful for them. I loved listening to them pronounce “sheep” with a little bit of an accent!

I also noticed in the mountains that the animals were very well cared-for. I didn’t notice as many painfully skinny dogs as there were in places like Benjamin Paz, La Soledad or in the streets of San Miguel. The horses were all robust and strong looking, and there were many protective fence and well-trained dogs to keep the flocks of sheep, cattle, and goats safe from predators (like the puma, which does indeed live in these mountains!). I mentioned to Sister Eugenia that I noticed a difference in the relationship between humans and animals in the mountains as compared to in other locations, and that the animals in Chasquivil and Anca Juli seemed, in general, healthier and more comfortable around humans. Eugenia informed me that the people not only care for their animals so much because they often depend on them for earning money or eating, but also because there is still a strong belief in Pachamama, who is kind of like Mother Nature, who, according to the indigenous traditions, would send bad luck or curses on the people who did not care for their animals. It was quite heart-warming to see so much love between humans and their pets and vice versa.

Here are just a few of the many photos I took of furry (and feathery) friends.

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#7.) Indigenous culture is still very much alive in Chasquivil

Some members of the communities in the mountains, including residents of Chasquivil, identify themselves with the indigenous communities who inhabited the area during the time of the Conquest. In fact, the name of the mountains, Cumbres Calchaquíes, refers to the general name for the different groups of indigenous people who inhabit/inhabited the area.

In the school, the students had a large display of information and artifacts from indigenous communities, which I found very informative about the way of life of the native peoples in the area. In a few of the houses that we visited the houses still had rocks that were used centuries ago for grinding corn. In one house, the family still uses this stone, which has a dip in the middle from years of grinding, to process their corn into meal. In la senda, Pancho also pointed out areas where the stones were arranged in circles. Without his pointing out these landmarks, I never would have noticed them. But, on further inspection, the large stones almost perfectly formed circles on the ground. Pancho explained that those stones were the foundation of indigenous houses from thousands of years ago, which were made of stones, sticks and clay. It was incredible to have the chance to walk among such tangible history!

Those who identify as members of the indigenous community have a council who get together to organize events and resolve conflicts. I had the pleasure of meeting el cacique, or leader of the group, who is a 40-year-old from Anca Juli. He was a great public speaker, and I could tell that his fellow residents placed a great deal of trust in his abilities as a leader.

During the flag ceremony that preceded the dedication of the chapel, the members of the communities raised the indigenous flag just below the Argentine flag, signifying the still-existing indigenous presence. It was a very cool way to see that the members of the community are able to identify themselves with both their cultural roots from long ago and the contemporary patriotism of their country.

#8.) Life in the mountains is about helping your neighbor

Although I learned that there are some conflicts among members of the communities in the mountains, I generally observed that the residents are willing to help each other out, even when a two-hour walk separates them from their “neighbor.” The best example of this that I saw was the preparations for dedicating the new chapel. People came from every mountain community to help with the decorations, prepare lunch, and fix the windows to keep the wind out of the church. Even though it was cold and rainy and there was lots of work to be done, people of all ages came to help out with the preparation of their new house of worship. A few young girls blew up hundreds of balloons while others swept the floor or hung up banners. I played the small role of preparing the music sheets for the mass and hanging up paper lanterns on the ceiling of the chapel. When all of the preparations were complete, I could see how proud all of the volunteers were of their own efforts and the efforts of their neighbors.

Another example of neighbors helping neighbors is the relationship between the teachers at the school, Cecilia and Susana, and other residents of Chasquivil. When Cynthia brought Trevor and me to visit an elderly woman in her home about 30 minutes from the school, Cecilia asked us to bring a dozen eggs to give to the family. The next day, unsolicited, the granddaughter of that elderly woman visited the school and brought a huge box of freshly backed roquetes, which are like giant donuts covered in a sweet merengue. She used part of the eggs that Cecilia had given her to give back to the school in the form of a delicious snack. I thought this exchange was a great example of how the residents of Chasquivil give and receive from one another.

