Notes from the Field

(University of Minnesota public health students are writing about their experiences abroad this summer.)

By Lauren Neils
Writing from Chile

After hours of traveling, finding that my luggage went to Miami, and a needed cortado (a great coffee drink) we finally made it to Concepción, Chile. We spent a few days in the city before bussing to Valdivia for a field experience. In Concepción, we spent our time meeting the people in our lab, getting a few things ready for our return, and seeing some of the city. Even in all the craziness of moving to a new country, we were surprised by our first few days at the University.

When we first got to Concepción, we caught wind of a general unhappiness in the high school students of the country. Issues regarding student benefits and curriculum in Chile had been brewing for a long time. We happened to get to Concepción when a boiling point had been reached. Heather, Marie, and I were sitting in the lab, which is located on the bottom floor of a building at the campus entrance. As we were desperately trying to follow the rapid Spanish conversations going on in the lab, we noticed that people, mostly high school students, were aggregating outside our window. I attempted to ask one of the students in the lab what was happening—Ok, I will be honest, “asking� involved multiple hand gestures and a the Spanish words I know strung together since my Spanish hardly qualifies as a language. She briefly told me, in English thankfully, that students were protesting about benefits and the curriculum.

Since we were waiting for another student to arrive, the three of us decided it was necessary to get a first hand look of what was happening. We went out of the only entrance we knew with plans to walk around the side of the building through the University’s arch. We had just turned the corner of the building with our cameras ready, when we are suddenly being rushed at by a mob of students running from the tanks rolling down the main street. As we joined the fleeing crowd, our eyes began to tear and our noses burn from the tear gas that was meant to quell the protesters. Feeling a bit awkward with my burning nose, I looked around to see that most of the students, who were obviously veterans of protesting, had converted any shirt--long-sleeve, short-sleeve, anything--into a make-shift gas mask.

Shortly after the initial tear gas episode, I returned to the steps at our building’s entrance with some other university students and professors. It seemed that everyone was curious about the events. The main court was filled with students throwing rocks at the tanks and challenging the carabineros (police). Finally, the Guanacos, which I was anticipating, made their appearance. They began spraying water on everyone in another attempt to end the hours of protesting. Although I don’t understand a lot of Spanish yet, especially fast Chilean Spanish, I was getting the hint that those around me were not very impressed. At the same time, I got the feeling that protests like these were common because most people at the University, including those I was standing with, were humored and relaxed about the situation. As I was considering the seemingly mellow attitude, I suddenly found myself smashed up against the buildings entrance gate with the other students. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw protesters pulling up parts of the sidewalk and smashing them it into pieces of ammunition. From my uncomfortably tight position, I turned my head in the direction of the flying rock’s path, to finally see the carabineros that had recently snuck around the corner in riot gear. Unfortunately, for obvious reasons, I was unable to reach my camera. A short time later, the protests began to slow and for another hour or two the students would throw rocks at the Guanacos and then run away. Finally, in true Chilean winter fashion, it began to rain. With a twist of irony, the students that had not been discouraged by the Guanacos on the ground were quickly dispelled by the “Guanacos in the sky.�

I guess I am not sure if they made a point or just missed a day or two of school, but it was an interesting welcome to the University and Chile. Now, I am excited about where my desk is in lab, because if things brew again, I will have a front row seat.

Posted by School of Public Health Podcasts at 9:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

(University of Minnesota public health students are writing about their experiences abroad this summer.)

By Marie Quasius
Environmental Health Sciences
Writing from Valdivia, Chile

Sometimes, adventure is in the journey, not in the destination.

I was lucky enough to have a car to drive on a regular basis while in Valdivia, Chile. That’s not to say there were no trials and tribulations attached to the vehicle; gas costs about $6/gallon here and I, uh, learned how to change a tire on a dirt road leaving a national park on Isla Chiloe. Oh yeah, and I also learned how to drive on dirt roads (information I’m sure is music to my professors’ ears). I’ve long thought that all one really needs to drive in another country (any country, regardless of its stage in the ‘development’ schema) are patience and good reflexes. The usual attributes (e.g. eyesight) are definitely required, but in no way can they address unusual circumstances such as roads that unexpectedly dead-end into one-way streets (going the opposite direction), or roads under construction whose detours meander back and forth across the median. In a town such as Valdivia, such challenges also include trees that have fallen under the force of a storm and streets that have been flooded—creating a veritable contest to establish which models of car or truck have the highest chassis and the driver with the strongest will.

