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June 26, 2007

The most depicted man in Chile

There are thousands of photographs of Jorge Cornejo throughout Santiago. He is the head of customer relations for the Santiago Metro, and he appears everywhere to remind riders to let others off before boarding, among other suggestions. There are so many pictures of the man on the subway that I occasionally envision him as a kind of transit Big Brother, monitoring my every move. Jorge, however, is not the most depicted man in Chile. That distinction, I believe, belongs to Miguel.

I can’t tell you very much about Miguel. This is all I know about him: He has little hair; his beard and the hair that remains are white; he smoked for 20 years, and he lost his larynx to cancer. This last detail is the reason for his fame. Miguel appears on packs of cigarette in Chile as part of the Ministry of Health’s warning label. The front label reads, “Warning: These cigarettes ARE KILLING YOU.” The back is Miguel’s photo and a brief description.

These cigarettes are killing you

Unlike the U.S., where cigarette manufacturers choose from a selection of alarming surgeon general’s statements, there’s just one option here: Miguel. I see dozens of him staring at me from every convenience store, shop, or kiosk that sells cigarettes. His photo litters the ground wherever people have discarded their empty packs. It goes to show that there’s more than one route to fame.

June 21, 2007

Hemispherist humor

My brother Michael gave me the latest Far Side daily calendar for my birthday in January and I have been enjoying the cartoons pretty much every day that I remember to change it. That is until this morning, when I learned that Gary Larson and his calendar are party to the all-too-prevalent hemispherism infecting our world today. I saw the cartoon, the date, Thursday, and then the bomb: First Day of Summer.

Maybe June 21 is the first day of summer up there, but we’re just starting winter here. I have a program that records weather data for Santiago every hour (via Yahoo! Weather’s RSS feeds) and I recently threw together a little script that shows the daily highs and lows. You can look at the latest data yourself, but here’s a sample from today.

Year highs and lows in Santiago

Maybe that’s too complicated. Here’s a version where I’ve added a subtle arrow to indicate the trend.

More obvious graph with arrow to indicate trendline

In short, there’s nothing funny about this. The Far Side Calendar Co. needs to be more conscious of the fact that, for every person hanging out in the warm summer, enjoying their Fourth of July barbecues, there’s a sucker down south freezing his butt off. And vice-versa, of course. More inclusive language would be “First Day of Summer/Winter, Depending in Which Hemisphere You Happen To Be Enjoying the Far Side.”

So, Michael, I regret to inform you that I’ll no longer be enjoying my hemispherist day calendar. I’d no sooner have it in my bedroom than host a KKK rally in my living room. I also regret you having to find this out in such a public and humiliating way. Alas, such is the nature of the internet.

Note to Michael (everybody else skip this part): I’m not actually planning on getting rid of the calendar. I was kind of struggling to wrap this up in a dramatic and possibly humorous manner and this was the best I could come up with. I hope you’ll understand. I’m keeping the calendar and I’ll continue enjoying it. With any luck, everyone else will have heeded my instructions, will have skipped this part, and nobody will be the wiser to our little secret. Thanks. Ryan.

June 18, 2007

Oh the places Flickr goes

Once you put something on the Internet, you really can’t predict who will see it or what will happen to it. A year after I wrote about having LASIK surgery, a stranger emailed me to ask how it went. Parents who have children studying abroad in Chile write me every so often when they stumble across my site. Jast the other day I got an email from a woman who apparently read my account of making strawberry jam. She mentioned that there are many unique South American fruits that make for good jam and suggested that I look at recipes in her jam cookook. When you live on the Internet, the motley crew that knocks on your door is astonishing, and rather charming in its own way.

If that is true for what I write here on my small-time site, it is magnified by several orders of magnitude on Flickr, the photo-sharing site that receives nine bazillion times more traffic. I had been a Flickr member for just a couple months when a woman asked if she could use some of my Disney World photos in a book about scrapbooking Disney vacations. Then I got an email from a book publisher in Argentina asking if they could use my photo of an empty classroom in an English textbook. A few months ago a creative director wrote me from the Children’s Hospital of NewYork-Presbyterian to ask about using my photo of a man riding a bicycle with his cow on a mural in their bronchoscopy ward. Even though I thought I understood the far reach of digital media online, I was still pretty flabbergasted by each request. How did these people select my pictures?

Just when I thought I couldn’t be more surprised—who would have thought I’d have my photo on a mural at a New York hospital?—it happened again. Last week another Flickr member, Mary Crawford, sent me a link to a set of her photos. When I was in Punta Arenas this past February, at the southern end of Chile, I visited the city’s famous cemetery. There I took a picture of an angel statue, which I posted on Flickr. Mary wrote to say that she liked my photo and that she had used it to make a stencil to spray paint a T-shirt. Wild, no? Here’s my original photo and her shirt:

Angel statue in Punta Arenas T-shirt with stenciled angel
The statue of an angel in the Punta Arenas cemetery and a shirt fashioned after it. There are other photos of the process from picture to shirt on Flickr. I didn’t get it, but the angel with the phonebooth is a reference to Dr. Who, a long-running science fiction program on British television.

When it comes to the Internet in general, and Flickr in particular, you never know the places you’ll go. And when you get there, you may have no idea how you did it.

A side note: some rights reserved

This kind of collaboration is made possible in part by Creative Commons. In many minds, the phrases “copyright” and “all rights reserved” are stuck together with superglue—you can’t see one without the other. It doesn’t have to be that way, though. I offer all my Flickr photos under a Creative Commons license with just “some rights reserved.” In my case that means that anyone can use my photos for anything non-commercial, provided that I receive credit. You don’t even have to tell me about it, although it might be nice. It seems like a reasonable, good-faith approach to copyright and digital media, in contrast with the ridiculous attitudes of the RIAA, MPAA, and related groups. With “all rights reserved,” it wouldn’t be legal for someone to put my photos in a textbook, on a mural, or on a T-shirt without my explicit permission. With “some rights reserved,” you can do all those things without so much as asking.

