They will be coming for me soon. My friends have already been taken. Some have died. Others have told what they know. I know what they know and now my anonymity is over. It will be soon they will come for me and I can not escape that certainty.

When they come for me they will ask “who else knows? Who have you told?” I know the answer, but will I speak it? I am weak, I will not stand up to the harsh interrogation. Eventually I will say what I know.

If I were to betray them, is it necessary that I undergo the torture first? Is there honor in resisting if the result will be the same? Must I make an effort to preserve fidelity, even if in vain?

Waking, I wonder why I have this dream. Is it because of the lands I have travelled? In the not so distant past people here have resisted. They resisted the torture, the disappearances, the deaths. They stood against the tyranny, the oppression, the minor and major betrayals. Are my dreams questions? Am I asking how I would fare in such situations?

Am I responding to something more immediate. I have become increasing concerned, of late, about the continual reports of the Mob. The Mob has come for many demanding reprisal for the major and minor heresies against the modern orthodoxy. Those who are exposed as sinners repent, but there is no forgiveness. You must deny your past, and by denying you gain nothing but greater levels of contempt. You must repent, but you cannot atone. You must betray your own life. That is the cost of your transgression.

Betrayal is the greater transgression. Dante assigns the final round of the ninth circle of hell for those who betray. The lowest level of hell is named for the one who betrayed he whom he loved with a kiss. JBP asserts that betrayal is the most heinous sin because it not only steals from others their future, but also robs them of their past.

Nearly all of the commandments relate to betrayal, though they are not phrased in that way. They speak of honor. You are commanded to honor others in specific ways. You are commanded to honor God, and to honor your father and mother. It can be simplified: honor your heritage, your parentage, your community, your culture, that provides you an identity and a place of belonging. You may not like it, but it is yours. Others may not like it, and so what?

What does it mean to honor? Can one honor and also transcend? Yes, my past and the past of my ancestors leads me this moment in time. The history of my personage is my reality and leaves me at the threshold of the future. Will you deny me my future because you disagree with my past? Do you demand that I betray the foundation of who I am?

When the Mob comes for your past, they ransom your destiny. If betrayal of others earns us a place in lowest level of hell what is our lot when we betray ourselves?

This post may have ended farther from the initial question than I intended, but maybe not. Why am I obsessed with questions of betrayal? I fear it is because our society is beginning to demand it.

Sorry about the multiple postings. I got three error messages saying my previous post did not upload. They lied.

We have arrived in Colanchanga, a small village near Rio Ceballos in the Cordoba state. We arrived in Cordoba at 830 on an overnight bus from Mendoza and took a local bus to Rio Ceballos. Our host met us at the station and took us to the markets and panaderia on the way to our cabin.

Our accomodations are hosted by Else and Vlad, with whom we share mutual friends. It is an excellent site to unwind for a week. After a month in the largest cities in Argentina, Uruguay, and Chile, we are ready for a period of quiet. This place is a perfect location for that. Else gave us a tour of the trailheads in the area, and we will have lots of outdoor time. The nights will and dark, allowing us to see the Southern night skies much clearer than our previous locations.

We did see something of the night sky in Uruguay, but the area was flooded with artificial light. When we saw the Southern Cross for the first time we understood why we came this way. With apologies to Curtis, Curtis, and stills.

There is no telephone signal but there is internet through WiFi, so we can keep in touch. If you need to reach us, use What’s App, since SMS service is unavailable.

For the next six days our days will mostly be spent walking in the beautiful forest, reading, writing, and an ocassional bus ride into Rio Ceballos. Right now it is late afternoon and the sun is bright in the western sky and it is difficult to take photos that do justice to the location. Those will come later.

We also recognize that we have fallen behind on reporting our travels to Valparaiso, Vina del Mar, and Cacheuta.

We’ll be catching up on that in the next few days.

Charlie

A relatively short walk from our apartment is the Cerro San Cristobal, a mountainside park with a wide variety of attractions. Upon approaching the park a queue has formed at the funicular entrance. The funicular travels up the mountain side stopping first at the zoo entrance and then at the Santuario Immaculada Concepcion.

At the top of the stairs a giant statue of the Virgin Mary appears to gaze out on the Ciudad Santiago. As far as Catholic iconography goes, I think I would prefer to live in a city that was overseen by the Mother Goddess than one under the watchful eye of a Redeemer.

