I went for my long run this morning. Saturdays are the days for this weekly ritual in preparation for my half marathon. I decided to change my route and climbed to the top of Cerro San Cristobal today. There are pictures of this characteristic Santiago hill already posted, and some quick online searches and conversions made me realize that my climb was 1200 feet. It was a pretty good workout, needless to say, but I basically knew what I was in for, as I had walked up it a couple weeks prior. At that time, seeing some die-hard runners amidst the walkers and bikers, I thought to myself, “I should try that.” It’s that same, silly mode of thinking that convinces me to run marathons. Don’t ask me to explain it. It’s certainly not fun while you’re doing it, but it’s satisfying when it’s all said and done.
The American guy that I met earlier in the week told me that he had run to the top already, and to put it in his words, “When you reach the top, it’s just you, the city, and Mary.” If I were to change any part of that, I would add smog.
Saturday, March 25, 2006
Thursday, March 23, 2006
Random Stories
1.) I smile, you smile. Smiling is the universal language, especially when one is struggling with the native one. Once on a bus adventure, while Sarah was still here visiting me, I asked a bus driver where was a certain plaza. He answered rapidly, so I just smiled and nodded. He smiled and nodded back. Sarah admitted that she didn’t catch what the driver had said, and I confessed that I hadn’t either. Work in the lab has elapsed similarly at times. Claudia, the student with whom I am working, now reaffirms that I actually understood what she said, having figured me out. Perhaps I smile too much.
2.) Transmission. I don’t claim to know much about cars, but I do know when a transmission is not working well. On one of my regular, commuting mornings, I boarded a bus and took a seat. As the bus started to roll forward and the engine revved fiercely, the driver naturally thrust the stick into the next gear. As that was done, a large THUD was heard, and the jolt to our inertia caused the neck of every passenger to retreat toward the seat in front of them. I wondered whether the bus would actually get me to work that day. I also wondered whether transmissions could blow up. It was a really loud thud, after all, and it was heard every time we had to stop and restart. Thankfully, I did make it to work, my neck a little soar, but other than that unscathed.
The next day, I boarded a bus to notice a familiar stuffed gorilla hanging from the rear-view mirror and a sticker reading “The Doors.” I was on the same bus as the morning before! What luck! The driver must have had the bus looked at, however, as there were no alarming thudding noises that morning.
3.) Collectivos. I have also had the experience of another form of public transportation – collectivos. These are essentially shared taxis. People who are heading in the same direction line up to share in the service and price. I had to wait in a line for a half hour, but it was my only means, as the subway did not go in the direction I needed, and I didn’t know which number bus to take. When it was finally my turn, I got in the car and shut the door. The driver looked at me in the rear-view mirror and muttered a complaint, which I think was in response to the strength I used to shut the door. Perhaps I figured – there being no seatbelts – that I had better at least shut the door securely. Or, maybe it is habit to shut car doors with a slam, having grown accustomed to farm pick-up doors that, from years of traversing bumpy, gravel roads are out of alignment, and thus must be slammed, lest they swing open during the ride.
The driver then asked me for the address of the place I wanted to go, so I told him. He then argued with me that the address which I wanted was not in the district of town that he serviced. Having looked at a map prior, I knew that it was, so I insisted. Finally, one of the other women in the car came to my rescue and convinced the driver of my direction.
4.) Lab tension. The technician in the lab where I am working does not seem to like me. She is often very snappy and impatient with me. Luckily, I don’t work with her directly, but it still makes for an uncomfortable work environment at times. She also hoards the lab supplies with a watchful eye, which means that when I need something, I have to practically beg her for it. She asks what quantity I need, and gives me exactly that, so there is no room for error. I recently said something to Claudia about how I didn’t think I was in good favor with the technician, but she assured me that it was not only I – that generally, she is just an unfriendly person. I took a little bit of comfort in that, but I still ponder why she is so hostile.
5.) More on dogs. I’ve had two near dog attacks recently, both while I was running. One was by a large German Shepard after sundown. It was looking at me uncannily as I approached, so I slowed down and walked. Thinking this would settle its nerves, it instead decided to pounce at my feet and ankles. Its owner immediately reprimanded it (though why she didn’t have it on a leash to begin with is beyond me), and then she kindly asked if I was ok. I was, so I continued home. The second instance was with a small breed, which I couldn’t identify. Now, let me just say that, in general, I think small dogs can often be more aggressive than larger ones. Some sort of adaptive mechanism perhaps? Well, anyhow, I went running by and it came after me nipping at my ankles. I let out a yelp, and the owner and accompanying friends started to laugh. This made me angry, and I think I mumbled some things that I will not repeat here.
And then, a couple days after the second incidence, I heard a statistic: forty people in Santiago alone are bitten by dogs every day. Knowing this, I won’t just mutter what’s on my mind the next time someone laughs at their dog’s unfounded aggression.
6.) Trembling. I have been awoken the last two nights in the wee hours of the morning to shaking. The first time alarmed me to an extreme – throwing the blanket off and sitting up, wondering who had entered into my room and shaken me. Finding no one, I figured I had just been dreaming. The next morning at breakfast, though, my landlady asked if I felt the earth tremor in the night. So I hadn’t been dreaming! And then, it happened again the next night! A California native, I have felt earthquakes before, but usually not in such frequency. I just hope buildings are up to code, if “code” even exists.
7.) Running. I discovered a nice park (Parque Ines Suarez) where I go to do interval workouts. There is a path around the perimeter, which I figure is about 800 meters. It is a popular park for families and anyone looking for recreation, as there is a playground for children, basketball hoops, large grass areas, and benches. I often get interesting looks as I race around the path and pass other runners. Last week, after I’d finished my intervals, a couple giggly young women stopped me. One of the girls had purple hair, and I could smell the remnants of alcohol, so the giggling didn’t surprise me. They were very nice, though, and asked me why I was running. I told them that I was training for a half marathon, and then we conversed for a little while. The same girl with the purple hair also had a tongue ring, so she was a little bit difficult to understand, but I mustered my way through. Yesterday, however, I was approached by someone that I had no problems understanding. Fair skinned and strawberry blond, he asked me in a very “gringo” Spanish why I was running. Now, I know my Spanish is no where near perfect, but at least hearing this guy gave me confidence in knowing that it wasn’t as bad as it could be. I replied in Spanish, “No eres de aqui.” (“You are not from here.” Notice: this was a statement; not a question.) Then, I asked, “Where are you from?” So we talked for a while. It turns out he runs cross country for his university in Illinois. He said he noticed me doing laps and could tell that I wasn’t just some recreational jogger. That made me feel pretty good. After all, the half marathon is only about 2 weeks away.
2.) Transmission. I don’t claim to know much about cars, but I do know when a transmission is not working well. On one of my regular, commuting mornings, I boarded a bus and took a seat. As the bus started to roll forward and the engine revved fiercely, the driver naturally thrust the stick into the next gear. As that was done, a large THUD was heard, and the jolt to our inertia caused the neck of every passenger to retreat toward the seat in front of them. I wondered whether the bus would actually get me to work that day. I also wondered whether transmissions could blow up. It was a really loud thud, after all, and it was heard every time we had to stop and restart. Thankfully, I did make it to work, my neck a little soar, but other than that unscathed.
The next day, I boarded a bus to notice a familiar stuffed gorilla hanging from the rear-view mirror and a sticker reading “The Doors.” I was on the same bus as the morning before! What luck! The driver must have had the bus looked at, however, as there were no alarming thudding noises that morning.
3.) Collectivos. I have also had the experience of another form of public transportation – collectivos. These are essentially shared taxis. People who are heading in the same direction line up to share in the service and price. I had to wait in a line for a half hour, but it was my only means, as the subway did not go in the direction I needed, and I didn’t know which number bus to take. When it was finally my turn, I got in the car and shut the door. The driver looked at me in the rear-view mirror and muttered a complaint, which I think was in response to the strength I used to shut the door. Perhaps I figured – there being no seatbelts – that I had better at least shut the door securely. Or, maybe it is habit to shut car doors with a slam, having grown accustomed to farm pick-up doors that, from years of traversing bumpy, gravel roads are out of alignment, and thus must be slammed, lest they swing open during the ride.
