PLEASE; DON'T FORGET MAULE

The long Chilean winter of 2010 is over, the new Pinera administration is in full swing, the center-left opposition is trying to reorganize after their defeat, the bicentennial celebration is over, and the miners are out of the hole (one was even running in the NY city marathon and closing the NY stock exchange recently). It has been quite a year, for sure but Chileans are already looking ahead, moving on. It seems Santiago is occupied by the hot issues of Mapuche and Pascuense discontent over land ownership, the weak US Dollar and its negative effect on Chilean exports, the urgent reform of the Education sector, and of course the Wikileaks revelation that ex-president Bachelet thought the Argentine President to be somewhat “unstable”. So unfortunately, earthquake reconstruction is fading from view, partially because some of the major infrastructure and basic services problems have been attended to, but also because “Imperial” Santiago tends to forget quickly the suffering and needs of folks in the Provinces.

A quick analysis of recovery efforts in the four key areas of health, transportation, housing, and education is indicative of the situation, now nine months after the quake. Recall that in February with winter almost upon them, the response to the earthquake and tsunami was first, understandably, one of immediate relief for the most affected, provision of a temporary roof over the heads of those left homeless, emergency health care and communicable and water-borne disease control in the affected population, makeshift arrangements so all school children could return to their schoolrooms at the start of the school year in March, and basic clearing and reopening of all major roads and bridges especially along the Pan American highway, “Ruta 5”.

The health situation was greatly assisted by the fact that the winter of 2010 was the most benign in the last four years. Temporary field hospitals were erected almost immediately in the place of hospitals destroyed in the earthquake in the worst affected areas of Bio Bio and Maule. There were no disease outbreaks in Chile over the winter and the general population escaped a serious outbreak of influenza that they had feared would occur. Though health care workers are still attending patients in very crude and uncomfortable field hospitals in some places, there are plans now to rebuild permanent hospitals to replace the ones destroyed. In the meantime nine provisional hospitals, called “Accelerated Construction” will be erected and begin functioning by May of 2011 in Talca(2), Curico, Hualane, Cauquenes, Parral, Chillan, Santiago, and Valparaiso. These provisional structures will replace the field hospitals, take only 90 days to put up, and last 5 years.

The housing sector is much more complicated. The emergency housing efforts, lauded immediately after the emergency, were partially successful in that everyone seems to have been provided at least a medi-agua type structure in time for the winter cold and rains, but these structures and the locations of the temporary camps where they were situated had inherent problems of potable water supply and sufficient waste management and sewage removal, especially in and around the larger towns of Cauquenes, Pelluhue, and Constitucion. The provision of permanent housing is complicated and has therefore been delayed due to the multiplicity of housing subsidy programs that apply depending upon income level and degree of loss, and further complicated by the intention of the national government and some local authorities to prevent reconstruction of housing on high-risk properties in the tsunami affected zones. And the budget authorities to fund the housing programs must be approved by a Congress with a majority of members from the opposition who are taking very seriously their new role of “opposition”. Again, the bottom line is that the programs are moving, but too slowly.

After the earthquake Ruta 5, the main north-south artery over which most passenger vehicle and trucking travel, was damaged in 300 places. Today that has been reduced to 20, but each of these 20 points slows down and adds costs to the important commercial transport that must get Chilean products to market and essential goods and services distributed throughout the country. If this situation lasts through the summer season (January through March) the tourism industry will suffer. The biggest infrastructure job is the ongoing reconstruction of the bridge over the Rio Claro, causing heavy traffic delays in this agricultural, industrial and touristic stretch of Chile.

As I reported in an earlier posting, the education sector received top priority attention from the Pinera government and the Minister of Education, Joaquin Lavin. After an initial suspension of classes for 1.25 million students,45 days after the quake all children were in school. Six months after the quake, 24 million dollars had been made available to repair over 74 schools and 300 day care centers, and erect 30 modular schools for students whose schools were destroyed.




One can only hope that the Chilean authorities will follow through on their promises and pronouncements and follow through on their plans to reconstruct the earthquake and tsunami affected areas of Bio Bio and Maule. Chileans have a right to be skeptical, though, if for no other reason than that too many of the people affected by the earthquake in the northern city of Tocopilla in 2007 are still living in ramshackle temporary shelters awaiting the promised relief from that tragedy. Because Bio Bio has the major city of Concepcion to lead the way, that region will most likely keep clamoring for attention and resources with some success. But the poorer neighboring region of Maule will very probably lag in the reconstruction and rehabilitation process. In this case, it appears that local civil group actions may be the best, most reliable source of assistance.


In Maule, there are many children who have been left homeless, orphaned or living away from their parents, and emotionally damaged by the terrible events they were victims to in February. Their emotional and social needs must be addressed. There are many local faith-based and community support groups that have formed throughout Maule to care for children in need. One organization that has gathered resources in the US to help the poorest and neediest children in Chile by providing resources to these local civic groups is the Chilean American Foundation (CAF), based in Washington DC.


During my visit in September to the Maule region, I went with my brother-in-law, Joaquin, to visit one of the groups receiving funding from the CAF, the Fundacion Mi Hogar foster home for girls in Pelluhue. This Center (and a similar one in Cauquenes also receiving assistance from CAF), do a magnificent job providing shelter, food, education, and love to young children whose parents are unable to care for them due to economic destitution, illness, incarceration, or drug rehabilitation. The children in these centers are so thankful for the little they have, and when I visited I could just feel the energy and optimism they have to confront their daily lives in spite of the lousy hand they have been dealt.



The CAF was approached for support from many more institutions taking care of Maule’s children than they were able to fund. For example, if they had the resources, CAF would provide support to a group of psychologists who have formed a mobile group that regularly visits the schools in Talca, Curico, Cauquenes, Pelluhue, and Chanco, helping small children who show signs of post traumatic stress (violent tendencies, withdrawal, recurrent night terrors, etc.), and help teachers and the children themselves recover from the effects of their tragedy. It isn’t just physical needs these people have…they have to return to a state of psychological normalcy but children, especially, need help to do this. Over the next few months and years, this type of intervention will prove to be highly critical for the young victims of the big Chilean earthquake and tsunami of February 2010. The Chilean American Foundation [www.chileusfoundation.org] is one organization that is following through on their pledge to assist over the long term. My observations in Maule confirm that their assistance is not only needed with urgency, but also greatly appreciated, especially by the children who are trying to put their lives back together in the face of great disadvantage.

Posted on December 6, 2010, in Leesburg, Virginia.

"TIOS"

[ NOTE: At times a blog becomes quite personal as it is being written even though it may not have started out that way. This is one of those. DJ]

I grew up as a young boy without the benefit of one of life’s most important and influential characters, a true uncle. I loved and respected deeply my maternal and paternal grandparents, all four of whom loved me a lot and taught me many, many things, especially how important it is to care for and love your children and spouse. But, as fate would have it, they did not produce any uncles for me to look up to, to guide me through my formative years. My friends all talked about “uncle Bob” and “uncle Joe’, who would take them fishing, show them how to roll a cigarette or snap the top off a beer bottle, and explain things to them that their parents were uncomfortable talking about. To be fair, though, my mother’s only sister was married, so I did have one uncle through her, Uncle Ken, who was actually very good uncle material, providing my first brush with uncles. He loved to talk about cars, fishing, and sports, and he had a pleasant, confident, reassuring demeanor, so I always enjoyed the idea of seeing him. Unfortunately we did not see him very often. My father’s only sibling, my Aunt Lucy, never married, which may be why she just this year celebrated her 100th birthday, still lucid and happy. So no uncles on that side of the family. I knew subconsciously that I was being somewhat deprived growing up without a true uncle, or what would have been better yet, several uncles, but it was only when I went to Chile in the Peace Corps, at the age of 23, that I entered the exciting world enriched by the constant presence of uncles , or “tios”.

