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Sunday, March 29, 2015

Love and the Work of Neruda

Our friend Dan is a poet - one who has translated many works by Latin American writers into English over the course of his career. So while he was here earlier this month, we had the great pleasure of seeing Chile (and especially Santiago) through the eyes of an artist, including accompanying him to all three of Neruda's famous houses: La Chascona (in Santiago), La Sebastiana (in Valparaiso), and Casa de Isla Negra (on the coast in El Quisco).

The houses are quite spectacular -- each with a distinct character, but all filled with Neruda's indomitable spirit as reflected in the architecture, art collections and the remnants of the well-lived and complex life that run through each room. Neruda -- and his artist companions who helped to design and decorate his homes -- clearly had a love for small, funky spaces. The houses are a series of individually-themed rooms, most with huge windows that help to confuse outside with inside. The houses in the port city of Valparaiso and on the coast in Isla Negra feature nearly full walls of glass that look out over the Pacific. Equipped with secret passages leading to napping areas, winding pathways that twist through trees and flowers, and sculptures, paintings and installations from artist contemporaries and friends like Pablo Picasso, Diego Rivera and Chilean sculptor and muralist, Maria Martner, Neruda's homes are works of art in themselves -- and now, they are museums.

Neruda was clearly a playboy -- walking through his homes visitors get a small glimpse into his fondness for entertaining large parties with Chilean and international dignitaries, intellectuals and artists that of course featured gourmet food and fine liquor. Like his poetry, his homes reflect his fondness for beautiful people and things, his interest in different cultures and in methods of meaning-making, and most importantly, his passion for all things related to the sea. I could feel -- and I identified with -- his excitement about the possibilities in the beauty around him, the potential of life and of living. He was a man who loved deeply and who seemed in love with the world he inhabited. One can almost feel the frenetic energy with which he lived and wrote pulsing through the corridors.

I have been thinking a lot about what it must have felt like to Neruda to be in such deep love with the world. I imagine it was the same sensation that the Prophets or King David felt when they burst out in song and celebration realizing their awe at God's creation. Like passionate love, I imagine it consumed him -- an experience of both painful longing and riveting energy -- and compelled him to write, to get it out of his body and share it with others. I am coming to believe that the capacity to hold that kind of awe, curiosity and wonder -- to touch and feel connected to holiness and the "bigness" of creation in that way -- is rare. Or at least not all of us are willing to live our lives in the places in which we feel that kind of extreme emotion -- that sense of being both tiny and filling everything, of feeling endless and finite all at once. Artists communicate to us from those places, and it is their descriptions of their experiences (through music, words, works of art) that allow others of us to touch our own capacity for divine awe, even if just for a moment. In Neruda's case, he spoke to Chileans -- and to all of us -- from that place through his simple, thoughtful poetry.

Neruda was a poet who understood and took seriously the public and political importance of art and of the artist. He considered his work as writer and as a politician as almost one and the same. He saw himself as Chilean through and through -- not in an unquestioningly patriotic or jingoistic way, but in the way that loyal friends push each other to be better and stronger. He more than supported political leaders who he considered good for the Chilean people; he believed in them, invested in them as part of a larger vision for the country and his beloved community. Reports are that when he got news of the coup that killed President Allende and plunged the country into the hands of the dictator General Pinochet, he collapsed of a heart attack. A broken heart. When soldiers came to search his house a few days later knowing him to be a supporter of the Marxist government, he opened his doors readily and with now famous words: "Look around—there's only one thing of danger for you here—poetry."

The people of Chile have continued to claim Neruda as their voice -- not only because he is a Nobel prize winning poet who is one of their own, but also because of his ability to mix his two public roles of artist and politician. Neruda died of prostate cancer not long after Pinochet took power, but even after his life ended, his words and confidence continued to inspire in a moment when Chileans desperately needed inspiration. The poet's funeral has been described as the first public protest against the dictatorship in Chile. While Pinochet ordered soldiers to prevent gathering in his memory, thousands defied the national curfew and risked arrest to fill the streets in the poet's honor. Neruda's death gave Chileans an opening to cry aloud about the injustice that was occurring around them -- to publicly lament, as theologian Walter Breuggemann might say. And even though it would take nearly twenty years for citizens to build the collective power needed to oust Pinochet, Neruda's words inspired movement building and encouraged other artists by laying a foundation of hope from which others could build. In the words of Gabriela Mistral, another Nobel Prize winning Chilean poet: “Lo que el alma hace por su cuerpo es lo que el artista hace por su pueblo. / That which the heart does for the body, the artist does for the people.”