The driver then asked me for the address of the place I wanted to go, so I told him. He then argued with me that the address which I wanted was not in the district of town that he serviced. Having looked at a map prior, I knew that it was, so I insisted. Finally, one of the other women in the car came to my rescue and convinced the driver of my direction.
4.) Lab tension. The technician in the lab where I am working does not seem to like me. She is often very snappy and impatient with me. Luckily, I don’t work with her directly, but it still makes for an uncomfortable work environment at times. She also hoards the lab supplies with a watchful eye, which means that when I need something, I have to practically beg her for it. She asks what quantity I need, and gives me exactly that, so there is no room for error. I recently said something to Claudia about how I didn’t think I was in good favor with the technician, but she assured me that it was not only I – that generally, she is just an unfriendly person. I took a little bit of comfort in that, but I still ponder why she is so hostile.
5.) More on dogs. I’ve had two near dog attacks recently, both while I was running. One was by a large German Shepard after sundown. It was looking at me uncannily as I approached, so I slowed down and walked. Thinking this would settle its nerves, it instead decided to pounce at my feet and ankles. Its owner immediately reprimanded it (though why she didn’t have it on a leash to begin with is beyond me), and then she kindly asked if I was ok. I was, so I continued home. The second instance was with a small breed, which I couldn’t identify. Now, let me just say that, in general, I think small dogs can often be more aggressive than larger ones. Some sort of adaptive mechanism perhaps? Well, anyhow, I went running by and it came after me nipping at my ankles. I let out a yelp, and the owner and accompanying friends started to laugh. This made me angry, and I think I mumbled some things that I will not repeat here.
And then, a couple days after the second incidence, I heard a statistic: forty people in Santiago alone are bitten by dogs every day. Knowing this, I won’t just mutter what’s on my mind the next time someone laughs at their dog’s unfounded aggression.
6.) Trembling. I have been awoken the last two nights in the wee hours of the morning to shaking. The first time alarmed me to an extreme – throwing the blanket off and sitting up, wondering who had entered into my room and shaken me. Finding no one, I figured I had just been dreaming. The next morning at breakfast, though, my landlady asked if I felt the earth tremor in the night. So I hadn’t been dreaming! And then, it happened again the next night! A California native, I have felt earthquakes before, but usually not in such frequency. I just hope buildings are up to code, if “code” even exists.
7.) Running. I discovered a nice park (Parque Ines Suarez) where I go to do interval workouts. There is a path around the perimeter, which I figure is about 800 meters. It is a popular park for families and anyone looking for recreation, as there is a playground for children, basketball hoops, large grass areas, and benches. I often get interesting looks as I race around the path and pass other runners. Last week, after I’d finished my intervals, a couple giggly young women stopped me. One of the girls had purple hair, and I could smell the remnants of alcohol, so the giggling didn’t surprise me. They were very nice, though, and asked me why I was running. I told them that I was training for a half marathon, and then we conversed for a little while. The same girl with the purple hair also had a tongue ring, so she was a little bit difficult to understand, but I mustered my way through. Yesterday, however, I was approached by someone that I had no problems understanding. Fair skinned and strawberry blond, he asked me in a very “gringo” Spanish why I was running. Now, I know my Spanish is no where near perfect, but at least hearing this guy gave me confidence in knowing that it wasn’t as bad as it could be. I replied in Spanish, “No eres de aqui.” (“You are not from here.” Notice: this was a statement; not a question.) Then, I asked, “Where are you from?” So we talked for a while. It turns out he runs cross country for his university in Illinois. He said he noticed me doing laps and could tell that I wasn’t just some recreational jogger. That made me feel pretty good. After all, the half marathon is only about 2 weeks away.
Friday, March 17, 2006
Musings on a Daydream
I was daydreaming on the bus this morning. Daydreaming has become a favorite pastime, a hobby of sorts, in this somewhat isolating world of immersion. Take for example, the viticulture and enology class that I attend Tuesday afternoons for three hours. Three hours of lecture is a substantial amount of time, no matter what the class, but when the class is in another language, it is particularly taxing. So, as the minutes tick slowly by and the curtains flap in the subtle breeze, my mind gradually lapses to another time and place, which brings me back to my state this morning.
I was reading an essay written by Woodrow Wilson in September 1891 – then professor at Princeton University – entitled “How Books Become Immortal.” The essay was included in the January/February 2006 edition of Atlantic magazine, which was given to me by my friend Micah before leaving New York for Chile because it contained an article on California olive oil. With articles ranging from olive oil to the new pope to the culture war in the U.S. to new age jazz singers, it has become my daily bus reading, and I’ve nearly progressed from cover to cover. I sat there reading Wilson’s words describing what it is that could make a book immortal: “…A casting of thought which could not but arrest and retain men’s attention; it [the book] said some things once and for all because it gave them their best saying. Or else it spoke with a grace or with a fire of imagination, with a sweet cadence of phrase and a full harmony of tone, which have made it equally dear to all generations of those who love the free play of fanciful thought or the incomparable music of perfected human speech.” I thought to myself that this piece of Wilson’s – this prose like poetry – was great writing itself. And I also thought how extraordinary it would be to write something that generations perceive as immortal. Writing has always been a passion of mine. I remember writing fanciful stories as a mere elementary student and an essay in honors high school history about Benjamin Holt’s 75 model Caterpillar tractor – an assignment to document a piece of local history. Who would have thought that these early productions, with their own garnering of prizes, would fuel my passion for writing today? I have often humored my parents, saying that I should kick this agriculture habit and pursue a writing career. But agriculture, after all, runs through my arteries with an energy as intense as my blood scarlet. Chalk it up to six generations of family history, I suppose. And, on top of that, I reason that my interest in writing is, in actuality, a result of my passion for agriculture and the path my life has taken given this passion. I consider my best writing not to be those fanciful tales written by the young, creative mind but instead that Caterpillar essay, my various travel logs, or my journal where I write about those things which I have personally encountered, those things that I feel, those things that light a fire within me – like agriculture.
Yet, all of this is still a preface to my commuting daydreaming tale. Remember, I did title this blog “Directed Wanderings,” so be it my whole person or just my mind, it is what the reader should come to expect of me. In fact, my daydreams this morning were a series of mental wanderings – just like this excerpt – spawned by a conversation I had with my landlady last night. I was sorting through email when Lony came in and asked what I was working on. I told her I was sending email inquiries about Ph.D programs and then explained that when I return from this year abroad, I will begin a doctorate. At my mention of going back to school, she rolled her eyes, threw back her head, and exclaimed, “¡Tanta escuela!” (“So much school!”) And then she proceeded with a series of questions about why I planned to go back to school. Was I going to be a student forever? How long would it take? But after another four years, I’d be in my 30’s! Did I ever plan to get a job? I told her yes, that I wanted to work for a university. But couldn’t I get a job in a business without more schooling? Why don’t I just do that? Finally, exhausted from the inquisition, I simply said, “No quiero trabajar en empresa. Quiero trabajar en universidad.” (“I don’t want to work in a business. I want to work in a university.”) That basically killed our conversation, and I went back to my mail.
So, what is it that possesses one to desire to work in a university and thus pursue so much education? Surely, it is not for the money. It has been documented that people in private industry can make just as much or more money – with fewer degrees – than people in the public sector. As I sat, staring out the window at the littered streets and graffitied buildings, I developed two explanations. I can only speak for myself, though perhaps there are others with my same sentiments. My first reason for my educational and career pursuits stems from something I already mentioned: I have a passion for agriculture. It is the life I know; it is my family’s history. Farming is not just a job; it is a life. And it is a tough life at that! A farmer doesn’t arrive at the office at 8:00am and leave at 5:00pm. A farmer lives by the whim of the weather. A farmer has no negotiating power over his income, even though he produces the bountiful cornucopia that isn’t just our pleasure but our means of survival. Stepping down from my soapbox, I view university research and the entire land grant mission of teaching, research, and extension – through unbiased methods and distribution – as providing efficiency and innovation to growers, and perhaps a means of just making their lives a little bit easier. If I can give that back to my family of farmers and to other farmers whose trials and turmoils keep me fed, then all the years of education are worth the effort.
