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The Shrink Next Door. Wondery Bloomberg. Gone South. Stuff You Should Know. This American Life. Radio Ambulante Estudios is repped by Eric Spiegelman. Their flagship podcast, the eponymous Radio Ambulante, reaches millions of listeners worldwide. He wrote the following article at the beginning of that process, in December of , while he was covering the extradition hearings in Paris.
The Palais is just that—a palace—decidedly and unabashedly regal, with long, wide hallways and stone steps that sag like old mattresses. Seeing Palma Salamanca had brought it all back for them, and they stood together, sharing memories and support, reliving traumas they thought they had buried long ago.
The Chilean press had come then, a few French outlets too, and Palma stood among the crowd, stone-faced, with three bodyguards who raised a blanket in front of his face every time someone tried to take his picture. One journalist, a lanky young man in a bad suit who worked for Chilean television, was threatened when he refused to stop taking pictures. When I returned in December, the atmosphere had changed completely. This did not mean his case was over—technically, extradition and asylum are two separate and independent processes—but in practice it was hard to imagine now that the Chilean state would succeed in its bid to have Palma Salamanca sent back.
The chances of a French court contradicting and overriding the decision of the French Office of Refugees on asylum were slim to none. In the hallway in front of the courtroom, the exiles chatted and vaped, laughed and waited good-naturedly. But still, optimism and confidence are not the same as certainty.
The French courts finally denying the Chilean request for extradition—that would be certainty. This time, it had the feeling of a reunion, Palma silent at the center of a social gathering, the heart of the party, if not exactly the life of it. Supporters came up to pay their respects, and he accepted each handshake with a smile, a brief, charismatic flash of warmth, and then he would step back and away almost imperceptibly, and conversations would carry on without him.
It was as if people were touching him for good luck, or to verify that he was real, this figure who for many exiles is more myth than man. I asked him at a certain point if this was the way he preferred it, the conversations buzzing around him, but without him. He said it was. If others felt confident, he was wary still. Not that he was unfriendly, or standoffish. This time he was more accessible, smiling more, even uncrossing his arms now and then.
He was given none of that deference this time, and at some point, in the third hour or so of waiting, I turned and saw Palma standing alone in the hallway, an image so startling in context that I did a double take.
A courtroom—any courtroom—is a broadly utilitarian place, where fates are decided, where lives are changed. She was an Arabic translator, she told me, and had been assigned to an extradition hearing for a man surnamed Djif.
Was this it? Was this the courtroom? I answered without thinking: No, I said. She kept losing sight of her two youngest boys, five or six years old, who entertained themselves by squabbling and stopped only when a police man took their father away.
A lot of standing. A lot of cameras taking the same picture again and again. People clustering together, then drifting to the benches along the hallway, then back again. Off for a cup of coffee, and then back. Most of us stood. There were about forty-five people in the courtroom altogether, a smallish, square room that felt stuffy and warm.
He worked in printed media, covering culture in his country. He had his start on audio journalism with Radio Ambulante. Mental health is his favorite subject. He has two cats, or they have him. He is not sure. Uruguayan journalist who combines writing and visuals to tell stories. She is an avid consumer of everything that excites, surprises and challenges her.
He feared radio, but eventually allowed himself to be captivated by it. He lives in Bogota. Ecuadorian journalist living in Quito. She studied investigative journalism at Columbia University.
She has written about gender violence, feminism and human rights. Aneris is a journalist and lives in Buenos Aires, Argentina. She has published in newspapers and magazines and has produced news on TV. Always dreamed of being a journalist. Born in Bahia Blanca, she has lived in Buenos Aires for many years. Freelance journalist, she makes a living from writing.
She grew up in a radio studio keeping company and listening to her dad, but she got her start in audio through a different path. She likes reading, walking, bathing in the ocean and studying German. Guitarist since age 17, audio nerd since age 21, composer and sound designer at Radio Ambulante since Composer and sound designer.
Born in Colombia. Professional artist and polyglot. He has worked since with MC Editorial, Inc. Data-analytics nerd and financial analyst. Passionate hiker who is very proud of her garden — visited by the most intrepid hummingbirds of Mexico City she has a cat. Nicaraguan, economist by profession and educator by vocation, lover of books, crafts, and freshly made corn tortillas. She loves the brilliance in life and the versatility of its characters.
She majored in Graphic Design and loves animals. La comida une Los gigantes del lago. Empezaron siendo cuatro Ya casi volvemos. La temporada 11 de Radio Ambulante llega con historias Radio Ambulante vuelve pronto. Nuestra nueva temporada se estrena el 14 de septiembre. La llamada del Para los fieles de la Iglesia Maradoniana, hablar Los aeropiratas.
En los setenta,
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