In my second year living and working in Chile, I met Ximena, whom a year and a half later I married and have been married to ever since. As is so customary in Latin societies like Chile, boyfriends (serious ones, not just the casual pretender) are embraced and brought into the family with open arms. Ximena’s family was like most families in Chile, in that they are extended beyond your ability to visualize the branches on the family tree; relatives everywhere. Coming from a very small family in the U.S., I was amazed and entertained by the size of the families and the way Chilean families congregated. Even before we were married, I could drop by Ximena’s home almost any time, and I would be welcome, especially at the dining room table, no matter who was there or how many others were. I could even show up with one or two of my Peace Corps buddies and they were also welcomed (possibly due to the fact that Ximena had three younger sisters). There seemed to me to be a lot of people always at Ximena’s home, coming and going, sitting down for “onces” (afternoon tea with toast covered with avocado spread, scrambled egg, or just plain salty butter and blackberry jam), or at the dinner table during the week or for lunch on the weekend. The Fernandez Gonzalez home was a very social place, and I began to be introduced to the multitude that was their family and friends. I have a lot of endearing memories (and some not so endearing, due to the difficulty I had at that time communicating and understanding in Spanish), but one strong feeling I recall having at the time was how many “tios” there were in Ximena’s family. There was Tio Oscar, Tio Juan, Tio Lalo (in fact, there were two Tio Lalos), Tio Mario, Tio Miguel, Tio Erik, Tio Raul, Tio Gonzalo, Tio Sergio, Tio Julio (El Guaton). Wow. I had never had so much involvement with uncles in my life. They were everywhere. We joked together about “gringos”, drank lots of wine, ate wonderful food, and generally had a great time. They all loved to tell me about parts of Chile I didn’t know, secrets about other family members I had not heard, and stories about my father-in-law they should not have told. But besides the relationship I was beginning to have with the “tios”, there was another dimension to the “tio” that I was becoming aware of. Whenever I met the young children of relatives, and even of just friends, they called me “Tio”. For the longest time I couldn’t figure out how Ximena could have so many uncles, and why so many kids thought I was their uncle.

It took me a very long time to work through all the relationships and figure out who were Ximena’s true “tios” (she had two: Tio Sergio and Tio Miguel). All the other “tios” were either married to true “tias”, that would be Tio Juan and one Tio Lalo, or more distant relatives where “tio” was the most conventional and convenient label to attach to them, like cousins of Ximena’s parents, spouses of cousins, etc. As I began to get all this sorted out, I also understood better that either by design or by habit, children in Chilean culture learn at a very young age to call male friends of the family “Tio”. I have been told this is another way Chileans make friends feel welcome and closer to the family. I believe Children pick the habit up very easily, and like it, because they never have to learn any friend’s name, just “Tio”. So this explains why whenever male friends of Ximena’s parents would drop by their home, or we would see them at social events like weddings, funerals, baptisms, and parties, Ximena and her siblings would refer to them all as “Tio”. This of course led to more confusion for me as to who was related to Ximena, and who was just a friend of the family. Surely the difficulty I had early on sorting through the large number of “tios” in and around Ximena’s family was due to the fact that this family is made up of Fernandezes and Gonzalezes and half (or so it seems) of Chileans have one or the other of these last names. It is a big family. In spite of that, think I have the “tio” thing figured out. And for however difficult sorting this out has been for me, I must admit the Chilean “institution” of the “Tio” has brought me many rewards and memories, some of small, material importance, some with social, long term implications, and some of meaningful personal value, all enriching my life, and worth telling about.

When we decided to buy an apartment in Santiago so we could spend part of each year in Chile, we also needed a car to use during our annual visits. While shopping around for the right one, I discussed the options with Matias, one of the sons of Patricia who had been our secretary in the Peace Corps office in the 1970s. At the time he was working for the company that sells Hyundai cars in Chile.

Much to my surprise, Matias told me soon after our conversation, that he could get me the kind of car I wanted with the “employee family member” discount. OK, that would be great I said, but I’m not a member of your family. Matias proudly declared “But Tio David, yes you are”. Sold!! We drive that car to this day, and I am still his “Tio David”.

What has become increasingly meaningful to me as time passes and we spend more time in Chile is the relationship I have had and still have with Ximena’s Tio Miguel.

Tio Miguel is my mother-in-law’s (Ana Luisa) brother, and has become Ximena and my best friend, confidant, and next-door neighbor in our apartment complex in Santiago. Tio Miguel befriended me very early in my relationship with Ximena, and well before we were married he and his wife Eliana took us to many places we could otherwise not have gone, such as to a small, lovely town an hour from Santiago on the road to the coast, Curacavi, for lunch on Sunday at the well-known Hotel Ingles, and to the Teatro Municipal in Santiago to see the opera “Carmen”. (I recall the latter experience well because we sat in a special box in the balcony of this beautiful old theatre, but also because at the intermission I stood and put on my coat to leave, revealing my total ignorance of this opera ,and any other for that matter. Since this embarrassing event, we have lived a few years in Italy and I am a bit more familiar with opera, and when it is appropriate to leave.) Tio Miguel is still a hard working local court judge, who is always there when we need a problem solved, or just a dinner companion or partner for a late night glass of scotch. Over the years he has tried to “explain” Chile and Chileans to me, although it seems to me that as I become better informed by him I am more optimistic about the future of Chile, but he grows more pessimistic. He sees increased corruption where I see a positive trend towards transparency and more open addressing of problems too long covered up. He sees a drastic societal breakdown of traditional respect and public comportment, where I see freedom breaking out, uncomfortably perhaps, after a long period of forced restraint and false security. These differences are possibly due to different expectations, or different perspectives based upon our very different experiences, but regardless, I hope I am right.

Then there is Tio Juan. Tio Juan, Ximena’s father’s sister’s (Tia Carmen) husband, was an executive in a telecommunications company when I met him forty years ago. He always had a fondness and respect for the United States, and he always seemed genuinely happy to see me, so I was always relaxed when we were with him. Tio Juan introduced me to really good pisco sours, a serious predilection he and I still share. Whenever we visited Tia Carmen and Tio Juan at their home, while Tia Carmen prepared her famously delicious “chupe de locos”, Tio Juan would soon appear from the kitchen with a huge brandy snifter type vessel, brimming with frothy freshly made pisco sours. And when that one was finished, there was surely another.

I always had great fun talking, eating and drinking with Tio Juan, and to this day I greatly enjoy seeing him, sitting with him and reminiscing about the good old days we had together with Claudio, my father-in-law. We rehash the argument the three of us always had as to whether Concha y Toro’s Casillero del Diablo was a better wine than Corton from the Irrazuriz vineyard. Eventually they would turn to me to break the tie, and each time I had the right answer: “Let’s drink them both!” Tio Juan is gradually slipping into the haze of old age, which hopefully is as pleasant as the haze caused by his memorable pisco sours.

Now, there is another “Tio” who needs special treatment in this story about “tios”. My Peace Corps group was made up of mostly single young men in our early twenties. One of the foresters in this group was Charlie, a graduate from the University of Idaho, but originally from Mullica Hill, New Jersey. Charlie was sent to Collipulli, a very small town on the Malleco River in southern Chile, to work as a forester. While there, he recorded and compiled valuable biological and ecological information on the native Chilean forest, especially that of Tolhuaca National Park. As destiny would have it, Charlie met a young lady during his second year in Chile, who was from Santiago but who vacationed with her mother near Collipulli, and just prior to departing Chile Charlie and Angelica were married. A year later, also in Santiago just prior to returning to the United States, Ximena and I were married. On that day in 1970, Charlie, who was then living and working in Oregon, became my uncle: Tio Charlie!! You see, Angelica’s father was Ximena’s grandfather (but Angelica’s mother was not Ximena’s grandmother), so on the day Ximena and I were married, my Peace Corps buddy Charlie automatically became my uncle. This relationship prospered through the years after we left Chile, although he would occasionally complain that I was not showing the due amount of respect a “Tio” deserved from his “sobrino”. Tio Charlie passed away altogether too soon, about three years ago, but he is still my “Tio”, a “Tio” we all remember fondly.



So after all and after a slow start, my life has been duly enriched with uncles, and “Tios”, and for that I am forever grateful.