But there is another reason for my pursuits, perhaps not as valiant but equally rewarding on a personal level. Allow me to quote Wilson once again. “The world is attracted by books as each man is attracted by his several friends. You recommend that capital fellow So-and-so to the acquaintance of others because of his discriminating and diverting powers of observation: the very tones and persons – it would seem the very selves – of every type of man live again in his mimicries and descriptions. He is the dramatist of your circle; you can never forget him, nor can any one else; his circle of acquaintances can never grow smaller. Could he live on and retain perennially that wonderful freshness and vivacity of his, he must become the most famous guest and favorite of the world. ….In short, in every case of literary immortality there is present originative personality. Not origination simply, -that may be mere invention, which in literature has nothing immortal about it; but origination which takes its stamp and character from the originator.” Wow! To know that “favorite of the world” and his originative personality – how truly remarkable would it be to have such company! But wait, perhaps I have.
At the universities I attended, I befriended a world of intriguing individuals. Take, for example, my friends “Guy among the trees” and “Barney.” These are their self-given pseudonyms on their own blogs. “Guy among the trees” and “Barney” are themselves comrades, and both describe on their blogs their “Philosophe 5” group that meets every Friday afternoon for drinks and discussion to unwind from the week passed. I remember similar meetings with friends the last few years – confiding in them about academic and personal issues alike, but more emphatically, about how to survive yet another Ithaca winter! These friends, these – my future colleagues, may not be the famous guests as described by Wilson, but each have given my mind immortal sustenance. I thrive on university communities – the mixing of minds and ideas, the integration of races, ethnicities, and religions. The protesting students chaining themselves to trees, the thriving of arts and culture, and yes, the simple discussions around a table that open one’s mind to the incredible latitude of thought by people speaking in rhetoric. These could, in fact, be the “originative personality” about which Wilson spoke. These could be immortal dictions – books yearning to be written.
A sudden grip of the brakes on that ramshackle bus “awoke” me from my daydreams this morning. The guy sitting next to me had headphones on, but I could clearly hear the rap music, and he made hand gestures with the beat. I had not noticed the crowd of people now standing over me on that laden bus. Still in my hand was Wilson’s “How Books Become Immortal,” and I remembered how my daydreaming began. Perhaps a writing career will never materialize for me, and likely, I will never produce anything that survives the centuries. But, maybe my landlady is right after all. Maybe I will be a student forever. If that means living my passion and feeding on the passions of others, then I will assume immortal contentment in my place.
I was reading an essay written by Woodrow Wilson in September 1891 – then professor at Princeton University – entitled “How Books Become Immortal.” The essay was included in the January/February 2006 edition of Atlantic magazine, which was given to me by my friend Micah before leaving New York for Chile because it contained an article on California olive oil. With articles ranging from olive oil to the new pope to the culture war in the U.S. to new age jazz singers, it has become my daily bus reading, and I’ve nearly progressed from cover to cover. I sat there reading Wilson’s words describing what it is that could make a book immortal: “…A casting of thought which could not but arrest and retain men’s attention; it [the book] said some things once and for all because it gave them their best saying. Or else it spoke with a grace or with a fire of imagination, with a sweet cadence of phrase and a full harmony of tone, which have made it equally dear to all generations of those who love the free play of fanciful thought or the incomparable music of perfected human speech.” I thought to myself that this piece of Wilson’s – this prose like poetry – was great writing itself. And I also thought how extraordinary it would be to write something that generations perceive as immortal. Writing has always been a passion of mine. I remember writing fanciful stories as a mere elementary student and an essay in honors high school history about Benjamin Holt’s 75 model Caterpillar tractor – an assignment to document a piece of local history. Who would have thought that these early productions, with their own garnering of prizes, would fuel my passion for writing today? I have often humored my parents, saying that I should kick this agriculture habit and pursue a writing career. But agriculture, after all, runs through my arteries with an energy as intense as my blood scarlet. Chalk it up to six generations of family history, I suppose. And, on top of that, I reason that my interest in writing is, in actuality, a result of my passion for agriculture and the path my life has taken given this passion. I consider my best writing not to be those fanciful tales written by the young, creative mind but instead that Caterpillar essay, my various travel logs, or my journal where I write about those things which I have personally encountered, those things that I feel, those things that light a fire within me – like agriculture.
Yet, all of this is still a preface to my commuting daydreaming tale. Remember, I did title this blog “Directed Wanderings,” so be it my whole person or just my mind, it is what the reader should come to expect of me. In fact, my daydreams this morning were a series of mental wanderings – just like this excerpt – spawned by a conversation I had with my landlady last night. I was sorting through email when Lony came in and asked what I was working on. I told her I was sending email inquiries about Ph.D programs and then explained that when I return from this year abroad, I will begin a doctorate. At my mention of going back to school, she rolled her eyes, threw back her head, and exclaimed, “¡Tanta escuela!” (“So much school!”) And then she proceeded with a series of questions about why I planned to go back to school. Was I going to be a student forever? How long would it take? But after another four years, I’d be in my 30’s! Did I ever plan to get a job? I told her yes, that I wanted to work for a university. But couldn’t I get a job in a business without more schooling? Why don’t I just do that? Finally, exhausted from the inquisition, I simply said, “No quiero trabajar en empresa. Quiero trabajar en universidad.” (“I don’t want to work in a business. I want to work in a university.”) That basically killed our conversation, and I went back to my mail.
So, what is it that possesses one to desire to work in a university and thus pursue so much education? Surely, it is not for the money. It has been documented that people in private industry can make just as much or more money – with fewer degrees – than people in the public sector. As I sat, staring out the window at the littered streets and graffitied buildings, I developed two explanations. I can only speak for myself, though perhaps there are others with my same sentiments. My first reason for my educational and career pursuits stems from something I already mentioned: I have a passion for agriculture. It is the life I know; it is my family’s history. Farming is not just a job; it is a life. And it is a tough life at that! A farmer doesn’t arrive at the office at 8:00am and leave at 5:00pm. A farmer lives by the whim of the weather. A farmer has no negotiating power over his income, even though he produces the bountiful cornucopia that isn’t just our pleasure but our means of survival. Stepping down from my soapbox, I view university research and the entire land grant mission of teaching, research, and extension – through unbiased methods and distribution – as providing efficiency and innovation to growers, and perhaps a means of just making their lives a little bit easier. If I can give that back to my family of farmers and to other farmers whose trials and turmoils keep me fed, then all the years of education are worth the effort.
But there is another reason for my pursuits, perhaps not as valiant but equally rewarding on a personal level. Allow me to quote Wilson once again. “The world is attracted by books as each man is attracted by his several friends. You recommend that capital fellow So-and-so to the acquaintance of others because of his discriminating and diverting powers of observation: the very tones and persons – it would seem the very selves – of every type of man live again in his mimicries and descriptions. He is the dramatist of your circle; you can never forget him, nor can any one else; his circle of acquaintances can never grow smaller. Could he live on and retain perennially that wonderful freshness and vivacity of his, he must become the most famous guest and favorite of the world. ….In short, in every case of literary immortality there is present originative personality. Not origination simply, -that may be mere invention, which in literature has nothing immortal about it; but origination which takes its stamp and character from the originator.” Wow! To know that “favorite of the world” and his originative personality – how truly remarkable would it be to have such company! But wait, perhaps I have.
