Vamos al Perú!

What better way to celebrate Machu Picchu becoming one of the new seven wonders of the world than by visiting Perú, land of the Inkas?

I'll Show You My Exchange Rate If You Show Me Yours

Here's a fine article from Slate.com on the economic implications of a weak U.S. dollar. Its author, Daniel Gross, points out that a weak U.S. dollar has meant an increase in tourists who visit the States to take advantage of comparatively cheap (with regard to other developed countries) goods, services, and investments (including real estate). Gross writes, "The money tourists spend helps put a dent in our chronic trade deficit. So do exports, which, thanks in part to the weak dollar, soared 11 percent between May 2006 and May 2007. For the first five months of 2007, the trade deficit actually fell 7 percent from 2006."

Gross also reminds us the weak dollar has benefited those U.S. corporations that rely heavily on foreign sales:

If you—or your mutual fund—own shares in large American corporations, you're a winner in the weak-dollar sweepstakes. Based on data culled from 238 constituents of the Standard & Poor's 500 Index, S&P analyst Howard Silverblatt concludes that the typical member of the index garnered 44.2 percent of its sales outside [emphasis mine] the United States in 2006. Translating cash received from those sales into weaker dollars puts some fizz into earnings. Last week Coca-Cola's stock bubbled to a five-year high after it reported a fantastic quarter. Foreign sales accounted for 65 percent of Coke's beverage business. Other ur-American companies profiting from this trend include McDonald's (65 percent of sales overseas) and IBM (56 percent).

So if U.S. corporations are able to produce goods that sell comparatively higher in Europe than they do in the States (again, owing to the weak dollar), then Coke and its internationally friendly ilk are not terribly troubled by the current state of the U.S. dollar.

I wonder what the implications of such overseas profitability are for domestic jobs. It's true that U.S. corporations are profiting from high sales in Europe and Canada, but I'm not sure if that necessarily translates into more jobs or better employment conditions (e.g., wages) for employees of those corporations.

One thing is for sure: there's no better time (or excuse) for all my European and South American friends to come and visit me in Durham, North Carolina -- especially Durham, where you can buy a pack of Camel Lights for under $3.50; you can buy a decent used car for under $3,000 (as I did recently); and you can order, until 3am, 7 days a week, a meal "tray" consisting of a burger, two sides, and a drink for $3.99 at our local drive-thru, Cook-Out.

Or: you can meet in Hawaii when I visit my family in December.

West vs. East

The BBC reports on a brewing conflict among Peru's neighbors to the east. Wealthy Bolivians who oppose the country's populist president Evo Morales wish to move the government's executive and legislative branches from La Paz, in the western highlands, (back) to Sucre, in central Bolivia. closer to the rich eastern provinces. The conflict's got history behind it (Sucre lost its exclusive claim to the capital in a civil war with La Paz in 1899) and is framed by a class struggle that has polarized Bolivia's political camps.

The story reads in full below; any and all updates or clarifications are welcome:

Hundreds of thousands of people have been taking part in what is being described as the biggest ever protest in Bolivia's main city, La Paz.

They are angered by a proposal to transfer the executive and legislative branches of government to Sucre.

Sucre served as the sole capital until 1899. Since then, the two cities have shared the title.

The latest proposal was put forward by opponents of the country's President, Evo Morales.

They have been seeking greater autonomy for the wealthier eastern provinces, as part of the ongoing rewriting of the Bolivian constitution.

Regional rivalry

They argue that Sucre, which is in the centre of the country and is the seat of the country's judicial branch of government, is better placed to serve as a capital than La Paz, which is on the western edge of Bolivia.

But those in favour of La Paz say switching the capital from Bolivia's largest city, with a population of 1.7 million, to Sucre, population 250,000, would be expensive and divisive.

Sucre was the site of Bolivia's founding in 1825 and its sole capital until losing a brief civil war to La Paz in 1899.

Its demand for the return of the seat of government has fuelled a regional rivalry between President Morales' supporters in Bolivia's poor western highlands and his opponents in the more prosperous east.

Cameron Got Served, or, Sendero Luminoso Revisited

On her recent trip to Peru, Hollywood starlet Cameron Diaz was called out for committing a fashion faux pas that left the actress grasping for humanitarian words of apology.