Below are some excerpts from Book of Questions (Libro de las Preguntas), one of eight of Neruda's works that were not published until after his death. The collection is quickly becoming a favorite of mine -- I love the simplicity of the reflections and, at the same time, the depth they provoke. An entire book of poems made entirely of questions also made me start to think that maybe Neruda was Jewish -- more research about that is needed, I think. 

Enjoy the poems as well as the pictures from Neruda's three homes.

Until next time,
ek

III.
Dime, la rosa está desnuda
o sólo tiene ese vestido?
Por qué los árboles esconden
el esplendor de sus raíces?
Quién oye los remordimientos
del automóvil criminal?
Hay algo más triste en el mundo
que un tren inmóvil en la lluvia?

Tell me, is the rose naked
or is that her only dress?
Why do trees conceal
the splendor of their roots?
Who hears the regrets
of the thieving automobile?
Is there anything in the world sadder
than a train standing in the rain?

XIV.
Y qué dijeron los rubíes
ante el jugo de las granadas?
Pero por qué no se convence
el Jueves de ir después del Viernes?
Quiénes gritaron de alegría
cuando nació el color azul?
Por qué se entristece la tierra
cuando aparecen las violetas?

And what did the rubies say
standing before the juice of pomegranates?
Why doesn't Thursday talk itself
into coming after Friday?
Who shouted with glee
when the color blue was born?
Why does the earth grieve
when the violets appear?

XXXI.
A quién le puedo preguntar
qué vine a hacer en este mundo?
Por qué me muevo sin querer,
por qué no puedo estar inmóvil?
Por qué voy rodando sin ruedas,
volando sin alas ni plumas,
y qué me dio por transmigrar
si viven en Chile mis huesos?

Whom can I ask what I came
to make happen in this world?
Why do I move without wanting to,
why am I not able to sit still?
Why do I go rolling without wheels,
flying without wings or feathers,
and why did I decide to migrate
if my bones live in Chile?

View of the ocean from the patio of Casa de Isla Negra

Bedroom - Casa de Isla Negra

Architecture of Casa de Isla Negra 

View from Neruda's and Maltide Urrutia's graves at Casa de Isla Negra


Grave site at Casa de Isla Negra

Bar/Entertainment Room overlooking the ocean - Casa de Isla Negra

La Sebastiana - home in Valparaiso

Coat Room at La Sebastiana in Valparaiso

Dan enjoying the murals at La Chascona, Neruda's home in Santiago

Reuben and Dan in front of La Chascona, Santiago

Santiago's Celebration of the 91st year of the publication of Veinte Poemas de Amor y una Canción Desesperada. Artistic interpretations of the poems, commissioned by the city, cover the walls and ceilings of trains on 2 metro lines. 

Sunday, March 15, 2015

First Writing Since - Mourning, Living, Learning

contributed by Erika... 

It has been a dizzying couple of months since the start of 2015. I began attending language school every weekday and started meeting twice a week informally with a new Chilean friend, Javier, to practice; Reuben started (and graduated from) summer classes in band conducting at the university; we had two visitors come stay with us -- our friend Joyce from New York and our friend Dan from Berkeley; and Reuben made a trip to Argentina as part of a small research tour focused on Latin American Jewish music.

Most significantly, though, I made a last-minute trip to California in January to see my father before he died. He passed away on February 2nd after a year-long battle with brain cancer. To those of you who wrote to me on email or Facebook or by mail, I am so grateful for your words of comfort and support. Truth is that the experiences of having time with my father after more than 20 years of being estranged and then of his death were incredibly disorienting and overwhelming, and I have been very much up and down since I last wrote. It has been both a blessing and a challenge to be away from home at this hard, confusing time. I have been grateful for the space, the lack of expectations, and the ability to "check out" from my life when I need to -- all privileges I have here in Santiago. At the same time, I have been deeply missing the ability to call and see people I trust, to host shiva surrounded by those I love, and to say kaddish in my community at CSZ. It's been very hard for me to recognize my own grieving being so far away. I know that I will have more to do when I get home - such as grieving goes.

