Andrew Scaplen: Flor de Ceibo

When the calendar strikes February, the talking and preparation begins. Chairs and equipment begin to line the streets and sponsors, vendors and homeowners begin to prepare themselves for the ensuing two days of craziness, Las Llamadas.

Las Llamadas is a unique aspect of the Uruguayan carnival that distinguishes Uruguay as one of the most unique places to experience this classic holiday. In Rio de Janiero, Brazil you have the Samba and crazy parties. Cádiz, Spain, is known for it sense of humor and political and social criticisms in their theaters. Each Carnival has its own unique characteristics, spanning dozens of cultures on both sides of the Atlantic. The overall theme involves parades with masks, singing and dancing, but the richness of cultural idiosyncrasies in each place is what makes the overall celebration special.

Lets backtrack first. Carnival is a festive season directly before lent and is celebrated all over the world. The roots come from Christianity and it is generally a period of grand celebration in which the people set themselves apart from their regular lives and live in a carefree manner. Carnival literally means “farewell to meat” as meat is customarily prohibited during lent, but a looser translation is “farewell to flesh”, alluding towards the break from social inhibitions that the festival is known for in order for the participants to fully enjoy themselves before lent. Typically Carnival ends right before Ash Wednesday, hence our Mardi Gras “literally Fat Tuesday) celebration in New Orleans (not so foreign after all).

Uruguay is known for having the longest Carnival in the world, which begins in late January and goes halfway through March. The typical aspects that make the Uruguayan Carnival unique are the murga, but most importantly is Las Llamadas.

La Murga is political satire made up of groups of 17-19 people. The members are dressed up with large colorful costumes and face paint and they sing numerous songs they have developed about current political or relevant social events. Throughout the months, there are various tablados (shows) at different venues to show many different groups of perodistas (similar to the Spanish syle of parody) and murgas.

Las llamadas is a two-day celebration that happens the first week in February. The goal is to show the top-100 candombe groups (comparsas) in a 15-block parade, which starts at 8 in the evening and finishes at 3 in the morning for both days. The order of the groups are determined by their ranking in the previous year, and as you may suspect this is a pretty prestigious honor. Rankings are competitive and well respected (same for murga and parodistas) and groups practice year round to perfect their performances.

The theme of candombe, the group of marching drummers, is a central theme to Las Llamadas and the Uruguayan culture. This stems from the African influence of slaves who were transported to Uruguay in the 1800’s.

The title, Las Llamadas, literally the calls, originated as a device to gather the people from the black community because they were segregated and unable to celebrate with the whites for social gatherings or social issues.

Over time, this element became central to the Uruguayan Carnival and today it is the most popular event. In fact, it is still carried out on the fairly run down, economically poor neighborhood, barrio del sur, where still most of the black community lives. But the street is cleaned up, stadium seats and folding chairs are set up, and the place is totally revamped and spiffed up for this huge event.

The parade starts with the queens of carnival, first the black then the white, which were nominated by a committee, another huge deal. Afterwards, the comparsas, the groups of nearly 100 performers, start from top to bottom (the first day is the groups of lower ranking, the second the better ranking). Each comparsa consists of many different groups of people that have their own role in the whole event.

First come the flag bearers, the estandartes, who wave the colors that represent their group and distinguish them from other groups. Following them are some dancing girls, intermixed with other masked people carrying stars, moons and mystical symbols, emblematic of the ancient African culture and influence. This group is then followed by more dancers and the gramillero and Mamá Vieja, the old couple who youthfully dance in rhythm. The gramillero dons a long white beard and cane and the Mamá Vieja is typically heavyset and carries a fan and wears a long dress with her hair up in a bun.

The escobero then follows, with a broomstick, mesmerizing the crowd with his skillful movements and tricks. The primary purpose of the escobero is to sweep away any bad spirits that may lie in the street to clear the way for the rest of the group. The escobero leads another group of dancers. At the very back is the head dancer, the vedet. She is the most beautiful and scantily clad of all of the dancers, often times a little more voluptuous than the others- a sign of fertility and beauty in this culture. The final group is the tambores, the group of 50-60 drummers that line up and pound their hearts out for hours down this packed street.

During my 7 months in Uruguay, I had been to some of the ensayos, the practices that these groups hold every Sunday evening. In the ensayos, the people just hop in behind the group of guys practicing, sharing a beer and letting the music take hold of your feet as they move along with the crowd. The music is so loud that at times, you can’t tell if the beating from the drums is physically beating into your heart or if it is just the adrenaline rush, the excitement of being right in the middle of the action that gives you that feeling of ecstasy.

But this experience at Las Llamadas no tiene nada que ver (has nothing to do with) the ensayos. For Las Llamadas, my friend, Antonio and I snagged a nice spot up behind the folding chairs and watched in amazement for hours as the beautiful groups passed, decorated with interesting costumes, paint, and distinct dances. Although the rhythm of the drumming is typically the same, (something like: da daddle-a dat, da daddle-a dat, da daddle-a dat…..) there are some interesting choreographed dances, pauses and changes in rhythm that truly differentiate the caliber of the groups. The experience right there in the thick of this huge performance, where everyone is so happy, so proud to be Uruguyan and to have this interesting culture, was incredible and I was so fortunate to be there.

As Antonio and I finished a small box of wine (a typical to drink in the streets at events like this) we needed to use the restroom and were quite hungry. Luckily, the people all along the street literally open up their houses to the public to ensure that everyone is satisfied and given exactly what they need. Uruguayan’s are such opportunists (as well as incredibly friendly) and use this festival as an opportunity to make a little (sometimes a lot) of money on the side by supplying the people with what they need.

We literally were invited into some random person’s home, given a beer and chorizo, all for a reasonable price and even got to use their family bathroom for 20 pesos (a dollar). I had to chuckle when the woman said frankly, “40 pesos if you have to do anything besides pee.” I was just in disbelief at the hospitality, generosity, warmth and instant friendship I yet again felt in Uruguay. This kind of stuff would never happen in the U.S. I looked around as we stood in the modest house, seeing person after person walk in, grab some food, the bathroom, whatever they needed and went on their way. I looked around at the modest stone floor, the birdcages up on the wall to my right, and the drying laundry hanging on a line over my head, like the family just opened the door and nothing else. They had nothing to hide, no reason to clean or prepare the house in a special way for the guests. This is just how it is. We spoke with the owner of the house for a bit as our chorizo’s were cooking and as the line for the bathroom slowly diminished and I was perfectly comfortable and content.

As the night came to an end, I was having trouble keeping my eyes open to watch the final groups, but I wasn’t a bit bored. Each group had their own distinctive flair that set them apart from the others. As one group would start up, it was like a total resurge of emotion in the crowd welcoming their Uruguayan brothers and sisters to celebrate this great day together.

This is an article I wrote for the Concordy, Union’s Newspaper, that goes out this week. After reading it again, I realized I may come across as bitter and intimidated by my current situation, but that isn’t how I feel and not the idea I was looking to convey so I thought I should make that clear. I would say overall that it’s more of an understanding that I have gained by being a foreigner in a foreign country and with that, a new respect and awareness I have of how “the outsider” is perceived. Also, I have added a lot to my photo page, which you can access with the link on the right side of the page. Hope you enjoy!

Flipside: Being on the Outside

I keep my head down, focused on my running shoes, not knowing whether it’s to keep the lingering sun from scorching my eyes, or if it’s to keep myself from making eye contact with all the penetrating glares that burn even deeper than the sun. As usual, the strong gusts of wind coming from Rio de la Plata lining Uruguay’s western coast continue to manhandle me and impede my already fairly slow pace. But my motivation to relieve some stress, clear my mind, and embrace the underrated beauty of the Uruguayan coast inspires me to push forward. I am still not used to the attention an outsider gets, but I have come to realize that my long blond hair has become a huge red flag that says, “This kid doesn’t belong.”

Most of the time I get a comment here or there, as the Uruguayan people love to talk and have no reservations about speaking their mind. Usually from the girls the comments are something good. “Ay, que divino! Mira a ese rubio.” (Literally, “How divine! Look at that blond boy.”) I may even get a whistle but never take it too seriously. Normally from the guys it’s a different story. A look of disgust. An off-the-cuff remark. “Que pelotudo, boludo, pajero feo..” (Various derogatory slang mostly referring to one’s genitals). But it doesn’t bother me. They probably assume that I don’t know what they are saying and I play dumb and continue my jog unaffected.

In the States, I have always felt somewhat comfortable in the middle and until my trip, I slipped under the radar, carrying on about my business without breaking the concentration of those around me. Always one of a fairly homogenous group, for good or for bad. But here in Uruguay, I am considered an outsider and this has brought much scrutiny.

But today is different. I continue along the coast, running past Playa Ramirez and noticing the change in wind direction; the first sign telling me it is time to turn around. As I come to Parque Rodo and tap the 4.5-kilometer marker and turn around, I watch the eyes take notice of my presence from all around. My face is already flushed from my run so luckily my blushing embarrassment is undetected.

Just then, a little kid and his sister start running with me. This may seem strange, but it’s actually happened a few times before. I continue to run, give them a smile and let them tag along. I notice that the boy is running in some old flip flops and after a minute or so, I decide to ask him, “That can’t be too comfortable, running in those flip flops, eh?”

Boom, game over, mind blown. The kid stops dead in his tracks and just stares as I continue on looking back, giving him a chuckle as I get back to my run. I am pretty sure that it wasn’t his fatigue that made him stop so abruptly but rather the complete contrast of information he just received with what his preconceived notion of “the outsider” was that he was mocking and running next to. “But… he just spoke to me in Spanish?”

Since being down in Uruguay, I have surprised a lot of people who stop and decide to learn a little bit more about “the outsider” rather than those who just pass judgment and move on. Although I am tired of the looks, the stares, the comments, I have to take them in stride and say to myself, “If only they knew.”

If only they knew how much I know about their small but amazing country. I am sure I would surprise them just as I stupefied that little boy running along the rambla. I am not just some tourist, although I may look more like a tourist than a Uruguayan. Actually, I know a good deal about Uruguay, arguably, more than some Uruguayans.

Do they know that I can name all 19 departments of Uruguay and that I have traveled to over half of them? Or how I know the different cultural peculiarities from Uruguay’s only city and capital, Montevideo, to the relaxed, mellowed-out estancias of the interior, to the coast, to the people on the Brazilian frontier, confusing me even further with their Portuñol. That I have many Uruguayan friends and I know their families, their thoughts, their lifestyles. That Sundays are spent strictly with family and that everything is closed except for two big street markets. That mate (pronounced mä-ˌtā) is more of a lifestyle than a tea drink.