There are also the colectivos and the Micros—the former resemble your standard black-and-yellow taxi, but ply the same predetermined routes every day. There was a corner near the Ministry of Health building where Heather, Lauren, and I often waited for Keith or Guillermo to join us in the car. Apparently, it was also the corner at which colectivos and Micros came into existence, as they came tearing around the corner with a frequency that was not only difficult to believe, but was also difficult to maneuver. (Once, I counted 10 colectivos in under a minute. I think the fact that I was counting, that I had the time to sit and reflect (and count), reflects the driving skills needed for such an intersection: patient and a strong enough will to dart out between three colectivos and a Micro or two.) I also find it really strange to call them anything other than a bus—as though they now have a different personality than your standard bus with its neutral interior and irascible bus driver. To grant a name to a mode of transportation other than the normal nomenclature (bus, ferry, train) somehow gives it more humanity. The colectivos—which I confess I never had the chance, nor the guts, to take—always seemed rushed. Their drivers (colectiveros) were madmen; did their income depend on how many passengers they picked up (and not depend at all on how much gas they wasted accelerating between stop lights)? The Micros seemed to lumber along with a great deal of patience and occasional diesel-fuel-sparked bouts of energy, when they encountered a long enough stretch of road where they could race the colectivos and other Micros. I haven’t yet ridden enough Micros to even pretend to describe the personality of their drivers (micreros)… thus far, they have been gruff but kind (and very helpful when dealing with a poor gringa lost in Chile).

Generally speaking, the view from the road in Chile has been phenomenally beautiful. In addition to the weather being “autumn� weather (colorful leaves, green rolling hills, spectacular sunsets, and the blue-black snow-capped Andes always framing the outer edges), there are always interesting livestock grazing right up to the edge of the road. There are a lot of your average cow—mixes of brown/white or black/white. Sometimes, on smaller roads, you see them roaming loose, which is not too alarming since cows are usually very… bovine. They’re not very excite-able. It’s somewhat less comfortable to see bulls walking down the middle of dirt roads. Also, horses seem to wander at will; my experience with horses has been that they don’t really like speeding vehicles, but that was in the context of riding horses for nearly 9 years. Lauren’s experience with horses has been limited to the one that bucked and threw her off as a kid, and the herd of horses that galloped alongside her parents’ vehicle one night, as they drove along the highway (in Minnesota, I believe). Since I have no way of knowing whether or not a bull has been castrated and is simply a working animal, and Lauren has no way of knowing which horses are easily spooked, we’ve had some really special moments in the car. However, even I must confess that a few days ago, while driving through Guillermo’s very suburban neighborhood, I was shocked (and a little alarmed) to see three full-grown horses grazing in someone’s tiny (i.e. 10 feet by 10 feet) front yard. I cautiously parked around the corner and crept stealthily with my camera to try to record the ridiculous sight. When they caught sight of me, they cantered off (across the ROAD) to the wide (~20 feet) median, where they continued grazing and eyeing me cautiously. I retreated to the car to grant them their peace and comfort, and never saw them again.

On the bus back to Concepcion a couple of days ago, I was definitely rewarded for my decision to travel during the day. I’d been up late the previous night, so my motivation to read about the Mapuche (with my dictionary and notes sprawled across my lap) quickly dissipated, and so I alternated between sleeping and reading Camus’ “The Plague.� (Incidentally, it’s not a good idea to read a book about a disease taking over a city when you’ve been having a bizarre health problem for over a month. The whole “med student syndrome� took over every couple of hours and I’d start wondering what treatment I should pursue for what was clearly the plague manifested in my body. But really, I was just being a donkey.) The bus kept stopping to pick up and drop off people, and I awoke every time it slowed down. Generally, the sights are pretty standard—rest-stop, cows (whether free or in a field), small houses, stray dogs strolling the streets, a couple making out in the median or on a bench in the town center. However, one of the houses that we passed in one small town was very unusual. Outside the very small house was a small fenced section, which is rather unusual in itself, considering its placement on a pretty large lot. Inside the fence, where one might expect to see a dog, or even a few kids, was an ostrich. A single lone ostrich, pecking at an upturned semi-circle that ostensibly held food (ostrich food? What do they eat?). Now I’ve heard of ostrich-farming, but would expect an ostrich farmer to have more than one. Indeed, I’ve not seen nor heard of ostriches anywhere else in Chile, not as livestock nor as pets. If anyone out there who’s reading this has any insight into the ostrich conundrum, please email me about it.

