I drove back from San Juan de Pirque this afternoon, and the city smelled worse than usual. It wasn´t a wave of nostalgia that brought tears to my eyes, having spent only a few nights on a mountainside in the country, but tear gas.
Actual tear gas.
It turns out I´ve missed quite the party in my neighbourhood. Students of Colegios in Santiago are protesting for more fund allocation, a story we´re all familiar with. Public education in this country isn´t very good, from what I´ve gathered, and the student´s protest headquarters is about 2 blocks from my house. The carabiñeros (military police,) with their AK-47s, are a little intimidating not to mention the bonfires in the streets.
I´m shedding a single, perfect tear for their plight... Or maybe it´s just the acrid miasma of opression.
30.5.06
22.5.06
Pedantic Semantics. (See what I did there?)
Spanish is an interesting language.
In a formal mode, when addressing someone, you use the he/she/it form of a given verb. Mira:
You, familiar friend, have: tienes. He, that guy over there with the revolutionary scarf, has: tiene. You, important man I don´t know, have: tiene. In French, you address formally with the second person plural (and the accompanying vous,) perhaps having something to do with their largesse. In Spanish, you use the third person singular.
It´s like linguistically avoiding eye contact, or the inadvertant, shoe-gazing glare of a servant.
In a formal mode, when addressing someone, you use the he/she/it form of a given verb. Mira:
You, familiar friend, have: tienes. He, that guy over there with the revolutionary scarf, has: tiene. You, important man I don´t know, have: tiene. In French, you address formally with the second person plural (and the accompanying vous,) perhaps having something to do with their largesse. In Spanish, you use the third person singular.
It´s like linguistically avoiding eye contact, or the inadvertant, shoe-gazing glare of a servant.
21.5.06
18.5.06
Rumble in the Barrio.
Enough of the maudlin posts.
I´m back in Chile. It´s good to be home. I really missed the voracious school girls, the excess of mayo, the atmosphere of magic realism mixed with bus pollution, the curious foreign glares.
Last night the sunset made the sky look like it was on fire. Then I woke up this morning to an earthquake. God, it was fun. Ragnarockin´ if you will.
You´d think it would be terrifying, your whole apartment moving around, but it felt more... ludicrous. I guess because there´s really nowhere to run, you sort of resign yourself to the futility of escape and enjoy the bumps. It was barely a big one by Ring of Fire standards, but you could definitely feel it. My bed moved, unrelated to any ouija turbulence.
It was a nice welcome. I just wish I had someone to greet me at the airport with a slow-motion clap. I´ve always felt worthy of one, but they never seem to happen.
Grumble.
I´m back in Chile. It´s good to be home. I really missed the voracious school girls, the excess of mayo, the atmosphere of magic realism mixed with bus pollution, the curious foreign glares.
Last night the sunset made the sky look like it was on fire. Then I woke up this morning to an earthquake. God, it was fun. Ragnarockin´ if you will.
You´d think it would be terrifying, your whole apartment moving around, but it felt more... ludicrous. I guess because there´s really nowhere to run, you sort of resign yourself to the futility of escape and enjoy the bumps. It was barely a big one by Ring of Fire standards, but you could definitely feel it. My bed moved, unrelated to any ouija turbulence.
It was a nice welcome. I just wish I had someone to greet me at the airport with a slow-motion clap. I´ve always felt worthy of one, but they never seem to happen.
Grumble.
5.5.06
Lahja Söderberg.
My mummo passed away last week, and I'm in Canada for the funeral.
In fact, she's sitting in a jar next to me right now in a velvet bag. I'm trying not to look at it too much.
It's funny how much you learn about a loved one when they pass. I was very proud of the life she lived and the lives she touched after her 96 years. Imagine living through countless wars, failed promises and dance crazes. Friends with welled eyes recalled stories of her wrestling in Finland, her lime green Mustang with white leather interior, her repeated marriage proposals from gruff miners, and all of her fire and brimstone in South Porcupine, Ontario. Most of the service was in Finnish, and if you think Finns are dark, check out a funeral. It felt like a David Lynch film, only harder to follow the plot.