Written in Leesburg, Virginia, on November 6, 2010.

"Viva Chile" Part 3: "18" Cuisine

Sixteen years ago, as Chileans were in the process of recovering their government and their collective sanity after way too many years of internal struggle, there was a feeling that Chileans were moving too rapidly and too completely away from the customs and principles that had bound them together for so long. They were abandoning their traditions, their traditional cuisine, their music, and their national dance, the “cueca”. To reverse this trend, they established the “Semana de la Chilenidad”, to be held in September each year around the “18”, to at least for a week focus Chileans on their heritage. And for the past 16 years, during the “Semana de la Chilenidad”, they have had their children take “cueca” classes, learn the words and music to their most traditional songs, read books about Chilean history, recite poems written by one of Chile’s favorite poets and educator Gabriela Mistral, draw pictures of the Chilean flag and their hero Bernardo O’Higgins, and in general focus their attention on Chilean traditions.

One of those traditions Chileans are intent on saving, one that is front and center during the “18” celebration, is the “asado”. Chileans, like their neighbors to the East, the Argentines, are carnivores. Beef, pork, and lamb are the mainstays. At a Chilean “asado”, if someone declares himself a vegetarian, they serve him chicken! In the countryside, especially in the south, they prepare “asado al palo”, which is a whole or half a lamb skewered on a long eucalyptus pole, slow-roasted over hot coals. Delicious.

Various cuts of beef, from “filete” (tenderloin), to “palanca” (flank), to “lomo liso & lomo vetado” (sirloin), and other sundry lower-cost cuts that would remind you of chuck steak, are usually simply grilled over charcoal. Lamb chops, pork chops and pork loin are grilled and served as snacks, finger food, washed down with corpulent cabernet sauvignon or the more recently popular Carmenere, as you wait for the main course, the grilled beef.



Ximena and I spent the Bicentennial holidays in and around Santiago. Each day, an “asado” was on the menu. One day we spent at an “asado” on the outskirts of Santiago, at the home of a wonderful woman who was the Peace Corps secretary when I worked on the staff there from 1976-79, Patricia, and her family. Another day we drove to a lovely lakeside retreat at Laguna Aculeo, for another “asado” with Ximena’s nephew, Carlos, and his family.






On the “18”, we lunched on two traditional favorites, "pastel de choclo" and "ensalada Chilena" at home with Ximena’s mother, Ana Luisa, and sister, Paz, and then visited the “fondas” at a huge park nearby. There were horse shows in the arena, “cueca” dancing throughout on small wooden platforms, kite flying in the adjoining fields, “juegos criollos” (traditional games) like “taka taka”, “rana” and “rayuela” for the kids, and folklore concerts throughout ( Los Jaivas, Huasos de Algarrobal, Los Huasos Quincheros, Los Cuatro Cuartos).

To top it off, on the final day of the 4-day celebration we joined Ximena’s cousin Pablo, his vivacious wife Paula and their lovely family for, what else, an “asado”. Pablo is a master at the grill, and besides the "chorizos", "longaniza", chicken (for my "vegetarian" sister-in-law), and of course grilled "lomo", Pablo always throws a few "prietas" on the grill. These blood sausages, typical at most "asados" in Argentina and Chile, when grilled to perfection, as they were the day we were at Pablo's home, simply melt in your mouth, especially with Chilean tinto to help.



The ubiquitous “empanada”, especially the one filled with “pino” (mixture of diced beef, chopped onion, black olive, piece of hard boiled egg, flavored with cumin) is one of the classic “18” foods.

Another is Chilean sausage, either the “chorizo” or the “longaniza”, both mostly pork. The Chilean “longaniza” was made famous in the city of Chillan, 300 kilometers south of Santiago. If a foreigner wants to impress Chileans with his knowledge of Chile, when the subject of “longaniza” comes up, and it always does around an “asado”, you have to quickly state before anyone else does, “Of course the best longaniza are from Los Pincheira” and you’re in. This is especially important to do if you are standing around the grill with other family and friends instructing the host, who is doing the grilling, what he is doing wrong, how he is turning the meat too often or not often enough, etc. Apparently Chilean grillers need lots of advice on how to grill, because every “asado” I have ever attended the grill is surrounded by many experts on grilling willing to share their knowledge. Chileans have picked up the Argentine habit of snacking, prior to the main course, on “choripan”, which is a grilled “chorizo”, sizzling hot off the grill, wrapped in a crispy roll and seasoned further with dark red “salsa de aji” made from roasted “cacho de cabra” peppers ground up with a bit of olive oil. Or you may also be served “pebre”, a green mixture of cilantro, onion, and oil, similar to Argentine “chimichurri”, used to season meat. Of course no Chilean “asado” is complete without “ensalada Chilena”, a salad of feathered onions (slightly scalded in hot water to tame the taste a bit), fresh tomatoes, oil, and topped with parsley.

But the real champion of the Chilean “18” cuisine is the “anticucho”. The “anticucho comes out of hiding for the national holiday. Throughout the rest of the year you may find one at the occasional Saturday afternoon family picnic, but for the most part Chileans save the “anticucho” for the “18”. This “18” mainstay is like a shish kabob, a skewer with chunks of meat, roasted over an open fire. It has its origins in the colonial period, probably brought from Peru, like so many other foods and drink much to Chileans’ chagrin. There are many kinds of “anticuchos”, including the truest but these days the scarcest one, made with beef heart. Most common is beef, sometimes mixed with chicken (for the vegetarians), longaniza, chorizo, vienesas, mushrooms, onion, and red and green sweet pepper. As these skewers are grilled, they splash a mixture of garlic, cilantro, salt, lemon, vinegar, or even beer on them with a parsley sprig to keep them moist and flavorful. It is recorded that in 2004, in the town of Quilicura near Santiago, they produced the world’s longest “anticucho”. It was 200 meters long, contained 400 kilos of meat, and 5,000 slices of onion and red sweet pepper. I could not find information on how many people it took to eat the thing, or even that they actually ate it. But I’m quite sure they did.

At the “fondas” we visited on the “18” in Santiago this year, every food stand was serving “anticuchos”. I have not seen so many “anticuchos” in one place ever. And when you wash them down with a glass of “terremoto” the mixture of “pipeno” wine (which is the classic unfiltered fresh wine from the country that huasos like Claudio my father-in-law swear by), pineapple ice cream, and Fernet Branca, you have no choice but to join in with the rest of Chile and exclaim, “Viva Chile!!”, and “Viva el 18 de Septiember!!!”.

Written in Leesburg, Virginia on October 30, 2010.

"Viva Chile" Part 2: The Bicentennial "18"

Chile and Chileans have modernized a huge amount in the past 40 years, but what persists with characteristic Chilean determination is their strong link back to a time when rural life was more the norm and rural customs prevailed. In spite of the fact that 85% of Chileans now live in urbanized areas, half of whom live in the greater Santiago area, they all feel the pull of rural life, the rodeo and “fonda”, and traditional food, drink, songs, and the “cueca”, at least on the18th of September each year.

During 2009, the Michelle Bachelet administration spent much of their last year in office planning for a spectacular Bicentennial “18”. They prepared grand shows for the “18” itself, but throughout the year they also held events, inaugurations of schools, stadiums, roads, bridges, and hospitals throughout Chile. For a country making great strides to obtain so-called “developed” status, these were the logical manifestations of progress to be celebrated (especially in an election year!). Many of the plans for celebrations were derailed when her coalition’s candidate Eduardo Frei Ruiz-Tagle (son of Eduardo Frei Montalvo who was president of Chile when we were Peace Corps volunteers in the late ‘60s) lost the Presidential election to Sebastian Pinera. Then the February earthquake, that occurred just after the election, put a real damper on spirits and serious pressure on the national treasury during the first few months of Pinera’s administration, causing a serious questioning as to what was an appropriate Bicentennial celebration in a country that was suffering from this disaster and that had to face costly and lengthy reconstruction. And then there were the miners, still imprisoned in the San Jose mine near Copiapo, about 700 kilometers to the north of Santiago. On the one hand, it did not seem to be the time for a costly, flamboyant series of celebratory events. On the other hand, some argued that Chileans needed to be uplifted, and the right kind of “18” would be the way to do it. What they decided to do seems to me to have worked quite well.