Some of the parents of young children who attend school also take turns making the long walk to and from school with children from neighboring homes. Sharing this responsibility gives the parents more free time to take care of things at home instead of trekking to the school and back everyday and provides them peace of mind knowing their children have a chaperone.

One more example that I really liked: in the mornings at the school a man from the community (I can’t remember his name) would come over and start the fire in the kitchen fireplace and in one of the classrooms. In exchange, he would have a quick breakfast in the school, and then go on with the rest of the day. Thanks to him, there was always a strong fire going in the school, and thanks to the teachers at the school, he always had a good breakfast. It’s the little acts of caring and cooperating like this that made me fall in love with the people in the mountains.

#9.) Fire and mate make the world go ’round

During our six days in the mountains we spent hours and hours in front of small kitchen fireplaces, chatting and sipping mate with our new friends. The kitchen truly is the heart of these homes because it is usually the only place with warmth! Especially on such cold days like we experienced during our stay, everyone wants to be in the kitchen to enjoy el fueguito and warm up with a beverage calentito. My first experience in one of these kitchens was at the house of a woman named Isabel, who graciously accepted eight muddy travelers into her home when our trucks could travel any further through el barro during the ascent. The kitchen is usually a smaller separate structure from the other parts of the house, and most of the kitchens that I visited had floors made of dirt, walls of sticks and mud, and roofs of either tin sheets or bundled branches. Isabel’s humble kitchen was cozy and welcoming, and she greeted us, a group of strangers, as if we were long-lost friends of hers. We sat around as we waited to finalize the changes in our travel plans, enjoying the heat from the fire and the mate, talking about Isabel’s many animals, and admiring her intricate woolen mats that she weaves by hand for a living. Not only the humans in Isabel’s house congregated in the kitchen, though. Her cats and dogs, too, wanted to huddle up with us in the warmest area of the house, which I found to be adorable. Here are just SOME of Isabel’s cats (and one puppy) who made themselves comfortable in the kitchen.

I had the chance to experience many other kitchen fireplaces and shared mates during this trip as well, especially in the school kitchen. We relied on the fire to cook, to make warm drinks, to dry our shoes and hats, and to heat up water to bathe. This lifestyle brings everyone closer together because nobody wants to be in the cold, dark rooms of the house. Everyone can be found in the same place, enjoying the same snacks, which fosters relationships of sharing, caring, and definitely laughing together.

When the weather was nicer, we walked a little more than an hour to the house of Raquel and Amadeo, the parents of one of my students, Fabricio. The young couple are in the process of building their own house, so Sister Cynthia brought us along when she went to bless the new construction. Since it was finally a sunny day, we sat outside instead of in the kitchen, but we still enjoyed a mate together (which was particularly delicious). Here we are with Raquel and Amadeo.

A cool fact that I learned about the kitchens is that the people make really low chairs to sit in so that they can stay out of the thickest smoke, which rises to the roof. I loved sitting in those tiny little chairs! They were often lined with a bit of fleece for comfort, too.

Here we are accepting a mate from Teresa in her kitchen. You can see I was struggling a bit with the smoke, but I was very grateful for the chance to warm up.

#10.) Goats can hold a lot of water

I learned this lesson the hard way! On our way down the mountain to Anca Juli, Pancho asked us to stop at the house of his mother-in-law (Margarita’s mom), Daniela, to pick up a chivito, or baby goat, who needed a new home. The goat was an orphan and Pancho’s family offered to raise it, which was especially exciting for their youngest son, Sebastian, age eight. Someone needed to carry the poor little goat from Chasquivil down to Anca Juli, roughly a four-hour trek on horseback. Obviously, I offered to hold the goat while I rode my horse.

About ten minutes into our ride, my new little friend peed a full bladder alllllll over my body. Shirt, pants, legs – everywhere. I had a lot of layers on, so I was fine for the time being. After all, I love animals, especially goats, and I wasn’t going to let a little pee bother me in the slightest.

