Klompen’ down to Tulip Time (Part 1)

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Every year in May, a festival known as Tulip Time descends on my hometown. I know it’s Tulip Time when I go downtown and see signs on the windows of store that warn “Do not wear wooden shoes inside.” This is important because alarge amount of my hometown’s residents don authentic 19th century Dutch costumes and wooden shoes and take to the streets to add quaint charm to parades, dances and other activities.

Having grown up in Holland, Michigan, I more or less took the festival for granted. Every year in elementary school, I wore a Dutch costume that my mom sewed for me in the children’s parade, in which costumed kids from all of the area schools march down the town’s main street – 8th street – to the delight of spectators.

There are no fewer than three parades every year during the festival: in addition to the kids’ parade, a street scrubbing parade (the Dutch are, supposedly, notoriously clean, which explains why this first parade of the year is solely devoted to participants literally cleaning the main street with soap, water and brooms); there is also a large and very long parade on Saturday with bands that come to participate from throughout the region.

Perhaps the most unique aspect of this festival are the Klompen Dancers. These costumed performers train throughout the winter to dance in groups on the streets and in the parades throughout the week-long festival. I am honestly not sure if the dances themselves are very authentic, but their costumes are: there is even a committee that regulates the authenticity of the colorful 19th century costumes that are based on dress from the various provinces of the Netherlands.

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In addition to dancers, there are endless tulips throughout the downtown in full bloom, along with other attractions dedicated to tulips including Windmill Island and Tulip Gardens; fair food and art festivals, special events at stores, restaurants and museums, and even a sister festival at the same time that honors the region’s Latin American inhabitants.

The reason for the festival is rooted in the area’s Dutch settlers, who arrived in Michigan in the mid-1800s. Most were farmers and Dutch Calvinist separatists – the reason they left their native land. They displaced the Ottawa people who had once lived in the area. Today, there are still many churches in the town… a clear link to its European origins.

Even though I am not genetically Dutch, I often joke that I am Dutch by association. Some of those aspects of the devout, hardworking, business-minded, family-oriented Dutch culture from yesteryear does seem to seep into the present day community. (I also find it amusing that no matter where I go in the world, I am usually the only one who can actually pronounce Dutch surnames.)

I bravely visited the downtown this past weekend (which had swelled with crowds who had come in to town to enjoy the warm and sunny day), something that most locals avoid because we are not used to our charming little town being so busy. I have to say that I appreciate the town and its festival more than ever. It is quaint, pretty, charming, and most of all, everyone is very welcoming. Not a bad way to kick off spring.

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For more about the festival: the Tulip Time website.

Spring in the U.S.

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If you had to pick a season to experience twice in a 6 month period, spring isn’t a bad choice.

Now that I’m in the northern U.S. instead of northern Chile, I get to enjoy seeing the buds on the trees and the tulips blossoming (again) while my friends back in Chile have informed me that the days have turned shorter and cooler.

So often we take for granted the natural beauty of where we are from, dreaming instead of seeing distant lands. Of course the advantage of coming home again after a long time away is that you see things with fresh eyes, eyes that pick up subtle details and new things that you might not have otherwise noticed (or perhaps had taken for granted).

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After returning to Michigan, I was eager to walk to nearby Lake Michigan which is every bit as lovely and spectacular as any of the world’s oceans.

Next, we climbed a sand dune. Funny that barely a week prior to climbing this sand dune on the shores of Lake Michigan, I had climbed a sand dune on horseback deep in the Atacama Desert! Both were… well, sandy.

I’ve enjoyed picking wildflowers, which I haven’t been able to do in a while.

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And finally, I’ve enjoyed the constant changes in weather: in the two weeks I’ve been in Michigan, I experienced thunderstorms, snow, sleet, rain, sun, fog, below freezing temperatures and warm 70 (21) degree temperatures, too. Quite shocking after not experiencing rain for months – and the worst weather back in Chile being a mild and cloudy day!

Most of all, I have to admit, I am glad to not be traveling for just a little while.

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But I’m still blogging! Next week is my hometown’s annual Dutch/Tulip festival, and in a few weeks I’ll be in Montreal.

What I’ve “packed up” from my travels

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Last week was filled with whirlwind travels. My husband and I once again ventured into the El Loa region of Chile to the village of San Pedro de Atacama. There, we explored ruins from a 12th century settlement and rode horseback through cliffs and valleys, enjoying a spectacular sunset over the Andes mountains and several volcanoes towards the end of the ride. I can’t wait to share more about this mini trip with you next week, as soon as I upload some of my photos!