Last year we spent a week in the Portuguese city of Viana do Castelo. We were fortunate to have arrived on the first day of a Medieval Fair in celebration of the City’s seven hundred and somethingth anniversary. It was in that city, having taken a funicular to the hill top Santuario de Santa Lucia that I came to understand the difference between competing sects of Catholicism: one focuses on Mary, Divine Mother who gives birth to the world and suffers silently as what she has created passes from existence;, the other focuses on the Son, the redeemer who suffers the burden of sin and through suffering creates the possibility of salvation.

Mary looks down to her admirers, saying to them “you are the ones I created and that I adore. You will always be ones who I love and accept.” The crucified Christ turns his face away, as to say, “do not tell them that, Mother, for if it is true then I have suffered and died in vain. Here are the words I want to be said: I have suffered as you will suffer, and through that suffering you will be purged. And if you repent, you will be saved, and if you do not you will be consumed by fire.”

I ask myself, do I need forgiveness? I am a flawed creature as are all of us flawed creatures. All of us become who and what we are, some better than others, but is falling short something to be forgiven, or something to be accepted? I prefer the message of acceptance over the notion of forgiveness.

In Santiago, standing at the feet of Mary, I see a small area containing racks of melted candles and a wall of offerings left by the faithful. Some ask for relief from life’s burdens and others offer enduring gratitude for a promise fulfilled. I sense the voices crying in unison “please hear my prayer.”

I approach the wall, sensing the reverence of the space. I hear and American voice: “What is this?” A response: “Some knick knacks.” I turn to the men and say “they are offerings.” “Pagan Rubbish” is the reply. I wonder why someone would even care to enter such a space with such an attitude.

I try to accept the men who seem to know their truth well enough. I return to the wall, thinking of the powerful emotions that bring people to this place, to make whatever pact they do for the attention of their devine mother. I feel the hope, the sadness, In a previous time I would be among them, asking for relief from pain. Perhaps, if I was not so proud I’d ask for it now. “Please heal my knee.” I puzzled over the relationship of pride to acceptance.

I hobbled down the stairs, and there were a lot of them, still feeling the emotion of the visit to the Santuario. I did not connect that experience with the realization a few hours later that the pain in my knee was completely gone.

Some graffiti Paula reported from a restroom shortly afterward: “The world is what it is and not what some son of a bitch named Einstein says it is.” Now that is some cynicism I can get behind.

Charlie

September 11. It goes without saying but I’ll say it anyway. Anyone in the US can muster a lot of memories about that day. But a different “that day.” I am thinking of another specific September 11, the day that changed a society forever. It was the day tanks rolled in the streets of cities throughout the country. The President assassinated, even if by his own hand. After that September 11, the generals governed for fifteen years through harsh and brutal oppression. Yes, that September 11, the one in 1973.

The Museo de la Memoria y los Derechos Humanos is situated in a working class neighborhood in Santiago and documents the coup that ousted Salvador Allende: President of Chile; socialist; champion of the people. A man democratically elected to office and violently exiled from the Earth. The coup and its aftermath is laid bare through film, news reports, recorded testimony, and documents, including reports from the truth and reconciliation committees. The museum is dedicated to preserving the memory of the coup, the suppression of human rights, and the resistance mounted by individuals and institutions.

We were in the Museum for several intense and emotionally exhausting hours. The images and stories were heartbreaking in their frankness. We saw the photographs of the mass graves, instruments of torture, detention facilities, and many faces of the 38,000 people who went missing or were murdered by the Pinochet regime. I left the museum in a dark space, deeply troubled by our history.

And yet, there was something missing. Neither the audio guide nor the presentations addressed the question, “why did it come to this?” I saw no presentation on the cold war geopolitical struggle between two superpowers. There was nothing said about the competing purposes of the President and the Congress, reflecting not just the global power struggle, but the contradictory claims of legitimacy from within the country itself.

It is not a justification, but it is part of history that the military intervened, abolished congress and established a regime to “stabilize” the situation. Fifteen years of repression and resistance followed.

The exhibit did not appear to look at the precursors to the coup. It left the impression that bad people performed heinous crimes and horrendous abuse on ordinary people. The crimes were horrendous. The abuse was inhumane. There is no question about that.

Solzhenitsyn is often quoted “the line separating good and evil passes not through states, nor between classes, nor between political parties either — but right through every human heart — and through all human hearts.” Ultimately the violence and abuse is due not to the goodness or badness of people, but to our willingness to allow ourselves to become convinced of the rightness of a call to action, and to deceive ourselves into false rationalizations.