Everything was fine until my goat friend peed on me AGAIN, which made all of my clothes soaked down to my skin. Not a good feeling. I actually started getting cold because of how wet my clothes were! We had to stop for a moment while I took out a change of clothes from my saddle bag and changed into something dry. We still had two hours of riding to go and I didn’t have any more dry clothes in case the goat had yet another accident, so Pancho offered to carry him the rest of the way. I really wanted to keep holding my goat friend, but it was for the best that I stayed dry the rest of the way. Pancho, too, became victim of the goat’s hyperactive bladder: he got peed on twice as well!

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Those are just ten of the many things that I learned from this great experience! Sorry I am so behind on my posts – I have a lot to say! Next I will share an update about our trip with Sister Eugenia to Tafi del Valle and to the sugarcane factory in Monteros with Sister Carolina.

Hasta pronto!

Hello again! I finally have a moment to post an update about recent events.

Last Tuesday Trevor and I accompanied the sixth-year students from Colegio Santa Rosa on their service trip to La Soledad, which is an impoverished rural community about 90 minutes away from the city. Since the beginning of my trip, I had heard from so many other volunteers that visiting La Soledad is a beautiful experience, so I was eager to see for myself.

Based on what I had read in previous fellows’ blogs and the stories I had heard from volunteers here, I had some idea about what to expect upon reaching our destination that morning. Our previous trip had been cancelled because of heavy rains that had made the dirt roads that lead to the community virtually impassable. This description alone gave me a good idea of how isolated La Soledad would be. I can hardly imagine the rain stopping any passage to or from my town, preventing me from getting to school or going to the doctor if needed. It also seemed strange to me that a location just over an hour outside of the city would be so isolated. I was curious to see the roads we would take and the scenery we would pass on the bus ride to the location, so I spent the entire commute looking out the window and taking in the sites.

After leaving the outskirts of the city, the scenery immediately begins to take on a more rural appearance. There are more fields and small houses, and the side roads tend to be made of dirt instead of asphalt. As we continued toward La Soledad, the space between houses became greater, and I noticed fewer and fewer businesses lining the roads. On one particularly wooded stretch of road, I unfortunately saw many dead dogs who had been struck and killed by vehicles, likely at night when there is barely any light for drivers to see the animals in the street. My heart broke for all of those animals, likely strays, who met such unfortunate ends.

As we came nearer to our destination, the bus turned into what seemed to be a giant field with a narrow road carved down the middle. The road almost seemed like it was walled in by dirt because of how high the grass and earth were next to the bus. As the bus bumped along the dirt road, I began to get a bit antsy and wonder when we would finally reach the town. It wasn’t until two turns later, both down equally narrow, dusty roads, that we reached the chapel and mission in La Soledad.

After a quick breakfast and prayer with the sixth-year girls (all ages 16 and 17), we broke into groups to do service. Trevor and I could pick if we wanted to do home visits or help out in the school. We both thought that home visits might provide us with a more in-depth understanding of the residents’ lives, so we joined separate groups and began to walk to our assigned houses for visits.

I was assigned to houses in “Zone 1,” which is the section of town farthest away from the chapel. Although we had a long way to walk, the journey wasn’t so bad because it was sunny and not overly hot. The first house that I visited with my group was located at the entrance of the town, right in the middle of a huge field. The house was quite modest with a long driveway and many dogs roaming in the front yard. As we approached the house, we were greeted by a young woman holding a small child. The woman introduced herself as Frances and the child as Luz and invited us to have a seat to chat with her. She revealed that she was 20-years-old and that Luz was her two-year-old daughter. She lived in that house with her mother, father, and seven younger siblings. Her parents were in the city buying supplies and her younger siblings were all at school, so Frances was at home doing some chores and had a spare moment to chat with us. I couldn’t help but feel incredibly sad as I listened to Frances, not because she was telling us a sad story or complaining about her life, but because her situation seemed so stagnant and her opportunities so limited. She is younger than I am, already a single mother, entrusted partially with the upbringing of her seven siblings in a small, ramshackle house. Her financial prospects are limited, as are her opportunities for higher education. It seems so unfair that at almost the same age as Frances I have a comfortable home, access to a great education, and a whole world of opportunities ahead of me, while the story of her life seems to already be written for her, and for so many other women in her community. Although I feel sad when I look at Frances’ situation, that sadness should not be confused with pity. I do not pity Frances because I could tell how strong and determined she is. I could tell how much she cares for her daughter and the rest of her family based on the work that she was putting into her home. She didn’t speak as if she was looking for sympathy and didn’t complain about the path on which life had taken her. She only explained to us her situation with a smile, and repeatedly said “todo bien” – “all is good.” I was so inspired by Frances example of faith and strength. I hope that if I am ever faced with a situation even half as challenging as hers I will be able to approach it with her same degree of fortitude.