At the universities I attended, I befriended a world of intriguing individuals. Take, for example, my friends “Guy among the trees” and “Barney.” These are their self-given pseudonyms on their own blogs. “Guy among the trees” and “Barney” are themselves comrades, and both describe on their blogs their “Philosophe 5” group that meets every Friday afternoon for drinks and discussion to unwind from the week passed. I remember similar meetings with friends the last few years – confiding in them about academic and personal issues alike, but more emphatically, about how to survive yet another Ithaca winter! These friends, these – my future colleagues, may not be the famous guests as described by Wilson, but each have given my mind immortal sustenance. I thrive on university communities – the mixing of minds and ideas, the integration of races, ethnicities, and religions. The protesting students chaining themselves to trees, the thriving of arts and culture, and yes, the simple discussions around a table that open one’s mind to the incredible latitude of thought by people speaking in rhetoric. These could, in fact, be the “originative personality” about which Wilson spoke. These could be immortal dictions – books yearning to be written.
A sudden grip of the brakes on that ramshackle bus “awoke” me from my daydreams this morning. The guy sitting next to me had headphones on, but I could clearly hear the rap music, and he made hand gestures with the beat. I had not noticed the crowd of people now standing over me on that laden bus. Still in my hand was Wilson’s “How Books Become Immortal,” and I remembered how my daydreaming began. Perhaps a writing career will never materialize for me, and likely, I will never produce anything that survives the centuries. But, maybe my landlady is right after all. Maybe I will be a student forever. If that means living my passion and feeding on the passions of others, then I will assume immortal contentment in my place.
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
More on Culture
1.) Security. I live in an upscale district of Santiago. Despite this, every house has a fence with pointy posts, and every fence contains a barking dog. Many windows have bars. When walking down the street, no woman casually throws her purse over one shoulder, and men do not carry their wallets in their back pockets. Instead, purses are grasped tightly, and wallets are put in less-conspicuous places. Friends, neighbors, acquaintances, and even the nice, old woman that walked my same route home from church one Sunday morning have warned me of thieves. Unfortunately, pick-pocketing is an all-too-common problem in this city and many other parts of Chile for that matter.
2.) Dogs. …Make more dogs, which make more dogs, which make more dogs. Strays roam the streets like cattle roam the prairie. Actually, I don’t really know how cattle roam the prairie, but it sounded like a good analogy. Ha! Most seem to be harmless, and one, I joked, was a guardian angel in disguise when it accompanied Sarah and me all the way home one night.
3.) “Little” things. Just about every noun is given the diminutive form in Chile. No one has called me “Michelita” yet, but I’m growing accustomed to everything else being an “ito” or “ita.” In the lab, it works pretty well: a test tube is a “tubito” (little tube), and a beaker is a “vasito” (little cup). But when I’m supposed to measure out “un poquito” (a little amount), that’s when it gets confusing. I measure out very little, taking seriously their diminutive emphasis, but then they usually follow-up with, “pues, un poquito mas” (well, a little more).
4.) Lines. Or perhaps, lack there of. I’ve come to learn that standing back and waiting my turn only means that someone else will step in front of me and push me aside. Be it a store counter or communion at mass, the only way to get something accomplished is to push my way forward with the rest. And I’ve also learned that just because she’s a little, old lady doesn’t mean she can’t push too. In some cases, little, old ladies have been the most aggressive “cutters.”
5.) Check please. No one is ever rushed at a restaurant. Even if the restaurant is busy, wait staff never pressures the customers by bringing them the check. It is only brought when it is requested.
6.) Freeway traffic. As a Californian, I am accustomed to seeing freeway traffic, but on my way to Quillota, I observed traffic of a different sort. First, there were people biking; and worse, there were people walking! The bus that I took made frequent stops – yes, stops on the freeway – to let people off. Yet, I was more appalled by the fact that people were actually crossing the freeway by foot, waiting in the median when traffic was heavy. I don’t want to imagine the fatality statistics.
7.) Bus entertainment. During my hour-long bus ride home from the university, there are usually a hand-full of folks that hop on the bus at traffic lights, with their Styrofoam coolers strapped around their necks, and try to sell ice cream to the passengers. “Mora, lucuma, cherimoya! Cien pesos!” I just keep reading. But one day, a different sort of character joined us instead. That afternoon, an abrupt stop made me look up from my magazine to see a man wearing a huge sombrero and carrying a small boom-box. He chanted some things so quickly that I could not understand, and then he turned on his boom-box to full volume and started singing at the top of his lungs. Seeing musicians play on the streets, in touristy locations, and at restaurants and then pass through the crowd with their hat extended was not a new sight to me; seeing one come on the bus in a sombrero was. I just went back to reading my magazine. But, when the second song – a Latin rendition of Bryan Adams’s “When You Love a Woman” – was echoed throughout the bus, I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing, especially when a quick turn nearly knocked him off his feet! I tried to hide my face in my, magazine so no one would see the humor I was getting out of this. Nonetheless, I give him credit because it takes a lot of nerve to sing in front of a crowd, and despite being out of key, I might have given him something for his efforts when he came around with his sombrero, but I spent my last coin on the bus fair.
2.) Dogs. …Make more dogs, which make more dogs, which make more dogs. Strays roam the streets like cattle roam the prairie. Actually, I don’t really know how cattle roam the prairie, but it sounded like a good analogy. Ha! Most seem to be harmless, and one, I joked, was a guardian angel in disguise when it accompanied Sarah and me all the way home one night.
3.) “Little” things. Just about every noun is given the diminutive form in Chile. No one has called me “Michelita” yet, but I’m growing accustomed to everything else being an “ito” or “ita.” In the lab, it works pretty well: a test tube is a “tubito” (little tube), and a beaker is a “vasito” (little cup). But when I’m supposed to measure out “un poquito” (a little amount), that’s when it gets confusing. I measure out very little, taking seriously their diminutive emphasis, but then they usually follow-up with, “pues, un poquito mas” (well, a little more).
4.) Lines. Or perhaps, lack there of. I’ve come to learn that standing back and waiting my turn only means that someone else will step in front of me and push me aside. Be it a store counter or communion at mass, the only way to get something accomplished is to push my way forward with the rest. And I’ve also learned that just because she’s a little, old lady doesn’t mean she can’t push too. In some cases, little, old ladies have been the most aggressive “cutters.”
5.) Check please. No one is ever rushed at a restaurant. Even if the restaurant is busy, wait staff never pressures the customers by bringing them the check. It is only brought when it is requested.
6.) Freeway traffic. As a Californian, I am accustomed to seeing freeway traffic, but on my way to Quillota, I observed traffic of a different sort. First, there were people biking; and worse, there were people walking! The bus that I took made frequent stops – yes, stops on the freeway – to let people off. Yet, I was more appalled by the fact that people were actually crossing the freeway by foot, waiting in the median when traffic was heavy. I don’t want to imagine the fatality statistics.
7.) Bus entertainment. During my hour-long bus ride home from the university, there are usually a hand-full of folks that hop on the bus at traffic lights, with their Styrofoam coolers strapped around their necks, and try to sell ice cream to the passengers. “Mora, lucuma, cherimoya! Cien pesos!” I just keep reading. But one day, a different sort of character joined us instead. That afternoon, an abrupt stop made me look up from my magazine to see a man wearing a huge sombrero and carrying a small boom-box. He chanted some things so quickly that I could not understand, and then he turned on his boom-box to full volume and started singing at the top of his lungs. Seeing musicians play on the streets, in touristy locations, and at restaurants and then pass through the crowd with their hat extended was not a new sight to me; seeing one come on the bus in a sombrero was. I just went back to reading my magazine. But, when the second song – a Latin rendition of Bryan Adams’s “When You Love a Woman” – was echoed throughout the bus, I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing, especially when a quick turn nearly knocked him off his feet! I tried to hide my face in my, magazine so no one would see the humor I was getting out of this. Nonetheless, I give him credit because it takes a lot of nerve to sing in front of a crowd, and despite being out of key, I might have given him something for his efforts when he came around with his sombrero, but I spent my last coin on the bus fair.