Four days of official holiday were declared, the 17th through the 20th, because September 18 this year fell on a Saturday. This is important because in Chile an “official” holiday carries with it certain benefits for public and private sector workers. Also the Congress passed a law, and the President signed it, requiring the large supermarket and department stores, which employ large numbers of lower middle class workers, to remain closed for three of those four days, so that “…all their workers could enjoy the Bicentennial “18” holidays with their families, at home in their communities.” You had to wonder why it wasn’t equally important for workers in medium-sized and small stores to also enjoy the holidays, but I suppose the prevailing idea was that large firms can absorb the lost business from being closed for three days, whereas smaller stores and businesses may not be able to. At any rate, prior to the three-day closing there was a run on the stores that would be closed, reminiscent of the days just after the earthquake when Chileans, panicked, stocked up on everything from toilet tissue to milk to their favorite wine. In the end, everyone seemed to survive the unusual 3-day supermarket closing, and data now seem to show that rather than losing money due to the forced 3-day closing, large supermarkets actually increased their business for the period over the prior year.

What I observed over the four-day period of the “18” this year was a moment when the country took a well-timed and much-needed collective sigh of relief. Tens of thousands of now more urban Chileans were able to escape the cities to spend the holiday in the country with family and friends in celebration of their rural roots. Much like the 4th of July celebration in the US, Chileans celebrate their national holiday with a focus on family activities, civic participation and outward expressions of national pride.

National pride, seriously eroded away over the period of great internal political, social, and economic struggle in Chile from 1970 to 1989, has been on the rebound over the past twenty years. Two traditional expressions of this national pride that are slowly returning to the positive side of public opinion are the annual military parade held on the 19th of September, and the naval parade held this year on September 20th in the Bay of Valparaiso. I tend not to spend much time watching military parades anywhere, including Chile, but this year I caught a bit of both of them on television. There were of course the normal waves of Chilean forces and equipment in the military parade in Parque O’Higgins, and a long procession of Chilean naval ships in the parade on the next day off the coast of Valparaiso, including the USS Jarrett and several other foreign warships. The President proudly reviewed the naval parade from the deck of the Esmeralda, Chile’s famous (and infamous) emblematic “tall ship” now used as a training vessel for cadets but also used as a prison for political prisoners during and shortly after the coup that placed General Pinochet in charge of Chile in 1973. The Esmeralda seems to be outliving its more disreputable role during that period and returning to its rightful position of nautical pride for Chileans as it flies the Chilean flag throughout the world.

As President Pinera saluted the passing ships, you couldn’t avoid noticing the satisfaction on the faces of the Defense Minister and his wife, who stood alongside the President not only on the Esmeralda that day but also the day before in the military parade. This is an interesting side story, for two reasons. The first is that the minister was actually an active member of the opposition, a militant in the Christian Democrat party. He had supported Pinera’s opponent, Frei, although he clearly was uncomfortable with the leftward movement of the “Concertacion” coalition. He also had served as Minister of Defense in the earlier Lagos administration (prior to Bachelet), replacing Bachelet in that position when she left the post to run successfully for President. At the outset of his term, President Pinera tried to attract leaders from the opposition parties into his government. The only one to accept was the new Minister of Defense, Jaime Ravinet. He was a logical choice, but his “defection” resulted in his separation from the Christian Democrat party. Unfortunately partisan gestures in Chilean politics seem to increasingly earn the same fate as in the U.S. The second side story of personal interest is that the Minister’s wife, Ximena, way back in both of our lives, was my secretary in the Peace Corps office in Santiago. Seeing her standing on the deck of the Esmeralda, next to the president of Chile, in this very special Bicentennial celebration reminded me of how far she, and Chile, have gone since those days we worked together in the modest Peace Corps Office on the small, tree-lined Galvarino Gallardo street in Santiago.

As I watched these two military events, a small detail caught my attention: the inclusion in each of these Bicentennial parades of civilians. Maybe this has happened in the past, I don’t know for sure. But I noted that in the military parade, the troops were followed by representatives of what I will call the “people’s armies”: not gun-toting reserves or para-military groups, but rather a street vendor proudly pushing his cart on wheels along the parade route, a street cleaner with his broom proudly marching along pushing his trash can on wheels, and a “manicero” (peanut vendor) with his typical boat-shaped wagon so common in the streets of Chile’s cities and towns. There may have been others, but those are the ones I remember. The next day this image of civic participation was reinforced when behind the naval ships which passed by in Valparaiso’s naval procession, there were more than 300 tug boats, fishing boats, Polynesian canoes, and private sail boats, a vivid expression of welcome civic inclusion. Is it just wishful thinking to believe that these are the “armies” Chile will be investing in and looking to in the future to develop Chile: the armies of simple, hardworking Chileans doing their jobs and raising healthy, educated children?

Each night of this Bicentennial week the Presidential Palace, the “Moneda”, provided the façade, the same façade so shockingly destroyed by rockets on September 11 in 1973, for a magnificent light show presented as an expression of hope and encouragement. Each night hundreds of thousands of citizens from all walks of life jammed into the squares and streets surrounding the “Moneda” to enjoy the show, and tens of thousands more congregated peacefully into parks throughout the country to cheer fireworks displays featuring the blue, red and white of the Chilean flag. By most accounts, mine included, Chileans seemed to have had a very happy four-day respite from their collective pressures and problems, and as has become a trait of this society, the next day, bright and early, they got up, sent their kids off to school, and went off to work. “Viva Chile!”

Written in Leesburg, Virginia on October 30, 2010.

"Viva Chile" Part 1: The 18th of September

“Viva Chile!!” has filled the air these days, punctuating with an emphatic exclamation point what that stoic country has been through during 2010. The massive earthquake in the central south coastal region, the notable election of a center-right President after 20 years of center-left governance, and the agonizing but finally successful rescue of 33 miners in the north has had people throughout the world checking our geographical and political maps to follow all the action. If these momentous events were not enough for one country for one year, Chileans also celebrated their nation’s bicentennial this year, on September 18. Secretary of State Clinton said it well in her greeting to the people of Chile on this occasion, when she said “The people of your country have set a vibrant example…the earthquake in February has demonstrated your unshaken determination…your all-out efforts on behalf of the trapped miners is inspirational…”. Given all that was going on in Chile (and the feeling that the time was right to repair our apartment in Santiago from earthquake damage) we decided to join our Chilean family and friends in Chile for their Bicentennial “18th” celebration.





But this story really starts in the summer of 1967, when my Peace Corps group was being prepared to serve as volunteers in Chile. We spent days and nights at an isolated summer camp facility (Camp Armac) near Bothell, Washington, learning Spanish, brushing up on our silviculture (we were going into a forestry development program where promotion of tree-planting in rural Chile was the main activity), and familiarizing ourselves with the customs and habits of our future hosts, the Chileans. In this orientation period we were introduced to the “18 de Septiembre” as a moment when all of Chile celebrates the independence of a country and an independent people with deep cultural roots in rural Andean South America. There were several returned volunteers who had already served in Chile, helping with the training program. Willy, Bill and “Buzo” who had lived in rural Chile during their Peace Corps service urged us in no uncertain terms to prepare to participate fully in the “18” celebrations while living in Chile.