At another point when I’d awoken. I looked out the window, and saw a small economy car on the other side of the highway with its hazards blinking. As mentioned previously, many of the roads are lined by tree plantations featuring eucalyptus and pine marching endlessly off into the horizon (which are harvested every 10-15 years). Often, on the very edge of the road, you see the jagged edges of the last harvesting, where the soil is naked and tumbling down and wild flora have only recently begun to reestablish themselves on this steep slope where the forest corporations (empresas forestales) weren’t able to plant any of their crop. Well, the woman to whom I’m assuming the small car belonged had scaled that steep slope (think 45 degree angle) and was yanking at a small pine, roughly 1 ½ feet high, and trying to pull it out of the ground. I’m no expert on trees, but I reckon that any plant that has grown to such a height probably has a pretty impressive (and fairly solid) root structure. I never saw the end of her story (whether or not she succeeded in excavating her tree of choice—to bring it home? To start her own tree plantation?), but I definitely appreciated getting to see that particular snapshot of Chilean highway.

(Incidentally, the main highway in Chile, Route 5, was built and is being maintained by the Spanish government in exchange for 25 years worth of very pricey tolls (Ch$1600 ~ US$3+). Other major infrastructure investments have been loaned out to Spanish companies, leading to my impression that despite its very successful economic development, Chile is mortgaged to Europe.)

Posted by School of Public Health Podcasts at 9:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

(University of Minnesota public health students are writing about their experiences abroad this summer.)

Download file
Jose discusses the public health work he'll be doing this summer in Geneva.

Posted by School of Public Health Podcasts at 9:30 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

(University of Minnesota public health students are writing about their experiences abroad this summer.)

Download file
Mindy discusses the public health work she'll be doing this summer in Kenya.

Posted by School of Public Health Podcasts at 9:25 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

(University of Minnesota public health students are writing about their experiences abroad this summer.)

Download file
Marie Quasius discusses the public health work she'll be doing this summer in Chile.

Posted by School of Public Health Podcasts at 9:19 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

(University of Minnesota public health students are writing about their experiences abroad this summer.)

Ele Scherman discusses the public health work she'll be doing this summer in Ghana.
Download file

Posted by School of Public Health Podcasts at 9:14 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

(University of Minnesota public health students are writing about their experiences abroad this summer.)

Allison Ishizaki discusses the public health work she'll be doing this summer in Thailand.
Download file

Posted by School of Public Health Podcasts at 9:04 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

(University of Minnesota public health students are writing about their experiences abroad this summer.)

By Ele Scherman
Environmental Health Sciences
Writing from Ghana

Hey everyone!! Wow, sorry it's been so long since my last email. I've found a town that is a little bit closer to get email than the capitol, but with a slower connection, hey, I'll take it.

The organization that I'm supposed to be working for is the District Health Management Team. The country is divided up into regions, then districts, then sup-districts. It's a government organization that is also linked with the hospital here in my town, Asamankese (the West Akim district in the Eastern region). Unfortunately, government health care workers in the entire country have been on strike for better pay from the government. This is completely justified by the health care workers who make a VERY small salary. As a result, people have not been paid for a good 2 months (some longer than that) and sick people are suffering, mostly because many doctors and nurses have not been working. There is not much for private health care here. Where there is, the facilities have been completely overwhelmed with the most ill of people seeking treatment. It's all very frustrating for everyone involved. So, you can understand that I haven't really started the work I am supposed to be doing. This week, the strike has been called off and people have been slowly returning to work. So hopefully, things get worked out, people start getting the care they need, and I can start doing whatever it is that I have come here to do! I have learned a little about what the group dose. It mostly focuses on nutrition monitoring in children, infectious disease control and surveillance, child welfare, and sanitation. I'm very eager to start!!

The food here is fantastic! The central diet is based mostly on carbohydrates such as plantain, yams, cassava, and rice and some protein, mostly fish and chicken. Most of the dishes are in stew form and almost all food is eaten by hand, i.e. no utensils! It's really fun to learn this way of life. Oh, and the fruit is amazing!! I also have learned to do my laundry by hand. It's hard work and takes a long time, but I actually enjoy doing it. Almost everything gets done here by man power. There are very few things produced or processed in an industrial manner. All foods are bought in their raw form at the market and cooked from scratch. There are a few processed and packaged snacks, but that's about it.

