Repression

Every day brings something new and wonderful.

Today I walked into a protest being broken up by the police, and was full of wonder: why, after so many years of dictatorial subjugation and human rights violations, does the chilean government continue to take great pains to repress its people?

The protest was carried out by high school teachers. I don't know the politics behind it, but it sounded like they want more money for what they do. In a few words, Chile's public school system makes New York City's public school system look like Manhattan's private school system. It's sewage. These teachers gather, blow whistles and chant. The police knock them to the ground with high pressure blasts and puff them up with tear gas once they're down.

It was mayhem, and all taking place in the busiest part of town at midday. I saw an old man, 75 or older, gasping for air on his knees. I saw a woman lose track of her infant son because she was so blinded with chemicals. Ugly and sad.

And yet, I couldn't pull myself away from it. The people fight. When the cops had successfully cleared out one area, the people had already gathered in another. I kept running from spot to spot, eager to see action, blinded and coughing the whole time. I could hear the chanting continue for blocks as I walked back home.

An Overdue Update

Earlier this week, for the first time since I arrived in Santiago, it rained. It poured, actually, as if the rain had been held back for weeks by some invisible blockade that finally gave way. I stepped outside the library on campus the following afternoon to a clear blue sky and toxin-free breeze that my Chilean friends promised would come. I stood motionless in the novelty of the situation for a few moments, as one usually does when they finally, after sustained search, find that something they've been searching for.

It didn't rain the day after that, the smog re-claimed its blanket post over the city, the novelty ebbed. That's OK. School work has kept me shut up indoors anyhow. I did leave for a bit this morning, though, to buy a bus ticket to Mendoza, Argentina. That trip starts next Thursday, a holiday here. The bus ride is something like six to nine hours, depending on how long you're hung up at the border. Being a North American and thus a potential carrier of the swine flu (and the fact that I've been living in a country where there is no swine flu being entirely irrelevant) , I could be subject to a number of tests that could take a while. But from what I've heard from friends who have already made this trip, the buss must cross the Andes, and the views are worth the fare themselves. (The fare, by the way, is less than $20 dollars each direction, nearly half of what it costs me to bus from Maine to New York.)

Apart from the Mendoza trip, I've got visitors coming to Santiago in two weeks. Dad, Mom, Gena and Holly arrive in early June for a weeks stay. Needless to say that I'm on edge for their arrival. They'll get to live, if only briefly, like I've lived. They'll see what I've seen. It's an incredible feeling, and one that few exchange students hold.

But thought of their arrival stirs another feeling, and that's the feeling I get knowing that soon I'll be home. I've been responding to this feeling in discontinuous ways. Early on the semester, at times when being foreign was almost too much to bear, I dreamed of going home. I counted the days on my calendar, calculated the hours, minutes and seconds left until July. This was before I had Chilean friends, when my Spanish was shaky and my confidence low.

All that's changed now. Three months came and went, and these last two will go even faster. There's too much left to do, too little time and resources to do it. When the time comes I'll be happy to go home. I'd also be happy to stay, but I've got to get home and get situated for my senior year. What? Senior year? Reality kills. So does looking too far ahead in time, which is why I'll sign off now.

Atacama

Spent the weekend in San Pedro, a tiny tourist town amidst the Atacama Desert. It was a restless weekend with activities planned from sunup to sundown. We've all had about 8 hours of sleep in the past two days. I'm tired today, but the trip was well worth the fatigue.

We woke up early on Saturday, after arriving to our hotel past midnight on Friday, around 7 am. About 15 miles away were some ancient Inca ruins, and we were going to ride to see them on bicycle. It was a sweaty ride. Rain reaches the Atacama no more than 3 times a year, and when it does rain, the evaporation rate rids of it so quickly it's as if it hadn't rained at all. The other 362 days of the year are sunny, no clouds, just sun--hot, beating sun. We had one of these sunny days. The geography was unlike anything I've ever come close to seeing before, and very hard to describe in words. Just picture mountain after mountain of hardened clay, each with rivets and grooves shaped by years and years of wind erosion. I would put up a picture, but unfortunately my camera fell out of sweatshirt pocket on the bus yesterday as we were heading to the airport. It's not lost, it's just on that bus, and i've been spending all morning talking with various people from the bus company trying to locate it. They'll have to mail it once they find it. Probably won't have any pictures for a week.

As you can imagine, San Pedro de Atacama is one of the better places in the world to see the stars. Not only is there little artificial light, but the lack of moisture in the air makes for clear atmosphere and nearly uninhibited viewing conditions. On Saturday night we took a bus out into the desert and stopped at a professional astronomer's home/lab. He gave us a tour of the sky and let us play with his 15 different telescopes, a few of which were longer and wider than me. Easy to say that those were the best skies I've ever seen. Heron Island has great skies too, but on the island parts of the sky are blocked by trees and cottages, whereas in the desert there is nothing except a 360 degree view of all that's above you.

Sunday was more touring. We went to Chile's salt flats. Picture miles and miles of nothing but clumps of salt rocks. A white carpet. Actually, the ground isn't flat at all. Chile's salt chunkys is a better name. You can reach down and break off little salt rocks to suck on. Again, will have those pictures in a week or so.