While our friend Dan was here, though, the three of us spent an entire day at Museo de La Memoria y Los Derechos Humanos. The museum is a very powerful chronicle of the years of the Pinochet dictatorship, with nearly an entire floor dedicated to the day of the military coup in 1973 and three additional floors filled with stories, testimonies, sounds, news, and art from those who were imprisoned, murdered, disappeared, and/or led the resistance between 1973 and 1990. It's been a mere 25 years since Pinochet, and even being here for such a short time, it feels clear to me that the wound and the trauma are still very fresh. The museum itself, which opened in 2010, gives visitors a sense of a first big step forward for the Chilean people in voicing their experiences to the world -- and to each other. Nearly half the country (more than 40 percent) voted in favor of the military government in the election that ousted the dictatorship, and in my conversations with people here, I get the sense that it has been too painful - and too scary - to talk about all of the pain and loss in the midst of that internal division.

In this moment, however, it seems like that feeling is beginning to shift, and more conversation is happening. And yet, school children are not learning any details about the dictatorship and, as far as I can tell, students are not yet making field trips to La Memoria. In fact, when we discussed the museum in my Spanish class, my teacher, a Chilean lefty about 10 years my senior and daughter of two university professors, insisted that only tourists go there to visit. "Chileans, for the  most part, don't want to remember," she said (in Spanish, of course).

From what I have pieced together in my short time here, the trauma and loss suffered by the people, and by the culture, have been acknowledged, but mostly in whispers. I see evidence of the weight of those years of dictatorship in the introversion and hesitancy of the people - especially when it comes to visitors. There is a certain indecisiveness and ambiguity about identity that exists among people here. Memory, discussion of politics and incorporation of recent history seem like they are just now beginning to emerge, but the process is not a linear one. On the one hand, Chileans (in Santiago at least) are quick to make noise about local issues - a bad landlord, problems with public transportation, the education system, some environmental issues. On the other hand, I sense a rush to amnesia around Pinochet, and a desire to forget, deny, minimize the impact of the the military rule that happened not too long ago. The elephant in the room. In its place - at least in Santiago - there is a busyness, things to do and to buy, ways to distract and a lot of American music and heavy drinking. People seem quick to insist that the democratic tradition is strong here and that those long, horrible years are just a blip in an otherwise progressive, successful history. But I have also sensed a kind of lost feeling - the kind that comes with grief and mourning - as if the people, as a people not necessarily as individuals, are wandering, unmoored, unclear where they stand and where they want to go.

Personally, it feels somehow right to be mourning my father in a country that is still very much grieving the atrocities of the dictatorship that reigned with fear and violence for so long. I am learning a lot about grief and healing from being here – both what to do and what not to do. If you had asked me even 6 months ago how I was doing with my father's imminent death, I would have answered that I had grieved the loss of my father twenty years ago when we stopped talking. When I walked back into his house after all those years, however, it became clear to me how much I had not been willing to - could not - take in the impact of the trauma I experienced as a teen (no doubt also the reason I had a terrible, sleepless few days while deciding whether or not to try to see him before he died). Grief is not linear - I keep reminding myself of that. Now that he is gone (and, truthfully, now that I have many more resources), I am uncovering, experiencing and moving through new layers of rage, release, despair and gratitude - although on most days, I feel mute in the face of it all. Grief is not linear.

So I am spending a lot of time outside and walking, making friends with random street dogs in need of and quick to share love, leaning on Reuben a lot and pushing myself to go to yoga even when I want to crawl under the covers. And I am continuing to learn from the people here - how to be patient with repair and healing, how to emerge from shock and face what you fear could have killed you, and how to begin to create beauty and hope from the darkest parts of your own history. And, of course, how long it all takes.

We have so many more stories to share - including those about our trips to all three of Neruda's houses and to a Sephardi Purim celebration in Valparaiso. But I think I'll end this post here. I am recommitting to blogging, though - I promise. Below are some pictures from our recent travels to the Andes and to the sea. Enjoy, and look for more stories about our adventures and experiences soon.

Thanks for listening.

Many blessings,
ek

View from Neruda's house in La Isla Negra

Neruda's grave, overlooking the ocean, in La Isla Negra

More shots of La Isla Negra house

Trip to the Andes and Volcan San Jose


More from San Jose del Maipo area

Mural (on the entire side of a building) in the Bellas Artes neighborhood, Santiago

One mural inside The Clinic - radical cafe, bar, art and performance space - in Santiago

School building mural, San Jose del Maipo

School mural in San Jose del Maipo

La Sebastiana, Neruda's house in Valparaiso

View of Valparaiso from La Sebastiana

On the terrace at La Sebastiana, Valparaiso


Thursday, January 1, 2015

New Years Blessings from South America!