I've traveled to a couple other places near-by. Kumasi is another large town, inland of the country about 5 hours away. I got to visit the palace of the Ashanti tribe, the TB/HIV ward of the hospital, a military museum, and a crater formed lake. Today, I was at the Boti falls, about 2 hours from my town. I got to hike to "umbrella rock", a rock formation that looks more like a mushroom and very impressive. The landscape here is very beautiful. The area I live in is very hilly and lush (mostly due to it being the wet season now).

Most importantly...the USA vs Ghana match!!! People are so passionate about soccer here! Everyone was asking me who I would support and how I felt about the match being here in Ghana. After I got to watch both teams play against their respective opponents, I realistically had to predict that Ghana would best the US, but I still supported my homeboys all the way. After the Ghana victory, it was complete mayhem. People flooded streets and were celebrating like nothing I'd seen before. Car horns honking, people dancing and yelling, mobs of young people running through the streets. I got playfully harassed endlessly. Good times I tell ya!!

Health wise, I had a Dengue fever scare. Thankfully, I don't think that's really what I got sick with because I was only really sick for less than 24 hours, but I was feeling pretty awful. Other than that, I've been very healthy!

Well, if you read through this whole thing, thanks for tuning in! I miss everyone very much and hope you're having a great summer!!

Much love
Ele

Posted by School of Public Health Podcasts at 10:38 AM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

(University of Minnesota public health students are writing about their experiences abroad this summer.)

By Marie Quasius
Environmental Health Sciences
Writing from Valdivia, Chile

The market in Valdivia follows the riverside for perhaps a hundred feet of action-packed madness. The pescadores (?) (fish market men, as we dubbed them) aggressively hawk the superiority of their catch, in Spanish that even my friend Andrés (a native Chileno who has lived in Valdivia for several years while attending the Universidad de Austral) described as incomprehensible. There are also numerous exotic vegetables, including some tuberous seaweed that can be bought as a dried or fresh (i.e. wet) product. Chestnuts are a popular Mapuche crop (costañas); there’s also a type of sweet cucumber (?) that’s variegated in shades of green with a purplish tinge towards one end. (The purple may or may not signify ripeness.) Small red berries, midnight-colored potatoes, luminous black and taupe olives, walnuts in their shells, and other gorgeous produce also peaked my curiosity. The (much smaller than the supermarket) red bell peppers (pimiento morron) have none of the ridges near the stem that North American bell peppers have (instead the flesh extends smoothly and roundly from the stem to the bottom). Cilantro and garlic seem to have recently been plucked from the ground, and beets retain their leafy greens, which are lined with burgundy veins. Pumpkin is in season, but it’s a far different version from Halloween’s mascot; the outside is a dark green and the inside a rich orange. A full pumpkin is definitely large enough to clean the seeds out of and wear on one’s head, so they’re most often sold as pieces chopped off from a hunk that is ¼ or ½ of the full fruit. Food safety and hygiene are not my strong points, but even I hesitate at buying produce that’s loosely wrapped in plastic and resting haphazardly atop other vegetables, awaiting a customer so it can be chopped with the knife that is lying on the floor of the wooden cart.

The fish and seafood merit a journal entry unto themselves. Salmón (you can guess what that is), merluza (‘hake’ according to the dictionary), congrio (not sure), and corvina (sea bass) are common fish. Abalone (an endemic species locally referred to as ‘loco,’ the harvesting of which Andrés informed me is technically restricted by law because of its endangerment, which has also resulted in a thriving black market), clams, mussels, deep purple crabs (‘paivas de congrejo’ means ‘crab legs,’ most of which are still alive and kicking as they are deposited into incongruously delicate blue plastic bags), and sea urchins—spiny brownness on the outside and mushy brain-like whiteness on the inside. The frenzy at the fish and seafood stalls is not exclusive to the vendors, either. Customers shout their orders and in response, immense whole fish (two feet long!) are flung to someone in the back of the stall who slits the belly, clears out the innards, and wraps the remaining fish in waxy paper. Behind the men and their bloody tables is a concrete dock of sorts that extends the entire length of the market like a game of Tetris (up for one foot, down three feet for probably four feet, alternating up and down).