Lab Rat, Field Mouse
The University of Chile is divided into various campuses. The campus housing the university’s agriculture programs, though once in the country outside of Santiago, is now in the thick of the sprawl, amidst the traffic, noise, and in a rough part of town no less. It takes me one hour by bus to get there – that’s one hour each way. The buses are old, make frequent, abrupt stops, and during my rides, probably have near-accidents more times than I care to count. So, needless to say, the commute is horrendous, but it does give me a chance to read, I suppose. When I’m not concerned for my life, I am relaxing. Well, that last part is a lie: I’m usually not concerned that my life is in danger; nonetheless, I usually am not relaxing either.
I am working in the lab group of Dr. Álvaro Peña, a professor in the Ag Industry and Enology department. His name was passed on to me by a former Cornell graduate student friend of mine, who is from and now back in Chile. Under my self-proposed theme of studying environmental and economic sustainability issues in each country that I visit, I was informed that the economically-sustainable crops in Chile are those that can be exported. In terms of environmental sustainability practices, wine grape growers have been making progress. So, I made the decision to study wine grapes and wine making – a crop and a process that I know very little about but that is of importance in all the places I have lived. Thus, it seemed prudent to educate myself on the subject matter.
Álvaro’s research predominantly involves understanding how grape quality translates into wine quality, so there is a good deal of lab work involved. Nevertheless, as grape quality is essentially the result of field conditions, he cooperates with other professors on research in the field. My first week I spent entirely in the lab, evaluating samples for anthocyanin and tannin levels and other properties. I felt very much like a fish out of water, considering I hadn’t done lab work like this since probably UC Davis chemistry classes. My learning curve was made even steeper since no one in the lab speaks English, but I generally was able to watch and learn. I was a little alarmed, though, by the fact that we were using caustic materials and not wearing gloves and worse, using our mouths on the pipets instead of bulbs! Maybe I’m too much of a stickler for “living by the book,” but this was certainly prohibited in chemistry class. I think they thought I was a wuss when I looked at them with an “Are you kidding me?” expression when they told me to use my mouth to suck up the diluted concentrations of hydrochloric acid. But, I did it, so I don’t know what that says about my intelligence. My mom used to chide me with the all-too-familiar “Would you jump off a cliff if everyone was doing it?” when I was a kid. My answer today would still be no, so I don’t know why I didn’t just request some gloves and a bulb.
I am interested in doing this work in the lab and learning procedures that perhaps I could apply to my own work in the future; nonetheless, I was glad to get out in the field when the opportunity arose. We recently took a trip north to Punitaqui to visit a private, organic vineyard where research is being conducted. We left Santiago and headed west to Route 5 – a familiar highway to me in parts much further north. The highway bordered the coast for much of the voyage, and the waves crashing into frothy white foam to the west and the thirsty hills, covered with dry grasses and peppered with cactus to the east was quite a dichotomy. We eventually veered inland into an irrigated valley and were surrounded by lush green vineyards, laden with crop, and various fields of vegetable crops. We passed a crimson carpet of peppers lying out to dry and vineyards of Muscatel grapes – used to make Pisco, the traditional Chilean drink. The “one-road” town of Punitaqui had a nice central square but was otherwise quite poor, often plague with earthquakes. Its colorfully-painted buildings are made of adobe clay and have been rebuilt several times due to the earth tremors. The vineyard was just outside of town. We spent the day walking the rolling plots of Cabernet Sauvignon, collecting samples, and taking photosynthesis measurements. I will likely return there in a couple weeks to help with harvest.
For pictures of the Punitaqui vineyard, visit my Shutterfly website.
I am working in the lab group of Dr. Álvaro Peña, a professor in the Ag Industry and Enology department. His name was passed on to me by a former Cornell graduate student friend of mine, who is from and now back in Chile. Under my self-proposed theme of studying environmental and economic sustainability issues in each country that I visit, I was informed that the economically-sustainable crops in Chile are those that can be exported. In terms of environmental sustainability practices, wine grape growers have been making progress. So, I made the decision to study wine grapes and wine making – a crop and a process that I know very little about but that is of importance in all the places I have lived. Thus, it seemed prudent to educate myself on the subject matter.
Álvaro’s research predominantly involves understanding how grape quality translates into wine quality, so there is a good deal of lab work involved. Nevertheless, as grape quality is essentially the result of field conditions, he cooperates with other professors on research in the field. My first week I spent entirely in the lab, evaluating samples for anthocyanin and tannin levels and other properties. I felt very much like a fish out of water, considering I hadn’t done lab work like this since probably UC Davis chemistry classes. My learning curve was made even steeper since no one in the lab speaks English, but I generally was able to watch and learn. I was a little alarmed, though, by the fact that we were using caustic materials and not wearing gloves and worse, using our mouths on the pipets instead of bulbs! Maybe I’m too much of a stickler for “living by the book,” but this was certainly prohibited in chemistry class. I think they thought I was a wuss when I looked at them with an “Are you kidding me?” expression when they told me to use my mouth to suck up the diluted concentrations of hydrochloric acid. But, I did it, so I don’t know what that says about my intelligence. My mom used to chide me with the all-too-familiar “Would you jump off a cliff if everyone was doing it?” when I was a kid. My answer today would still be no, so I don’t know why I didn’t just request some gloves and a bulb.
I am interested in doing this work in the lab and learning procedures that perhaps I could apply to my own work in the future; nonetheless, I was glad to get out in the field when the opportunity arose. We recently took a trip north to Punitaqui to visit a private, organic vineyard where research is being conducted. We left Santiago and headed west to Route 5 – a familiar highway to me in parts much further north. The highway bordered the coast for much of the voyage, and the waves crashing into frothy white foam to the west and the thirsty hills, covered with dry grasses and peppered with cactus to the east was quite a dichotomy. We eventually veered inland into an irrigated valley and were surrounded by lush green vineyards, laden with crop, and various fields of vegetable crops. We passed a crimson carpet of peppers lying out to dry and vineyards of Muscatel grapes – used to make Pisco, the traditional Chilean drink. The “one-road” town of Punitaqui had a nice central square but was otherwise quite poor, often plague with earthquakes. Its colorfully-painted buildings are made of adobe clay and have been rebuilt several times due to the earth tremors. The vineyard was just outside of town. We spent the day walking the rolling plots of Cabernet Sauvignon, collecting samples, and taking photosynthesis measurements. I will likely return there in a couple weeks to help with harvest.
For pictures of the Punitaqui vineyard, visit my Shutterfly website.
February Dreer Fellowship Report
Chile: The Slender Giant
Striving for Excellence Among the Greats
Another country, another continent. Another hemisphere, another season. From dry, rolling countryside to flat, fertile valley. At first glance, there is perhaps little comparison between the lands of eastern Spain where I spent my three months and those of central Chile, where I will pass the next three. One country lies in Europe, while the other has a European flair. One is a peninsula, while the other is described as an island, given its geographic isolation between ocean, desert, mountains, and ice. Though Spain could be contained within our largest continental state, the slender Chile could span all of them from Los Angeles to New York City.
Within its borders, Chile has its own contradictions. The Atacama desert in the north is one of the driest places on earth with some regions having no recorded precipitation; while the island of Chiloé in the south has registered over 157 inches in a year. Temperatures in the climatically Mediterranean central valley range in the 90s◦F during the summer, but they rarely top 50◦F in Punta Arenas – the southernmost city of the world. Santiago, the country’s capital, is the home of over six million people – one third of the country’s total population; while Easter Island is one of the most isolated inhabited regions on the planet. From sea level to Andes Mountain peaks 23,000 feet in altitude just 60 miles inland; from 55 active volcanoes to 12 great lakes to a 1,000 island icy archipelago – Chile boasts a little bit of everything geographically. All of this exists despite the fact that it is the second smallest South American republic.
Chile is obviously not small in its diversity of landscape; nor is it small in its richness of flavor, where this slender giant may be comparable to Spain or even to where my own sentimentality falls – California. But, be it Spain, Chile, or California, as different as they may be, there is one thing they all share in common and that is their fruits of labor, dare I even say their Gardens of Eden, at least in terms of the paradisiacal produce that emerges to nourish the body, soul, and culture of their peoples.