Then, I returned to Antofagasta to pack up months’ worth of things into 2 suitcases under the 50 lb weight restriction imposed by the airlines, and a day later hopped a plane (or three) to the United States.

It was so refreshing to arrive back in my home country, the U.S., after months and months away. I used to get reverse culture shock when I was away from home for too long, but I can’t say it’s really a problem anymore. The only thing I am “out of practice” with is checking out at the grocery store: I am much slower than the other customers and since a lot of my bank cards expired while I was away (I haven’t yet gotten my mail in Canada) I have been using cash, which I guess is just something that’s not done around here anymore judging from the impatient sighs of the people behind me in line when I start counting out my change.

I will continue to blog at least weekly. In a few weeks, I will be returning to Canada and intend on making this a more Montreal-centric blog. However, my travels are far from over so if you are interested in continuing to follow me around to different places, you still will be able to!

Packing up

A week or so ago, as I looked out across the sparkling waters of the Pacific Ocean in Chile, almost completely white and ice-blue in the intense 4pm sunlight, my mind wandered from what to pack in my luggage to return to North America for a few months to what I will really take with me when I leave Latin America. Things that I learned. Things that aren’t so easily purchased, folded, and packed.

Joseph Campbell once said that learning to live is much more important than learning the reason for living. I would say that this is what has happened during my time abroad. I think many people who go abroad are seeking some truth or meaning in life, but I think the most you can hope for is to learn how to function better in life. (Full disclosure: as you know, I am not someone who has spent time in Latin America for this reason; I was pulled out of North America because of my husband’s career, so my reasons coming here were a little different. Perhaps that affected the results of my journey.) If I could tell anyone who wanted to escape their home or country one piece of advice, it’s that moving to another country is not an escape from reality – especially in this day in age where technology means that our worlds follow us wherever we go. So don’t go abroad expecting to “escape it all.” In fact, life will probably be much, much harder abroad than you ever bargained for, for so many reasons. Instead, go and expect to learn how to function better in the world that we all share. That is all.

Anyways, enough being didactic. I decided to make a little list of things I learned during my time in Chile. I wasn’t sure, when starting to writ the list, whether it would end up being funny or serious. Instead, I guess the best way to describe how it turned out was simply practical. It’s a list of things that I learned while here that helped me to be a more practical, pragmatic, grounded person, who survived in a new place, spent most of my time here in relatively good health, and learned a thing or two.

Just to note, I don’t know how many of these things are specific to the town where I lived. They are not necessarily representative of what someone might learn throughout Chile or Latin America. Or maybe they are. I’m not sure. They are just reflective of my experiences.

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1. Eat fresh food. My brother, a bit of a foodie, recently asked me to bring him back something that Chileans would eat “every day”. I thought about what this would be: meat, seafood, fresh fruit and some vegetables, potatoes, herbs, white bread. Those are the most Chilean foods I could think of. And of course, none of those things can be packed in a suitcase or will be allowed through customs upon my arrival in the U.S. The lesson here is that the best way to experience a native diet when abroad is to buy the most locally-sourced foods possible: the things that aren’t packaged, wrapped, boxed or otherwise sealed. The most commonly consumed packaged foods in Chile, the things I probably could have taken through customs, were the most basic things we easily find in the U.S. (in fact, some of them even were from the U.S. or the same suppliers to American grocers: canned corn, dry beans and rice, lentils, hearts of palm, canned fruit, black tea, chocolate bars, potato chips, ketchup and mayonnaise.) Of course, there’s always wine I could take back, but unfortunately my luggage was already dangerously close to the weight limit!

2. Always carry a flashlight. One thing that I will always remember about Antofagasta, and all other cities I visited in South America, is how incredibly dark they are at night. Lit by the feeble orange glow of street lights, few and far in between compared to the multitude of bright white street lamps found throughout most urban centres in North America, sidewalks and streets even in the busiest urban centres like Santiago or Buenos Aires can be very, very dim. Add blackouts – not super frequent, but often enough – and I quickly learned that I need to be sure to have a flashlight with me at all times when walking around at night, especially when I am alone. Similarly, I always had a big box of matches and plenty of candles within reach at home because we seemed to lose our electricity on average once every 2-3 weeks or so.

3. Carry a small package of facial tissues in your purse, along with hand sanitizer, everywhere. This is a pretty basic rule of thumb I think for anyone travelling anywhere outside of North America (or even those travelling within rural North America). Let’s just say toilet paper and soap doesn’t always come standard, even in the relatively better-kept restrooms.