If any good had to come of this it's that we reconnected with my mom's brother, his wife, and four kids. Losing a family member swelled our family significantly. I have cousins who look like me, who have similar tastes in wine, women and song. Cousin Carl even likes Arrested Development.
If anyone actually reads this thing, I've copied a section of the eulogy I delivered. It was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do.
"Lahja Soderberg has been old as long as I can remember, but never in spirit. Though separated in these last few years by a continent, our mummo has never been far from our thoughts and our hearts.
Mummo left her native Finland at the age of 18. She arrived in this country on the day of her 19th birthday, dragging meager suitcase and new hope. She wanted a new start in the new world, a place where she could begin again and truly create something. Myself, my brother, my sister, my cousins, my entire family live as the next chapters of this beginning. She came a long way for a new life on a voyage we can't even fathom. She crossed oceans of fear, of uncertainty, and of exhaustion, with few possessions and bigger dreams.
Such voyages no longer exist in this world. But instead, live inside of us as we carry on our lives, here in Canada.
To me, Lahja Soderberg was the perpetual chaser. I was a nightmare as a child. She was the braider and baker of pulla, the matriarch with the funny accent, and the singer of hilarious Finnish children's rhymes about flatulent dogs. I used to play with the flubby skin on her arms that made her laugh and her eyes crinkle. Her eyes were always crinkly.
A little old lady with the fire of heaven, Mummo lived a truly remarkable life. I have always been proud of what she has accomplished here with us, with her works. I hope that in 75 years I can look back upon the creation of a dynasty, the generations of blondes in my wake the way I hope she did in her last days. I hope one day to have a family of my own, carrying on her voyage in their hearts.
Mummo, we love you, and you will be missed, everyday."
I really hope she's somewhere else, other than in this velvet bag in the livingroom. Tell your grandparents you love them.
In fact, she's sitting in a jar next to me right now in a velvet bag. I'm trying not to look at it too much.
It's funny how much you learn about a loved one when they pass. I was very proud of the life she lived and the lives she touched after her 96 years. Imagine living through countless wars, failed promises and dance crazes. Friends with welled eyes recalled stories of her wrestling in Finland, her lime green Mustang with white leather interior, her repeated marriage proposals from gruff miners, and all of her fire and brimstone in South Porcupine, Ontario. Most of the service was in Finnish, and if you think Finns are dark, check out a funeral. It felt like a David Lynch film, only harder to follow the plot.
If any good had to come of this it's that we reconnected with my mom's brother, his wife, and four kids. Losing a family member swelled our family significantly. I have cousins who look like me, who have similar tastes in wine, women and song. Cousin Carl even likes Arrested Development.
If anyone actually reads this thing, I've copied a section of the eulogy I delivered. It was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do.
"Lahja Soderberg has been old as long as I can remember, but never in spirit. Though separated in these last few years by a continent, our mummo has never been far from our thoughts and our hearts.
Mummo left her native Finland at the age of 18. She arrived in this country on the day of her 19th birthday, dragging meager suitcase and new hope. She wanted a new start in the new world, a place where she could begin again and truly create something. Myself, my brother, my sister, my cousins, my entire family live as the next chapters of this beginning. She came a long way for a new life on a voyage we can't even fathom. She crossed oceans of fear, of uncertainty, and of exhaustion, with few possessions and bigger dreams.
Such voyages no longer exist in this world. But instead, live inside of us as we carry on our lives, here in Canada.
To me, Lahja Soderberg was the perpetual chaser. I was a nightmare as a child. She was the braider and baker of pulla, the matriarch with the funny accent, and the singer of hilarious Finnish children's rhymes about flatulent dogs. I used to play with the flubby skin on her arms that made her laugh and her eyes crinkle. Her eyes were always crinkly.
A little old lady with the fire of heaven, Mummo lived a truly remarkable life. I have always been proud of what she has accomplished here with us, with her works. I hope that in 75 years I can look back upon the creation of a dynasty, the generations of blondes in my wake the way I hope she did in her last days. I hope one day to have a family of my own, carrying on her voyage in their hearts.
Mummo, we love you, and you will be missed, everyday."
I really hope she's somewhere else, other than in this velvet bag in the livingroom. Tell your grandparents you love them.
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