We visited three more houses on our walk back to the chapel, at each one greeted with the same welcoming spirit and friendly kiss on the cheek. At one home I met a young mother with four children, an eight-year-old, a six-year-old and twin three-year-olds. The twins were barefoot and very dirty and there was a litter of very skinny, sickly looking puppies in the yard. Visiting this home was a great exercise in understanding poverty for me. My first instinct was to be angry at the mother for letting her children walk around barefoot in an area with so much broken glass and sharp rocks and for allowing the puppies to be so malnourished. Yet, when I step back and look at the big picture, I don’t see a mother neglecting her children or ignoring the needs of her animals. I see a woman doing her best with what life has handed her. I see her prioritizing putting a meal on the table over buying new sandals for her rapidly growing toddlers. I see her giving whatever leftover scraps of food she has left from her family dinner to the unanticipated litter of puppies in her front yard. I see a person doing what she can to provide for her family, even if all that she can provide is not much. As an American, I know that I come from a place of great privilege with very high standards of living. The opportunities I have been afforded – education, a stable home, healthcare, etc. – have allowed me to set my own standards for the life I want to live. In contrast, poverty sets the standards for the residents of La Soledad and of other similar communities. Poverty and the systems that perpetuate it determine standard of living for that young mother and her children. She does not get to decide if shoes are a necessity of life for her twins. Poverty tells her that shoes are a luxury, that a piece of bread is a meal, and that struggling is a way of life. This is not to say that I believe that those who live in poverty lack freedom of choice, but rather that the opportunities provided for them are often so narrow that any and all choices offered to them are less than optimal. To me, this feeling of limitation, of being unable to choose one’s own path and priorities, is the greatest injustice of poverty. I pray that something changes for these residents to bring them new, exciting, promising opportunities, and that through it all, they keep the faith that is so visible in their smiles and their tenacity.

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During the hours that I am not doing service or giving classes in the schools, I have been working on my history thesis. Thanks to Sister Cynthia, I had the chance to meet with a local historian named Lucia who specializes in 20th century Argentine nationalism. Lucia read over my abstract, made some adjustments to my translation, and provided me with a list of additional sources that might be useful for my ongoing research. She also directed me to the archives at UNSTA, the university just down the street from the school where I volunteer, because this particular library holds the entire collection of a magazine I have been desperately trying to find. This magazine, called Criterio, was run by a radical nationalist priest named Gustavo Franceschi in the 1930s (the time period that I am studying). This publication is an essential primary source for my research, so I was so happy to hear that I would be able to access it.

Sister Cynthia contacted one of the librarians at UNSTA, who then invited me to stop by during my break from school. He pointed me to three shelves full of ALL the editions of Criterio, starting with 1928. I only had an hour to look over the magazines, but I started taking scans of important pages on my phone to look at later. I also took some photos of interesting pages:

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I ended up going back to the archives that same day after I finished giving evening classes at Santa Rosa. I stayed until the library closed at 9 and managed to take scans of relevant articles from about two and a half years worth of magazines. Now I just have 11 more years to go! I am hoping to make it back to the archives again before I have to head back to the States – I can’t find Criterio back home, so I need to take advantage of my spare time here to advance my understanding of my research topic.

Last Friday was my last day in my fourth and first grade classes at Santa Rosa. I taught in those classes with Lola, one of the English teachers, for two weeks. I took some photos of the kids on our last day together. Fourth grade was learning about modes of transportation and first grade was working on cards for Dia del Padre.