The Chilean Fruit Basket
A stroll through a Chilean farmers’ market bears witness to the multitude of locally-produced, fresh fruit (and vegetables) at the disposal of the populace – country and city alike. Sellers are busy restocking tables and attracting customers to their produce. Prices are cheap, and though insect defects and bruising are often apparent, the taste of this perfectly ripe fruit cannot be surpassed. It’s a rainbow of flavors: from golden peaches with a subtle rose blush to purple plums. But, these fruits of the deciduous tree variety, familiar to the American consumer, are just a portion of the fruit basket. Various subtropical and even tropical fruits may also be discovered by the scrutinizing observer, and for a better understanding of their cultivation, I took a two hour trip northwest to Quillota to see these fruits in the field.
At the Catholic University of Valparaiso Agriculture Experiment Station, I met with Dr. Eduardo Oyanedel, former Cornell graduate student and now station director. The 60 hectare experiment station has 40 hectares of orchards, and out of the 31 universities in Chile having schools of horticulture, the Catholic University of Valparaiso is the only one with an experimentation station on site. In the 5-6 year “Engineer of Agriculture” degree program, students are required to conduct field research and write a thesis; thus, the convenience of field access is an advantage to these students. The station is also an important attraction for visitors – both domestic growers and foreign scientists numbering over 1,500 annually.
The majority of the orchard ground at the experiment station is planted to citrus and avocado. For both of these crops, the station has germplasm repositories: a relatively new virus-free repository of citrus, with material collected from the University of California, Riverside and research stations in Italy, Spain, and Israel; and a 40-50 variety composite of avocados. These crops are also propagated in the on-site nurseries. Approximately 600,000 trees are propagated and grafted each year and are then sold to growers or used at the station. The selling of these trees and of station fruit contributes significantly to the station budget. Innovative research is also being conducted on these crops. Avocados, for example, grow abundantly on the hillsides of Chilean valleys, and in fact, grow well with little maintenance. It has been realized, however, through pruning and density studies, that with perhaps a bit more attention, yield can increase substantially. Also, studies of the environmental impacts of these hillside plantations, in terms of soil erosion and water pollution, are in their infancy. Variety trials and Phytophthora studies are being conducted on citrus.
Aside from citrus and avocado, nevertheless, other “exotic” fruits are grown at the experiment station, and though these crops are by no means new to the taste buds of Chileans, they are fairly new to the research scene. A chilling unit experiment on kiwifruit is investigating how chemical applications can substitute for inadequate chilling hours during the dormancy period. In cherimoya, high-density planting studies are finding that yields can be increased five to six times over yields of traditional plantings. In lucuma, researchers are learning how irrigation affects crop quality and yield of this processed fruit. In the case of cherimoya, lucuma and also feijoa and tree tomato, these were fruits that I had previously seen in markets or as menu items in this country but had never seen in the field. I enjoyed seeing these tree species and learning about this unique research. These fruits generally receive little attention in the research sector because they are not exported and thus have little economic importance beyond local markets, but at the university experiment station, these fruits have their place, and I appreciated the exposure to this uniquely Chilean fruit basket.
Fruit of the Vine
In terms of studying a Chilean crop where research is established and advances in sustainability are making leaps and bounds, there is one that people worldwide enjoy and no one questions how to use it – the wine grape. The wine grape is economically sustainable here in Chile because it can be exported. In terms of environmental sustainability, many vineyards are devoting sections if not entire pieces of property to integrated, organic, and even biodynamic production. These issues of sustainability are newly emerging into the culture of Chilean wine production – just as Chilean wine is emerging en vogue in the world market – but the culture of wine grapes in Chile is by no means a modern phenomenon. In fact, cultivation dates back to the time of the country’s European discovery.
If wine was a jewel, then Chile was a treasure chest that contained it, and it was European settlers that brought the key to realizing this. Grape cultivation and wine production began in Chile in the middle of the 16th century when missionaries bearing vine cuttings arrived following Spanish conquest by Pedro de Valdivia and began growing grapes in order to produce sacramental wine. This transpired into broader cultivation, and when successful production coupled with fine wine making began competing with domestic products, Spain imparted harsh tariffs on Chilean imports until the end of its colonial reign.
The next chapter of Chilean wine grape cultivation came to pass in the middle of the 19th century when French varieties were imported from Bordeaux by entrepreneurs looking to improve upon the stock brought centuries before. This importation proved monumental when, soon after, the Phylloxera epidemic erupted in Europe, which would later destroy nearly 2.5 million acres of vineyards worldwide. Today, the Phylloxera beetle continues to prey on the roots of susceptible varieties (resistant rootstocks have been developed), but Chile – with its geographic isolation – has never suffered the wrath of this voracious beetle. Thus, Chile remains the only place in the world having strains of the original French parent material and is also able to grown them on their own roots. This may or may not have an influence on the quality of the wine produced, but it certainly has an influence on economics, as these vines can outlive grafted vines by three or four times.
The popularity of Chilean wine grew in the early part of the 20th century, but growing political unrest kept the industry at bay in those early decades. Political corruption in the 1940’s combined with depressed economic conditions leaded to Socialist and even Communist sympathies; and with the election of Salvador Allende to the presidency in 1970, industry nationalization suppressed any glimpse of a successful wine industry at that time. It was not until his successor – the tyrannous Augusto Pinochet – was outvoted in the crucial 1989 election that the Chilean wine industry became open to outside ideas. In 1998, Chile exported $502 million in wine to 85 countries worldwide, and in that same year, Chilean wine became the 3rd most imported into the United States after French and Italian wines. The country’s wines have garnered international interest and investment, boasting distinctively flavorful whites, like Sauvignon Blanc, Chardonnay, Riesling, Gewürztraminer, Chenin-Blanc, and Semillón; and quality reds, like Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Pinot Noir, Carmenére, Syrah, Shiraz, and Cabernet Franc. These wines have been found to be tastefully competitive with those of California and France because of their quality and lower price.
Chile’s wine country spans 875 miles from north to south. The majority of production is in the central valley region between the Andes Mountains and the coastal range, but other production emerges from seven transverse river valleys that run to the Pacific. These valleys have well-drained alluvial or volcanic soils and benefit from Andes snowmelt irrigation water. As savvy vineyard managers have more recently learned, monitoring their irrigation has helped to improve the quality of their wines by concentrating sugars. The Mediterranean climate – with day and night time temperature spreads sometimes reaching 60◦F – allows for rich aroma development. Nonetheless, despite these favorable attributes bringing Chilean wine to the forefront of the world market, producers are not without problems. Chile may profit from lower land and labor costs than other famed wine valleys, costs of modernization and transportation have had an impact on progression. And the country may also experience another modern epidemic of viticulture should current events serve as an omen. The glassy-winged sharp-shooter was recently discovered on Easter Island. The infamous transmitter of Pierce’s Disease (caused by the bacteria Xylella fastidiosa) is thought to have been imported via air transport from Tahiti, so it could be only a matter of time before it invades the mainland. It is unlikely however, that any of these will prove detrimental to the Chilean wine industry. Surely, the industry has experienced uncertainties in the past which it was able to rise above. As the cardiovascular benefits of wine antioxidants continue to be touted, Chilean wines, with their reportedly highest levels of flavanol, may garner more frequent glances. Flavanol, as a phenol, is present in wine due to both inherent properties of the grape and the fermentation process; thus, it remains to be learned how the Chileans are producing both their grapes and their wine in order to set the standard. Growing interest in integrated and organic vineyard practices may win the attention of consumers scrutinizing environmental sustainability. Competitive prices in importing countries coupled with constantly improving quality will keep the industry economically sustainable and may even win over some of the toughest of connoisseurs. Without a doubt, Chilean wines will continue to be seen on market shelves and restaurant menus and perhaps with greater frequency, which will only help to keep the industry advancing well into the future.