While touring the famed Inca ruins of Machu Picchu, Diaz sported an olive-green bag that featured a red star and the phrase, "Serve the People," in Chinese characters. This phrase is known to be one of the hallmark slogans of Mao Zedong's Chinese Communist Party.



The problem? News sources say that Peruvians are especially sensitive to such symbology because it is reminiscent of the bloody guerrilla war that the Maoist group Shining Path, or Sendero Luminoso, waged in the country throughout the 1980s and up to the early '90s. Close to 70,000 people are thought to have perished as a result of the war, but news agencies have omitted the fact that Sendero Luminoso is said to be responsible for 31,331 of those casualties. According to Human Rights Watch, government security forces were responsible for a third of the killings; the remaining deaths are mostly unattributed.

Without condoning the actions of Sendero Luminoso, I think it's important to properly frame the statistics people are citing with regard to the war. It's clear that both the group's actions and the Peruvian government's response to those actions were reckless and drastic -- together they had the effect of making paranoia and violence a part of everyday life. Indeed the war created the social conditions for what the anthropologist Michael Taussig calls "terror as usual."

Diaz, we know, was unaware of this significant aspect of Peruvian history. A Peruvian civil rights activist (on whom news agencies rely to voice the collective opinion of Peruvians who are or would be or have been offended by Diaz's bag), Pablo Rojas, is quoted as saying: "[The bag] alludes to a concept that did so much damage to Peru, that brought about so many victims... I don't think she should have used that bag where the followers of that ideology did so much damage."

Rojas is entirely justified in making this statement, but it seems to me the lack of world-historical knowledge Diaz displayed is hardly unusual for the privileged tourist who travels abroad. I dare say that most American travelers to Peru know next to nothing of the country's history, recent or otherwise. Diaz (who grew up in Australia) is your average tourist; it's her celebrity (cameras focused on her) and pseudo-political chic (where political symbology and slogans are now marketed for fashionable consumption) that led to this cultural misunderstanding.

Rojas's actual target of criticism, then, is not Cameron Diaz the "person" but Cameron Diaz the star-image. The blame for this episode of cultural insensitivity might be equally shared among Diaz's entourage: her publicist, her fashion consultant, her image-makers. Note how the olive-green bag is meant to complement Diaz's "backpacker look": loose clothing, a hat to shield her face from the sun, and what appears to be a hemp bracelet (or one made of a similarly organic material). The only flourish I can detect in these photos is a purple scarf (or two?) rolled around Diaz's neck. At any rate, the bag's political sloganeering is but one fashionable element in a complete celebrity package.

Perhaps blame should also be attributed to the brichero, or "native" tour guide, who appears next to Diaz on Machu Picchu. Note the designer sweater and unsullied jeans -- this guy really came prepared.



The brichero's beaming gaze and I'm-all-ears stance say it all: entranced by Diaz's beauty, that inimitable smile, that aura of Hollywood celebrity, our guide likely didn't even notice the remnant of Maoist symbology that emblazons the bag in question.

At the Lunch Counter: Civil Rights Way Down South

Does anyone have more information on the following news item? I'm not familiar with the restaurant in question. I'm also interested in finding out whether the local district council is responsible for charging this restaurant with civil rights violations. This is the same district, remember, whose conservative evangelical mayor closed Down Town, a popular gay bar, just over a year ago -- a move widely seen as being a politically motivated attack on homosexuality.

LIMA, Peru (Dan Collyns, BBC) -- A popular restaurant in Lima has been temporarily closed down after several complaints that people with darker skin were refused entry.

The Café del Mar in Miraflores, a wealthy district of the Peruvian capital, is the first restaurant to be shut for alleged discrimination.

It will be closed for 60 days and was fined about $70,000 (£35,000).

Campaigners hope this is a first step in tackling Peru's deep divisions along racial and economic lines.

Officials from Peru's consumer protection agency and the municipality of Miraflores sealed the doors and placed signs on the entrances.

'Symbolic sanction'

For many human rights campaigners the closure is an important step in combating Peru's racial and economic discrimination.

Wilfredo Ardito is one of them: "This is a symbolic sanction. It is the first time happily that this practice in this terrible act of racial selection of the customer has been closed and we consider that this is the first step."

"Racism is something permanent in our society but it's terrible that even a place open to the public is practising this kind of situation," he said.