To help prepare us for this, we were introduced to favorite Chilean ballads such as “Si Vas Para Chile”, “Rio Rio”, and “Adios Santiago Querido”. Our Spanish instructor Max (on leave in the US from his home University in Concepcion in south central Chile) played Chilean music into our earphones so much that none of us to this day can hear the “Cuatro Cuartos” tonada “Que Bonita Va” without thinking about this intense period over forty years ago and this insistent language instructor who, after all, was so key to any success each of us had in finally communicating with Chileans. And we were introduced to the national dance, the “cueca”, a strange set of steps meant to mimic the mating maneuvers of a rooster and hen; a dance that must be learned through practice, and which we found out very soon cannot be faked on the dance floor like so many other dances can. Much to my chagrin, I never learned to dance the cueca, but I was by no means alone in that failure. We were told that during a “18” celebration, we should go to a rodeo, dance the “cueca” and drink a lot of wine and fresh grape cider named “chicha” over a several-day period if we were to participate appropriately in this most important of Chile’s celebrations. Unfortunately, we arrived that year in Chile only the week following the celebration in 1967, so we waited a year before participating in our first Chilean “18”.

During my Peace Corps service I was in Chile for just two “18s”. I remember them fondly, although I admit the memories are somewhat hazy due in part to the many years gone by since, but also to the effects of the great amounts of wine and “chicha” we consumed so as not to appear culturally insensitive and disappoint our hosts. My first “18”, in 1968, was in Santiago, where, for two full days we partied at the “fondas” in a park in what was then the semi-rural neighborhood of Santiago called La Reina. The simplest “fondas” are hut-like rustic constructions put up by sticking corner poles in the ground and across the top, and overlaying eucalyptus or “aromo” boughs, or whatever leaved limbs and branches you have available, on the top to provide a type of roof. Open sides and dirt floors are OK.

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“Fondas” are also called “ramadas”, coming from the Spanish word “rama”, which means branch, like branch of a tree. (I wonder if it was a nostalgic Chilean who put the Ramada name on our chain of motels, or maybe it was the way they were put together.) The point of the Chilean “fonda” is to have a place in which to put a bar to serve some food and drink, a few small tables and chairs, and maybe a small area for dancing. In Chile to this day the “18 fonda” is pretty much still the same, although in the cities, especially Santiago, some have become more sophisticated and comfortable, losing in the process some of the attraction I recall from earlier years. My most lasting memory of this “18” in 1968 was a simple, very popular “fonda” named “Juan Tragolta”, a typically Chilean play on words linking our John Travolta with the word “trago”, Spanish for drink. This fonda was well-named, and we spent quite a bit of time there listening to music, drinking chicha, and avoiding dancing the cueca. It was fun to participate in this simple expression of Chilean civic pride. We felt like we were beginning to fit in.

In 1969, I participated in a much more typical “18” celebration outside of Santiago, when I spent the holiday in Pelluhue at my brother-in-law-to-be Joaco’s family home that sits on a rocky ledge high above that lovely Maule shoreline which was devastated by the recent tsunami. I attended a Chilean rodeo in nearby Cauquenes with wife-to-be Ximena, Joaco, sister-in-law-to-be Veronica, and several other “to-bes”. The rodeo is central to the “18” activities especially in this south-central agricultural part of Chile where the short, stocky Chilean horse presides. A Chilean rodeo is considerably different from the North American rodeo. It is held in a “media luna” (half moon) corral-type wooden construction, around the inside of which two “huasos” (Chilean cowboys, or horsemen) chase a steer and try to pin him against the wall with their horses at a specific place on the wall and as far back on the animal as they can. Points are given for style and precision, but apparently who you know at the scoring table also helps.

Ximena’s father, Claudio, rode in the Cauquenes rodeos in his youthful years, so attending this rodeo and drinking chicha from Cauquenes was a personal rite of passage with very special meaning to me, contributing I believe to the very close relationship I was fortunate to have with my father-in-law through the years. Claudio loved the rodeo, horses, rural life, and the “18” celebration. He was never as happy living later in Santiago as he was in his earlier years in Cauquenes. (Upon his untimely death a few years ago, my mother-in-law, Ana Luisa, gave me Claudio’s frayed rawhide lasso and his rusty branding iron he used to mark his animals on “La Hermosura” farm where they lived very early in their married lives. I treasure these gifts for what they meant to Claudio and our friendship they continue to remind me of.)

The Chilean rodeo can be a very festive affair, but on that specific day in Cauquenes in 1969 it rained and rained, as it so often does around this time of year in southern Chile, so by the end of the evening, we were drenched….inside and out.



We watched some of the rodeo, which was mostly tired and unwilling horses and hapless steers all slipping and sliding in the mud trying to avoid each other. We mostly walked around with cups of “chicha” in our hands, in mud up to our ankles and with cold rainwater running down inside the backs of our shirts. This “18” was a memorable event, to be sure, that left the indelible image I carry to this day of celebrating the “18” in rural Chile.

In July of 1970, Ximena and I left Chile, unfortunately prior to that year’s “18”, and with the exception of a couple of years in the late 1970s when we again lived in Chile, we did not celebrate another Chilean “18” until this Bicentennial year 2010, when we returned to join in a collective “Viva Chile!”

Written in Leesburg, Virginia on October 30, 2010.

Las Rocas

When the February 2010 tsunami washed inland over much of the small fishing village of Loanco, in the Maule province of south central Chile, many homes were totally destroyed, the fishermen lost all of their boats, motors, and nets, and even their new tractor for hauling the boats out of the water was a total loss. None died. They knew what to do, and escaped. The villagers' belongings were strewn along the coast for miles, and the villagers themselves were dispersed around the area, taking refuge with friends and relatives so as to have a roof over their heads for the cold, rainy Chilean winter that would soon be upon them.

I have sort of "adopted" Loanco as my escape from today's sometimes deafening clamor. Whenever I visit Chile, and can get away, I spend a few days at the very isolated coastal refuge Ximena's sister Veronica and her husband Joaquin have built that sits on a bluff looking out over the long, lonely sandy beach that runs from Loanco north to a spectacular lighthouse, El Faro Caranza. My visits now follow a routine that I imagine often when I am not fortunate enough to be there. After a five-hour drive down the Pan American highway and a diversion east through either Constitucion or Cauquenes, I reach their place by driving in along a dirt path from the main road through pastures, wooden farmgates, past rundown adobe farmhouses with ferocious mangy dogs, over a huge sand dune, through a clump of cypress trees, and down into the back yard of Veronica and Joaquin's place. About halfway along this path, there is an overlook, a place where you can look way down to the left as you enter, and see Loanco. This view of Loanco is usually lovely, since you can appreciate the blue-green waters crashing on the rocky shoreline around the small village. The distance filters out the poverty, open sewers, and near futility and dangers of trying to make a living as an antisan fisherman. In spite of the distance filter, this view of Loanco was a sad, sad scene the last time I visited, in May, before returning to the US.

So when I visited again in September of this year, I arrived at this overlook

late in the afternoon with a certain degree of anxiety. I feared what I would see, so I sort of looked indirectly out of the corner of my eye, thinking just a slight glance would keep me from seeing the uglyness of Loanco's destruction. But what a surprise! There were boats on the shore, and it was pretty obvious they had motors and were back at work. There were still vacant lots where some houses had been before, but there were also signs of construction activity. So I spent the night still expectant of what I would find the next day during my customary walk to Loanco, but comforted by the feeling that maybe Loanco was recovering, maybe they have a chance of getting back to normal.

Bright and early the next morning, after a big cup of Nescafe with hot milk and burned hallulla toast (in Chile this toast mostly comes burned) with lots of real butter and honey from the Olmo flower, I enthusiastically headed down the dune, and over the beach towards Loanco. How the earth and her earthlings slowly recover from disasters is really something to marvel. Several years before the tsunami, Joaco had planted Ammophila grass to stabilize the dunes closest to the ocean in front of his property. It was working, but Joaco had told me he was sure all his work had been washed away in the tsunami. However, as I crossed this line of low dunes on my way to Loanco, I could see that the Ammophila had survived its Frebruary drowning and was sprouting anew. It was miraculously continuing to do its job. The scraps and pieces of Loanco's belongings which just seven months earlier had virtually blanketed the beach were slowly and progressively being buried or washed out to sea. Tips of splintered bedposts, smashed bookcases and chairs, boat oars, and tattered clothing were still sticking out of the sands, and there were still too many signs of the disaster that struck this village. But, it seemed to me that it would not be long before the sea will swallow and the sands will cover what was lost by the residents of Loanco in the tsunami.

