Por Fin, Tengo Tiempo Libre Para Escribir Algo Aqui

The poor wireless connection here (I think they use the neighbors') has been frustrating my efforts over the past couple of days to get something up here. I apologize if there are any typos or any other weird problems due to that.

I have a lot of ground to cover in this first post, so here we go.

View from the Hotel in Santiago

The first couple of days were mostly spent getting to know everyone in my group. There are about 60 of us (the largest group ISA has ever had here), so that took some time. The ISA staff hurried us from sight to sight on tours of Santiago, but I can't say that I have any clue how to get around the capital city. Here are highlights from those tours:

La Virgen atop Cerro (hill) San Cristobal

Cabinet Minister Giving a Press Conference at the Presidential Palace

Changing of the Guard at the Presidential Palace

We took a Teleferico to the top of Cerro (hill) San Cristobal, which has a great view of the city. We saw the changing of the guard at the presidential palace, and toured the palace itself. Such openness around the president's residence is a sign of the country's continuing (and understandable) mistruct of executive power after Pinochet. We got to see the various reception halls and the like (we even saw the room where Presidenta Bachelet addresses the nation!), but the most exciting part was probably being there during a press conference being held by one of the cabinet ministers. I'm not sure which one he was, but he kinda looked like Foreign Affairs Minister Alejandro Foxley. The most chilling moment was when we stood where Salvador Allende shot himself in the midst of the 1973 coup. I couldn't help but feel awkward about standing with Chileans in a room where our (Nixon and the CIA) efforts to destroy their democracy came to fruition. Somehow, acknowledging that we had a role in the military coup and that we sustained Pinochet's regime is not enough. Apologies are not enough. How do you apologize for doing that to another country? On to other things, I learned who Pablo Neruda was when we toured his sweet house in Santiago (built so he could sneak away with his mistress and named after her uncontrollably wild hair), which was designed to feel like a boat when one is inside it.

Spot Where Salvador Allende Gossens Shot Himself During the 1973 Coup

Pablo Neruda's House