Do they know I know that the president elect used to be imprisoned and tortured during the military dictatorship for his role as a leader of the Tupamaro Guerilla movement, notorious for kidnapping and killing political leaders? That the main problem Uruguay faces is a smart young generation that chooses to move abroad because of the lack of infrastructure and reinvestment to develop their own industries here. The Uruguayan people live life in the moment rather than saving for the future. Delayed gratification, a concept so engrained in our culture, is something foreign and at times incomprehensible to these people and this is reflected in their undeveloped domestic industries.

Do they know that the whole reason for me being here is to help them through my work with Flor de Ceibo, an initiative developed by La Universidad de la Republica, the public (and free might I add) university in Montevideo. That I am working with all these little green and white computers that can be seen on the bus, in the plazas, on the beach, and most importantly in the schools. That I have worked inside numerous schools. I have seen the stark contrasts between rural, urban, critical-context and private schools, as well as the differences in schools in a variety of cities and towns.

That I can see on one hand, a country that is so proud of their opportunity to improve education, but on the other hand, the palpable hesitation to embrace this swift and comprehensive shift towards technology. Many are unwilling and afraid to change their lifestyle. Maybe because it will turn their quiet, simple, friendly, and unique country into something more cold, but technologically advanced, more consumption-driven like the U.S.

Do they know that I spend almost all of my free time working in an orphanage for young girls in Ciudad Vieja? That I have seen first hand the effects of pasta base, a derivative of cocaine similar to crack, that is cheap and all too effective. That I see the stark contrast between the poor community in Ciudad Vieja and the wealthy suburbs of Pocitos and Carrasco. For many, it is a reality of drugs, prostitution, dysfunctional families, homeless people, kids peddling used goods and begging on the streets. That I can see this ruin the lives of the beautiful, funny and intelligent girls I care for day in and day out.

And the fact is, they don’t know these things about me, but that’s fine, and if I am given the opportunity to speak, I will be happy to do so. I love speaking in Spanish and fully embrace the “chatty-Cathy” nature of the Uruguayans who can talk passionately for hours over seemingly meaningless topics. But maybe I should take this extra attention, swallow my embarrassment and shyness and use it towards my advantage to show that I am not that different and to break many of the stereotypes people here have of “Estado Unidenses” (a person from the United States) which they pick up from our pop-culture influence in T.V., music and movies.

In many ways I have a lot of the same characteristics as the Uruguayans and I would love to express my respect and envy of their cultural values. I love that they are very social people, that they don’t get embarrassed easily, that they are opportunists and able to find some creative niche in society to get by. I love telling them how much my perspective has changed since my arrival. For starters, I have a better understanding of how a foreigner feels living in another country and I will try to be more mindful and sympathetic to that situation, now seeing what it is like from the other side. More so, my experience has enabled my outlook on life and what is truly valuable to me come into focus. A conversation, a meal with friends and family, relaxing, living life, not just being caught up in the newest fashion, appliance, or technology, but being happy with what you have, not asking for much, making the best out of it, with a smile on your face. And if that is all I take away from this experience, it will surely have been worth it.

Written 2/4/10

Unfortunately our trip to Las Toscas has been postponed yet again, but for this time, for a reason that seems to cut right to the core. It is not just some trivial matter that can be accepted and business can be carried on as usual. Instead, it is a reason that will surely change the course of my work at the hogar and the lives of all the girls forever. The reason for this is that when I showed up to the hogar Monday morning, I was told that the adolescent wing (girls from 13-18) was being closed indefinitely.

The reasoning for this shocking blow is hard to take but literally comes down to the fact that no one is willing to take the responsibility of these girls. The current nun in charge has had enough and decided not to continue working with the girls. She has elected to return to Buenos Aires to find other work through the church. Phone call after phone call in attempts to get in touch with all of the church’s contacts in the same unsuccessful and all too familiar response, “I am sorry. I would really like to help, but I just can’t. It’s too hard.” Gut-wrenching.

And you don’t think it’s hard for these girls? They didn’t choose to be in this situation either and now, that general group of people called on to help has just shut the door on them, literally, making their lives yet again, even more difficult. Another depressing chapter to a heart-rending story. For some girls, this means going to another hogar, which is difficult in itself. To find one that has space, where the girls are not just another mouth to feed, but cared for like they are at San Vincente, is a lot to ask for. But should it be? Obviously not. This is not even mentioning the difficulties the girls will surely encounter in an unfamiliar place. Another problem is some are too young or too old, so finding any hogar that will accept them will be difficult. For some of the older ones, this means they will go off on their own, which I pray doesn’t turn to prostitution and drugs, which in 90% of the cases, it does.

For a lucky few, the hogar is trying their best to find family contacts, godparents, friends, anyone that will be willing to take in the girls. For instance, one girl has a grandmother who is old, but capable, kind and safe. Although she doesn’t have much money to support another person, maybe the church can supplement the cost of living to help support these girls for the time being. It is their fault in the first place that they couldn’t continue providing the care they promised. We are cutting our numbers in half so hopefully some of that money we spend on food, clothing, etc. can at least go towards the girls once they are forced to leave.

On top of that, this means that the older girls in the younger group (11 and 12) are now forced to leave much sooner than the 18 year-old age limit they were given when they arrived. Their sisters, their family, their friends, their life are unexpectedly about to change, and their heads are the next on the chopping block. In a year or two years, they will be yanked away from the life they know and will have to start anew.

This preoccupation has been apparent in their behavior, as this week was exceptionally hard. More fights, more screaming, more disrespect, more swearing, less cooperation, more crying, and rightfully so. I would feel betrayed just as they do, but what can we do? Nothing, and it feels terrible. I feel like I have let them down and useless for not being able to come up with some way to help them.

This news was particularly hard for me because I wanted so badly to help out, but it was out of my hands. Although I offered, I am not qualified nor experienced enough to take care of 12 girls from 13-18, regardless of my extensive experience working with kids back in The States. It all boils down to one thing, my gender. Absolutely no. That is the only answer I would get. It makes me feel guilty, like I am a sexual predator, which disgusts me even though I know I’ve never done anything wrong at all, but that stigma of a man working with young girls sticks, hard.

But I am trying not to think about this impending change. We have until the end of February, when the new school year starts, to place all these girls in new homes. I try not to think that in a month, the other half of the home I have grown so connected to will be closed, but that reality will come all to fast. It doesn’t help that February is the shortest month of the year.

But what I do know is that in times of adversity, positive energy, tenacity and perseverance are invaluable assets that need to be utilized. In light of that, I have been using the extra time that we are not spending at Las Toscas by teaching the girls some of the practical knowledge I had tried so desperately to teach them during the school year. While the girls are in school, there is just no time, patience or ganas (desire) to do extra work with such a fast paced, regimented schedule so the lackadaisical summer rhythm was a great opportunity to push them a little harder.

This all started to change with a broken toenail and a puss filled knee. Romina sounded like she had just chopped off her leg, but in reality, it was only a minor injury of a lifted toenail while playing on the small playground. After carrying her inside to clean her up, I realized that the girls don’t have their own set of first aid supplies. The following day, I brought the first aid kit I brought for my trip that was still unused. I sat all the girls down and gave them a brief overview about first aid, the importance of cleanliness and how to properly change and bandage oneself correctly.

The girls were mesmerized by the simple tools that your typical first aid kit has (Band-Aids, bandages, tweezers, tape, ice pack) and after the short tutorial, they new the basic usage and importance of everything in the kit. The girls had many questions to ask while I bandaged Romina’s toe and Antonella’s infected knee and by the end, almost every girl had some scrape, cut or boo-boo that needed a Band-Aids, and I was happy to give out some of the many I had.

It hit me just then that by finding the girls something useful and interesting to learn I had their full attention. When I came home from work that day, I made a list of other things I noticed that we had or could easily have to teach some more hands-on, practical things for the girls. For the older girls in the younger group (11-12), this list includes art projects, simple cooking projects, science, geography and even some English lessons. With the younger girls, we are working on reading, the alphabet, counting, (in Spanish) and potty training!

My goal is to do one project/theme a week and so far, for the first week (last week), we have had great success. The older girls started by learning how to make popcorn, which was a nice treat after lunch and we put some sugar on the popcorn to give it a kettle corn feel. Seeing 2 year old Mica having her entire face covered in sugar and from her fingers to her elbows was hysterical and worth the work to clean up the mess of popcorn spilled all over the floor by the anxious girls. We also practiced some English dialogue with simple questions and answers and even made a few short videos using my video camera, which I will hopefully upload soon.

With the little girls the biggest focus is on potty training and what we can do in addition is a bonus, but seems to be going pretty well too. Seeing the older girls working and accomplishing things makes them want to simulate their productivity and work on things too. There is a small table that the girls use to color that has the numbers 1-10, the alphabet and the months of the year, so while the girls are coloring, I usually do repeat exercises and include parts of the body, colors and other objects around the room to try and expand their vocabulary.

The project for this week will be the first art project, but I would love to hear any creative ideas that anyone out there has that could be incorporated into our new program. I will be sure to keep you posted on their progress.

As I mentioned in my last blog, the trip with the hogar was postponed until February. With this postponement, an incredible opportunity came about and I was happy to take advantage of it. One of my best friends from back home, Pete, and his mom had planned a short vacation to come visit a Uruguayan family friend, Tonio. Tonio was college friends with Pete’s dad, but it had been years since the Nunley’s had seen Tonio and coincidentally, they decided to come down to visit, and learn a little about Uruguay while I was on my fellowship.

The interesting opportunity was an invitation to go up to Tonio’s estancia (the Spanish equivalent of a ranch), Santa Modesta, outside Guichon, Paysandú, a department on the west coast of Uruguay about 4 hours north of Montevideo. It was one of the last major parts of the Uruguayan culture (gaucho = Uruguayan cowboy) that I had not fully experienced and so I immediately jumped on the invitation. Many of the schools I work for in Rivera are in the rural farmlands of northern Uruguay, but aside from passing through and holding some workshops at the schools, my interaction with the gaucho lifestyle was minimal.