Those of you who have followed this blog, or have been fortunate to have visited Loanco, know that my destination whenever I trek down the beach to Loanco is first to watch the fishermen arrive with their catch (their and my timing is such that when I am starting my day, they usually are beginning to finish theirs!) and then a short walk through town to Maria's and Dago's restaurant Las Rocas.

On this day in September, as I walked into the midst of the boats on the beach, I was a little early or the fishermen were late so there was no one around, but I could tell by the tracks in the sand that at least some of the new boats had gone out to fish. I figured if I waited a bit, I would see them return with their catch. A quick look around revealed several new boats with shiny new motors. As it turns out, the Loanco fishermen were helped by contributions from a mining association from the north of Chile, the national (international, really) airline, and others to

rebuild their small fleet of fishing boats. And a special line of credit from the Chilean government's fisheries ministry was being made available. Someone had provided the resources to buy a new tractor to haul the boats to and from the water (they used oxen up until a couple of years ago) and the fact that they now had that new tractor parked high on a cement platform well away from the sea made me chuckle. The building used by the fishermen to store fish and fishing equipment, house bathrooms and changing rooms, and serve as a fish market when the catch was sufficient was still totally vacated and probably due to be demolished.

There is an ambitious plan to create a Ruta de Caletas (small fishing village tourism route) to rebuild facilites in 5 or 6 fishing villages in the region, including Loanco. This project, designed by several architects from leading Chilean Universities, pretends to build attractive facilities to house storage areas for fishermen, restaurants and walkways for tourists and townspeople, and shops for artisan products. This initiative is interesting, ambitious, and well worth following, for if it does contribute to improving the economies and living conditions in these poorest of enclaves along the Chilean coast it will be wonderful. Maybe at the same time they will make sure all open sewers in these small forgotten towns are closed and appropriate facilities installed for all dimensions of waste and water management.

So there is noticeable progress with the fishermen. The day before my visit, someone had told me they had had lunch at Las Rocas Restaurant a few days before, and the fate of the owners, Maria and Dago, is of utmost interest to me (as you would know from several of my previous postings on this blog). So having checked out the situation of the fishermen I directed my attention towards the other end of town where Las Rocas stood previously and where Dago had, but lost, his small store. I could see the site where Las Rocas stood before, and sure enough, it was being rebuilt...on the same site perched just several feet above sea level on the rocks. To remind you, this restaurant, totally destroyed in the tsunami, is where you could previously feast on raw erizos (sea urchins), locos en salsa verde (Chilean abalone with a sauce of oil, chopped onion and parsley), paila marina (mixed seafood soup), caldillo de congrio (conger eel soup), fried pescada (merluza or hake), almejas (clams), machas (razor clams), and all accompanied by ensalada Chilena (tomato and onion), and the best french fries on the planet (most likely owing to the fact they still use lard in which to fry them). To fully enjoy this setting and menu, the meal was usually preceeded by a small glass of vaina (a blend of fortified sweet wine or port, cacao and egg) if it is before noon or pisco sour (no time limits nor description necessary) and accompanied by a healthy amount of nice cold Chilean white wine from the producers cooperative in Cauquenes, and a long conversation with Maria. All this was on my mind as I approached the site, for clearly it was not operational. As I walked down the main street, I saw ahead on the left, a sign that read "Las Rocas" next to a small cement house that had partially survived the tsunami and had been rebuilt. It was closed, but as I stood looking at the large menu board laongside the door and inside at the few tables and bar, Maria appeared in a pickup truck with her daughter-in-law who helps her with the restaurant. She recognized me from my prior visits, and with a big

smile on her face (and on mine also to be sure) she gave me a big hug and announced they were back in business. I asked about Dago, who she said was up above on a piece of property planting garlic, but would be at their temporary Las Rocas later in the day. She explained how their optimism won out over their fear of another tsunami (after all, "how many 100-year tragedies can one be victim to in a lifetime?") and how a new, expanded, more modern Las Rocas will be functioning on the original site by the end of October, in time for the entire spring/summer/fall season when most visitors come to Loanco.

Maria rushed off to do the shopping for Las Rocas' lunch crowd, so after checking out the rebuilding process at the old Las Rocas site, I left Loanco, walked back up the beach, got my car, and decided to visit a small town inland where my Peace Corps colleague Norton was stationed from 1967-69. Empedrado had always interested me, but I had never visited this town that sits truly in the middle of nowhere. You don't go through Empedrado. You have to want to go there, and I did, just to see where Norton spent two years of his young life before returning to Wisconsin to become a vegetable farmer and raise a family. Even though paved roads have replaced the dirt ruts Norton must have travelled to and from Empedarado, this visit took longer than I thought it would (they all do) and I arrived back in Loanco at about 2:30 to have lunch. After a long conversation with Dago, who explained with great enthusiasm how he was going to have the refurbished and much improved Las Rocas functioning soon, I was going to sit alone in Maria's temporary Las Rocas to have lunch. As I sat down a man who was sitting with his mother at a neighboring table invited me to sit with them to have lunch. Through "locos en salsa verde" and "pescada frita con ensalada Chilena" and, yes, a couple of bottles of Lomas de Cauquenes "carignan", we talked about the chances of Loanco continuing to grow and possibly thrive if the architect's project to build the "Ruta de Caletas" goes forward. My lunch companions were brimming with optimism about a grwoing tourism in the region as a result of this project. I am not so sure about that, but I do know that Maria and Dago have enough persistence and optimism to ensure that their restaurant will continue to serve the wide variety of Chilean seafood that attracts people from the region, and some like me regularly to this out of the way spot on the Chilean coast. I hope the projects to rebuild Loanco and other fishing villages are successful, and that the fine folks who live in these towns eventually can live more healthy lives without open sewers and precarious economic conditions, but I also hope that change does not stifle the entrepreneurial and independent drive so many of them have, especially Maria and Dago.

Written in Leesburg, Virginia on October 19, 2010

AWAY TOO LONG

DavesChile has been too silent, for too long. But there are reasons, like buying and moving into a new home and taking on a new job with the Chicago Council on Foreign Affairs. But, the move is over, and the new job is only part time.

Chile had begun to recover from the devastating earthquake in February (see previous postings), only to find that as a result of an explosion 33 miners are trapped alive far below the surface in a copper mine near Copiapo in northern Chile. The international press is of course flocking to the San Jose mine, to be there when these 33 miners are rescued hopefully during October, after what can only be described as a magnificent rescue effort. The press and many in Chile appear to be much more concerned now about these 33 victims than the thousands of victims still trapped by poverty and destruction in the south central part of Chile affected by the earthquake and Tsunami that occured earlier this year. For tourists and Chileans alike, Chile's geography has always been an attraction, due to its natural beauty and diversity, but in 2010 the unfortunate aspects of her geography have attracted more attention.

In the midst of these tragedies, Chile elected a new President and celebrated its Bicentennial as a nation with a somewhat muted but typically optimistic Chilean four-day holiday around September 18. The celebration this year spawned a new very popular drink named "El Terremoto", which of course we tried. This "Terremoto" will require a separate posting on this blog for itself.

We travelled to Chile during the month of September to repair the damage to our apartment in Santiago caused by the earthquake, and to join the Chileans in their Bicentennial celebration. I made a visit to coastal Maule that suffered so much back in February, to the towns of Cauquenes, Chanco, Pelluhue, Cunaripe, Constitucion, and most certainly the fishing village of Loanco. It is spring in Chile now, and the "aromos" are blazing with yellow flowers, the plum trees are brightening the roadsides and front yards of rural Chile, and it appears, although there is clearly much suffering and work to do in these areas, that life for these humble and hardworking people may be on the cusp of a long process of rebuilding a better future.

