Last night I dreamed about waffle fries. I have no idea why I dreamed about waffle fries. I like waffle fries. Though, I can't remember the last time I ate a waffle fry. Maybe at Chick-fil-A in the late 1980s? Is it possible to buy waffle fries anywhere but Chick-fil-A? Is there such a thing as Chick-fil-A anymore?
In my dream I ate waffle fries made at a place, a sort of deli, that specialized in cured meats. I remember dried sausages and legs of jamón serrano or Prosciutto hanging in the front window. And they also made waffle fries. Then I was outside the cured meat and waffle fry deli and noticed a group of women taking a tea break and enjoying their own waffle fries. These women all had long dresses on and I came to the realization that I was in some sort of Pennsylvania Amish or Mennonite community--a traditional but not necessarily exclusive or closed society. It seemed fine that I was there. In fact, so to speak, nobody paid me no mind.
And that was about it. Not very exciting but, apparently, significant enough for me to wake in the morning and think, Wow, I just had a dream about waffle fries. It's difficult to apply pop psychology theories to a dream like that. Repressed desires for novelty food? No. Food as my connection to a world that makes little sense to me otherwise? Uh. My inner confusions over the intersection of popular and traditional cultures? Maybe.
It probably has something to do with skiing, though, or the lack thereof. Something to do with my mind slowly warping because I haven't seen a significant snowfall since--when?--last October? September even? Something to do with these monotonous, cool but hideously dry days with early morning sunshine and afternoon polluted haze. The mountains hover above me like abandoned castles, slowly crumbling, unnoticed by anyone but me.
Good god let it snow soon.
Roy Orbison: In Dreams.mp3
Cowboy Junkies: Dreaming My Dreams With You.mp3 from The Trinity Sessions. Website, Buy
Hem: A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes.mp3 from I'm Talking With My Mouth EP. Website, Buy
Would anyone but me find it strange to see a completely leathered lone male ripping around the foothills on his high-powered dirt bike at 9 a.m. on a Thursday morning? Not a sixteen year-old ditching class; clearly a fully developed man. No hot chicks in bikinis waiting to spray him with sparkling wine at the finish line. No group of mulleted friends to share high-fives with after tabletopping off a boulder or an unsuspecting cow. Probably not even a can of Cristal back in his truck. No, only a leather-clad stormtrooper with a machine under his crotch spinning solitary circles in the dirt first thing in the morning. The sight of him made me a little sad.
He didn't buzz me as they often do when the hordes of them swarm the hills on the weekend, kicking up dirt and rocks as they blow by me and the dogs. I don't even think he saw me as I slowly plodded by. And, he would probably find it equally strange to exert so much energy to run to the tops of hills only to run back down them, heart pounding, head spinning, lungs heaving, when you could much more easily fly to the top with a simple flick of the wrist. So, I'll give him the benefit of the doubt. I’m sure he was just out for a breath of fresh exhaust air, a little morning joy ride exercise; a quick chance to take in the high speed tranquil sights and dust sunshine and experience some noise solitude.
My source of truth and inspiration tells me not to criticize what I can't understand. Ok, fine, Bob. I apologize. I certainly don't understand. Nine a.m.? Thursday morning? Alone? ¿Por qué?
No Age: Neck Escaper.mp3 from Weirdo Rippers. Website, Buy
Oh No! Oh My!: The Party Punch.mp3 from Between the Devil and the Sea. Website, Buy
Chile is wealthy with traditional culture. I'm not always sure that it's ready to embrace it, though. At least in Santiago. It seems the common wisdom here is onward and upward, forward and faster, newer and better at any cost. Rural or traditional culture reeks of ignorance and poverty and most Santiaguinos would rather forget that part of their history. Except, of course during the month-long Independence Day celebrations in September. Then it's acceptable to wear the hats of your ancestors and listen to their music and dance their dances.
Fortunately, the more common wisdom in this diverse country is that Santiago no es Chile. There are plenty here interested in celebrating the unique mezcla cultures that compose the entirety of this nation.
One of my students introduced me to Tikitiklips. Pronounced just as it's written, Tikitiklips are the Chilean equivalent of the US-based Schoolhouse Rock series featured prominently in my upbringing during the mid-1970s and early 1980s. Rather than teaching basic ideas of mathematics, science, grammar, and, um, the three ring system of checks and balances within the US legislative process, Tikitiklips emphasizes regional folk crafts and traditional folktales set to contemporary musical compositions. Like Schoolhouse Rock, these are short two to three-minute films that see the light of day on Saturday and Sunday mornings between cartoons and other programs for children. The crafts, images, and tales presented within the clips span the length of the country and highlight Chile's indispensable diversity.
The first comes from the extreme northern Aymara region within the Atacama desert. The song, apparently, is a Christmas carol from Iquique. Featured within the film are the sculptures made from the volcanic soils of the Altiplano, the colorful textiles, black olives and their fruit bearing trees, and, at the very end, the ever-present llama. The sculptures, textiles, and music are decidedly Bolivian and Peruvian in influence but I have no interest in entering the political debate surrounding this still-contested part of the world.
Also from the north is El Soldado Trifaldón. The lyrics deal with a would-be soldier who lives in a melon and battles hordes of ants. Or something like that. The artwork is based on the famous protest murals of the Brigada Ramona Parra that date back to the political turbulence of the 1940s.
Moving toward the center of the country we have Don Crispin and the black ceramic figurines from the area around Talagante. The film also depicts the Cuasimodo procession that takes place during Easter in and around the rural areas of Santiago.
Also close to Santiago is the little enclave of Pomaire, famous for its earthenware pottery called greda.
Tikitiklips even offers a voice for the otherwise marginalized Mapuche population. In El Rey de Papel we see the volcanoes and Araucania trees that populate the Lake District as well as paper puppets and a Mapuche girl in traditional dress.
Los Gorrioncitos also comes from the Lake District and highlights the woven birds and other sculptures from the area.
Two clips from the island of Chiloé--itself a storehouse of traditional culture--feature the famous architecture (and specifically the wooden churches), wool hand puppets, and ceramic pots (for making cazuela de pollo?).
And on and on. There is one filmed in the UNESCO World Heritage city of Valparaíso. One about traveling to the city of Concepción that includes more woven birds as well as the black pottery of the region. More puppets, loom woven tapestries, and sea culture surrounding the area around Melipilla are illustrated in Barco en el Purerto. Finally, La Señorita Aseñorada offers crafts made from crin (horse hair) in the town of Rari, in the Maule Region.
All in all, a fantastic series of klips made even better with great songs and an abundance of examples of expressive culture. Enjoy!