I see it happening in our society now. The ideologically possessed, acting on the left and the right, assured by their convictions call forth the forces of darkness to serve the ends of their ideology. It shows up on the faces of ethno-nationalists advocating for racial purity, and it shows up in the voice of a late night “comedian” stating his desire to punch the face of a teenage boy because he is white and conservative. It is where Antifa rioters terrorize citizens and riot to demand the suppression of speakers in public spaces.

Ideology dehumanizes. If there is something to remember from the Chilean coup, it is that. When we allow ourselves to be possessed by ideology we dehumanizes others, and in the process we dehumanize ourselves.

The Museum of Memories and Human Rights is a reminder. It is also a warning.

Charlie

I’ve always been a bit arrogant. Maybe, according to some, more than a bit. I’ve noticed as I get older I compare myself to others who appear to be near my age. I notice the older men pattering slowly on the street, possibly with a cane or walker, and I think to myself how nice it is to be fully mobile, carrying a back pack and bounding up stairs and putting in a few miles before lunch when necessary. I’m certainly not like those old men.

Until last night.

It started as a mild discomfort and by the end of the evening the pain in my knee has become a serious distraction from my enjoyment of things. It appears to be a significant case of tendonitis developing that makes walking somewhat painful. “Is this it?” I wonder. Is this when I become an old man, or will by body once more forgive the abuse I’ve heaped upon it? Am I on the way to becoming one of those men who shuffle slowly up the street, blocking the younger and spryer folks from making fast, steady progress? In other words, am I getting to be that guy I think should get out of my way? Time will tell, I guess.

My temporary (if I can be optimistic) condition did not preclude a good long walk through the local environs, including Cerro de Santa Lucia and the Plaza de la Constitucion.

The Cerro is a park very close to our apartment that holds the Castillo Hidalgo, which was constructed in the early nineteenth century in honor of General San Martin following the victory against the Spanish in the battle of Chacabulco. That is what I could glean from the commemorative plaque at the entrance. It is now a wonderful park with great views of the city. Here are a few photos of the park.

The park has a number of miradors with impressive views of the city and the Andes mountains in the background. We read that the Andes are usually somewhat shrouded in clouds or mists, a statement that fully conforms to our few hours of experience. Here are a few views from the miradors.

I had been expecting Santiago to be an old colonial city that had seen its better days, and was mightily impressed by the modern skyline. More impressive was the amount of glass wall construction for a metropolitan area prone to earthquakes.

Plaza de la Constitucion is a few blocks to the west of the Cerro, the streets to which contain a mixture of colonial and modern architecture.

Along the way we entered a shopping mall that held five levels of barber shops, hair and salons. Actually you might say they were all on one level since they were on the same spiral walkway.

The bottom floor was strictly for gamers.

We were taken by the pedestrian walk signals. Check out this short video clip to see how they encouraged people to hurry up as the lights were about to change. We watched for a number of cycles.

We also had to stop in to the cathedral. Paula pointed out to me that in the course of a year we have been in the Catedral Santiago de la Compostela and Catedral Santiago de Chile

There are also many plain old colonial style buildings to capture one’s attention.

Watch this space for more of our journeys into Santiago.

Charlie

Well they are not really our sponsor, but I do feel the need to make a report to anyone planning international travel about cell phone service. Before we left New Mexico we changed our service provider to TMobile. It was strictly a cost cutting move. They offer a plan for people who are over 65 that costs 40 dollars per month, includes unlimited talk text and data in the US , Canada and Mexico, and unlimited text and 2G data in something like 140 other countries. I brought a second phone to South America so I could use a local SIM for data and calling. I haven’t tried it yet. The 2G data has been fine for accessing sites that do not use a lot of media. Our banking and credit card apps work just fine, as does Google maps and GPS. For more data intensive activity we just wait until we have access to WIFI. I’m just reporting in case you are planning international travel you might consider this option.

I fell asleep last night listening to a podcast on my Android and sometime in the night had a dream about my Aunt answering the phone with noone on the other end of the line. I checked my phone log this morning and found either my stomach or my autonomous telephone actually had called her in the night. My log also shows that I called a hotel in Barcelona a couple days ago. Not sure how that works.

Seeing those calls in my call log made me recall a conversation we had with an expat in the Santiago bus station shortly after arriving. He assuredly informed us that the NSA is monitoring communications from US citizens in Chile, implying that they can control our equipment due to the malware they install on our devices. I can see now that he is right, though why the NSA would want to disturb my Aunt in the night is beyond me.