The Peruvian government only began imposing fines for discrimination in 2004 but a bill which passed through Congress some months ago reinforces existing legislation with jail sentences for those convicted of racial discrimination.

For centuries the white elite in Peru has held onto wealth and power despite the majority of the population being of indigenous or mixed descent.

But now there is more social mobility in Peruvian society and it seems the government of President Alan Garcia realises that Peru's social and economic inequality is hindering its development.

The American Creed

While living and traveling in Peru and meeting people from different cultures and backgrounds, I was led to reflect on what might be described as the "character" of the American people. I wasn't forced by my friends and acquaintances to "defend" what it means to be an American; rather, conversations about European politics (Finnish parliamentary elections, the French presidential election, etc.) and Peruvian development inspired me to compare American attitudes toward government, education, and civil society to those of other nationalities. It was an open debate.

My Finnish friends in particular provided me with an interesting set of ideas about government, education, and civil society that stood in contrast to what I think is the predominant "American" view of such things. Finnish students and professionals alike remarked that while their country's very high taxes are at times a personal nuisance and too often mismanaged, the common, public good that those taxes ultimately serve is worth 1) the nuisance, and 2) the effort to reform government to become more fiscally efficient.

The socialist-style Finnish system applies a graduated income tax to its citizens so that the wealthy are responsible for paying more taxes (relative to their income) than the poor and working classes. And to be sure, there's the usual discontent among the middle and rich classes about social welfare -- the perception that many poor and working-class Finns don't do their part in finding gainful employment or in trying not to live off the state. Despite these very real social and economic problems, however, my Finnish friends told me that most well-off Finns continue to believe that it's ultimately a good thing to buttress the country's infrastructure and social networks with their taxes.

Hearing this made me ashamed to be an American. I knew instinctively that such a view of the common, public good was/is utterly foreign to the vast majority of Americans. Perhaps it wasn't always so. Or maybe this has always been the case in a country that prides itself on its individualist ethos and cult of self-determination. What I do know is that the American creed of every man (or: nuclear family unit) for himself was perfected during the Reagan Revolution, the late-'70s to mid-'90s social and political movement that, among other things, valorized private enterprise and unfettered capitalism at the expense of public institutions, social welfare, and, specifically, the very idea that the country's tax burden would be shared by all citizens.

One truly sad result of this long period of dismantling the bonds of our civil society is that many well-off Americans actually feel victimized by the government when it tries to raise their income tax (which of course is modest compared to those paid by citizens in other "First World" countries). Even worse is how well-off Americans tend to feel victimized by the poorest sectors of society -- those who don't earn a living wage, who need to work three jobs to make ends meet, and need I mention "illegal immigrants"? The poor: whom the well-off characterize as morally and culturally deficient leeches, in so many words. The poor: whose socioeconomic poverty is somehow their fault, and theirs only.

It's this cult of victimization that's uniquely American, it seems to me. The well-off Finns have their complaints, sure. But at least many of them are able to distinguish a problem of social inequality (the poor needing help and the state mismanaging the system that distributes "help" to the poor) from a basically personal feeling of resentment, which, as Nietzsche reminds us, is the other face of self-righteousness (the poor are themselves deficient and so offend "me" by taking "my" money).

But why take my word for it? Durham's weekly news magazine The Independent cites this quotation from a recent article in the daily newspaper The News & Observer:

"The last thing I want to do is put more money into education, because I don't want to pay for something I never use."
--Bob Williamson, 46, a childless real estate executive from Wake Forest, quoted in an N&O story about how a majority of Wake County residents who don't have children oppose new taxes to help the schools keep up with growth.

So goes the American creed.

[For: Katri, Maria, Tiia, Lissu, Laura]

Call on Me: London--Lima--Chapel Hill

London, summer 2005: DJ Eric Prydz's "Call on Me" takes Europe by storm and is the dance hit of the summer. Sampling Steve Winwood's 1987 song "Valerie," the song is a foot-thumping blend of catchy beats and memorable lyrical crescendos: "Call on meeeee... Call on me! Call on meeeee... Call on me! Call on meeeee... I'm the same boy I used to be."