4. Women older than me are entitled to cut in front of me in line. On the other hand, I have also had girls younger than I step aside and let me go in front in line (although this is a relatively rare occurrence.) I found Chile to be a deeply matriarchal society, and also a culture that values those who are older. Combine the two with their – shall we call it, eagerness – to be in the front of a line or at the head of a crowd, waiting in line turned out to be a whole new experience. I never really got used to all of the cutting, though.

5. Personal space. What is personal space? In Chile, the closer to a stranger you are, the better. I felt like people were practically on top of me at all times – in line, on the escalator, picking out a can of beans at the store – at all times when in public. The strangest thing is, it is almost an art form. Even though people get literally right next to me, so close, they almost never end up touching me or brushing my clothes.

6. Classic, feminine fashion always wins. If you are a woman of any age and want to look good in South America, when in doubt, have long (long, long, long), flowing hair,   high heeled shoes, and put on a perfectly (if not a bit tight) fitting, classic black outfit. I will never look at fashion the same after this experience: I really appreciate the attitude that clothes should be tidy, neat, clean, classic, and hug you in all of the right places. This goes for the men, too, who (aside from younger men on weekends who wear the standardshorts and a t-shirt), wear classic, crisp white shirts and dark slacks. I have to say I missed trends when I was away (few seemed to make it all the way to northern, rural Chile), but I do have a new appreciation for the classic, feminine standard of beauty that Chilean women – and most other Latin American women I saw in my travels – seemed to subscribe to.

7. The car doesn’t wait for you; you wait for the car. Pretty much self-explanatory. Where I lived, the pedestrians never had the right of way and you had to stay very, very vigilant at all times when walking places.

8. Life improves significantly if you can communicate with the locals. I emerged from South American with far-from-perfect Spanish. However, I am able to communicate with many Spanish speakers with relative ease, and I think that made all of the difference in my experience. I’d never want to spend a long time abroad anywhere unless I knew how to communicate in the native language. It’s like losing one of your senses if you cannot do it. Now that I’m back in the U.S., I’m also happy that Spanish is still such a practical and important skill here, too!

So, those are the main things I have taken away from my stays in Chile. What are some of the things you have learned when living or travelling abroad?

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Roadtrip to Mano del desierto

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Right now I am making my way back to North America, but last week, I fit in a few last-minute tourist trips: the first, a short road trip into the middle of the Atacama, about 75 kilometers from Antofagasta to see a bizarre statue in the middle of nowhere. The second, a weekend in San Pedro de Atacama for relaxation and some immersion in Altiplanic culture for a few days. Now it’s time to hop on a plane and go home to the United States. (But don’t worry… I’m going to keep blogging!)

Last Tuesday a few friends and I drove into the vast desert behind Antofagasta on the historic Pan-American Highway. The highway isn’t exactly well-travelled in these parts. We were one of the few cars on the road; mainly, just a few busses and trucks go up and down these remote desert stretches.

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After driving for a while, out of the absolutely empty sandy landscape that looks exactly like Tatooine (sans Stormtroopers and droids), suddenly a human hand rises as if by magic out of the barren desert.

Our traveling companion, a little Westie named Snowy, instantly hopped out of the car to investigate the strange sculpture. We wandered into the blazing heat and took a few pictures before a couple of semi trucks pulled up, spoiling our view.

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I also ran out into the desert for a few photos in the vast nothingness, which I later posted on Twitter. A few people mentioned that the desert had shrunk me. It does appear to be something out of a Lewis Carroll novel, doesn’t it?

I have not found much information about the Chilean artist who constructed the statue in 1992, Mario Irarrázabal, other than that he liked to sculpt human figures. I’d like to find out why he chose this location, where so few people can witness it. As it stands, it really is not much more than a vaguely interesting stop for bored truckers and a blank canvas for graffiti. Perhaps, as well, a reminder of how small and isolated we all are in such a vast landscape.

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About Quinoa

The Altiplano, or highland desert, of Chile

The Altiplano, or highland desert, of Chile

The other day my friend, originally from Arequipa (in the highlands of Peru) cooked quinoa in the way that she remembers eating it when growing up, back when she used to go to the market with her family on weekends and they would scoop out the seed from barrels.

I first heard of quinoa (pronounced keen-wa) a few years ago when my sister-in-law in Canada cooked it for us. Little did I know that a few years later, when visiting the El Loa region of Chile in the Altiplano, or high altitude plains, near the Bolivian border, I would actually drive past a small, very isolated rural farm growing this grain in a field on the side of a sandy, rocky, barren hill.