After meeting Antonio in his office in Montevideo, we drove to Colonia to meet up with the Nunley’s (Pete and his mom). I still had so many questions about Uruguay and I thought, “who better to them than someone that can communicate to me in both Spanish and English?” so I started firing away. In the 2.5-hour trip, I asked a total of 2 questions, but they were so thoroughly answered that they eliminated many of the other questions I had in the process. For example, when asking Tonio’s opinion on ways in which Uruguay can prevent their young and well educated professionals from moving to foreign countries to work, he started his answer with a full and in-depth history of Uruguay, complete with names, incredibly accurate dates, battles, etc. Finally, we arrived at the present and he gave me a detailed response referencing and recapping much of what we had just talked about for the previous hour. I should have taken notes!

After picking up the Nunley’s we grabbed lunch and continued to Santa Modesta. There is no easy way of getting to Santa Modesta due to the meager “highway” system throughout the rural interior of Uruguay and so the Nunleys quickly learned- as I have from my many trips to Rivera- that when they say there isn’t much to see in the interior of Uruguay besides grazing cattle and farmland, they aren’t kidding.

We arrived just as the sun began setting over the hills of Tonio’s 4,000 acre estancia and we grabbed a seat on the freshly cut grass and took in the glorious view. After a full day of traveling, it felt great to take in the smells, sights and sounds of the nature surrounding us, from the breathtaking sunset over the rolling grassland, to the sounds of birds and bugs in the trees all around us settling in for another beautiful starry night. We just sat in silent satisfaction, completely content and craving more of this hidden lifestyle that we knew nothing about.

I tried to make the most of the few days I was out at the estancia, doing as much and asking as many questions I could come up with, allowing my inner gaucho to fully immerge and take hold of this idyllic lifestyle. Many times when interacting with the gaucho’s and Tonio’s right-hand-man, Fabio, I felt like some ineffectual city dweller. I lacked the calluses on my hands or the dark leathery skin that can only be acquired from countless hours of physical exertion and hard manual labor from dusk till dawn. Each of the gauchos’ seemingly indestructible core accustomed to the wear and tear of a hard days work was a solid dose of humble pie and I took it with a smile, wondering if my body could be transformed into a machine, their most useful tool.

Although the roosters crowed at around 6:00 in the morning we let the gaucho’s start their work unmolested by the silly gringos until later on in the mornings. Our mornings usually consisted of learning about how the estancia is managed, and with such a diverse business plan, that was plenty to keep us busy until lunch.

Tonio explained that his property is much larger than that which was given to his brothers and sisters (inherited from his family), but that the soil is superficial, meaning it is relatively shallow before hitting bedrock. The insubstantial amount of soil makes it difficult for farming, and instead, Tonio uses 80% of his land for grazing of cattle, which he breads, raises and sells. Meat is one of Uruguay’s leading exports and is projected to be between $900 - $940 million industry this coming year.

With another 10% of the land, Tonio dabbles a little bit in farming, mostly soy bean and wheat. Wheat is another major export, and may surpass meat this year in value. Since the majority of the land is used for grazing, Tonio simply leases out the land to these vagrant farmers that come with their own machinery, seeds and other supplies to plant, grow and harvest their crops. They even set up some tents under some strategically placed trees in the paddocks where some stay to get the job done, and then move on to their next estancia a few days later. Tonio receives 18 % of their total crop in exchange for renting out his land.

This leaves Tonio with a final 10% of his property, which he calls his “reserve bank account”. This would be his tree farm. Tonio specializes in pines and eucalyptus, two varieties that were imported from Spain and Australia respectively during Uruguayan colonization. Upon arrival, Uruguayan inhabitants quickly realized that the native plant species were short and grew crooked and fairly slowly, making it difficult to find sufficient wood to build houses. Tree farming has over a 200-year history in Uruguay, and Tonio has followed this tradition at Santa Modesta.

Tonio calls this his private reserve because, since it is only a small portion of his business, he does not aggressively work the land and depend on this as his main profit source, which is obviously the cows (Sorry Tom and Monica). Instead, he has a rotational growing pattern to not exhaust the land and keeps the two species because their value fluctuates, to make sure he always one crop to sell for a good price. His most mature crop was planted 15 years ago, around the birth of his youngest daughter, and he is saving that crop for a raining day, to contract someone to come cut it all down and then sell it to the mill about 40 minutes away.

This “tree account” proved very helpful in the economic crisis of 2001-2002, which was a very tough time for Estancia Santa Modesta. Tonio was even forced to rent out the majority of his land to stay afloat, but the profit from the trees cut some of his losses. His last batch of trees paid for his new home in Maldonado, a small town outside the booming party metropolis of Punta del Este.

The most interesting and revealing experience (to say the least) of the gaucho activities was artificial insemination. Now, this isn’t the most glorious story, but I thought it was interesting enough to share, and not nearly as bad to hear than to watch in my opinion. There were only three cows that needed the job done, those being the girls that had just given birth most recently. The other cows had no problem getting impregnated by the “25 cows to 1 bull ratio” the old fashioned way in the surrounding paddocks. What a tough job for the bull! First we watched Fabio and the guys corral the unsuspecting cows into this slender waiting area alongside the barn, with high walls, which kept the cows in a single file line, awaiting their destiny of impregnation that lay ahead.

As one of the farmhands, lifted the tail, Fabio, dawning an arm-length latex glove, forced his hand inside the cows rectum, which to me looked pretty uncomfortable to say the least, for Fabio, not to mention the cow, but she didn’t so much as flinch. Then, Fabio felt through the thin membrane separating the vagina and rectum to feel for the ovaries as to know how far in to insert the semen. When he located his target, another farm hand grabbed the semen, which was stored in a syringe at a specific temperature, and Fabio inserted it into the vagina.

Of the three cows, the first was by far the calmest and their anxiety increased in order from there. The second was a little more shaky but Fabio was still able to complete the task without much difficulty. The third on the other hand was going wild! After attempting to jump the gate several times, Fabio tried to calm her down by inserting his hand into her rectum. Not what I would have chosen to do to calm down a 1500-pound animal but I guess I am not the expert. Turns out that didn’t do the trick and only made her panic a little more. The other two cows looked on smugly as if they were thinking, “look at this rookie….Amature!” Finally after three or four attempts, Fabio finally was able to keep his hand in there, found the ovaries and inserted the semen. I think we were all relieved at that point. The last cow, thankfully trotted off as they released the cows back into the adjacent paddock, farting her way to the far gate, probably from all Fabio’s “help” settling her down.

After a bunch of questions and explanations, we returned to the estancia for our lunch, which was always prepared on the outdoor parilla, the wood fire burning for hours to get the hot brasas (coals) ready to slow cook ourselves some delicious chorizo, pulpita, or my favorite, lamb kebabs! After a delicious meal, normally accompanied by a simple salad (lettuce and tomatoes with oil and vinegar) and some delicious Uruguayan red wine and cheese, it was time for our siesta. Out in the open fields of Paysandú, the sun is particularly brutal in the summer, especially in the humid environment of this particular season. So from 3-7 or so, it can be unbearable to work, so this is when we enjoyed our siesta, either by napping, drinking mate, playing cards or reading a good book.

After our siesta, it was time to get back into gaucho mode and we tried our hand at horseback riding. Just coming fresh off a trip on the east coast on horseback, I was confident and ready to ride. My friend Pete, myself and Tonio spent the afternoons trotting around the different paddocks, learning more about the cattle industry, the process of calving, weaning, etc. and how this is done on a humungous plot of land.

We stopped atop one of the many hills and gazed off in the distance. Not seeing a house or any sign of civilization in sight was an incredible yet unfamiliar feeling. Tonio noticed our surprise and pointed far off to a hill in the distance on the horizon and asked us how far we thought that was, 35 miles was the answer, about the distance between my hometown of Westborough, MA to Boston, with nothing but rolling hills and grazing animals in between. Absolutely amazing!

On the first day of horseback riding, I was going along great, and they awarded me with this feat the following day by giving me a more lively horse. Instead of going along the pastures as we did the previous day, we ventured out into the depths of Tonio’s property through one of his eucalyptus farms that bordered on the edge of his land. While we were touring, a few untamed horses that were just purchased began following us and I felt like a horse whisperer. Tonio explained that they don’t tame the horses to ride until they are fully developed, both mentally and physically, which is around three years. These young stallions (maybe geldings depending on if they were castrated or not) were just galloping around us, so curious as to what we were doing riding their friends around.

On the return journey, Tonio encouraged us to get a little jump in our step and give galloping a try. The day before went well, so I figured, lets see what this horse has got. Bad idea. With a little kick and leaning forward, the horse began to pick up speed, and to my surprise, the motion of my body and that of the horse were completely in sync, making the ride exhilarating and fairly comfortable. Just as I thought this couldn’t get any better, the horse decided to turn the situation on its head and test ME!

She kicked it into 5th gear and really started taking off. Telling myself to stay calm and regain control, I slowly began to calm the horse down by leaning back with my legs out in front slowly pulling back on the reigns and making an “Sssssss” sound to the horse, which supposedly calms it down. Although I succeeded in slowing down the horse and not going over the handlebars so to speak, I did manage to scrape my arm pretty good and cut my pants open on a low hanging branch that we must of grazed. After settling down, and having a bunch of laughs with my friend Pete for nearly falling off, we trotted back to the estancia. Meanwhile, Tonio explained that the horse likes to see where he/she is at with a new rider, and so he/she will push his/her limits to test the rider’s ability. So I guess that was my test. Maybe I just scraped by with a pass, but I will be ready next time.

The nights were normally spent listening to music, learning new Uruguayan authors and even some famous North American writers who wrote some pretty great experiences about their times in South America, even in Uruguay. Tonio’s favorites are William Henry Hudson and Robert Cunninghame Graham and he shared his vast collection of first edition books and journals chronicling their travels. We would then settle in on some card and dice games before making our way outside to gaze at the stars.

The stars were so impressive there; Pete and I would often just sit out under the stars in silence thinking about everything. It was such a humbling view. We really are just a speck of dust in the eye of a giant. It was great to see the Southern Cross again, and the sight rivaled that which I witnessed in the Australian outback. The stars were so bright and clearly distinguishable, that even I could make out some of the constellations (Orion, the 7 sisters (Pleiades), Sirius and Canis Major, the Southern cross) with confidence. I’m sure Tom Perry would have been impressed, and I only wish I knew as much information about stars as he does, to truly understand all the marvels I was looking at.

On the last morning, I was not ready to go. Santa Modesta was such a peaceful place with so much to offer: a different lifestyle, a different mentality, something cleaner, more honest, hard working; a symbiotic relationship with man and nature that I could see myself falling in love with. We beat the roosters to the punch and got up early, it still being black out. After quickly packing our bags, we made our way on the dew-covered grass to see Fabio and some of the other gauchos already hard at work, herding a group of cattle from a nearby paddock into the gated area by the barn with some of the many dogs tagging along.