The music video for "Call on Me" is equally memorable: an aerobics class workout becomes the site for a hot-and-heavy flirtation between the instructor and the lone male in the room. Curiously, while the girls around him get sweaty and toss their hair, the male remains sweat-free and smiles in a sort of goofy, dazed way. At any rate, the video is probably best known for the pelvic-thrust dance move that the class performs in unison after the first crescendo. The move goes a little something like this: spread your legs apart, keeping them parallel to each other; bend your knees and place your hands on your thighs; and now in this semi-sumo-squatting position, THRUST your hips to the beat of the song. It's that simple!



Though the unremixed version of "Call on Me" runs a little less than three minutes, it becomes an immediate dance sensation throughout Europe and the pelvic thrust becomes a rather popular form of bodily expression in discos for the entire summer of 2005.

Lima, summer (or the northern hemisphere's spring) 2007: At the popular club La Cede in Miraflores, the lone gay-friendly discoteca in Lima (the "gay club" in Miraflores, Downtown, was recently shut down by the district's conservative, evangelical mayor), I grow accustomed to watching music videos of songs the DJ plays during his set. While I'm sure this fusion of song and video has become the norm in dance clubs the world over, I really only experience it for the first time at La Cede. (It's been five years since I was last in Europe.)

Now although La Cede is mind-bogglingly crowded every time I go in there, I generally enjoy its atmosphere, its diverse crowd, and the music/videos the DJ plays -- a sometimes jarring but always fun blend of salsa, reggaeton, and '80s pop. As far as I can tell, the two constants in the DJ's playlist are: "Gasolina" and Erasure's "A Little Respect." And the best part is that the mostly Peruvian crowd knows all the lyrics to both songs. "Oh baby pleeeeease / give a little respect / to-hoo-ooo meeeee!"

Chapel Hill, North Carolina, summer 2007: It's my first sojourn to Chapel Hill, a neighbor city to Durham, since my return to the States. In fact, it's probably my first trip to the Chapel Hill bar scene in over a year. Five of us pack into my friend Bea's two-door, and having to ride on the "hump" in the back seat reminds me a bit of "making do" with transportation in Lima.

Chapel Hill is pretty dead this Thursday night -- perhaps it's post-Memorial Day fatigue. After a quiet spell at the bar Jack Sprat, we go to the dance club The Library, an old favorite of mine from three years ago. Bea, Ignacio, and Darian don't like the scene there and leave within fifteen minutes. Alvaro and I, though, are digging the fact that at least some people are dancing here and so stick around a while longer for a drink.

After a forgettable song by Eminem, the DJ puts on "Call on Me" and those funky aerobics girls appear on the huge TV screen above the dance floor. The students on the dance floor scream in unison -- the song has become a huge dance hit on the college circuit. (Perhaps there's a musical progression/regression to be examined here: from European discos to the U.S. college party scene.)

Without any prompting, girls in their short skirts and boys in their khaki shorts and polo shirts "assume the position": it's the preppy version of the dance. After that first deliciously frenetic crescendo, twenty college kids thrust their pelvises in an orgy of glittery make-up and popped collars.

Alvaro and I are watching the dance floor, and the music video, from a booth ten feet away. At first I make a vague attempt to laugh off the scene in front of us. But then I feel a weird sensation. My feet start tapping the bar stool I'm sitting on. My hand begins to rap the countertop in sync with the song's beat. A smile crosses my face. I love this song!!

But... but then I feel paralyzed. I'm bumping along in my seat, yet I can't muster up the courage to just go to the dance floor and move, let my body go. To be fair, I don't a friend to dance with, and the dance floor is pretty empty overall. Still, I can't help but feel that if this had been Lima, I would have wasted no time in getting my pelvic thrust on.

I mention something to Alvaro about the difference in social relations in bars and clubs between Latin America and the States. We agree that things are less socially awkward and uptight in Latin America, where making eyes at a girl can in fact be a seductive thing and dancing with a guy doesn't mean you're "his" or "with him." Here in Chapel Hill you could sense something almost completely different: friends surely had a great time with each other, but there was very little opportunity for strangers to meet, to dance, to blush, to sing.

The song ends with my not having moved an inch from my seat.

I remember the several nights of dancing I enjoyed at La Cede. I remember joining the tourists, locals, expats, and guides who were dancing the night away at a discoteca in Arequipa.

I finish my beer and wonder how long it will be before I dance like that again.