Notes from Abroad

Where voting isn't 'cool'

Sunday, January 31, 2010

By Lyssa Auton

GVL Study Abroad Columnist

When I’m 30 and have to take medication for high blood pressure, I’ll blame politics.

As a United States citizen, I treasure my constitutional rights; namely, my freedom of speech and my right to vote.

However, just because I have the right to speak freely doesn’t mean anyone listens. Our government is a brick wall that I’ve talked to more than once. Nevertheless, I take pride in the fact that I have a say in who becomes the next president of the United States.

In terms of politics, I couldn’t have chosen a better time to study in Santiago, Chile: Election year!

I arrived incredibly excited to take part in the culture that surrounds the election of a president, and though I would not be able to vote, I looked forward to my participation in such matters.

On top of the normal excitement of a presidential election, this year was different for two principal reasons.

First, Chilean elections are typically held in December; however, the results from the initial election were too close to call and a run-off between the two candidates with the highest percentage of votes was called.

Secondly, this was the first time a right-winged candidate had a chance of winning since the end of the Pinochet dictatorship in 1990. Both factors made for an interesting race.

Having recently participated in the ground-breaking election of President Obama, I was curious to hear how the Chileans were feeling about their own unusual election.

What I heard did not surprise me. The majority of the youth were very passionate about the left-winged candidate Eduardo Frei. Many of the older generation feared the success of the right-winged candidate Sebastian Piñera, as he symbolized the atrocities they faced under the dictatorship. This I expected, what followed, I did not.

On January 17, 2010, only 7,186,344 out of almost 17 million Chilean citizens voted. Even worse, it is reported that only 9.2 percent of 18-29 year olds are even registered to vote.

Complacency is a strange thing. It’s a trait that I often attributed to North Americans in the past. We’re all guilty of it; talking the talk but not walking the walk.

I know few young U.S. citizens who were indifferent about the 2008 election and opted not to vote. For this younger generation, not voting was not “cool.” With celebrity-endorsed campaign messages such as P. Diddy’s “Vote or Die,” young people felt empowered to take a stand. Both parties were enthused. And we voted. For once, I’d say we got it right.

So, with such an important election, why did so many Chileans choose not to vote? It’s possible that the cultural “coolness” that drove our 2008 presidential election didn’t translate.

Another explanation may be a less efficient voting system. And yet another, that Chile is a country recovering from a staggering dictatorship that sucked out the confidence it takes to stand up for what you believe in. But your guess is as good as mine.

And for those of you that hate an open ending? Sebastian Piñera won with 51.61 percent of the vote. I have yet to meet someone who’s happy about this.

Posted 7:08 PM 0 Comments

A walk through the park

Sunday, January 24, 2010

By Dayna Barber
GVL Study Abroad Columnist

The last moments of my time in Hungary are growing near. After I am gone, I wonder what stark and prevailing images will remain in my mind of this small, Central European country.

From my very first moments here, during the summer when I was plunged into a pool of culture so unlike what I had expected, still to this day I have not fully recovered my breath but have learned to live with smaller inhales.

Life is a process in Hungary, an ongoing one, constantly transforming to the rhythm of modernization and liberalization in order to cast away the remaining shards of communist influence and catch up with those countries of the West.

The history of this country is long and not easily recounted. Foreign occupations and wars have traversed this land for centuries and the wounds are deep and fresh. Not merely 20 years ago, the Soviets withdrew from Hungary taking with them their totalitarian regime, but their presence remains in the cities and country side.

When you take the road north to Tokaj, the famous wine region of Hungary, one can see an old soviet tank perched eerily on the side of the road. In Budapest, some buildings still bear the scars from Soviet guns whose bullets pierced through the concrete.

In fact, the campus on which I study use to be a Soviet barracks, and it is almost inconceivable for me to imagine Soviet soldiers walking through these halls with their voices echoing off the tall, vaulted ceilings.

However, despite the prominent affect these features may have on one's mind, the most memorable attributes are the ones I see every day that appeared unsettling at first, but became oddly beautiful to me.

When walking along the lengths of the narrow streets, gaze upon the walls that accompany them. Many of the fences are topped with barbwire that were constructed by the Soviets during the occupation, and are now being shrouded by creeping vines trying to cover the past. Flowers blossom on these vines and it looks so strange in comparison, beautiful flowers laced with barbwire. The brick walls are crumbling but painted with massive portraits of graffiti, rebellious pictures and names scribbled haphazardly, as if in retaliation against the wall, marking their territory and reclaiming what is theirs.

The great forest, or park rather, that I walk through every day on my way to class holds such lovely scenery, but is slightly tainted by a haunted beauty. The park holds little surprises nestled in corners of overgrowth and shadow which conceal old monuments of people lost to the Soviets or the Nazis.

But they are forgotten, or at least they seem to be, hidden away from view in the depths of the park. Strange that on the main paths of the park, I see women and children playing gently, couples holding hands and people on their way to somewhere important.

But when you look off the main path, you see the elderly, walking slowly with hands clasped behind their backs, and you know that they have visited those old, hidden monuments to look upon the faces of a past hidden from sight and mind, but not forgotten.

These sights and sensations will be most memorable because they penetrated my heart with their sadness and will remain there because of their severe beauty.

Posted 6:04 PM 0 Comments