The humungous sun blinded us as it came over the horizon and shed light on everything around us, from the trees to the pastures, to the fenceposts and the weathervane atop the galpón, sporting the ever-present Santa Modesta logo and brand that was represented in every aspect of the house, including the placemats at the dinner table. As the sun crept over the horizon, brilliant rays emerged in a blinding fashion, painting the surrounding sky and engulfing our sleepy world as it started to wake up. Reluctantly, we said goodbye to our bucolic paradise, hopefully taking away some of our experience and mindset back to the hustle and bustle of Montevideo.

Unfortunately the sisters at the hogar had to postpone our trip to Las Toscas (where the church’s cabin is located) until February which is kind of a bummer, but at least the trip isn’t cancelled. Since its scorching hot right now in Montevideo, it hasn’t been too difficult to enjoy ourselves, but we are all looking forward to going to Las Toscas come February. The girls have been enjoying their summer vacation and spending a lot of their free time outside with yours truly. The other day, we all went to the beach, and this is an entry about that.

After a few restless hours in the sweltering hogar, the girls and I were getting fairly restless and bored. We were able to keep ourselves entertained by coming up with and acting out a play. The plot revolved around a group of popular and unpopular girls, and I played the part of the male teacher who was forced to break up their constant fighting. Ironically the play didn’t veer too far from what normally happens in the hogar, accept that they actually listened to me and stopped fighting in the play.

Eventually, the girls’ attention diverted to the new playhouse that was just finished being built and painted in the foyer outside their room. I had some trouble convincing the girls why we can’t go into the house for many obvious reasons. The first was that it reeked like paint, and although the paint was not lead-based, unintentionally huffing the fumes probably couldn’t be too good. The second was that their trampling feet were marking up the nice paint job. Unfortunately, none of these said reasons seemed to be sufficient enough to deter them from entering. After spending most of the time keeping them out, I noticed that the paint was wetter than I thought. Instead of just smudging the paint job on the floor, these little angels were running around with bright green feet, luckily not leaving any footprints.

Luckily, it was time to go to the beach. Once the girls all got into their bathing suits, Jessica (one of the new workers) and I grabbed some towels and a backpack and headed for the beach. We looked like some big hodgepodge of a family ranging in age, gender and ethnicity. Jessica is not much older than me, and we are walking in tote with Daniella, Deborah, Jessica, Lucia, Antonella, Romina, Mariana, Maira, and Mica who range in age from 2-13. The strange thing is that the looks I was getting weren’t necessarily in surprise that a young person such as myself was taking care of all these children, and potentially could be the father. It was obvious that I was not the father, but it is fairly common, especially in poorer neighborhoods, for people my age to have at least one child. I think most people’s thoughts were “Who is this crazy gringo and what is he doing with all these Uruguayan children?”

With Micaella in one arm and holding Romina’s hand with the other, I pulled up the rear of our group going to the beach. Romina is one of the more rambunctious girls so she always needs to be looked after. Although the walk from the hogar to the “beach” is only 10 minutes, about 5 minutes into it, Micaella was already asleep on my chest and I could already feel the burn developing on my pale, gringo skin.

When I say beach, I am not referring to what any of my readers would call a beach. It is actually just an accumulation of sand that has washed up from Rio de la Plata on the side of the rambla, the boardwalk that hugs the Uruguayan coast. The beach’s 15 feet of sand from the waterline to the wall of the rambla continuously diminished as the tide advanced. The beach literally comes and goes with the tide, but as usual, the Uruguayans take what they can get, don’t complain and enjoy it to the fullest - one of their most admirable qualities that I am trying to develop further throughout my stay.

The beach was filled with people from the neighborhood, sipping on mate, grabbing some sun, the kids playing with the trash in the water, and even adding it to the sand castles they were building.

When we arrived, the girls carelessly ditched their towels and excitedly threw off their shirts and sandals and ran for the water. With a sleeping Mica resting comfortably on my shoulder, I decided to prop myself up against the wall to keep some shade on her while Jessica helped Romina and Maira, the two youngest and least experienced swimmers into the water. The other girls were already up to their necks by the time I took a seat on the dirty beach, and my lifeguarding instincts (or maybe parental instincts, not sure) kicked in as I surveyed them from my spot against the wall. After about 25 minutes, the girls started calling for me to come in, and apparently watching after a sleeping two year old in your arms isn’t excuse enough.

Daniella (13 years old) came and grabbed Mica and woke her up, took off her clothes to reveal her bathing suit and we headed into the water as Mica yawned and wiped the sleep from her eyes, still not fully understanding what was going on. I am always taken aback by the confidence and maternal instinct that these young girls have for one another. In regards to childcare, I feel like they often times know more than I do and I have been working with kids almost my whole life. Part of it is probably because they are forced to look after and self-discipline each other in the absence of a permanent parental figure in their lives. The younger girls definitely depend on the older ones and the older ones depend on themselves.

I waded up to my knees before the girls surrounded me and immediately splashed to the point of saturation. Rio de la Plata isn’t the most picturesque looking body of water. Montevideo is at the mouth of the river, where all of the sediment from upstream is deposited, making the water murky and brown. On top of that, Rio de la Plata has become heavily polluted by both the Uruguayans and Argentinines. I tried not to think about all the trash and waste, but not being able to see my own feet was a feeling that was pretty hard to shake.

As usual, I had to make the tough decision of selecting which group of girls to entertain first and the bickering between the older and younger girls fighting over my company seemed like a reenactment of the play just hours before. The older girls wanted to swim out over their heads and play in the waves while the younger girls just wanted someone to hold their hand while they played around in the shallows. Mica doesn’t even like the water, so she was just content on somebody’s hip, with a dip here and there to cool off from the heat.

Somehow the girls wanted to play sharks and minnows with me as the permanent shark for one, and two, they said for me to win, I had to not only tag all of them, but corral all of them together. When I said that was impossible, they simply responded, “Nothing is impossible!” I guess that’s the right attitude for girls growing up in such a rough situation as the hogar- to be able to hope, dream and never give up- but in this circumstance, it wasn’t the response I was looking for.

Needless to say, after a good 20 minutes of trying different tactics to coral these 10-13 year olds to no avail, I gave up and suggested another game. To my surprise, the newer games were even more tiring than the previous game. We started with chicken fights, which turned into all the girls ganging up to try and dunk me underwater. In an effort to fend off my attackers, I started tossing the girls off me and into the surrounding water, which inadvertently turned into our final game. After a good hour and a half, I could barely move. I gave everyone their final throw and headed for the beach for a much needed rest, which turned out to be very short lived.

I didn’t even make it to my towel before Maira asked me to go back into the water with her. Although I was exhausted, I jumped at the opportunity because normally Maira has a big attitude with me. I have come to the realization that most of the girls at the hogar have a crush on me, and many of them show it in different ways. But Maira’s strategy seems to be the most peculiar and difficult to predict. Normally she will try and boss me around when she agrees to play with me or she doesn’t even give me the time of day. When I am playing with her, I have to be sure not to allow her to fall, lose or anything else bad happen, or else that friendship evaporates faster than spit on a summer sidewalk, and I go back to being the enemy.

My first swim lessons with Maira were conducted in the small kiddy pool at the hogar that was donated to the girls last week, but this was the first attempt in open water. After much practice, we got 5 year old Maira to doggie paddle about 5 yards to my outstretched hands, but it was challenging finding time between the waves. In the process I learned the equivalent of ready, set go, in Spanish, which is “pronto, listo, ya”. Intrigued by Maira’s progress, Romina decided to join in. Although being 10 years old, Romina doesn’t understand the concept of sharing, waiting or the fact that she is older and needs to be more careful of the younger girls, so keeping the girls at a safe distance and getting them to go at different intervals was another big challenge.

Maira decided to take a break while she was holding my hand and when I asked, “Are we done?” she casually replied, “No, I’m just peeing” like it was no big deal, and then continued doing the doggie paddle.

After the whole afternoon in the sun and constantly trying to entertain, keep an eye on the girls and teach them to swim, I was thoroughly exhausted. We finally packed up and started to get the girls together to leave which was a process in itself. Some girls didn’t want to come out, others were already trying to walk off the beach towards the hogar and Romina ended up falling on a rock and scrapping her knee, leaving a good scratch and a little blood, but not worth the screams of bloody murder that ensued.

To top it off, Maira was done listening to me and being my friend and decided that throwing sand on me would be a good source of entertainment until we were ready to leave. Ironically, it was a nice way to get Romina in the water to wash the scrape and the sand off the two of us, although I couldn’t help but think about the water, hoping that it wouldn’t infect her leg (which it didn’t).

Jessica helped the youngest girls change as I gathered the goods, and we began our return the way we came, Mica in one arm and Romina, who luckily had stopped crying and forgot all about her scrape, holding my other hand.

Watching the sun set over the horizon of Rio de la Plata as the cargo ships came in and out of the port, I couldn’t have thought of a better place to be at that moment. We grabbed a spot along the boardwalk and watched the sun disappear into the river. As I sat their and took it all in, I realized just how much I have learned from my experience with the girls at the hogar. Although it is frustrating and difficult at times, every moment I spend with them teaches me something about a life I never would have known before making my way down Reconquista St. to the little hogar in Ciudad Vieja they call home, and for that I am truly grateful. After giving each girl a kiss goodbye, I turned and started my walk home, smiling to myself thinking, “Today was a great day.”

Luckily, I have not been thinking much about the holidays down here in Uruguay for a couple of reasons. First is the summer heat. It has been beach weather for me since mid October and the thoughts of snow, winter and the holidays rarely crossed my mind unless I was asked or reminded of it by friends or family back home. Another reason is the holiday commercialism of the United States is practically nonexistent down hear. Occasionally I will see a Christmas tree in a plaza, a Santa Claus (Papa Noel) in the window of a store, or some Christmas lights, but the unreal, all-encompassing production that is Christmas in the U.S. is only an accurate stereotype that the Uruguayans have of North Americans. Although I like the way I have been celebrating Christmas for 22 years, I am thankful for the refreshing absence of the craziness.