You will be hearing much more regularly now from DavesChile. We intend to discuss with you in future postings the earthquake reconstruction we observed, the Bicentennial celebration we participated in, and Chile's economic and political progress and challenges we follow. In the meantime, there are two pieces of information I want you to know now: Dago and his wife Maria, owners of the seaside restaurant in Loanco that was totally destroyed by the Tsunami in February, have begun to rebuild their business. Yes, you guessed it; on the same site! Driven by a deep reservoir of optimism, and limited by a realistic weighing of their options, they again will be serving congrio frito, machas a la parmesana, and sopa de choritos by the end of October of this year. And, much to my surprise and delight, "The Last Pisco Sour" Bar in the Santiago Airport departure lounge has been reopened, so visitors departing that lovely country can fly home soothed by that incomparable tranquilizer. Two clear signs that Chile can and will recover.


So, life goes on in Chile. And so does DavesChile. Stay tuned.



Written in Leesburg, Virginia, on September 29, 2010.

MUSSELS - PART II

Mussels…Part II

Earlier, a posting on the subject of the mussel queried why this delicious shellfish appeared to be relegated to “second class” status in Chile, at least on the more fashionable home dining tables and restaurants in that country, and virtually ignored in writings of Chile’s leading poet, Pablo Neruda. That posting elicited some interesting comments from readers, an objection (correction) to my use of a specific scientific term, and some additional opinion about the perceived status of the mussel, all of which broadens and deepens our understanding of this tightly enclosed mollusk.First, the correction: I referred to the barnacles attaching to the shell of the mussel as a “parasitic” relationship. While barnacles do in fact in certain circumstances become parasitic to themselves and other organisms, that apparently is never the case when they attach to mussels. So, while barnacles as they grow may weigh down the mussel to which they are attached, and surely make them outwardly ugly and less appetizing to the eager consumer, they do no real harm to the mussel. In this case they are not parasites, just fellow travelers.

My wife, Ximena, after I posted “What’s Wrong with Mussels, Neruda?” reminded me that just before departing Chile this year in April, as we brought to a close our annual three-month adventure in Chile, we lunched at a new upscale restaurant in Santiago named Coquinaria, and they served a delicious sauté of mussels. I would order this meal again and again as long as they continue to prepare them a well as they did the day we ate there. I had stated I did not know of a good restaurant that featured or consistently offered mussels, but the Coquinaria is definitely one to be noted.

Also, I received a tentative endorsement from a respected commentator on Chilean food (Blog: Eating Chilean) of my suggestion that Chileans clearly discriminate against mussels when it comes to serving them at their best home table, for guests. Citing his Chilean wife’s reference to the mussel as “too common” (“muy ordinario”) to be served to important guests at an evening meal at home, he pretty much confirms the lowly status of mussels in formal Chilean dining.

And one of the readers of my blog, clearly one of the more intellectual readers, in an attempt to get Neruda off the hook, suggested that maybe Neruda was really a “closet mussel lover”, inclined to keep this as his little secret. She suggested that having exposed in his poetry so much about so many other things, he felt the need to keep private at least one personal craving: A love of mussels!! Well, I suppose that is possible, but I am not so quick to give Neruda a pass, especially since in the interim I found another famous Chilean writer who shows absolutely no qualms about extolling the virtues of the mussel: Isabel Allende.

As you might suspect, Allende gives away her feelings about the mussel in her typical clear and categorical way, in her tasty book “Aphrodite”. Specified as a memoir of the senses, or “erotic meanderings” (in her own words), this collection of writings about food and love includes, early on, reference to the key role mussels play as the final ingredient to be added in the preparation of “Panchita’s Curanto en Olla”. Panchita is Allende’s mother, and a “Curanto en Olla” is a kitchen-prepared version of the traditional mixture of seafood, pork, potatoes, and chicken, steamed in a hole in the ground layered on a bed of hot rocks and covered with wet seaweed. Similar in many ways to the traditional clambake in the USA, this concoction, “Curanto”, originates on the Island of Chiloe, and is served there and in several seafood restaurants in Puerto Montt and better yet in the neighboring seaside village of Pelluco. When you don’t have a hole in the ground filled with hot rocks, you can cook the whole thing in a large pot (hence, “Olla”), in the home.

Allende’s next reference to mussels again ignites my dismay that Neruda made no similar connection, when she states while describing the mussel, “In shape they recall female genitals; in Italy they are called cozza, one of several names for a very ugly woman.” Knowing Neruda, you have to wonder how he missed this.

Allende details several recipes in “Aphrodite” she claims are actually Panchita’s, that rely heavily on mussels: Mussels in marinara sauce, mussel chowder (“caldillo”), and as an important ingredient in fish soup and paella. Her recipe for seafood in cocktail sauce again emphasizes her view that “Mussels are visually very good…..appetizing, and easy to make”. But then, she adds to our suspicions about the status of mussels: “In Chile they are thought of as the oyster of the poor.” So again, there seems to be something “classist” about the treatment of mussels in Chile. They seem to be so similar to oysters in taste, but different in the way they are perceived. Is this based only on appearance? Or maybe they are so much cheaper than oysters that they have less appeal?

My interest in mussels is now even greater than before. My early disappointment with Neruda’s indifference has been counterbalanced by Allende’s more extensive attention to the virtues of mussels. There is much more we need to know about the Chilean mussel, its role in history and gastronomical potential in future diets in Chile and internationally. My search for important information about the Chilean mussel probably has been too narrowly focused up to now. Recently, while reading the Ancient Forest International book on “Chile’s Native Forests”, by Ken Wilcox, my interest was piqued by a reference to “...the Chonos people, a nomadic canoe culture of the northern fiords of Chilean Patagonia who greeted with compassion the plunderer of the new World. Their culture of dalcas, sealskins, fire, MUSSELS (emphasis mine), mushrooms, huts, harpoons, and the telling of tales around remote hot springs is lost forever.”

The Chonos were early shell gatherers in southeast Chiloe, who became culturally extinct by the late 18th century. Evidence of their customs and living habits are found in kitchen middens near Quellon at the southernmost end of the Pan-American Highway, in the Huildad Fjord, Yaldad Fjord and Compu sites. Maybe if we knew more about the Chonos, their culture, and their relationship with mussels we would understand better how mussels are perceived in modern Chile, and why.

So, I conclude this with the same proposition with which consultants like I often conclude our reports: We need more information! We will do more research on mussels, and the people who harvest, prepare, and eat them. To do so we must spend more time in Santiago’s restaurants, Chilean dining rooms, coastal fishing villages, seafood “picadas” throughout the country, and now, it would seem, southern Chiloe where the Chonos lived. I have just become aware, as I delve into the topic of the Chonos, of a new Chilean winery marketing under the name “Chono”. Based in Isla de Maipo, near Santiago, it is producing reportedly excellent Carmenere, Cabernet Sauvignon, and lately Syrah wine. We must research this discovery also. Maybe they make a wine that pairs especially well with a plate of Panchita’s “curanto en olla”.

I’ll need some ad honorem research assistants.


Written in McLean, Virginia, on July 17, 2010

What's Wrong with Mussels, Neruda?

WHAT’S WRONG WITH MUSSELS, NERUDA?

Pablo Neruda loved the sea, and wine, and food, and women. He wrote poems about almost everything, Odes to a beautiful nude, a fallen chestnut, the tomato, laziness, loneliness, gold, lemon, salt, insects, and a yellow bird. He so much loved the sea he had two of his three homes on the Chilean coast, one in Isla Negra, “There where the Waves Shatter”, where he could hear, smell, and taste the sea as its mist rolled in each evening (and where he is buried in a simple seaside grave); and another in Valparaiso where he could look down over the entire bay and vibrant port city from his study. He was so much into the sea, he wrote poems about a struggle between seamen and a huge octopus, the ocean, fish and a drowned man, waves, ships, an albatross, marine nights, tides, the fisherman, and even a large tuna in the market.