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I also received this lovely decorated leaf as a parting gift from one of the first graders.

My next post will be about our trip to Alta Montaña, which was Saturday, June 15 to Thursday, June 20. I have a lot to say about that trip (and a lot of pictures to share), so please excuse the delay. More soon!

Hola queridos! We have arrived at the beginning of week 4 of this trip – more than halfway through our stay! Here are a few updates:

I have really been enjoying the English classes at Santa Rosa sede central over the past week. The English teachers that I have been assigned to work with – Mariela, Lorena, Dolores and Elena – are organized, caring, patient and hilarious. In the mornings I visit all-girls classes of secondary students, with two classes of 13/14-year-olds and one class of 17-year-olds. Although some of the girls are not particularly enthusiastic about English class, they are always respectful and welcoming toward me. One class of 13-year-olds was fascinated by the concept of prom, which they learned about from watching American films. They wanted to know if prom is actually like what they see in the movies, so I showed them some photos from my junior and senior prom. They were SO excited to hear about the experience and see the dresses that my friends and I wore. The girls also informed me that although their schools do not have prom, they do have a dinner ceremony called cena (dinner) during which the sixth-year girls wear long white dresses and enjoy a meal and dancing. It seems that prom and cena are truly not so different! This small exchange of cultural experiences was a good reminder for me and the girls in the class that life as a high school student is really not so different between our two cultures. It was also a good moment to remind the girls that American movies are just dramatized depictions of real life. We Americans – at least in my experiences – are not as extravagant or dramatic as we seem on the big screen!

Another cultural questions that fascinates many of the students I have encountered is the idea of college fraternities. Nearly every day a student asks me, “Are fraternities really like the ones we see in the movies?” This question is both funny and thought-provoking for me. I don’t really know what fraternities are like because they don’t exist at PC, so I suppose that my conception of what “frats” are like is based on TV and film too. It is also intriguing to me that one of the most pressing questions that young Argentines have about life in the United States has to do with crazy frat parties! I have found through conversing with secondary school students that nightclubs or boliches are a huge part of the youth culture here, so I suppose it makes sense that the teenagers would want to hear about the American “night life” in comparison to their own parties. Young people here don’t even leave their houses to go to a boliche until 1 a.m., and often do not return home until 6 or 7 the next morning after having breakfast with friends! I am amazed at their energy, considering I am in bed no later than 12:30 on most weekends and cannot imagine staying awake until the sun comes up. The students here find it hilarious that college students in the United States typically call it a night by 2 a.m., the hour when their parties are just getting started. My sleep schedule and energy levels are certainly not cut out for the Argentine party lifestyle!

Another point of fascination among the secondary students is of course American politics, especially Donald Trump. I mentioned in a previous post that the students were curious to hear my thoughts about hot-button issues like the Wall and climate change. Since my first week here, I have engaged in even more discussions with students and teachers about the political problems in the United States and listened to the perspectives of non-Americans who observe my country from the outside. I always try to keep my responses to opinion-based questions as neutral as possible. Seeing as I am likely the only American that they encounter, I feel that there is a risk that the students might take my perspectives as “authority” on political matters when, in reality, I only know as much as any regular person who reads the newspapers. I have also found that people tend to share their true opinions when they do not know the perspective of their audience, so keeping my thoughts about the President as vague as possible lets me hear what the students really think about American politics. I have been surprised to hear that some students actually admire Donald Trump, even though the majority find him to be unappealing. Two students in particular did not understand why the Wall is such a contested idea. These two girls explained to me that they are confused about why Americans wouldn’t want to secure the borders when so many people are entering without documentation. They compared the American situation to that of northern Argentina, where many Bolivian and Peruvian immigrants come in search of education and work. Naturally, their comments started a bit of a debate among other students in the class. One student provided the counterargument that the Wall is “rude,” as it symbolizes to the outside world, especially Mexico and Central America, that their people are not welcome in the United States. I found great value in listening to the girls debate the issue from both sides (even though the discussion ended up reverting to Spanish in an English class). Having these difficult conversations about world issues is, to me, one of the most important aspects of cultural exchange. It is an honor to me to have the chance to engage in these conversations with the students because these encounters get them thinking about big, universal issues. The students that I work with each day are the future, the people who will someday work to solve these social issues. Getting them engaged in these debates and exchanges of ideas is the first step in finding solutions for the future.