The Christmas celebration in Uruguay is quite different. It is less centered on presents, which seems to be the major focal point back home, and instead of small quiet celebrations to enjoy the company of the nuclear family and relatives on the 25th, most of the celebration takes place on the 24th. In discussing with many people down here, the holiday seems to go like this: First, everyone wakes up on the 24th, eats breakfast and makes their way to Mercado del Puerto. If you have seen Anthony Bourdain’s show, No Reservations on Uruguay or know anything about the Uruguayan barbeque, “parilla”, you probably have heard of Mercado del Puerto (if not, don’t worry I still have to write a blog about the food). In short, Mercado del Puerto is an old marketplace used in colonial Uruguay as the central location to buy and sell goods, mostly food. The beautiful structure reminds me of an old train station with the high wooden ceiling and central clock tower, but now the focus revolves around a gang of competing parillas. Grilling and eating mountains of meat of all kinds has become Uruguay’s forte and Mercado del Puerto is probably the best place to prove it.

The people congregate around the various parillas starting around 9 am to kick off the Christmas spirit. People begin the party by drinking medio y medio (a typical Uruguayan drink of half white wine and half champagne) in the company of good friends and then spilling out into the streets, continuing the good time into the afternoon at which point they return home for a nice long siesta. After the siesta, the family gets together and has a family dinner (remember this is the 24th) and then the party continues with a smaller, familiar group. The 25th actually is mostly just a day to sleep off the resaca (hangover), relax and eat a nice lunch with the family, if their queasy stomachs permit it.

This is how my experience started: After breakfast and a shower (which I would later discover to be a complete waste) on the 24th my friend and past Spanish professor Antonio arrived to take me down to Mercado del Puerto. I prepared by changing into “clothes I didn’t mind getting wet” and left behind all valuables, aside from a couple hundred pesos (100 pesos is about 5 dollars) to buy the typical medio y medio at Mercado del Puerto.

As we left the hostel, Antonio gave me a conniving little smirk and said, “Watch your step and don’t look up.” I took this advice half seriously, but I couldn’t help the temptation to look around to see what he meant. It reminded me of a study I learned about at Union by a Harvard social psychologist, Daniel Wegner. The bizarre thought suppression study by Wegner and his colleagues in 1987 concluded that actively attempting to suppress a certain thought makes you think about that thought more and this preoccupation will lead to more said thoughts. How did they do this you may ask? Bears. Yup, white bears to be exact. They developed the idea using psychological theories from Freud, as well as some influence from the Russian literary giants Dostoyevsky and Tolstoy to test the hypothesis. The results showed that those asked not to think about a “white bear” while having a 5 minute conversation with their peer had these returning, unwanted thoughts reenter their consciousness, more so than if they were not asked to not think about white bears. Obviously I was more likely to look up with a warning like that.

So after sneaking a peak or two, I realized what I was on the lookout for, water. People emerged from their windows with buckets throughout downtown Montevideo as we walked to our destination in the heart of Ciudad Vieja, throwing water at the hoards of people walking towards the city’s port. Luckily we eluded the water throwers and safely made our way unscathed into the historic Mercado del Puerto. We arrived about 15 minutes later just as people began congregating, talking and starting to share some drinks in the plaza. I was taken by surprise when I walked into the marketplace. Typically the marketplace is hopping on the weekends at around 2 or 3 when the lunch crowd comes, but by noon, it was completely packed every table taken up and everyone with a bottle of medio y medio laughing and drinking.

Antonio and I purchased our first bottle and walked around just taking in the sites. The food smelled delicious as always but I couldn’t imagine putting down a couple pounds of meat so early in the morning. We made our way to the more economic option, the empanada bar right by the door and got a cerdo y queso and a carne, pancetta y queso. Something to line our stomachs for the ensuing fiesta. As we made our way out to the street to get some fresh air and check out the crowds, I was utterly surprised at how the crowd seemed to have quadrupled in size (por lo menos) in a matter of minutes. I was looking at mostly young people but there were people of all ages, young and old, hippie, conservative, you name it, everyone was there.

We noticed a circle forming in front of us of a Brazilian martial arts style dancing called capoeira. Capoeira is a combination of martial arts, music and dance, developed by African slaves when they were brought to Brazil in the 17th century. It is a combination of sparring, acrobatics in which participants come in and out of a surrounding circle. This circle sings and plays a drum beat, which sets the rhythm of the crazy moves. Often times, the participants would be dancing on their hands or kicking up over the heads of the opponents as they improvised using their martial arts backgrounds to dance around and nearly miss striking their each other.

It was already sprinkling when we arrived but as the dancers began to tire and take more interest in their drinking than their dancing, the rain came. This rain was not from the clouds though, rather it was man made and tasted like sweet cider. In every corner of the market place, intelligent people had spent their life savings (I would argue literally in some cases) on hundreds of plastic bottles of sidra, which is a cheap champagne/hard cider mix, and rightfully so. People were buying bottles left and right, drinking, sharing, playing, laughing, and momentarily spraying!

It seemed to start with maybe just a couple people, but within seconds, no one was safe. It rained down sidra from everywhere and everyone was dancing shouting and laughing at the good time. I soon learned from experience that sidra stings the eyes quite a bit, but I learned to manage and it was well worth it. The combination of drinking and spraying and laughing and chanting was incredible. Definitely not quite like the fairly quiet and conservative Christmases I am used to back home.

As the spraying continued, the quantity of empty bottles grew and grew on the ground, which then turned into a playful war between the three corners of people who began throwing them at one another across the plaza. It got a little crazier when people started filling the bottles halfway with water for some added weight to get them to travel further, and this reminded me a little of the crazy can wars I experienced at Preakness a few years back. The bottle war ended after ten or fifteen minutes as people were more interested in finding the lonely dry people and making sure they got wet. Even the people in the restaurants were unsafe and became easy targets as they left their tables and headed for the streets.

Unfortunately an elderly couple was spotted trying to leave, the woman with an umbrella praying to not be caught in the action. I quickly learned that nobody was excused from this fiesta and, in hindsight, the umbrella looked more like a giant target than anything else. Antonio was saying its pointless to think you won’t get sprayed, you might as well embrace it and plan on it and have some fun. Its pointless to get mad over it. As the elderly people ran for cover, swarms of people surrounded them and the spraying commenced.

In the thick of the action, someone in the crowd stole the man’s fanny pack and he turned and fell in an attempt to snare it back. To my surprise, everyone stopped what they were doing and a crowd of about 70 guys ran off chasing the perpetrator. A few minutes later, the fanny pack was returned to its rightful owner and the poor couple was helped away, physically unscathed but potentially mentally scarred for life.

This incident surprised me on many levels. I would never have the “huevos” to spray an older couple, no matter the festivities. On a more important level, the camaraderie and selflessness of the general public was astounding. I imagine that the American crowd would watch in apathy, maybe say, “Well, that sucks” and turn and carry about their business without any further consideration. Not the Uruguayans. Instantly they went out of their way to right a wrong and just as quickly, returned to celebrate the party as if nothing had happened (no pasa nada).

In Uruguay, the holiday weeks are a time for people to get away with more, and there was literally no police presence at this huge party. Antonio described it as “un ojo cerrado” or one eye closed, which seems the opposite of the police presence during the holidays in the U.S., constantly policing the roads and keeping parties “under control”. It was nice that the people could take care of themselves within certain limitations without any police intervention or major problems. Maybe man isn’t inherently bad after all, who knows?

The sidra seemed to be never ending and I joked to Antonio that there was more sidra than water in Rio de la Plata, the widest river in the world that separates Uruguay and Argentina. While we continued to dance and watch the madness, as a small candombe band (rhythmic drummers, especially famous for their performances during carnaval, but practice on the streets every Sunday) stole the crowds attention. As the band riled up the crowd and circled the plaza, people continued dancing and spraying. Some people even started climbing the fountain and kiosk in the middle of the plaza, but few lasted very long as the barrage of empty plastic bottles smashed them from every angle until they relinquished their posts.

Just as I thought the party was over, Antonio pulled me out of the crowd and we headed to the next stop, Peatonal Sarandi on the other side of Ciudad Vieja. From blocks away we could hear the music blasting and crowds of people shouting. We finally arrived to see a street long party going on (remember this is in the middle of the afternoon). All of the nightclubs and bars had turned their speakers out into the streets and were playing music for the dancing crowd. The spraying continued but also with beer this time, a more refreshing alternative to the sticky sidra that had practically glued my clothes to my body. The street was so packed with people, it took 45 minutes to walk the two blocks we needed to exit.

As the celebration came to a close, I couldn’t believe that it was actually Christmas and not some spring break party in the middle of some Caribbean Island. As the crowd started to trickle out onto the side streets of Ciudad Vieja, I headed home for a much needed shower (number two) and siesta.

The fiesta continued back at the hostel after my long siesta. Carlos and Silvana, the owners of the hostel, had put on a Christmas dinner for everyone and I can honestly say it was the most eclectic Christmas dinner table I had ever sat at. I was the lone American seated alongside four Uruguayans, two girls from Israel, a couple from France with their 18 month old girl, a Colombian and Japanese guy who were going back and forth in Spanish and Japanese, a Mexican girl and an Indian man who lives in the United States. The conversation around the table was pretty typical of travelers, (where are you from, where have you gone/are you going, etc.) but the conversation progressed into talking more about the holidays and the cultural rituals and such. It was great. After dinner, I brought down some of my mom’s sugar cookies that she sent down to share with the group. Although cookies are not a common Christmas dessert, I think they were a thumbs up. Thanks Mom!

At midnight, now technically Christmas, we began to hear a loud racket outside. After a quick champagne toast and the typical salutation of a kiss on the cheek to everyone around the table, we all went outside to see what it was. All the families up and down our street in downtown Montevideo were setting off what seemed to be fireworks but mostly were just loud explosive sounds rather than a visual display. I couldn’t believe how casually young children barely old enough to read were setting off m-80’s in the streets with their parents looking on contently or not even paying attention to the perilous entertainment.

As we poked our heads out the front door, a rogue firework flew in from outside and landed conveniently between my legs. Like a scene out of a Wile E. Coyote cartoon, I looked down (in my opinion with my eyes bulging out in an animated fashion) with enough time to stupidly say, “Uh-oh” and shield my eyes. Luckily, the firework was all bark and no bite. I wasn’t injured, nor were any of my Christmas companions, but I couldn’t hear a thing out of my left ear for a couple minutes after. We all decided then would be a good time to watch the display from the safer location and made our way to the rooftop overhead, spending the following noisy hours continuing the conversation and playing the guitar until the party died down and everyone went to bed.