In each of the lower compartments sits a huge sea lion, grown corpulent from its insatiable greed for fish discards, willing to bark aggressively and viciously challenge any usurpers. A smaller sea lion appeared to be the offspring of one particularly rotund parent which had heaved its fat body even closer to the fish market so that it could position its open mouth directly behind its chosen pescador. (I cannot imagine the feeling of having a four-hundred pound (?) sea mammal parked behind me, peevishly awaiting a constant flow of free food. It’s an interesting expression of how organisms co-exist; the humans don’t have to clean up the discards, and the sea lions benefit from the humans’ wastefulness. Some would undoubtedly say that the humans are interfering with the natural balance, whereas others would simply perceive the successful sea lions (those located behind the pescadores on the dock instead of in the water) as having competed most effectively for resources. Or maybe they actually have the least fitness for survival and reproduction because they are grossly overweight and probably unhealthy, though I speak from a complete and total ignorance of sea lion health.) I’m fresh out of a class that combined ecology, evolution, infectious disease—in case you couldn’t tell. A lot of what I learned in the past year of Public Health classes has really stuck in my head, since it’s so applicable to daily life. Being in Chile has definitely been an excellent exercise in applying that information, because I think that a heightened vigilance and awareness of one’s surroundings is inherent to eating and sleeping and breathing in a foreign country.

Posted by School of Public Health Podcasts at 6:06 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

(University of Minnesota public health students are writing about their experiences abroad this summer.)

By Ele Scherman
Environmental Health Sciences
Writing from Ghana

Well it turns out that I have to come to the capitol for any internet. My mom showed me a place that is the best and fastest. We took a tro-tro (10 passenger bus, but squeezed 12) from home. It was a long, cramped and bumpy ride, but worth it. I almost lost my breakfast but I just took some deep breaths, it worked;)

Today is a market day where everyone is out and about in the capitol, it is crazy crowded. Vendors yelling, people hissing to get my attention. I'm trying to be nimble to get along on the crumbled sidewalks. So many smells and sights.

I bought some beautiful black fabric to make a skirt from, a painting of people bicycling, and a cool necklace. After this, I'll head back home by myself, and Jen will go home with her brother who came with her. My family is wonderful: Kofi-dad, Helen-mom, Sofia-14, Lilian-10, Joseph(Cobi)-7. Helen is a primary teacher and Kofi has a labor organizing business. The house is great and I've mastered taking a bath with only 1 bucket - I could have more if I wanted ;)

I'll start working on Monday, I'm very curious to know what I am doing there. I heard that there are 2 Cuban doctors that work at there at the hospital, I'll have to seek them out to keep up my spanish!

My stomach has been ok, only a little bit of rumbling going on down there. Otherwise, I'm adjusted to the time change, and almost to the weather. There was a huge rainstorm last night, the breeze was heavenly, but we briefly lost power a couple times.

Everyone here is getting excited about the first Ghana showing in the World Cup on Monday, we (they) play Italy, it's serious business! Cofi - the 7 year old - even had a beer for the occasion!
Feel free to call or write, remember, I'm 5 hours ahead.

Hope you're having a great weekend.

Posted by School of Public Health Podcasts at 8:39 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

By Ele Scherman
Environmental Health Sciences
Writing from Ghana

Hey everyone!!!!

Jen and I arrived safely and finally (!) in Accra, Ghana last night. There was a scare that we wouldn't make it on the day we planned because it turned out that we needed a "transit visa" whatever the heck that is to pass through Nigeria on our way. Once we got in London to smooth all that out with the airline, we were informed that since we weren't getting off the plane in Nigeria we didn't need the visa. Whew.

We were picked up by our site coordinator's student workers, 2 young women who are a lot of fun. We're going to our respective families today once we get some money and cell phones(!). It also turns out that Jen and I won't be living near-by each other, so that was disappointing, but I think it will just make us rely more on our families here, in Ghana. It's hot as Hades here and the people are beautiful.

I'll write again, as soon as I get a chance, have no idea when that will be because I'm not sure of I'll have access in Asamankese, the town I will be living in.

I hope you're all well!

Love
e

Posted by School of Public Health Podcasts at 5:54 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

(University of Minnesota public health students are writing about their experiences abroad this summer. This is the first installment.)

By Marie Quasius
Environmental Health Sciences
Writing from Chile

(June 6, 2006) The bus to Valdivia moves at the perfect speed, though that is not immediately obvious when comparing the six hour bus ride to the prospect of a one hour flight. It’s fast enough that an antsy, time-conscious (North) American can’t become agitated that time is flying past and little is getting done in the grand scheme of the universe. I’ve always found that the most difficult transition to other countries is the shift to a different time which somehow moves at a different speed and amazingly arrives at the ‘destination’ time exactly when it should. Similarly, people also arrive at their geographic destinations exactly when they should… which is probably related more to an adjustment of attitude than of time or space, but still presents a conundrum to the American brain. Perhaps the solution lies in U.S. clocks adopting another means of measuring time: the ‘anxiety’ hand, to measure mounting stress levels that correspond to the pace of life.