Conclusion
Despite its contradictions in climate, geography, and statistics, the importance of Chilean agriculture to the country’s sustainability cannot be contradicted. From the deciduous fruit crops that we as Americans are familiar with, to the exotics more common to our southern neighbors, to a drink which augments spirits in cultures worldwide, Chile has mastered fruit cultivation and is making a global name for itself. These fruits of labor are the sugar and spice of Chilean life and culture, and they are gaining reputation across the globe. This slender slice of the earth, as it strives for excellence among the greats, has become a giant all on its own.
References
1997. The hottest taste in Chile – The grape reigns supreme in South America’s wine capital. CNN Travel. www.cnn.com/TRAVEL/DESTINATIONS/9705/ chile.wine/. Viewed March 2006.
2002. Travel Chile: Central Chile’s Wine Country. Vino! The International Wine Source. www.vino.com/explore/article.asp?AID=234&CID=3&Cat=3. Viewed March 2006.
2006. Los alcances de la enfermedad de Pierce. Chile Vinos. www.chilevinos.com/chilevinos/revista/articulos-etalle.aspx?idnoticia=c0bd5667- 69a3-4aa4-bf83-072063b7469c. Viewed March 2006.
Hamre, B. 2006. The Wines of Chile: 500 years of experience equals great wines. About. gosouthamerica.about.com/od/chiartandculture/a/winesofchile.htm. Viewed March 2006.
Minnis, N., H. Hennessy, and B. Bell. 2002. Chile. Langenscheidt Publishers, Inc.: Maspeth, New York.
Tasker, F. 2000. Chile’s Statuesque Reds. Wine News. www.thewinenews.com/aprmay00/feat.html. Viewed March 2006.
Zoecklein, B.W., K.C. Fugelsang, B.H. Gump, and F.S. Nury. 1990. Production Wine Analysis. Van Nostrand Reinhold: New York.
Striving for Excellence Among the Greats
Another country, another continent. Another hemisphere, another season. From dry, rolling countryside to flat, fertile valley. At first glance, there is perhaps little comparison between the lands of eastern Spain where I spent my three months and those of central Chile, where I will pass the next three. One country lies in Europe, while the other has a European flair. One is a peninsula, while the other is described as an island, given its geographic isolation between ocean, desert, mountains, and ice. Though Spain could be contained within our largest continental state, the slender Chile could span all of them from Los Angeles to New York City.
Within its borders, Chile has its own contradictions. The Atacama desert in the north is one of the driest places on earth with some regions having no recorded precipitation; while the island of Chiloé in the south has registered over 157 inches in a year. Temperatures in the climatically Mediterranean central valley range in the 90s◦F during the summer, but they rarely top 50◦F in Punta Arenas – the southernmost city of the world. Santiago, the country’s capital, is the home of over six million people – one third of the country’s total population; while Easter Island is one of the most isolated inhabited regions on the planet. From sea level to Andes Mountain peaks 23,000 feet in altitude just 60 miles inland; from 55 active volcanoes to 12 great lakes to a 1,000 island icy archipelago – Chile boasts a little bit of everything geographically. All of this exists despite the fact that it is the second smallest South American republic.
Chile is obviously not small in its diversity of landscape; nor is it small in its richness of flavor, where this slender giant may be comparable to Spain or even to where my own sentimentality falls – California. But, be it Spain, Chile, or California, as different as they may be, there is one thing they all share in common and that is their fruits of labor, dare I even say their Gardens of Eden, at least in terms of the paradisiacal produce that emerges to nourish the body, soul, and culture of their peoples.
The Chilean Fruit Basket
A stroll through a Chilean farmers’ market bears witness to the multitude of locally-produced, fresh fruit (and vegetables) at the disposal of the populace – country and city alike. Sellers are busy restocking tables and attracting customers to their produce. Prices are cheap, and though insect defects and bruising are often apparent, the taste of this perfectly ripe fruit cannot be surpassed. It’s a rainbow of flavors: from golden peaches with a subtle rose blush to purple plums. But, these fruits of the deciduous tree variety, familiar to the American consumer, are just a portion of the fruit basket. Various subtropical and even tropical fruits may also be discovered by the scrutinizing observer, and for a better understanding of their cultivation, I took a two hour trip northwest to Quillota to see these fruits in the field.
At the Catholic University of Valparaiso Agriculture Experiment Station, I met with Dr. Eduardo Oyanedel, former Cornell graduate student and now station director. The 60 hectare experiment station has 40 hectares of orchards, and out of the 31 universities in Chile having schools of horticulture, the Catholic University of Valparaiso is the only one with an experimentation station on site. In the 5-6 year “Engineer of Agriculture” degree program, students are required to conduct field research and write a thesis; thus, the convenience of field access is an advantage to these students. The station is also an important attraction for visitors – both domestic growers and foreign scientists numbering over 1,500 annually.
The majority of the orchard ground at the experiment station is planted to citrus and avocado. For both of these crops, the station has germplasm repositories: a relatively new virus-free repository of citrus, with material collected from the University of California, Riverside and research stations in Italy, Spain, and Israel; and a 40-50 variety composite of avocados. These crops are also propagated in the on-site nurseries. Approximately 600,000 trees are propagated and grafted each year and are then sold to growers or used at the station. The selling of these trees and of station fruit contributes significantly to the station budget. Innovative research is also being conducted on these crops. Avocados, for example, grow abundantly on the hillsides of Chilean valleys, and in fact, grow well with little maintenance. It has been realized, however, through pruning and density studies, that with perhaps a bit more attention, yield can increase substantially. Also, studies of the environmental impacts of these hillside plantations, in terms of soil erosion and water pollution, are in their infancy. Variety trials and Phytophthora studies are being conducted on citrus.
Aside from citrus and avocado, nevertheless, other “exotic” fruits are grown at the experiment station, and though these crops are by no means new to the taste buds of Chileans, they are fairly new to the research scene. A chilling unit experiment on kiwifruit is investigating how chemical applications can substitute for inadequate chilling hours during the dormancy period. In cherimoya, high-density planting studies are finding that yields can be increased five to six times over yields of traditional plantings. In lucuma, researchers are learning how irrigation affects crop quality and yield of this processed fruit. In the case of cherimoya, lucuma and also feijoa and tree tomato, these were fruits that I had previously seen in markets or as menu items in this country but had never seen in the field. I enjoyed seeing these tree species and learning about this unique research. These fruits generally receive little attention in the research sector because they are not exported and thus have little economic importance beyond local markets, but at the university experiment station, these fruits have their place, and I appreciated the exposure to this uniquely Chilean fruit basket.
Fruit of the Vine
In terms of studying a Chilean crop where research is established and advances in sustainability are making leaps and bounds, there is one that people worldwide enjoy and no one questions how to use it – the wine grape. The wine grape is economically sustainable here in Chile because it can be exported. In terms of environmental sustainability, many vineyards are devoting sections if not entire pieces of property to integrated, organic, and even biodynamic production. These issues of sustainability are newly emerging into the culture of Chilean wine production – just as Chilean wine is emerging en vogue in the world market – but the culture of wine grapes in Chile is by no means a modern phenomenon. In fact, cultivation dates back to the time of the country’s European discovery.
If wine was a jewel, then Chile was a treasure chest that contained it, and it was European settlers that brought the key to realizing this. Grape cultivation and wine production began in Chile in the middle of the 16th century when missionaries bearing vine cuttings arrived following Spanish conquest by Pedro de Valdivia and began growing grapes in order to produce sacramental wine. This transpired into broader cultivation, and when successful production coupled with fine wine making began competing with domestic products, Spain imparted harsh tariffs on Chilean imports until the end of its colonial reign.