Christmas Day was just like any other day. Most families were just getting up late and enjoying a big lunch together. Since the grocery store was closed and I was ill prepared to cook anything extravagant, I ended up just having some stir-fried rice. The rice was good, but nothing like the Christmas dinner at the Scaplen household I was unsuccessfully trying not to think about (white bear, white bear..). The fact that nothing was open and everyone was enjoying their family wasn’t too bad, as it gave me some time to catch up on my blog and connect with my family, friends and girlfriend back home to wish them all a very Merry Christmas and even to see my first glimpse of snow.

All in all, it was quite the experience and one I was very glad to be a part of. I still am undecided of which celebration I would like next year, because I am so accustomed to the quiet, family celebration in the States, but really enjoyed the fiesta on Christmas Eve in Uruguay. If I had it my way, I think I would do the partying on the 24th and have my traditional celebration the 25th, but that doesn’t seem very realistic. Feliz Navidad y Año Nuevo!

For the past couple of weeks I have been on vacation. I was so excited as the days approached and I had an amazing time catching up with my brother and my girlfriend, showing them around my new home and the places I have been working with in Uruguay. After thoroughly enjoying the time I had with Austin and Liz, I came back ready to return to work and to not be able to do so frustrated me.

It goes back to the lackadaisical mentality that most Uruguayans have. I still have trouble accepting myself just sitting back and passing the day without doing anything productive. While I was traveling, I felt that I accomplished a lot. Not just traveling around Argentina and Uruguay in three weeks, but also being a “tour guide” and feeling personally accountable for my visitors seemed like a big responsibility. But when I returned to Montevideo and said my goodbyes, I couldn’t help but feel really guilty about the time I had just taken off.

I know this feeling is irrational as my work with Flor de Ceibo has ended for the year and the kids at the two hogars I am working at are spending part of their summer vacation in other departments of Uruguay with their temporary guardians. The girls from the hogar were in Florida until the 28th of December and the boys from Cotolengo Don Orione (another place where I volunteer) are in Colonia until February. Since actually contributing to any work that I have been working for was impossible, I had trouble justifying why it bothered me so much.

When I came back from my trip, I was searching for more to do and after just a day of nothing, I was getting restless and turned to my blog to fill in my free time. When I started jotting stuff down, I could see how my trip highlighted some interesting realizations that before I hadn’t notice or shared. Having visitors was a good way to clear my head, regroup my thoughts, and emphasize some not so small details in my experience that I want to share.

The first and probably most important realization is that my Spanish is pretty good. After the first couple months of learning, I felt that my Spanish had kind of hit a wall and plateaued off. I convinced myself that if it was improving at all, it was doing so at a snail’s pace. What I learned through traveling, meeting new people and getting around from one site to the next is that my Spanish is more than just rudimentary or provisional; it’s actually pretty good.

I was also reassured by my visitors who expected me to know a lot, but were impressed to see me actually using it. Don’t get me wrong, I could still be a lot better, obviously, since its not my lengua maternal (literally mother’s tongue but meaning native language). My dialogue could be more fluid for one thing, as I find myself using all of my mental capacity to keep a conversation moving steadily as opposed to instinctively babbling with little or no thought at all. Of course there is still room for improvement in pronunciation and articulation, but it’s a hell of a lot better than when I arrived in July.

I am not trying to toot my own horn, but it took the perspective of an outsider to really point out the progress my Spanish has made. Being reassured was very comforting and makes me want to keep working on my Spanish for my final three or four months, but also to find away to incorporate Spanish in some capacity into my life when I get back home, whether it is for work or for fun.

The next realization I made is that Uruguay is very different from the United States. I know I write about most of the differences, but there are a lot of little and maybe even big differences that slipped through the cracks of my blog articles and it took some new faces to re-point out some things that are really different.

One good example is that the people are really affectionate here. People see public displays of affection (PDA) in the U.S. as an offensive and distasteful social taboo, but I don’t think you should be embarrassed about being affectionate to those you care about. One common manifestation of friendly affection is a kiss on the cheek, and the kissing of dudes on each other’s cheek is very common. In the U.S. this could easily be perceived as homosexual and is not the common practice as people’s ignorance and ego’s may blur the true meaning of endearment. I can honestly say I am now used to the scruff on scruff man kisses, but it did take a while to get used to.

In general, couples are much more affectionate and have no problem dropping whatever they are doing to passionately kiss their partner on the bus, in a store, or walking on the street. I think showing your affection is perfectly normal and a healthy part of the relationship and after my experience here, I wish PDA were more acceptable in the United States. At one of the fairs in Montevideo, I found a sign that said, “If you have to hide your relationship from the people around you, you shouldn’t be in it in the first place.” Right on.

Another huge difference is fashion. I would argue that there truly is no “style”, per se, but rather it’s like a make-your-own style motif. The hairstyles are out of this world! The mullet, faux-hawk, dreads, braids and rat tails are a fairly conservative way to express “style” while those with a little more pop in their step find unthinkable ways to make crazy combinations of the previously listed “stylish” options. Face piercings are also very common (especially the lip and eyebrow), even making their way into the business sector.

This has made me think a lot about how ridiculous dress codes and appearance statements are in the professional world of the United States. I understand why they are in place but I think it is foolish and extraneous. As long as the people can conduct themselves in a professional manner and it doesn’t distract them or their coworkers, who gives a damn what they wear or how they look? Does a visible tattoo or body piercing devalue one’s IQ by any certain number? No, but the popular opinion is that one cannot be taken seriously because of their “rebel” persona.

I have also realized by these oversights that I have missed many important things in my blog. I think if I had to use any excuse, it would be that in addition to my blog, I am keeping a personal journal of my trip. I would have never thought of writing a journal until my mom bought me a journal before my term abroad to Australia and New Zealand. Although I thought journals were above all effeminate and just a waste of time, I reluctantly began to chronicle my trip and am so glad that I did. It was a great way to reflect and record everything, from the big trips to the smallest of details and the great friends I made there. Looking back after two years, I reread what I wrote and already forgot a bunch of details I had jotted down. For that reason, I also decided to bring a journal to Uruguay.

It is also nice to have for this trip because I knew I would be communicating with my blog, but there are still some more personal, opinionated thoughts and experiences that I have that are a little more private. I am already over 100 pages so far and am almost done filling my first book. Wow, big tangent, back to the point, sorry about that. Anyway, the problem is that I write things down in the journal and forget that the rest of the world doesn’t know about it so sorry for that, I will try and be more conscientious about this in the future.

The biggest thing I have neglected to share is my work with Cotolengo Don Orione. I think the oversight was due to the fact that I explained this work during an interview with the Concordiensis (Union’s newspaper) and didn’t realize it was not included in my blog, so here goes!

I have been working with Cotolengo Don Orione, a mental hospital, almost as long as I have worked with the hogar, San Vincente de Paul. The only difference is that I only work there once a week, on Fridays. Cotolengo Don Orione is an institution that provides mental healthcare for abandoned males (from babies to geriatrics) with mental disabilities. I work specifically with four young children, my students, Elian, Paulo, Bryan and Marcelo who are part of the children’s wing.

My responsibilities developed back when I met with the director of the children’s wing and explained my involvement with Flor de Ceibo. The four students I work with are capable enough to go to a publicly funded school within the institution, although their ability to learn is significantly lower than most students their age (from around 8-10). Nonetheless, the director fought hard to receive computers for these students but their capacity and dexterity makes it very difficult for them to use. I work on a one on one basis to teach each student very simple things with the computers.

This work is very difficult and definitely tests my patience at times. It is one thing working in a mental hospital, but it is a completely different thing teaching in one in a different language. A frustrating day can be completely forgotten about, though, when a student finally does something by themselves for the first time, like completes a maze, finishes a memorization game or even just gives you a genuine and honest smile showing how excited they are to be working with you. Sometimes I feel like they don’t learn anything but other times I see so much potential in them. They are so proud of their computers and the programs they are learning to use. Most of the programs they are capable of using I try to stimulate thinking and interaction. The most popular game is definitely to music game which you can select different settings and press the keys to elicit different sounds from the computer.

All in all, I am excited to get back to work. The vacation was great, especially to show some of my loved ones where I am and what I am doing. Now I think they have a much better perspective of Uruguay and can relate better to the things I talk and write about. Also, I was proud to show them my new home and all the stuff I have learned since coming here. With the nice visit, I am now ready to head forward with my work and work my butt off for these last 4 months. I am just afraid it is going to go too fast.

The good news is that my boredom will be short-lived! I started back up at the hogar with the girls this morning which was great and I will continue with them full time until work starts back up with Flor de Ceibo and then Cotolongo Don Orione. I was also invited to go with the girls to the church’s house on the beach for two weeks with them to help take care of the girls, so that will be nice to enjoy the warm weather and maybe teach some swimming lessons.

I left off informing the readers of the election of Pepe Mujica from the Frente Amplio Party. I am not going to pretend like I know a lot about politics, but I thought I would share some information that I have collected mostly from talking with friends as well as some research on the internet regarding the election. Unfortunately, very little is written about Uruguay in general so the information on their politics is even more lacking. Generally I find politics really boring, so I will apologize in advance if this article bores you, but I thought the contrasts to our political system would be interesting to share.

For starters, it’s obligatory to vote in Uruguay. This I feel is both good and bad. Its good because I feel that this encourages citizens to become more in-tuned with the political views to become more informed voters. I was impressed with the amount of policy information that the students in my groups were spitting back and forth before the election. I feel most of my friends, including myself, followed very little regarding the U.S. presidential election in 2008 and because of that, were not entirely knowledgeable of all the available information regarding the candidates, but instead, just parts of their campaigns through the few interviews or articles we read or watched.

On the other hand, this does not ensure that people are politically conscientious. Uruguayans may select parties half-heartedly just to avoid the penalties of not voting. People are fined a substantial amount of money for not voting, which is differentiated by their occupation (aka students fined much less than say business professionals), but still significant nonetheless. Typically, the people who are in the least economically comfortable position are those that are those that struggle to show up and vote (do to work, family, etc.) as you must show up to specific locations to vote. They don’t have the luxury to fill out an absentee ballot before hand as they would in the United States either.

Another difference is that the sale of alcohol is also prohibited on Election Day. Although it sounds logical that the government wouldn’t want drunk people voting, possibly filling out the ballot incorrectly or voting for the wrong person, but this is far from the actual reason for the law. The law dates back to the chivalrous days of colonial Uruguay in which the members of the Colorado and Blanco parties would get hammered and challenge each other to duels during the elections. This ritual was so common in fact that many people, including some with political importance, lost their lives battling for their pride and party in a drunken stupor the day of elections. I found this little-known fact really comical as I can just picture these two drunken idiots trying to steady a pistol or raise their sword without any ounce of precision or accuracy to defend their pride and political views.