While Argentines are interested in American politics, I am mildly obsessed with the political situation in Argentina. Sunday, June 9th was election day here in Tucuman, so almost everything was closed for at least part of the day. (Many businesses are closed on Sundays anyway). Voting is mandatory for citizens age 18 to 70, which is very strange to me. I value the right to vote just as must as the right to not vote, which we enjoy in the United States. Although I think all who can exercise their right to vote should do so, it strikes me as restrictive that all Argentines are required to go to the polls on voting day, or else face a fine. Even though voting is compulsory, I have yet to talk to anyone here who has felt a strong sense of confidence in a particular candidate. In many of the political conversations that I have had here, people have told me that they cast their vote for the “least bad” option because there are no candidates that they feel they can trust. At dinner on Monday night, I asked one of the sisters if she thought the election was arreglada – “fixed” – and she emphatically replied “por supuesto!” – “of course!” After so many decades of corrupt politics, the voters here have little confidence in the honesty of their public servants. The sitting governor, Juan Manzur, was reelected to serve another term in this election, having received just over 50% of the vote. To me, 50% didn’t seem to be that shocking of a number, but based on the opinions of the people I have spoken with, there seems to be a general consensus that Manzur, unfortunately, rigged the system to his own advantage.

Despite such little popular confidence in the government, Argentines are still a deeply patriotic people. They participate in a flag ceremony in schools every morning and evening and seem to regard quite highly their founding fathers and revolutionaries. On Thursday, Sister Eugenia brought Trevor and me to La Casa de Independencia, which is only about 14 blocks from the convent. This colonial house was the sight of the signing of the Argentine Declaration of Independence on July 9, 1816. The house has now been converted into a museum with a variety of artifacts, informational posters, portraits of revolutionary heroes, and tons of iron plaques from historic buildings. Naturally, my inner history nerd was elated with this experience. Here are some photos from our trip to the museum!

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After taking in so much history, we took a quick rest at UNSTA, la Universidad Norte de Santo Tomas de Aquino, then had the BEST ice cream I’ve ever tried.

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Speaking of good food, I have been loving the cafe lifestyle here! There are so many quaint cafes lining the streets that it’s hard to choose which one to visit. Reading the menus and speaking to the waiters is also a great exercise in Spanish vocabulary and conversational skills. Trevor and I finally tried one cafe that we had been ogling at since we first got here, which is called Momma and specializes in waffles. The waffles were such a nice treat for merienda!

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When we’re not at school, Trevor and I have had some time to hang out with other people our age here. On Sunday we visited a park nearby with some friends, including Sister Cynthia’s neice, Trini. We sat and chatted, drank mate, ate tortillas, and even did a little bit of yoga!

In addition to service and experiencing local culture, I have been working a ton on my history thesis project. My topic of study has to do with an Argentine political/intellectual movement in the 1930s, and since my topic is so specific, I have struggled to find sources in the United States that are relevant to my research. Here in Tucuman, though, I can walk into a regular bookstore and find plenty of scholarly works that deal with various themes surrounding my topic! I purchased one book so far that has helped me IMMENSELY in my work – so much so that I even started writing my historiographical paper, which is a requirement before writing my actual thesis. Sister Cynthia also lent me six books from her own library that have to do with my topic. All of the books are in Spanish, of course, so it takes me a bit of time to read and annotate, but I feel that I am making great progress. Working on my thesis during the hours that I am not doing service has really helped me to make the most out of my time here.

This week, I will be meeting with a historian and friend of Cynthia’s to discuss my bibliography and some primary sources that I have yet to obtain. More info coming soon on that meeting, our trip to La Soledad, and anecdotes from the classroom!

Hasta pronto!