Connecting the dots

This post is something of a last chapter, or at least the mark of the end of a chapter and the beginning of a new one. This year, and this semester have been quite a ride. We have been through Argentina, deep into the uncharted realms of the Pampa, of distant stares, and hands worn deep with lines of work and wisdom. While we were there, my heart clung to the Patagonian mountains that border this mysterious marsh land. Even when we travelled to Russia, I stayed with these radiant creatures. They seemed to fit well with the mysterious personalities of our Russian unit just as well as they did with the Argentine gauchos. These mountains, that capture all the moisture of the Pacific and keep the Pampa so dry, also captured a lot my attention- my eyes and work are drawn towards familiar horizons. I see strength and movement in the towering peaks, a movement that is so slow that it is barely perceptible. But the inhabitants there are deeply shaped by this movement, whether or not they know it. It shows its face in Maté circles around small, long fires, and in the stares of the older folk. You can see a special kind of mountain wisdom that exists in very few places.

We talked in class about how people are shaped by the land, especially people who have been there for many generations. Harris said that is what we lack here, and probably why our music sucks so bad these days (or something to that effect) and I think he has a lot of truth in that statement.
Human culture is shaped by the environment, but this takes time- hundreds if not thousands of years- to happen. Like the carving of a spoon, the finest details that bring out the life of the artist (the mountains in this case) come out in the last, and longest stretch of time. The thing that draws me back to places like Patagonia and Bolivia, and to new places like Nepal and India- is these details of culture. Details that are so reflective and so a part of that place. Its the geographer in me coming alive.
On the other side of the coin, as a geographer, I cant ignore how deeply humans have shaped their landscape, even in remote places like Patagonia. The tiny Gaucho shacks, a few of which are still standing, that they stayed in while out on the roam with their flock, are markers in the vast landscape. Now, as the world grows smaller and smaller thanks to things like Twitter, Coke, Facebook, and all things under the flag of globalization, there are new markers that threaten the landscape. There are billboards that dot the patagonia in favor, or opposing the proposed dams on the Baker and Pasucua rivers. If the plan goes through, the landscape will be forever altered, in a horrible, unrecoverable way.  It would be a social, cultural, and democratic heresy.
The people of Aysen are fighting back, both inside and outside the democratic process. This parallels much of what is happening in my life. With the Gill Tract occupation, the May Day strike, and everything else, the world feels like it is being fueled and radically changed by words like radical, autonomous action.
Autonomous action in a lot of way describes my relationship to this class. I always draw inspiration from the amazing characters and voices we have heard, from Atahualpa to Svetlana and songs of Old Russia, all of these characters embody a sense of independence. Whether that is independence from capitalism (in the case of the red guard, etc.) or independence from the control of the Yankee (Atahualpa), the characters have always seem to run from the creeping prison of cooperate culture. As am I.
In the name of autonomy, of strength and independence, the characteristics that so inspired me from the class (in both form and content) I offer un gran salud a Tony, y sus gauchos.
 with these themes as my guide, I plunge into a year of unknown adventures, challenges, and travels in South America. Talk to me at the Fiesta for more....