Today, the three main political parties in Uruguay are the Partido Nacional (AKA the Blancos), the Partido Colorado (Colorados), and, relatively recently, the new party of Frente Amplio. The name, “Frente Amplio” literally translates into “Broad Front” but insinuates a higher mind or way of thinking. Frente Amplio was founded in 1971 as a conglomeration of more than a dozen fractured leftist parties but was outlawed during the 1973 military coup until 1984 when democracy was restored in Uruguay. The parties comprising Frente Amplio are listed below in English to avoid confusion: Uruguay Assembly, Socialist party of Uruguay, Communist party of Uruguay, Current 78, New Space, Artiguist Stream, Movement of Popular Participation, Christian democratic party of Uruguay, Party of the Communes, Confluence Broad Front (Frente Amplio).

In Uruguay, the president is both head of state and the head of government, and is elected by popular vote (more than 50% of the vote) for a five-year term. Although the president and vice president are placed on the same ballot, there are many different programs and policies within the overarching political party, which the people also vote for. These internal elections are reflected by different numbers, which represent these different policies. This is especially true with Frente Amplio because of its diverse makeup. The internal group, Espacio 609 has won the past two elections for Frente Amplio.

The current president of Uruguay, Tabaré Vázquez, was elected representing Frente Amplio in 2004 by a popular vote of 51.7%, making Mujica’s election last month back to back wins for Frente Amplio. In general, Frente Amplio tends to be left wing (left-center), but some party members lean towards fiscal conservatism, such as the newly elected Vice President, Danilo Astori, who served as the Minister of Economics and Finance in Uruguay for Vásquez from 2005-2008. Frente Amplio favors a market economy with expanded social programs (such as Plan Ceibal, which provided the XO computers to all the primary school kids, and is now planning to expand this to public secondary and vocational schools) and has been credited by many for lifting the nation out of the economic slump after their crash in 2001, and keeping it up and even expanding despite the current global recession.

One of the most interesting things to me is that having two elections is not uncommon in Uruguay. For example, the first round of elections in 2009 was a month before my last entry, in late October. The way it works is, if there is no outright winner in the first round, they eliminate the candidate with the smallest percentage of the votes, (In this case, Pedro Bordaberry of the Colorado Party) and have a second election the following month. The election that took place on the 29th was actually the second election. Mujica nearly won the outright majority in the first election in late October with 48% of the popular vote, but was forced to contest for la secunda vuelta in November. Regardless of which election gets the job done, the President is inaugurated on March 1st.

In the first round of elections, there were also two other laws to vote on. The first was whether the government should divulge information regarding what happened to those that were detained, tortured, or who disappeared during the military reign. Many people were taken from their families in the middle of the night, like a scene out of V for Vendetta or some Orwellian police state, just as they were during the reign of Pinochet in Chile. Many families still have no idea the whereabouts of their loved ones, or at least what happened to them. The second was the right for Uruguayans living out of the country to vote. Both needed a popular majority vote of yes to pass and neither did.

This really confused me because I figured both were logical “yes” votes, but I guess not. With the first one, I don’t see how people could not want closure or at least accountability of the government to explain what happened to their loved ones. The other I can understand a bit more. As I mentioned in an earlier blog, many young professionals from Uruguay leave to go to other countries to live and work abroad where the pay is better. The general consensus of those still in Uruguay is that they don’t want to award those abroad that are stimulating a foreign economy with the privilege to vote back home. This way, there is no added incentive for them to export all their talent to Buenos Aires, parts of Europe and the United States.

Although predicted to win by a margin of 6 points, Mujica seems to worry many people, but like most politics, I can only assume selecting him was the lesser of two evils. For starters, Pepe Mujica is 74, which is fairly old and worrying for a lot of people. He is also an ex – guerrilla fighter who waged an armed revolt against the democratically elected government in the 60’s and 70’s. He was also jailed for 14 years during the military coup along with other political leftists and “free thinkers”. Granted, Mujica may have been fighting for the good guys back then against some unquestionable corruption in Uruguay, but it hard to believe that the people can reward someone with the most powerful office in the country after being an active member in the Tupamaro Guerilla movement which committed bank robberies, political killings and kidnappings to fight Uruguay’s conservative government. Mujica is a man from the interior to say the least, which is how he got so much support from the blue-collar, common man, or more often, the green collar, as he was a farmer and former agriculture minister and senator. One major criticism of Mujica from the opposition that continues to come up is that he is not cultured, well educated and too informal to be taken seriously on an international standpoint. As my friend, Antonio (who voted for Lacalle (Partido Nacional)) says, “He doesn’t even know English!”

If you have been in Uruguay the past year, you wouldn’t be surprised by the victory of Pepe. Every telephone pole and city wall has been whitewashed over with the colors of red white and blue (the colors of Frente Amplio) painted over it, or motivational slogans like “Dale Pepe” or the tell tale Frente Amplio sign of the F and A vertically aligned, just barely connecting. Needless to say the celebration was very different than the tame celebrations typical in the United States.

As we walked along the Rambla, my friends and I sat and watched the locura, the craziness unfold. Kids, families, friends began to come together in groups, walking the streets, proudly carrying or wearing their Frente Amplio flags. Cars, trucks and vans were packed with people laying on their horns and waving and shouting for Pepe. The traffic was bumper to bumper at points on this highway up the coast of eastern Uruguay with some flags and banners from cars blocking the view of the others behind them. As the victory announcement was made just around 9 pm, the crowd all converged onto 18 de Julio, downtown Montevideo’s main street. This main road was completely blocked off as people walked in herds, chanting for Pepe, meeting friends, drinking mate or beer and celebrating all their hard work and now victory.

Papers were flying from cars and windows overhead (which is customary at soccer games) acting as oversized confetti blanketing the chanting mob in the streets. It didn’t matter that the rain had started and was picking up to a pour. The people stayed out for hours singing in happiness in the middle of the streets. Parties were going on everywhere late into the night, and no one would ever forget that Pepe Mujica was El Presidente at last.

The sources from which this information was taken aside in addition from the information gathered by word of mouth are as follows:

www.reuters.com
www.telegraph.co.uk
www.timesonline.co.uk
www.voanews.com
www.reuters.com

I wrote this blog before my computer was acting weird, which means before my last blog on Thanksgiving, so keep that in mind while reading it. I came back to edit some mistakes and my internet connection died, so I had to re-upload the blog, so some phrases may have changed slightly, so sorry about that. Also, I have been doing a massive upload on my picture website which you can visit on the link to the right of the page! Hope you enjoy!

11/21/09

Okay so it’s been a little while since my last blog so I thought I would just fill everyone in on what I have been up to recently. It has been a busy past few weeks, but busy is always a good thing. For starters, since finishing my Spanish lessons, I have started using that free time to start teaching English lessons. So far I am teaching two students. One is the son of a woman that works at the hostel and the other I was put into contact with through my Spanish teacher who was tutoring this girl in Italian. Both students have upcoming English exams at the end of the school year (December) and another in February so we are cramming for those tests, but the English is pretty rudimentary so I hope it won’t be too much of a problem.

Teaching English makes me see how illogical and disorganized it can be and how logical and organized Spanish is. It is almost too logical. Sometimes I doubt the correctness of some of the words I use and I feel like an irregular conjugation would be more correct, and I attribute this to the many irregular conjugations in English. I have also realized how we as English speakers have a very round-about way of saying things, while in Spanish it is much more direct, which is much easier to understand and learn, but came off to me as rude when I first arrived. Like we are taught the Spanish from Spain, these students are taught English from England, so I am getting my kicks out of some of the subtle or maybe not so subtle changes in vocabulary…rubbish instead of trash, sweets instead of candy, knickers, crisps, torch… I feel like Pip from South Park. Also the spelling is different which is confusing to teach, especially because I am not a great speller myself.

With Flor de Ceibo, we finished our final trips last week and we our now rushing to finalize and close everything for this school year which ends before Christmas. This means taking all the information we have gathered and all the work we have done at the schools and organize it into a logical way that expresses our goals, what we did, what the effects of our efforts were, and what our plans for the future are. Although it is unfortunate to be finishing the work for the year, it has given us the opportunity to measure our efforts on the year.

We had been rushing and organizing so many things, that we didn’t really notice the impact and progress that we have made until this week when we started looking at everything from a greater perspective and compiling it all together. I think the most noticeable changes were the students increased abilities with the computers and their unanimously positive feedback in their evaluations of the program. Good work Doble Chapa and Flor de Grupo!

It was disappointing coming back from our last trips knowing that it won’t be until February that we will make our first trip for the following school year to the schools. Our work will continue from a more administrative standpoint, to assess our current work and plan our work for the future. But with this pause in the program will come some much anticipated free time to travel a little bit and “approvechar” (take advantage of) the summer and especially the coast in Uruguay.

In speaking with almost all of the members of my two groups on one occasion or another, they all confirmed that nobody does anything in January for the most part and the only people staying in Montevideo are tourists, the homeless, or the people not fortunate to get time off from work. Everyone else goes to the beach, so I guess I will have to experience that too. I told them I would feel guilty just lying on the beach all January, even if the rest of the country was doing the same, but I may have found a way to be more productive during the summer while still being able to enjoy the beautiful weather, which I will go into shortly.

Also with the increased free time, I have been devoting more and more time to San Vincente de Paul, the hogar (orphanage) in Ciudad Vieja. For the last two months I have been going Monday through Friday and have really gotten to know and love the girls I am working with there. It is a whole other world I would have never experienced and I feel privileged and happy to be able to help and bring a smile to these girls faces, although it is not as easy as that may lead you to believe.

Most recently, I have had the opportunity to participate in some of the girls’ weekend festivities as well. First was the baptism of seven of the girls from the home, which was a really refreshing and positive experience. At times, the girls, coming from a very rough background, have learned to put on a hard outer shell as a defense mechanism against the cruel world they live in. For that, they are strong willed and fight a lot and at times, can be really hard to get under control. There are times when I feel overwhelmed, underappreciated and ineffective, but I have to remind myself that this is a result of their negligent upbringing. I know that although they may not come out and say it or show it, my determination to not give up on them and to keep working with them will be appreciated in the long run. I have also found a lot of comfort talking to past fellows, my parents, Antonio (my Spanish professor), Liz and the sisters at the home (Hermana Amalia y Hermana Virginia) to help me keep plugging along but what is most motivating are these events at the hogar. They make the good side come out in these girls and the potential that deep down, each one possess comes out and makes me so proud of them.