Yesterday worked like clockwork for us. We got up early, walked to a nearby hotel that serves breakfast on the 14th floor so we could watch the first rays of the Sun illuminate the Andes. We got to see the first rays, then the clouds moved in to the east and then it was in shadows again.

The sights during bus ride through the Andes were spectacular. From our upstairs seats we caught many great views, however I was a bit envious to the folks who had the front row seats since they had the full effect seeing the oncoming panorama. The formations of the peaks and valleys spoke of the incredible violence of the Earth’s formation.

Here are a few shots through the bus window, some of which are marred by reflections from inside the bus.

It took quite a while to clear customs at the border. Everyone had to get off the bus, go through passport control, have our baggage and persons scanned for contraband while the police scoured the inside, undercarriage and engine compartment. The biggest delay was due to there being many buses going through customs before us.

Santiago could be a poster city for the effects of population growth. From the time we got off the bus it was clear that we were walking where others were planning to walk and if we stopped we were clearly in someone’s way. I’ve been in crowded cities, of course, particularly Mexico City, where too many people are packed into too small spaces. I thought it would get better after we got out of the bus terminal and subway, but it did not abate that much.

Our apartment is in Barrio Lastarria, a very cosmopolitan neighborhood with lots of pubs, cafes, restaurants and sidewalk merchants.

We look forward to seeing the city, but also anticipate a couple day trips to Valparaiso and Vina del Mar. We’ll not do those trips on the weekend.

After close to a month in Argentina we are a bit shocked by prices in Chile. Things cost slightly less than in the US, but significantly more than Argentina. Food is very expensive in the stores, which is somewhat surprising given its availability. Perhaps I have a skewed perspective since we are in a big city.

Sidewalk vendors line the sidewalks of this neighborhood, perhaps amplifying the crowded conditions. I watched one young woman lighting what looked suspiciously like a hash pipe, and checking on the legality of marijuana in Chile, found that Chile has the highest per capita marijuana usage in Latin America. Perhaps that explains the number of people walking into me better than the population density.

Later.

Charlie

There is a hazard to becoming comfortable with the Internet as a research tool. Yesterday provided more than a few reminders.

I’m something of a railroad fan, preferring riding the rails to most other forms of transportation. I’ll take subways, streetcars, fast trains, slow trains, funiculars or roller coasters. Finding out that taking the light rail to Maipu for our bicycling wine tour is not recommended by the internet experts was disappointing. The light rail station, it seems, is too far away from the wineries and bicycle rentals to make a good day of it.

Longish story made somewhat shorter: After an bus ride that took over an hour to go fifteen kilometers we were dropped off in the middle of Maipu, about a block from a winery about twelve thirty. We didn’t visit that winery since we were heading for a bicycle rental that we were confident was at the city center. Getting conflicting information from many sources we wandered a bit, finally finding someone at a bus stop who knew where we’d find a visitor information center. Along the way we happened upon an open cafe and had lunch. By this time it was close to 2PM and our hotel all carb breakfast had worn off by then.

At the visitors center we were told that the bicycle rental was at across the street from the train station. We were then provided the wrong bus numbers and bus stop location for the train station. We got to the train station about 330 and decided we should just go back to Mendoza and try again in the morning.

The air conditioned train took us to a few blocks from our hotel in about 20 minutes. We got home early enough to watch the sunset behind the Andes from a rooftop bar at a nearby hotel. It was a nice sunset, and difficult to photograph with a phone camera. Here is the best shot I could muster.

This morning we took the light rail to Maipu again, arriving about 10 AM, rented our bikes, bought tickets to a couple wineries and pedaled about 8 kilometers on a slight uphill grade to our first stop. It was not a winery, but an olive oil factory that provide very detailed tours and information on olive oil. We actually learned a lot we didn’t know about olive oil. The oil tasting was well done and we could not pass up purchasing a couple bottles at a very good price.

The olive oil fit easily into my back pack and we continued our uphill ride for another two kilometers to the a family run winery that produces an amazing amount of wine that is certified organic. The last 500 meters was on a gravel road through the vineyards and olive groves to a small winery.

The tour was conducted by a young woman who recently relocated to Mendoza from Bordeaux where she had worked in the wine industry. She gave an excellent tour and an informative tasting. The wines had flavors I had never experienced and I was compelled to buy a bottle and add it to my backpack.

Traveling downhill two kilometers to the next winery was fairly easy. This one was more highly mechanized and industrial and was not open for tours until later in the afternoon. We had a tasting that was unusual in my experience. A young woman had us sit on a leather sofa where she poured three generous samples, described the wines, then left us alone with the samples and left the bottles with us.