The bus moves slowly enough that a vaguely literate almost-Spanish speaker can read the graffiti on the walls and memorize the words, both well-known and unfamiliar. While passing through a town called Temuco, whose streets were lined by endless rows of stubby, aggressively-trimmed trees (sprouting some puny branches from the top of the stump), I started noticing graffiti that included the words presos políticos (political prisoners) and Mapuche (an indigenous group that is quite populous in southern Chile) and huelga de hambre (hunger strike). As my project for the ‘summer’ (here, it’s actually winter) involves Mapuche water rights and environmental health, I immediately took notice. During my preliminary research in the United States, I read some Amnesty International reports on human rights abuses of the Mapuche in Chile, and from what I remember, many of the protests for which Mapuche individuals were arrested were in regard to environmental degradation. However, it’s difficult to make connections between what is written by a person or published by an organization and the reality of a situation, which by necessity must include various perspectives (since both individuals and organizations have their own biases and inclinations). What little I have found that has been written on the Mapuche, the government, and the environment in Chile (or any combination thereof) has been written in Spanish; unfortunately, I have yet to translate it all. Seeing the graffiti definitely spurred my interest in the issues, and provided additional motivation to learn more (as if I need any more! I just flew to South American in winter to pursue this interest).

Speaking from my vast experience—four days—in Region X (the Chilean government is divided up into twelve administrative regions), I can honestly understand why the Mapuche and environmental groups would be incensed by irresponsible development (desarrollo) in Valdivia. Natural wetlands and forests dominate the Valdivian landscape; I’ve probably heard a wider variety of bird calls in the past few days than in previous years combined. Nowhere that I’ve lived or visited in the United States or Asia has there been a sufficiently large environment as to sustain falcons, and water fowl, and numerous others about which I hope to learn more (e.g. names and habitats). This is in contrast to Concepción (where we spent our first few days in Chile), where tree plantations dominated the (still very beautiful) landscape. Gazing out over the horizon during a short bus trip to Chillán reminded me of the view of a subdivision community in my hometown in Connecticut; from a particular intersection at the top of a hill, it’s possible to absorb the horrifying homogeneity of the community. Every house is a neutral shade of beige or cream, a tasteful variation on the developer’s master plan, suitably distant from neighbors so that the inhabitants don’t feel crowded but not so far as to cut into profits. Similarly, in the tree plantation, the tall healthy pines are immaculate both as individuals and in the collective. However, from my point of view, there is madness lurking in the mere simplicity of how perfectly straight were the rows in which they were planted. Professor Singer remarked with some displeasure (and perhaps some disgust) that neither the rows of pines nor the occasional stands of eucalyptus trees are native to Chile. In contrast, the water and trees in Valdivia seem to merge together in the horizon, and houses and businesses seem more like a momentary accident than any permanent settlement by humankind. The cold (and constant) rains seem much more tolerable because they bring in gorgeous mists and fogs; indeed, the nickname of Valdivia is pura lluvia (pure rain, or nothing but rain). Occasionally kayakers or sea lions emerge from the fog over the distant water, adding to the magical illusions of this place. I feel very lucky to be in this beautiful place, right now, doing what I’m doing.

Today at noon was a rally against a recently built pulp mill that has been polluting the local estuary. The mascot of the movement, so to speak, is the black necked swans (las cisnes) which, from my understanding, have been adversely affected by the pollution emitted by the facility. The next two weeks in Valdivia will consist of a series of educational experiences wherein Lauren, Heather, and I visit various facilities that have some bearing on environmental health or infectious disease (major areas of study for us and for Professor Singer). Included in the list is a trip to the pulp mill and associated wastewater treatment plant which is supposed to be preventing the release of hazardous emissions to the local waterways. (However, environmental regulation in Chile has been described to me by numerous parties as being weak, or even nonexistent.) On Tuesday I meet with officials from the Ministry of Health to learn more about the details of my project, and hopefully hash out what their expectations are of my language and research skills and for the final written product. As one person in particular (who I’ve already met) speaks Spanish with a rather difficult accent and I’ll be alone at the meeting, I am definitely apprehensive of comprehension gaps! At the same time, I’m really stimulated and excited because this is the first time that I’ll be working abroad in a capacity that really interests me, and where I think the experience will contribute to my future career. (At the same time, it feels strange to write the word ‘career,’ as if with that single word I have become more of an adult.)

Posted by School of Public Health Podcasts at 9:10 AM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)