Other events I have recently participated in are a first communion and a Quinceñera, the traditional 15th birthday party for girls in Latin America. It was great to see the girls all dressed up for once and proud of each other and themselves, and for once (literally the first time ever) they were not fighting with each other. The girls were so adorable, getting one another ready and all laughing, smiling and giggling with anticipation. I was very confused about the people representing them, as I only knew the women and students from the hogar. I couldn’t tell if the remaining people were family, extended family or just people that volunteered to represent the girls. I didn’t feel it was my place to ask, and I figured if the girls were happy, than I was happy, and I would just leave it at that.

Going to church in a foreign country, let alone another language was an experience in itself. Hearing the prayers in Spanish and trying to pick out the typical “church-word” Spanish counterparts was entertaining and I managed to follow the typical routine of mass from memory of all the masses my family would go to every weekend when I was younger without issue. The homily in Spanish was very impressive and, in my opinion, much more moving than if I had heard the same thing in English.

As I mentioned before, at times, I felt my impact at the hogar was not what I had hoped and one day, it was really getting to me so I sat down and had a chat with one of the sisters to discuss my concerns. I told her how I felt unappreciated and that I was spending all of my free time trying to help these kids and that it was really frustrating me that they weren’t respecting me. What frustrated me even more was that the girls weren’t putting forth any effort and couldn’t understand the importance of taking advantage of the opportunity they had been given to prevent turning into their mothers- frankly put, the majority being prostitutes and/or drug addicts.

Although she agreed with many of my points about the girls and how hard a life it was for them, she assured me that although they have a tough exterior they really did appreciate my help and she encouraged me to continue to put my best effort forward with them. I expressed that I wanted to work even harder just to show the girls I really care about them and want to make a positive impact on their lives. The next day, I was really excited about coming in with a harder schedule to work and motivate the girls, but unfortunately I found out that Sister Virginia’s idea of me making a bigger difference was helping in the kitchen.

Don’t get me wrong. I have no problem helping out when it is needed and I know my way decently around the kitchen, (especially after living off campus my last year at union without a meal plan and more importantly this year cooking every meal for myself in Uruguay on a fairly tight budget) but I did not come to Uruguay to volunteer in a kitchen and serve food to people. I came to make a difference and try and better the lives of people. Needless to say, I cleared everything up and now we both understand what’s up. One of the helpers in the kitchen has been sick for a really long time and so the help was much needed, but I assured her that this was not my idea of making a “greater impact”. I am no longer working in the kitchen, but that one experience did give me the opportunity to find a solution to the problem I was having about my plans for January.

In the kitchen I talked with the sisters about possibly living with the girls over the summer, as my work with Flor de Ceibo was finished while the schools were on break. The sisters explained how the girls go to the beach during January to relax and enjoy the summer of Uruguay in a house that the church owns. I explained how I thought it would be great if I could go there and live with the girls, and hopefully help out, but at that time, they were still unsure about the possibility of them going do to some other issues. Recently, I have had further conversations, and it looks like it will all work out and I will be going to the house in Shangrila with the girls to relax and hopefully win them over for good. The sisters were really happy when I told them I am a lifeguard too!

I also talked with them about potentially moving into the hogar when I returned from the house in Shangrila, to hopefully take on a greater role with the girls. Although it is an all girls orpahanage, I have learned that there is a wing of rooms that are rented by university students downstairs and that since my work with the computers is through the University and I am volunteering at the orphanage, I may be able to rent a room. This would be great on many levels. For starters, I would have more interaction with the girls and could help out more, and it would be more economical than the place I am staying now. This information regarding the students renting rooms also helped me realize how this small church is able to send the majority of the girls to good schools and sports clubs.

Well, that was a pretty major update. Sorry, but brevity is not my strong suit, hopefully it wasn’t too long of an entry. I can’t believe the first half of my trip is already over, but I am excited about all the new projects I am starting and the work I will be continuing to do with the girls and Flor de Ceibo. I have a feeling that the second half of the trip will go a lot faster than the first half, so I hope I will be able to accomplish all or most of the things I have planned for the rest of my stay in Uruguay. On another note, this past Sunday were the presidential elections of Uruguay and Pepe Mujica of the Frente Amplio party won, but more information on that will be in an upcoming blog. I hope all is well with everyone back home and don’t forget to check out the picture update!

So it´s been a while since my last entry and I wanted to appologize for that. It has mostly been on account of me being very busy with my work for Flor de Ceibo and San Vincente de Paul, which is both exciting and overwhelming at times (Update on that work shortly). Recently, it has been due to my computer, or hopefully, for my sake, only the AV cable that is the power source to my laptop, which is no longer functioning. This has made access to a computer much more difficult and less frequent, hence my lack of correspondence.

Luckily, I am working for a non-profit that gives out laptops to children and the volunteers have access to the computers too. Don´t get the wrong impression, this is far from what most would say is convenient. To put this into better perspective, my hand is easily large enough to palm the 5.5 x 8.5 inch screen of the XO and the rubber keys look like they would be more fitting on a cellphone than on the keyboard. It is literally impossible for me to rest my hands on either side of the central row of keys to type ¨correctly¨ as I was taught in elementary school.

For that reason, I have reverted back to typing with my two index fingers and I ironically feel just as frustrated as I once was in those typing classes in elementary school. I am begining to think that the small keyboard is an intentional security device to deter adults from stealing the laptops from the kids. From my experience so far, I can confirm that this is most certainly an effective tactic.

None the less, I have decided to use some free time to write what I am thankful for, giving that it is Thanksgiving and all. Earlier today, I was thinking about all the great Thanksgivings in the past. Aside from the great food, I remembered going around the table and having each person say what they were all thankful for one bye one. I specifically recalled my embarrasment during this event last year when my girlfirend , Liz, celebrated the holiday with my famiy and I. I don´t know why I was so embarrassed (maybe because I thought it was childish), but looking back, I think it is an important piece of our tradition that I have decided to continue from Uruguay.

It has truly been an experience so far in Uruguay and, por lo menos, I have learned how fortunate I am and could never have grasped my true appreciation without this experience. For that I am thankful for this trip in and of itself. One of the things I will take away most from this is experience is to never forget how lucky I am and to never forget about the people who aren´t so fortunate. I have been exposed to and worked with a number of horror stories that normally I may only read about in the newspaper. But being a part of it and attaching a name with a face does something and makes it real, makes it so you never forget it. For that I will always remember. This list is in no particular order and by no means is it all inclusive, but just some things I was thinking about today.

I am thankful for my family. I have learned that this is something I often take for granted and assume as a given. Until my experience in Uruguay, I thought very little about those that grow up without a family or whose relationship with their parents can hardly be described as familiar. I have seen how strong and resilient the girls at the hogar and some of my students in the schools of Aeroparque and Rivera can be when placed in situations of extraordinary hardship. I am greatful to not know what that experience feels like. I am thankful for my family´s love, care and support and their constant effort to do what is best for me. Its ironic how the older I get and the less time I spend with them, the more I appreciate them and their impact on my life. I love you guys.

I am thankful for my girlfriend. I am lucky to know such a smart, funny, and chaismatic person and I am thankful to have found someone who shares so many of the same ideals, goals and interests as me and to be able to enjoy so much time with her. I am thankful for her honesty and support, and for her advice and care. Her ability to make me laugh, and to always see the positive even in the most negative situations is something I truly appreciate. Thanks Liz!

I am thankful for my friends. I never realized how lonely the world can be without friends until I came down to Uruguay. It was the first experience I can remember starting completely alone with no one to depend on, hang out with, or talk to. This is what made me realize how lucky I am to have such a great and diverse group of friends and how much I miss the time I spend with them, almost all my free time! Countless memories of reaking havoc with the posse in Westborough, treking around Bear Island with my camp friends, all the good friends I made from 2nd floor west that remained tht way throughout college and my Sigma Chi brothers. Thank you!

I am thankful for my education. After seeing the situations that some of the people I am working with are in (5th graders who can´t read or write, teachers that abuse thweir students…) I am thankful for the strong public school education I recieved, and as well as the education at Union that has prepared me for whatever future lies ahead. Having a well rounded education has been a great life skill that has given me a wide range of skills to work out the problem I may encounter. Education is the key that has opened many doors for me, and I am lucky for that.

I am thankful for my financial situation. Without it, there is no way I would be here right now. From the people begging on the streeets to the people working their butts off in two jobs just to stay afloat, I am lucky to have the flexibility to not have to worry about that all the time, and focus on other things instead of preocuppying myself on the thought of what I need to do just to make ends meet. I look at the students who volunteer with Flor de Ceibo in amazement that they donate the little free time they have to help the youth of Uruguay while juggling jobs and school simultaneously. Their work ethic is inspirational and definitely flies in the face of the ¨typical¨ mentality of working as little as possible which the majority of Uruguayans have embraced.

I am thankful for a healthy lifestyle of food to eat, water to drink and a comfortable place to sleep. This ties in with financial situation, but I figured it was fitting to distinguish this category on a day of glutonous consumption, myself included on most years, except for today and the Thanksgiving of 2007. (Abroad in New Zealand, I remember our Thanksgiving feast was a modest grilled cheese and tomatoe soup made by yours truly in a hostel on the south island of New Zealand. ) We are fortunate enough to celebrate a holiday where we can eat until we pass out. So next time you have to loosen your belt or unbutton your pants to finish off your plate, just think about the millions of people starving around the world and the impact your decision to eat excesively has on the environment and the the people living in it. On a side note, they don´t even have turkey in the grocery stores in Uruguay.

Lastly I am thankful for the communication and the technoogy that has kept me in touch with everyone back home. First off, the support and encouragement has meant more than you all would know, especially from certain individuals who have kept me positive and level headed during times of frustration and self doubt in Uruguay. Secondly, to be able to communicate my experience with all of you. To unveil hopefully how some not so fortunate peple live their lives. To make you more aware and hopefully your realization will change your outlook and maybe convince you to find a way to impact someone and make a difference.

Well, hope you all have a great turkey day, and if you take the chance to stop and think about what you are thankful for, try and think about how truly lucky you are, and how maybe you can find a way to make someone else more thankful. THANK YOU!