They were good wines, but we were somewhat distracted when we were joined by a young Austrian man and had an interesting conversation about travel, history and politics. He is a student of language and consequently has a deep knowledge of history, geography and culture.

We could not find the restaurant that had been recommended, and decided we’d had enough fun for one day and came back to our hotel.

We leave in the morning for Santiago, Chile.We will start our day at a rooftop restaurant for a morning view of the Andes and then walk to the bus station for a six hour ride through the Andes. I’m looking forward to that.

We’ll be in touch.

Or so we are told. We’ve had glimpses of the Andes so far but not a full view.

We arrived this morning in Mendoza after a really long day of travel. We caught the 11 AM ferry from Montevideo to Buenos Aires where we hung around for an afternoon until our 840 bus to Mendoza, arriving here at 10 this morning.

We had booked a first class suite on the bus since it was only ten dollars more than the regular class. It was pretty nice, for a bus, and definitely worth the extra money. We had a hot meal as the trip got underway and something they call breakfast in the morning. The seats were equipped with a blanket, pillow and an on-demand personal entertainment systems with all the movies you wouldn’t pay money to see but might if it was free and you wouldn’t mind falling asleep while watching. And the seat back reclines to about 170 degrees, which is about what my recliner does when I fall asleep at night, ten minutes or so after I tell Paula I’ll be coming to bed in a few minutes. I always wake up in an hour, usually with a headache and wishing I’d actually gone to bed after brusing my teeth. That is sort of how I slept in the bus, having missed the end of a movie I’ll never see again and in a place with a bathroom where you wouldn’t want to take your toothbrush. Which is not a problem if you accidentally left your toothbrush in your checked luggage. Other than that, it was fine. I turned on an audiobook and slept through a few chapters, so I really wasn’t very tired today.

We spent the day walking. Our hotel was not ready for us, which we expected, so we dropped off our bags and followed the desk attendent’s direcctions to a wonderful cafe for brunch. It was quite good.

We then took a to hour a walk through the western part of the city. Mendoza is the fourth largest city in Argentina, with a population of about 850,000 in the metropolitan area. That’s about one order of magnitude smaller than Buenos Aires, and it definitely feels smaller. It is a very pleasant city to walk in, if you don’t mind broken up sidewalks. The interlacing of old and new architectural styles and building methods gives plenty of visual treats. Mature trees line both sides of the streets resulting in comfortable shady oases to provide relief from the hot sun.

After checking in and freshening up a bit and then walked back to the bus station to buy tickets for our upcoming trip to Cordoba that we could not purchase on line for some reason. After having experienced the organized chaos in the Buenos Aires terminal last night, the Mendoza terminal reminded us of differences in the two cities.

A network of canals moves lots of water through the city. They line the streets, passing underground here and there. I have not yet found an explanation regarding the source of the water, but I intend to learn more about it during the next few days.

We wanted to watch the sun set over the Andes and decided we would walk to the Cerro de la Gloria, a high point at the westerm edge of the city in General San Martin State Park. I checked with Mr. Google, and saw it was about a forty five minute walk, so we headed out quite a bit earlier than necessary to be there for sunset. Unfortunately Mr. Google’s information was probably gleaned from the internet, and after about ninety minutes, as the sun was setting, we were still very far from getting to the top of the hill.

With tears in our eyes we headed back to town, stopping only for a fabulous meal, and committed to starting earlier tomorrow. Possibly, we thought, it might be appropriate to try one of the many buses that passed us along the way.

It wasn’t a wasted trip, though. The state park is really beautiful. There were thousands or runners, walkers and bicyclers enjoying the late afternoon in the park. None of them made appearance in these photos.

On the way back to our hotel around midnight we passed the Plaza Independencia, the main city square, for a nightime view of the flourescent expression of community pride.

On the way home we spotted a tall hotel with a rooftop restaurant and immediately amended our sunset plans and will now watch from the fifteenth floor, possibly with a glass of local wine.

Our other plan for tomorrow is to take the light rail to Maipu and tour wineries by bicycle. I am pondering whether that is another of those adventures that fare better in the planning than the execution. It is supposed to be somewhere near 90 degrees tomorrow, which isn’t particularly good bicycling conditions, as far as I am concerned, and after a glass of wine or two we might have second thoughts when it is too late to act on them. I’m trying to keep an open mind about it, regardless of what you are reading between the lines.

Later:

Charlie