This is an ancient grain (or, technically speaking, seed) that has been critical to the diets of people living in the Altiplano for millennia. What you have to understand about the Altiplano – a highland region stretching from parts of Southern Peru to parts of Bolivia and a little bit into the Chilean and Argentinian borders – is that very little grows there. Well, actually, let me rephrase that. In fact, a surprising amount grows there considering it is a dry, isolated, virtually rain-free, plant-free region of the world, with poor, sandy soil, extreme temperatures (very cold at night, very hot during the day) and intense sun.

In this highland desert of Chile, people can grow some corn, a few vegetables such as tomatoes, and herbs. They can raise some livestock (based on my observations mainly just chickens and llamas), and, at higher altitudes, they cultivate quinoa.

As you may know, quinoa has become a trendy food in North America because of its “superfood” status. It appeals to vegans or gluten free cooks because of it is a one-stop-shop for plenty nutrients. This is precisely the reason it has been such a staple food item in the Altiplano for so long: because the people living in this harsh land must have gotten a lot of their nutrients primarily from quinoa. Many people in the region still depend on it in their diet; after all, even with modern technology, it continues to be difficult to transport a wide variety of fresh, nutritious food hundreds of miles, high into a relatively isolated desert land.

Driving past a farm that cultivates quinoa, in the highlands of northern Chile

Driving past a small farm that cultivates quinoa, isolated in the vast highlands of northern Chile

Outside of the Altiplano region, quinoa doesn’t seem to be that well-known, at least in Chile. Chileans down at sea level here in Antofagasta, a mere 300 or so miles away, generally don’t know about it unless they have come across it on a vacation to the Altiplano region or in Peru.

I have been wary of quinoa ever since coming across articles about a year ago mentioning how quinoa might be responsible for an unfortunate shift in the Altiplano diet: as growers export all of their quinoa to North America, prices have reportedly been on the rise for the domestic supply and it has been said that local populations have begun to supplement their diet with cheaper, less-nutrient rich, imported options such as corn or wheat products (source). On the other hand, I have also read that the quinoa boom has been advantageous to Altiplano farmers, who are now making a lot of money off these exports, with which they can improve their quality of life (source). I’ve asked a few people who are familiar with these regions if they know what is really happening, but I haven’t found any real answers.

I suspect that the truth probably lies in a mixture of these two scenarios. I imagine local populations who are not involved in or have not benefitted from the quinoa export industry in any way may have a harder time affording quinoa for their families than they did before, and their diets must undoubtedly suffer. On the other hand, the farmers who do receive a fair price for the grain may in fact have more opportunities now to help improve their quality of life and the quality of their business. I believe the key is to somehow make sure farmers and local populations are receiving a fair price for the grain. In my opinion, it’s up to all of us to be aware consumers and sensitive to this need.

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Quinoa (this was grown in Chile)

I’ve had two, presumably traditional Altiplanean, quinoa dishes. The first was in San Pedro de Atacama, Chile. The quinoa was fixed like risotto: creamy with plenty of freshly ground black pepper, basil and some local herbs, mushrooms and served with a sweet tomato jelly. Bread in San Pedro is sometimes made with quinoa. I’ve even heard that sweet cakes can also be made with the grain. I’ve also been told quinoa can be stirred into soups and stews (but use less than you think you will need: it expands dramatically in liquid).

The second time I had a traditional dish was the other day with my Peruvian friend. Again, it was cooked similar to risotto. It is first cooked in water, then milk and cheese is added. She said that when she was growing up, her family used to use this as a side dish for chicken or served with stew (instead of rice).

A few days ago I tweeted that I had tried this more traditional Altiplanic dish from the very region the grain is grown, and got a few requests for a recipe on Twitter. That inspired this post. My friend does not go by a recipe; she just remembers her family’s traditional way of making it. She roughly described it to me, and then I reproduced it on my own. All of my measurements are approximate, too. It’s worth noting that I am not duplicating her recipe exactly. However, I believe this gives the sense of how quinoa is fixed in this part of the world and I am very satisfied with the results. I like this warm, creamy, risotto-style approach to quinoa and will definitely be fixing it as a light lunch or side dish in the future.

Now, here’s the recipe! Be sure to see my notes below.

Quinoa cooked with milk and cheese

Quinoa cooked with milk and cheese

Quinoa Inspired by a recipe from Arequipa, Peru

Ingredients

  • 1 cup quinoa
  • 2 cups water
  • 2 garlic cloves
  • 3/4 cup of evaporated milk**
  • 1/2 to 3/4 cup of shredded or cubed white cheese of your choice****
  • Optional: flat leaf parsley, Peruvian aji amarillo powder, or a pinch of cayenne.