June 10, 2007

Check out these carrots

Last year Tom and I spent some time dreaming up slogans for the country of Chile that poked fun at some of the quirks we had noticed in our time here. Chile: Changing Spanish to English, one word at a time; Chile: Our national dish is salt; Chile: Still inventing new ways of wearing the fanny pack. These refer respectively to the omnipresence of English words in Chilean Spanish, the amount of salt Chileans use to season food, and the fact that fanny packs are the cat’s meow here for men and women. Hey, Chile, the 80s called—they want their fashion back.

Anyway, another fave of mine that Tom came up with was “Chile: Our carrots dwarf yours.” Don’t believe me? Check this out:

Giant carrot

This size is pretty typical. If I were a detective investigating murders in Chile, I’d probably add these to the list of potential weapons. Mr. Plum in the kitchen with the giant carrot….

June 6, 2007

The politics of being "American"

A different language and a different culture can make even the simplest of things difficult. In Chile saying where you’re from isn’t a simple matter. In English, I’m American. In Spanish, saying soy americano is as likely as not to upset someone. The reason is that people in South America learn that the Americas are a single continent and all those who inhabit it are Americans. When you tell someone that you’re americano, often you’ll get a sardonic, “Yeah? Me too,” in reply, followed by a remark that people from the U.S. always forget that the rest of the continent even exists.

The next option is what is taught in most U.S. Spanish classes, soy estadounidense, literally, “I’m United Statesian.” I often opt for this adjective, but it’s not problem-free either. Mexico is formally the United Mexican States, so the possibility for confusion exists, although it’s uncommon.

At least in Chile, though, you don’t hear estadounidense much. Instead people say norteamericano, North American. They tell me I’m North American, ask me if I have visited North America, compliment my North American jacket, and rant about the latest decision of the North American government. When people begin the americano argument with me, I point out the parallel inaccuracy from our point of view of talking about Mexico, Canada, and the U.S. as if they were a single country. The typical reaction has been, “You say Mexico’s part of ‘North America’?” Turns out our atlases are different too.

American mustard with American flag
“American-style” mustard for sale in a Chilean supermarket. Note the word americana and the U.S. flag.

To complicate matters, commercial packaging routinely refers to U.S.-style products as americano. Our ruffled potato chips are sold here as corte americano—American cut—our yellow mustard as mostaza tipo americana, and our cream cheese as estilo americano. On top of that, books and movies occasionally use americano to mean not just any inhabitant of the Americas, but instead a citizen of the U.S.A.

It’s not hard to see why even foreigners here quickly pick up the word gringo to describe themselves. Here the word doesn’t have the pejorative sense it connotes farther north. Isabel Allende, the Chilean author, writes that gringo is “generally what we call anyone with light hair or whose native language is English.”

The matter is confusing, but such is the nature of living in another culture. You adapt or you break, and I have opted for adaption, despite some hairline fracture lines in my sanity that suggest I haven’t always done so. I don’t use americano because this is their culture and their language, so I’ll play by their rules. Discussions don’t always end there, however, because some people object not only to the use of americano in Spanish, to which I say OK, but also to the use of American in English, to which I say whoa. Now we’re talking about my language and my culture, and I’m a resident expert in that.

Dictionaries probably list multiple entries for American, one of which signifies anyone from the Americas, but I also guarantee that one definition means a citizen of the U.S.A. because that’s what it means in every country where English is the everyday language. If you look at American at dictionary.com or Google’s define feature, that’s what you see:

  1. of or pertaining to the United States of America or its inhabitants: an American citizen.
  2. of or pertaining to North or South America; of the Western Hemisphere: the American continents.
  3. of or pertaining to the aboriginal Indians of North and South America, usually excluding the Eskimos, regarded as being of Asian ancestry, and marked generally by reddish to brownish skin, black hair, dark eyes, and prominent cheekbones.

One way to resolve the matter, on both the English and Spanish sides of the discussion, is to recall rule one of language learning: the most obvious translation isn’t always the most accurate. Tranquilo looks like “tranquil,” but it’s better translated as “calm” or “quiet.” Grosero can mean “gross,” but it is usually “rude.” So too it is with American and americano. “American,” despite all appearances, is estadounidense or norteamericano, and vice-versa.Rule two of foreign languages is that sometimes it just takes more words to say what you mean. If you want to talk about North America in Spanish, norteamericano won’t cut it; you’ll have to name Canada, Mexico, and the U.S. individually. And to say americano in English, you’ll want some phrase like “from the Americas.” This all holds unless rule three comes into play: try as hard as you will and you may still get it wrong.

No matter, I have sorted it out for myself. I’m American and also norteamericano.

June 3, 2007

Winter's first snow

The Fourth of July is right around the corner in the U.S., along with the warm weather that usually accompanies it, but here in Chile we’re gearing up for winter. That means that, instead of complaining about the heat, they now complain about the cold. I am trying to fit into the culture here so I complain about the cold too. You know, just to fit in.

Last Thursday was the first big rain of the season, which meant the Andes’s first visible snowfall of the year. The mountains are notably taller than the Rockies back home, and cold nonwithstanding, are beautiful. Try to ignore the powerlines and traffic.

Snowfall on Andes mountains

On a side note, can you guess which direction is the rush hour traffic?