Family and Friends, 

Thinking of you all and missing our community on this first day of 2015 - may this new year bring the blessings of health, joy and justice to you and those you love!

It's 85 degrees here in Santiago de Chile, and we just returned from a 2-week trip exploring the lake country and Chiloé Island in the southern part of the country with Reuben's parents. We didn't get all the way down to Antarctica, but are hoping to do that soon. We are so grateful to Gail and Harold (aka mom and dad) for making the long trip and for helping us with our first big adventure outside the city. 

The lake country is amazingly beautiful, especially at this time of year when many Chileans escape there for summer vacation. Erika was especially happy to be on a boat most of the time - the trip re-awakened her love of the ocean and everything water-related. Reuben got to see his penguins - and he also made friends with some other creatures as well (see pictures). From Santiago, we traveled by plane to Puerto Montt, a big port town. In Puerto Montt, we boarded a boat that took us on a 6 day journey through the Chacao Channel and the Chiloé Sea, around Chiloé Island and down to the Laguna San Rafael National Park. We spent a whole day exploring the San Rafael glacier, a breathtaking island of ice that dips into the surrounding lake. 


From Laguna San Rafael, we sailed back up to Chiloé island, spending a day in the capital city of Castro (where we visited a purple and yellow church that could have easily been in the Castro, San Francisco). The cities in the Lake Country are mostly smaller fishing villages scattered across the islands of the archipelago. Castro is an exception, and with about 50,000 residents, is one of Chile's medium-large cities. The city center is vibrant and full of hills like SF - some areas look quite a bit like neighborhoods in North Beach. 

Sailing back to Puerto Montt, we were accompanied by some dolphins and a couple of sea lions, and we passed by some in-water salmon fisheries. Once back, we spent a day in Puerto Varas and in Ancud, visiting the penguins who live on the small island, before beginning our drive about 800 miles back to Santiago. 

On our drive, we made several stops to explore the regions between Los Lagos (Lake Country) and Metro Santiago. Stops included: 

- Frutillar: Small town with heavy influence of German settlers and famous for its annual summer music festival in Jan/Feb. The town is home to the Teatro del Lago which must be an incredible place to see performances since it's all windows and looks out over the water. We're planning to go back for the Semanas Musicales. 

- Valdivia: A great university town on the river where we met some very friendly sea lions who "help" at the fish market every day. Will post a video of the ongoing brawl between the local dogs and their sea lion neighbors. 

- Temuco: The fourth largest city in the country and home to the largest Mapuche market. The Mapuche people are the largest indigenous community in Chile, and their influence is everywhere. 

- Talca: Beautiful respite at the foot of the Andes where we stayed at a hostel/farm/garden called Casa Chueca (note pictures with farm animals). 

- Valparaiso: The seaside city that reminds us most of San Francisco with its hills and colorful buildings -- and young hipsters. Spending the day there the day before Christmas was exciting -- lots of shoppers, street musicians, open-air markets, and of course, friendly dogs. We almost took one home, but resisted. 

Now that we are back in Santiago, we are gearing up for a summer schedule that includes Spanish school, yoga and writing for Erika, writing and researching for Reuben and a little bit more travel. Since Reuben's classes don't start again until early March, we will have some much-needed down time together to get to know Santiago better, rest and make some plans for the next 6 months. In the meantime, though, we got a big taste of Chilean-style new years -- LOTS of street partying, alcohol and more fireworks than we have ever seen. 

We are missing our community very much this holiday season -- the past month didn't quite feel like December, both because of the heat and because we are far away from all of you. Know that we are thinking of you and would love updates from home. We have reliable internet here, and Erika is working on keeping up to date with Facebook and this blog. Moving forward, we hope that entries will start to have more reflections about our time here rather than reports on our comings and goings - we had a lot to cover this time around. Hope you'll visit this page again soon! 

Enjoy the photos. 

With love and gratitude, 
E & R

Reuben with his goat friend at Casa Chueca

Erika with our new donkey friend

Fish market "helper" in Valdivia

Penguins in Puñihuil

San Rafael glacier

Glacier in action

Iceberg in Lago San Rafael