But there is something fishy about Neruda. He did not write about mussels, and he should have. (In the spirit of full disclosure, I love to eat mussels!) There are so many links between mussels and the other things Neruda liked and revered. Mussels (“choritos”, “cholgas”, and “choros” in Chilean Spanish) have always been the most common mollusk in seafood markets in Chile, the cheapest, and in a way the least appreciated. In many ways this tasty shellfish represents “el pueblo Chileno” that Neruda expressed so much concern about. In the wild, the mussel shell is somewhat rough, darker than other shellfish, often loaded down and pockmarked from parasites like small barnacles (“picoroco”), and huddled together in crowded communities valiantly searching for sustenance in the rocky tidal zones of the Chilean coast. Seems to me this would have been a perfect opportunity for Neruda to use the mussel as a metaphor for the tough but valiant, rich life of Chile’s struggling lower-class masses. But for some reason, he didn’t. I wonder why not.

Another puzzle when it comes to Neruda and mussels is that he did write about Brussels, but without mentioning mussels. Apparently, he was overtaken by solitude when he wrote “Bruselas”, and the last thing on his mind probably was mussels or any other seafood. But I can tell you, if you don’t tangle with a plate or two of “moules frites” in one of those welcoming restaurants along where the old canal brought boats loaded with fish into the St. Catherine area of the city, the “belly of Brussels”, you haven’t really experienced Brussels. So I still wonder about Neruda, and his mussels blind spot.

When I first lived in Chile in the late '70s, I worked with a young man, Enrique, who hailed from Arauco, a coastal town south of the large port city of Concepcion. Early in my stay in Chile, on one of our many working trips into the forested southern part of Chile, we spent a day in Arauco with Enrique’s family. Enrique, one of his brothers, and his father took me out along a dirt road, to a small wooden house perched on a bluff overlooking the Pacific Ocean. It turned out to be the home of a fisherman and his family, and that day they were going to treat “El Gringo” to one of Chile’s most delicious mussels, the mid-sized “cholga”. The edible meat of some cholgas is very light in color, almost appetizing. But others go from orangish to mud dark, and raw, as these were, sitting there still slightly quivering after having their two shells so roughly separated, they did not immediately appear edible to me. I had not even seen these things before, much less let them pass my lips. But this day, under the influence of great social pressure, I was introduced to “cholgas a la ostra”…..raw mussels. Luckily, Enrique knew what I would need to begin forcing these thick globs of salty slime down my throat; wine, and lots of it. Helped along by accompanying gulps of cold white wine, and followed by bites of toasted bread, the smaller of these “cholgas” would eventually go down. I thought maybe I could help them down by biting them in half. Big mistake. It doesn’t help! My hosts saw I was struggling, and not wanting a sick gringo on their hands, they resorted to steaming a few of these mussels, making them much easier to swallow, but alas much less tasty than their raw siblings.

During my early years living in Chile there were several more encounters with Chilean mussels. On a visit to Puerto Montt, at the southern end of the Pan-American Highway, I remember being captivated by the strings of smoked mussels hanging by the hundreds in the open air seafood market. Then there was the time I was spending the weekend in Pelluhue with the Fernandez and Pedreros families, in Sra. Esperanza’s summer home that to this day sits majestically overlooking the Pacific Ocean (fortunately well above Tsunami level). That day my future brother-in-law Claudio arrived triumphantly carrying a whole burlap sack filled with huge “cholgas”, and we all set about to open them and horse them down with lemon and again, lots of cold white wine. Still not a favorite of mine, I faked eating several, but did get my share of the wine. As I recall this event, there was quite a line for the outhouse that night around 2 AM, but I was the exception. And there was the time Ximena and her sister Maria Paz went camping with my friend Dave (you’ll recognize him better as Flick) and me, along with Ximena’s aunt Angelica and my Peace Corps volunteer colleague and future uncle Charley, in Tolhuaca National Park. We had gone to this idyllic spot in the southern lake region to spend several days of hiking, fishing, and, well, doing what young people do. Mistakingly counting on our abilities to catch enough fish to eat, and not spending much time actually fishing, we had almost run out of food a couple of days prior to when we were going to be picked up and taken out of the park. Angelica found some canned mussels (the smaller “choritos” in this case), and made a soup with them. I guess it got us through the day, but I also recall the soup giving off a terrible smell while it was boiling, which may be why we have never again made soup out of canned mussels. We now know, however, that fresh mussels make a very good soup (“caldillo de choritos”).

I also have fond memories of outings we made on the weekends in Santiago, travelling by bus or Ximena’s family’s “Citroeneta”, up into the Arrayan Valley in the Andes, behind Santiago, where we would spend the day cooling off in the river, basking in the sun, drinking huge amounts of wine from straw-wrapped “garrafas”, grilling flank steak (“palanca”) on wood fires, and of all things, eating steamed mussels. We loved steaming mussels in wine in a simple pot over the fire on these outings, and we devoured them with gusto, some of us because of the taste (mostly the Chileans), and some of us because of the wine you needed to wash them down (mostly the gringos).

Over the years since those days when we were young and experimenting with most everything set in front of us, Chile has greatly developed the processing and marketing of many food products, including seafood, and I have eaten a whole lot of mussels. Jim Stuart, on his blog “Eating Chile”, informs us that Chileans consume only about 7 kilos of seafood per capita (half the world average), but has become the 8th most important exporter of seafood, exporting over ten times the amount of seafood they consume per capita. One area of acknowledged progress is the production, packaging, and export of mussels. As a result of overexploitation of mussels in the 1940s, efforts were made to establish cultivation, especially in the waters around the island of Chiloe. The first farmed mussels entered the market in the 1960s, reaching 60,000 tons in 2003, 85% of which were exported, mostly frozen or canned, to Europe. Advertisements for Chilean mussels include the ribbed mussel (“cholga”), blue mussel (“chorito”) and the giant mussel (“choro zapato”). Internationally, the Chilean mussel is well accepted (according to Jim Stuart) as a “delicious, clean, nutritious, environmentally sustainable and socially responsible seafood”. In fact, in the Washington, DC suburb supermarkets we can buy dinners of frozen Chilean mussels, in either tomato and garlic butter sauce or just garlic butter sauce. All you have to do is heat it up, and frankly, it’s not bad. Ximena has, for years, been renowned for her mussels. She prepares them with spaghetti, sautéed in olive oil and hot pepper, in the oven with parsley butter, and simply steamed with fresh tomato, garlic, onion, parsley, and white wine. The sauce that is produced in the latter is totally sinful.

While most of Chile’s seafood is being exported, Chileans do love certain seafood dishes. But it is interesting to note that while the mussel is a key ingredient to traditional dishes like the “curanto”, “empanadas de mariscos” and “arroz a la valenciana”, and while it is now one of the best known, most available, least expensive shellfish in the markets, it is not seen much in restaurants or served in Chilean homes. There are exceptions to this generality, and occasionally in wedding receptions or seafood restaurants in the central Santiago fish market and along Chile’s coast, you will find “choritos en salsa verde”, “sopa marina”, and an occasional cold salad with steamed mussels, but the “chorito” is not a broadly eaten food. In Arlington, Virginia, there is a very popular restaurant named Harry’s Tap Room that features 7 different mussel dishes, served much like they are in Brussels and Paris. I am unaware of any similar restaurant in Chile. You would think that Chileans, who are lightening fast to copy cultural trends and who predictably trace their roots back to Europe whether they actually go their or not, would jump on this opportunity to make an internationally prized food their own. But they aren’t. The mussel is nutritious, readily available, relatively inexpensive, and easy to prepare. But, with the exception of young, hip Chilean kids who refer to anything or anyone cool as “choro” (as in “ese gallo es rechoro”, i.e., “that guy is really cool”), Chileans continue to hold the mussel in low esteem..


So after all, Neruda ignored the mussel, and Chilean gastronomy seems to be following his lead and ignoring the mussel as well. Maybe Chileans simply do not like mussels, or maybe too many of them had early experiences like some of mine that make them distrusting of mussels. On the other hand, maybe this can be explained by some sort of broad reticence to embrace a food that is seen to be too “lower class”, in spite of its merits. What other explanation is there? Besides, I have heard the suggestion that Neftali Reyes Basoalto changed his name to Pablo Neruda for the same reason. Maybe I am on to something here. To figure this out, though, there will have to be much more field research. Any volunteers to assist me with that?

Written on June 27, 2010, in McLean, Virginia