PUC-V: A Variation on a Theme

Art on the interior wall of main entrance of PUC-V off of Avenida Brasil

The Casa Central of PUC-Valparaiso bears more than a passing resemblance to its big sibling in Santiago, though--like Valpo itself--it is a little more rough around the edges and more interesting.  I can't claim any sort of authority on the matter, but there seems to be a bit less smugness at PUC-V and a more welcoming spirit.  Regardless of the accuracy of that judgment, I really, really like working here.

Situated on the corner of Avenida Argentina and Avenida Brasil, Casa Central is an imposing and dignified anchor to the flat Plan of southern Valpo, far away from the much-praised Cerros or hills that make Valparaiso a draw. 


Like its more-renowned older brother in the capital, PUC-V's interior has a hushed, cloistered atmosphere that blocks out the measured chaos of local buses--collectivas or micros--vendors and the ubiquitous street dogs just beyond the threshold.

Just like any college in the States, student enthusiasm generates a lot of energy.  The bulletin boards are covered in fliers for organizational meetings and events, concerts, and apartment rentals.  On Wednesday, a collection of Vegan groups set up in the central coffee and snack area.  Squint really hard and it could be just another day in the Tate Center court.

Tucked away on the third floor, off of an inauspicious foyer, are the offices of Curriculum and Formative Development of which the Unit for the Improvement of University Teaching is a part.  The folks in these offices will be my colleagues for the next five months, and I feel very fortunate to be able to call them such.  On my first Monday, there was reception for me that featured a home-made confection lovingly prepared by one of my new friends, and today they treated me and my family to lunch, fellowship, and general hospitality.

While the teaching issues and faculty development work are very familiar to me, the unique circumstances, culture, and challenges make this a novel and exciting opportunity.  One unexpected perk is free lunch in the University's casino.  Every day around noon, gracious Lorena comes around to pass out tickets for almuerzo, and around 1:30, folks from the office who can make it head down to the basement for a lunch of basic Chilean fare:  cazuelo, pasteles de papas, sopas, ensaladas composed of highly segregated vegetables, pan, and a postre--today was flan.

The day starts at 9.  Lunch at 1:30.  Work until 6 after which the streets feels a bit like New York City with people rushing to catch buses or the Metro.

I work in a office with three other people that looks out on the Chilean Congress building, which is housed in Valpo while the other seats of government are in Santiago, a legacy of Pinochet. 

Today was a big day: my first faculty development session, a four-hour workshop that kicked off a module on teaching for learning for 22 faculty working on their diplomas in University teaching.   Tomorrow, I'm looking forward to a fun-weekend exploring the Valpo hills with E and Z who arrived last Sunday.  It will be a nice breather from a packed week.

Portillo para esquiar

Two years ago, I had the great good fortune to consult in Chile.  Once in a lifetime, right?  In the past, I had been asked to consult in places like Charlotte or Atlanta.  In an attempt to make the most of this unique opportunity, I tried to fit in as much as I could, including short trips to Viña del Mar and Valparaiso, a wine tour in  the Maipo Valley, a hike up La Campaña--a mountain in the coastal range that Darwin visited, and trekking up to the lake below El Moradao--a natural monument in the Andes.  That day, just me and a guide, was one of the finest days of my life.  In "mindfulness" terms, it was a day when I felt fully "present," fully aware of what I was experiencing, not thinking of much of anything else except the landscape and the feeling gratitude to be in it.  In the "being" mode.  

Me with my guide hiking to El Morado in 2011.

I assumed that I would never return to the Andes.  No way.  As Wordsworth says about the memory of the landscape in "Tinturn Abbey," that day in the Andes was a signature day that would pass "into my purer mind / With tranquil restoration," that I would remember when I was "in lonely rooms, and mid the din / Of towns and cities . . . [and] / In hours of weariness."  

Not only have I returned to Chile, but I have returned to the Andes.  I joined three other leftovers from the conference to ski at Portillo. 
Portillo is at the end of an incredibly engineered road that reminds me of Alp d'Huez from the Tour de France.  One yellow hotel looks out at Inca lake at the base of mountains that loom very large.  

We lucked out in terms of weather.  The day before was cold and windy with very poor visibility.  We had, well, the opposite.

The last time I had skied was before I was a parent.  Zachary is now 11.  I was by far the worst skier of the four that included an almost 70-year-old emeritus Harvard professor.  The two Johns, one from Denmark and one from South Carolina, were good enough to try even the most difficult runs and the virgin powder accessible from the main "pistas." 

You've got some good human figures to provide perspective in this shot.  The group of three skiers, two from our party, are about to be catapulted up to the top of this hill using a very fast pulley lift.  Midway up, between the diverging line that mark the skiers' path up the hill, there's a speck that is a person.  This was very steep and very powdery.  I watched.  

What none of us could figure out was why there were so few skiers.  It was Sunday during the high season, and yet we never waited for a lift.  We returned to Santiago with the delightful weariness of a day well-spent moving outside with congenial companions.  In the best possible way, it was as ideal a Hemingway day as I've had.