Directions:

  • Add quinoa, water, and garlic cloves to a saucepan. Bring the water to a gentle boil then simmer the quinoa in the water with the garlic cloves until cooked. (About 15 minutes.)
  • Take off the heat and stir in the evaporated milk. Let sit for 5 minutes, covered.
  • Remove the garlic cloves and stir in the cheese until melted.
  • Serve immediately.

Note: in “nouveau Peruvian” cuisine, more flavour is added through the addition of fresh aji amarillo (a traditional hot/sweet orange pepper used extensively in Peruvian cuisine). A sort of pesto sauce made from fresh flat leaf parsley could also be stirred in. A pinch of cayenne powder might substitute for the aji if you cannot find it.

Notes:

* The off-white variety of quinoa, which is also the most commonly found in this region and elsewhere, is the only variety my friend knew of growing up in Peru (as opposed to the red, black or other novelty varieties found on the market in North America). You may need to rinse the quinoa before cooking it; check instructions on the package.

**  We cannot get fresh milk in these regions, and the irradiated milk we do get cooks strangely, which is why I suspect canned evaporated milk is used. I imagine you could use fresh half and half or whole milk instead.

*** Shredded romano or parmesan cheese would be best. A soft, bland white cheese would also work well; I used cubes of mantecoso, which is my favourite type of white cheese in Chile with a flavor similar to monterey jack.

Enjoy!

(Note: please do not reproduce this recipe elsewhere without written permission or linking directly to this post. Thanks!)

Autumn wanderings in northern Chile

Autumn has descended in northern Chile… which really doesn’t mean much in a place that, for all intents and purposes, has no real seasons, other than the sun is setting earlier and the nights are cooler and more likely to be overcast.

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I hope you all had a wonderful weekend. Sunday was yet another holiday spent away from home, but until a teleportation device is invented that would transfer me effortlessly between various countries on the continent, we made the best of it on our own.

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Chile is by and large a Catholic country, like most of the rest of Latin America, although there are many other religions and denominations represented within the borders. Nonetheless, Friday was a holiday, and earlier in the week I went to the cathedral in the city center to see an Easter orchestra and choir performance.

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Lately my adventures have been mainly relegated between the pages of books; still working away at my master’s program. This has left very little time free for explorations and side trips. I did manage to visit a Peruvian restaurant a few weeks ago, and had some fantastic fried fish (corvina, a light white fish native to the waters off the coast of Peru and Chile). It was fried in a very light batter and topped with a simple tomato, onion and cilantro salsa, served on a bed of sautéed potatoes. How can you ever go wrong with a version of fish and chips?

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And, as always, I’m still enjoying the scenery.

Special Post: Buenos Aires Metropolitan Cathedral

Pediment with relief sculptures

Pediment with reliefs

Just when I thought I’d posted enough about Argentina for a while, I realized it might just make sense to share some of the photos I took of the Buenos Aires Metropolitan Cathedral. This cathedral is the main church of the Archdiocese of Buenos Aires, where Jorge Mario Bergoglio (now Pope Francis) served as Archbishop until last week.

I won’t (can’t) comment on the Pope (I’m not Catholic) but I can speak for the beautiful architecture of this very busy central cathedral in Buenos Aires’ Plaza de Mayo. The Casa Rosada, or presidential offices, is on the other end of the Plaza, which is the political heart of the city.

The cathedral has a neoclassical exterior but beautiful neo-Renaissance and neo-Baroque interior. I fell particularly in love with the intricate mosaic floors that were laid in 1907 and recently restored. The main pulpits and chapels date to the late 18th century and are still splendid.

The Cathedral is also home to the Mausoleum of General José de San Martín, who of course freed the regions of Argentina, Chile and Peru from colonial rule.

I’ll be back with another post later this week! For now, hope you enjoy my photo tour of the cathedral.

The outside of the cathedral (I couldn't get a good picture of the entire façade - it was too big and there were too many things blocking my view if I went too far)

A view of the outside of the cathedral (with another building behind) from the Plaza de Mayo

The transept. Beautiful neo-Renaissance and Baroque architecture.

The transept. Beautiful neo-Renaissance and Baroque architecture.

Neo-Renaissance style dome

Neo-Renaissance style dome

Another view of the Mausoleum

The Mausoleum of San Martin

Stunning mosaic floors

Stunning Venetian style mosaic floors

The detail!

The detail! Can you imagine working on these floors?

A portion of the Plaza de Mayo (you can see a corner of the Cathedral on the right)

A portion of the Plaza de Mayo (you can see a bit of the Cathedral on the right)

These photos are from October 2011. For more on the Catholic and specifically Jesuit architecture in Argentina, view my post about the cathedrals of Cordoba and the Jesuit architecture I saw in Cordoba province in October 2012.