The next chapter of Chilean wine grape cultivation came to pass in the middle of the 19th century when French varieties were imported from Bordeaux by entrepreneurs looking to improve upon the stock brought centuries before. This importation proved monumental when, soon after, the Phylloxera epidemic erupted in Europe, which would later destroy nearly 2.5 million acres of vineyards worldwide. Today, the Phylloxera beetle continues to prey on the roots of susceptible varieties (resistant rootstocks have been developed), but Chile – with its geographic isolation – has never suffered the wrath of this voracious beetle. Thus, Chile remains the only place in the world having strains of the original French parent material and is also able to grown them on their own roots. This may or may not have an influence on the quality of the wine produced, but it certainly has an influence on economics, as these vines can outlive grafted vines by three or four times.
The popularity of Chilean wine grew in the early part of the 20th century, but growing political unrest kept the industry at bay in those early decades. Political corruption in the 1940’s combined with depressed economic conditions leaded to Socialist and even Communist sympathies; and with the election of Salvador Allende to the presidency in 1970, industry nationalization suppressed any glimpse of a successful wine industry at that time. It was not until his successor – the tyrannous Augusto Pinochet – was outvoted in the crucial 1989 election that the Chilean wine industry became open to outside ideas. In 1998, Chile exported $502 million in wine to 85 countries worldwide, and in that same year, Chilean wine became the 3rd most imported into the United States after French and Italian wines. The country’s wines have garnered international interest and investment, boasting distinctively flavorful whites, like Sauvignon Blanc, Chardonnay, Riesling, Gewürztraminer, Chenin-Blanc, and Semillón; and quality reds, like Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Pinot Noir, Carmenére, Syrah, Shiraz, and Cabernet Franc. These wines have been found to be tastefully competitive with those of California and France because of their quality and lower price.
Chile’s wine country spans 875 miles from north to south. The majority of production is in the central valley region between the Andes Mountains and the coastal range, but other production emerges from seven transverse river valleys that run to the Pacific. These valleys have well-drained alluvial or volcanic soils and benefit from Andes snowmelt irrigation water. As savvy vineyard managers have more recently learned, monitoring their irrigation has helped to improve the quality of their wines by concentrating sugars. The Mediterranean climate – with day and night time temperature spreads sometimes reaching 60◦F – allows for rich aroma development. Nonetheless, despite these favorable attributes bringing Chilean wine to the forefront of the world market, producers are not without problems. Chile may profit from lower land and labor costs than other famed wine valleys, costs of modernization and transportation have had an impact on progression. And the country may also experience another modern epidemic of viticulture should current events serve as an omen. The glassy-winged sharp-shooter was recently discovered on Easter Island. The infamous transmitter of Pierce’s Disease (caused by the bacteria Xylella fastidiosa) is thought to have been imported via air transport from Tahiti, so it could be only a matter of time before it invades the mainland. It is unlikely however, that any of these will prove detrimental to the Chilean wine industry. Surely, the industry has experienced uncertainties in the past which it was able to rise above. As the cardiovascular benefits of wine antioxidants continue to be touted, Chilean wines, with their reportedly highest levels of flavanol, may garner more frequent glances. Flavanol, as a phenol, is present in wine due to both inherent properties of the grape and the fermentation process; thus, it remains to be learned how the Chileans are producing both their grapes and their wine in order to set the standard. Growing interest in integrated and organic vineyard practices may win the attention of consumers scrutinizing environmental sustainability. Competitive prices in importing countries coupled with constantly improving quality will keep the industry economically sustainable and may even win over some of the toughest of connoisseurs. Without a doubt, Chilean wines will continue to be seen on market shelves and restaurant menus and perhaps with greater frequency, which will only help to keep the industry advancing well into the future.
Conclusion
Despite its contradictions in climate, geography, and statistics, the importance of Chilean agriculture to the country’s sustainability cannot be contradicted. From the deciduous fruit crops that we as Americans are familiar with, to the exotics more common to our southern neighbors, to a drink which augments spirits in cultures worldwide, Chile has mastered fruit cultivation and is making a global name for itself. These fruits of labor are the sugar and spice of Chilean life and culture, and they are gaining reputation across the globe. This slender slice of the earth, as it strives for excellence among the greats, has become a giant all on its own.
References
1997. The hottest taste in Chile – The grape reigns supreme in South America’s wine capital. CNN Travel. www.cnn.com/TRAVEL/DESTINATIONS/9705/ chile.wine/. Viewed March 2006.
2002. Travel Chile: Central Chile’s Wine Country. Vino! The International Wine Source. www.vino.com/explore/article.asp?AID=234&CID=3&Cat=3. Viewed March 2006.
2006. Los alcances de la enfermedad de Pierce. Chile Vinos. www.chilevinos.com/chilevinos/revista/articulos-etalle.aspx?idnoticia=c0bd5667- 69a3-4aa4-bf83-072063b7469c. Viewed March 2006.
Hamre, B. 2006. The Wines of Chile: 500 years of experience equals great wines. About. gosouthamerica.about.com/od/chiartandculture/a/winesofchile.htm. Viewed March 2006.
Minnis, N., H. Hennessy, and B. Bell. 2002. Chile. Langenscheidt Publishers, Inc.: Maspeth, New York.
Tasker, F. 2000. Chile’s Statuesque Reds. Wine News. www.thewinenews.com/aprmay00/feat.html. Viewed March 2006.
Zoecklein, B.W., K.C. Fugelsang, B.H. Gump, and F.S. Nury. 1990. Production Wine Analysis. Van Nostrand Reinhold: New York.
The Sights of Santiago, Viña del Mar, and Valparaiso
After returning from the south, Sarah and I ventured about locally to familiarize ourselves with the surroundings. One of the first places that we visited was the artesania at the church of Santo Domingo, where we saw a sampling of local artists’ works but which also has cool bonsai and exotic bird exhibits. Another outing took us to the city center where we visited the National Library, the Plaza de Armas – which is where the cathedral is located, and la Moneda – the President’s palace. The Chilean presidency has seen a change of guard, as Michelle Bachelet – the country’s first woman president – recently took office. We also walked around Cerro (hill) Santa Lucia, one of several hill-top, municipal parks. It was from Cerro Santa Lucia that Pedro de Valdivia declared Santiago a settlement of Spain in 1541. We visited the Museum of Fine Arts, with its interesting assortment of mostly modern art that perhaps I am too pragmatic to appreciate. Although, there was a cool wood sculpture exhibit that I liked very much. Finally, we also meandered through Barrio Bellavista, where we saw the former home of famed Chilean poet Pablo Neruda and then mounted the funicular (a type of uphill train) to Cerro San Cristobal. Atop this hill is an enormous statue of the Virgin Mary overlooking the city, which is actually visible from various parts of the city. We also took the cable car to various other points on the hill to take in the sights of the smoggy city.
The last few days of Sarah’s time here, we escaped the heat and fled to the coast. My friend Denise’s parents live just north of Viña del Mar in a beautiful apartment overlooking the Pacific. We actually didn’t spend any time on the beach. Instead, we did a lot of wandering, ate a lot of ice cream, and soaked up the cool ocean breezes of this popular vacation destination. We also took a day trip to Valparaiso – Chile’s famous port city. The city is renowned for its layout from sea level to elevated hillsides. “Ascensores” take visitors up these steep hillsides for views of the city and port below. As “proper” tourists, we made pilgrimages up a couple of these hills.
We covered a lot of ground – Sarah and I. We did quite well in enjoying a diversity of landscapes during the time of her stay. To see pictures, go to my Shutterfly website. There is a folder for each city.
The last few days of Sarah’s time here, we escaped the heat and fled to the coast. My friend Denise’s parents live just north of Viña del Mar in a beautiful apartment overlooking the Pacific. We actually didn’t spend any time on the beach. Instead, we did a lot of wandering, ate a lot of ice cream, and soaked up the cool ocean breezes of this popular vacation destination. We also took a day trip to Valparaiso – Chile’s famous port city. The city is renowned for its layout from sea level to elevated hillsides. “Ascensores” take visitors up these steep hillsides for views of the city and port below. As “proper” tourists, we made pilgrimages up a couple of these hills.
We covered a lot of ground – Sarah and I. We did quite well in enjoying a diversity of landscapes during the time of her stay. To see pictures, go to my Shutterfly website. There is a folder for each city.
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