GA-GA OOH LA LA

    

Betcha didn't know I was such a weirdo, did ya?

Here is the thing about Lady Gaga: You either get it, love it, and you're gulping the Kool-Aid through a sequined bedazzled straw– or you think she's weird and/or are frightened of her.

I, for one, am enamored. What follows is a brief explanation as to why. 

 In the first place, I have an affinity for sequins and make-up. (see above and Halloween post) and Gaga gives me an awesome excuse to play with them.

Secondly, there is a rhyme and a reason to what Lady Gaga does. A reason which I happen to believe in genuinely, and it is this: GaGa's gimmick with the costumes and the drama, as she claims, is all part of an effort to create a safe space for her fans. She strives to be the biggest freak in the room so that no matter how weird or marginalized one may feel there is always someone freakier to hang out with and help take the heat off.

The Lady spoke for herself about her mission on the Ellen show back in 2011:

I'm not saying I aspire to look like Boy George in my day-to-day, by any means, but I have always valued a look, an attitude, and/or an opinion that is a bit artistic. 

I would venture to guess that at times everyone feels like a bit of a pariah; a bit left of center. And whereas society might teach us to squash that part back into submission so as not to make others uncomfortable, Gaga challenges her fans to analyze and embrace those parts of us that "the mainstream" doesn't want to see. Every "weird" urge you've ever had is okay by Gaga. She is heavily invested in providing the safe atmosphere in which her fans can allow their freak flag to fly.

I think it's healthy to have a space in which you can paint your face like a corpse and/or don and attempt to strut in 8 inch heels, just to see if you can do it while not being judged. In the most basic of terms, Gaga creates an environment in which her fans can safely scratch whatever freaky itches they may have (so long as they're not hurting anyone). And I would venture to guess that the ability to do so contributes to a more emotionally stable, healthier population than if people were left itching in the first place. 

I had a great time at the concert. It was a huge moment for me to decide that I wanted to attend badly enough that I didn't care if anyone was willing to go with me. I was able to get my face back to normal, but I'll always be a little monster inside. 

¡Patas arriba! 

Paws up!

Before and After

BEFORE

I don't think South America has changed me at all...

 AFTER

... do you?

See you soon!

[make-up for the Lady Gaga concert]

 [chill out, explanation to follow] 

A peculiar thing happened on my way back to the United States

For quite a while after I left I thought about my leaving the US as just a way to come back to it. Sure, I said I wanted to build a life, get fully immersed, start over... and in the forefront of my mind (or the parts I have the most control over) I meant it when I said it, but in the back (the parts of my head where the thoughts I would love to stop from occurring live) I knew I just needed to accomplish a goal (fluency) and that I probably wouldn't be able to shake the feeling that this was temporary. I left so that I could take my time over the past 11-months to come back.

But along the way, accidentally, and just by existing, I won the battle against the stubborn strangeness of this place. It finally relented and turned familiar. I know north from south, region from region, comuna from barrio, and street from street. Most of these things time will not be able to take away from me (at least not without the help of some civil construction) but the little things that I now have here that make Monday feel like Monday... which is to say awful and a work day... will disappear.

Time will take the markers of normalcy away from me. The canon that goes off at noon in the park near my house alerting me to the fact that I'm (yet again) late in getting out the door. The thick smell of exhausted people desperate to get home during peak hours on the metro. The familiar faces at my local grocery store... some of whom know me well enough now to smile and timidly ask in English "Will you sign here?" when I pay with a debit card, or note that the two boys I usually travel with are missing on certain trips.

The next time I'm back in Santiago I may not be staying near the park where the cannon goes off. I won't have to commute during peak hours because I won't have anywhere I absolutely have to be. And the people who work at the grocery store will probably be different. Santiago will always be familiar to me. I am lucky to have a place I know so well a half a world away, but it will never again feel this normal... boring even. The mundaneness is a kind of privilege. It's a little bit sad to say that Santiago will never again feel quite this ordinary.




But there it is. The tables have turned and now the United States looms ahead of me looking different than I've ever seen it before; looking exotic, adventuresome, weird.

The Train Graveyard, Bolivia

Here are some pictures that got lost in the shuffle of my trip to Bolivia to keep you interested.

Hiatus

It's hell trying to wrap up school but I'll inundate you with musings once it's all over in 2 weeks.

Until then, here are some pictures you haven't seen yet of the people that have helped to get me this far. I arrived in Chile on the 24th of January so in 4 days it will be my 10-month anniversary. 

Ode to Valpo

Over the months I've showed you all multiple glimpses of the clusterf*@# that is the city of Valparaíso.  I use the term lovingly to denote the insane lack of planning, logic, and regard for landslides immediately apparent upon entering the city. It's like nowhere else. And if you can get yourselves to South America one day I highly recommend it.

Once upon a globalizing time, Valparaíso (or Valpo, for short) was the leading port city in South America as it was a vital stop on the trade routes up the Pacific Coast. The Panama Canal stole Valpo's thunder in 1914 though upon its completion, and the city has been struggling ever since. You can see it in the hillside houses that appear slapped together with whatever mismatched materials were available. The city is not financially rich anymore but boy, does it have personality! Graffiti (if you can even call the amazing street art that) is legal and abundant. The streets are laden with curves and blind corners, and are almost vertical in many places to the point that they make Lombard Street in San Francisco look like a windy road on a gentle incline. 

The hills there are no joke. One of the most famed and legitimately used forms of transportation in Valpo are the funiculares (pictured above in the 3rd photo), the small train-like cars that ascend like elevators up the steep hillsides to deliver passengers onto the next rung of the cityscape.

Geologically speaking, there is no possible justification for building the city up such steep hillsides, especially in a zone that is so seismically unsound. But when globalization hits everybody wants a piece of the merchant port pie, and in the case of Valparaíso the only place to build was up.

Nowadays the poorest people live up at the top of the hills with the best views, because in the tale of a port city's past all the rich people wanted to be down by the harbor where the action was.

Some must-see graffiti outside the Hostal Bellavista.

The majestic and ever-in-mind Salvador Allende.

As I hope you can tell, I'm quite the fan of this funny little hill conglomerate. The vibe here seems easier to me than Santiago. When I'm in Valparaíso I always feel that I am in a city of artists.

¡fall in love every day!

I think that if the city had a motto it would be "Color and Creativity!"

If any of you were looking for an excuse to come to Chile, (among many others) Valpo could just be it.

"And I go back to [September] all the time..."

Fiestas Patrias is Chile's 4th of July. They do it a little better than us though in the sense that instead of taking just one day off to celebrate the homeland they devote an entire week to eating, drinking, (and subsequently littering) on the land they love.

The Chilean work philosophy is a little bit like that of the French and the Italians in that they'll take any excuse to take a day off. So when the actual day of independence falls on a Wednesday the entire nation collectively decides to just take thursday and friday off as well regardless of whether those days are actually encompassed by the holiday, because "hell! wednesday is practically the weekend anyways!" I'm just gonna put it bluntly: They know what's up!

The most abundant foods during this time are empanadas, choripanes (chorizo + pan = choripan), and brochetas.

The most abundant drinks are chicha (a slightly bitter fermented grape drink. the taste is about halfway between a beer and a wine), and terremotos (a pineapple ice cream + alcohol concoction so named because after just one people begin to walk as if the ground were shaking).

The parties that each comuna (like a county) holds are called fondas. Michael, Chris, and I set out early to one of the biggest ones in the city at Parque O' Higgins.