This trip was by far the best i've taken so far in Chile. In the South of Chile, the geogrpahy reminds me a lot of the US Northeast, but the North is completely unique. Very fortunate to have seen it. Could have spent another two weeks there. But alas, the University calls. Bah!

Just an Update

I'm due for an update. I haven't forgotten about the blog, just been ignoring it in a way. Throughout the past two weeks i've been telling myself that there's nothing to report, though to think that two weeks can pass with nothing to report is to think that a day isn't filled with events. Gripping or dull, events can be reported.

Early on I called this the "vacation semester." That title isn't apt anymore, and can be replaced simply with "semester." I've had three tests in the past two weeks. None of them were easy. All of them were essays written in class...in Spanish, of course. There's a tremendous amount of reading to be done. Always. A part of me, the student, feels a responsibility to do all the work, and do it well. But another part of me, the traveler, feels as though he shouldn't be spending all his limited time in Chile in the library. You've got to find the equilibrium. The result, though, of any decision made--whether to study or to travel--is always cognitive dissonance, a conflict between thought and action.

Well I took the tests, and I studied plenty for them. But I've also done a bit of traveling. Went hiking for last Saturday just an hour outside of Santiago. It's incredible how much cleaner the air is just an hour away. We had thought of maybe finding a small mountain to climb. Where we went, however, there are no small mountains. You need professional equipment to climb, we of course we lacked. We crossed a mountain biker who took one look at my friend Sebastian's skateboarding shoes and assured us that if we attempted to climb, we would surely die. "People die all the time up there," he said. So we settled for some minor climbing, forging our own path to a set of rocks and took a seat. In Chile, the view from any height is almost always overwhelming. One set of mountains is only the beginning of what becomes another set of mountains, and then another, and so on. When you climb a little and look out, you realize why it took the Spanish so long to find Chile. You just don't meander over the Andes, especially not on horseback carrying the makings of a civilization.

Next weekend we're off to the Atacama desert, apparently the driest in the world. It's the second organized trip with my program. We're flying this time. It's way up North. They say it's the best place for star gazing. No moisture or light. Well, no artificial light, just the light of the stars. I'll be sure to give details when I return.

It's been quiet around the apartment lately. Betty's working alone now in her grocery store. Her daughter Nicole, her only other employee, decided to move on to something else. So Betty does it alone now, working dawn til dusk 6 days a week. She comes home around nine, makes me dinner, then heads straight to bed. We haven't had a real conversation in quite some time. I feel bad for her, and somewhat guilty, as she still insists on doing EVERYTHING:cooking, cleaning, laundry, etc. Me make my own dinner? I shouldn't dare ask! Look! I made my own bed! Nope, it's not perfect, and besides, she wants to change the sheets anyways, which she does every weekend. So I let her do her thing. She never seems tired, or certainly doesn't show it if she is. She's a machine, and we expect machines to perform and hope the technical difficulties aren't too costly.

That's all for now. I hope this finds all readers well and in good health.
Ciao

ROBBERY!

Witnessed my first robbery last night. At about 1 am I'm standing with a group of friends at a bus stop in the center of town, a real popular spot where you wouldn't expect theft. My friend Katie is leaning against a lamp post, her back faced towards the road. What happens next passes in no more than fifteen seconds. A kid, no more than 15, sneaks up behind Katie with his hood up; he grabs her purse from behind and takes off running across the street into the darkness; I take one step to chase him and realize that there are about 15 other guys standing both right in front of me and across the street; I freeze and watch; they don't touch anyone else, and disperse within ten seconds; it's all over.

These thieves never work alone. Even smaller crime like snatch-and-run is highly coordinated. Many forces at work. It occurred to me after that if I had chased the thief (or "fleighte"--one who flees--as they say here) I would have at least gotten my ass kicked by the guys hanging behind, and there's a better chance than not that I would have been stabbed. Best to just let it go.

Katie lost some money, her cell phone, Chilean ID card and university ID. Not bad. All easily replaceable. No credit cards or passport. More than anything it's a shock. I was definitely scared for a minute when ten angry men were staring me in eye. But Katie and I had a laugh later on when we imagined what her assaulter would do when it came time to split her 20 bucks 15 ways.

Lesson: 1.) Think for a minute that you won't get robbed and you will. 2.) You'll get robbed in the center of town with a police officer standing less than a block away. 3.) Don't chase. Better to lose an i-pod than an eye.

About 5 kids from my program have been robbed in two months.

Holy Week and Other Things

All's quiet in Santiago this weekend as the city's residents relax and observe "Semana Santa." Most businesses have been closed since Friday. My host mother closed her little grocery store along with others. The University suspended all classes and activities after 1:00 pm on Thursday.

All the bars and clubs were open last night so people could have a really good Friday. I went out last night in need of some fresh air, having been cramped inside the apartment all day doing work. At one club, I recognized an actor who I had seen in a play the night before. We started to talk. I said "The play was funny," to which he replied "It's not a comedy." The play, an experimental piece that retells the history of Chile through abstraction and metaphor, is filled with phony passion and melodrama that I totally thought was a joke. Oops. It wasn't a comedy, just really bad. So then I said "Oh, sorry, I don't speak Spanish that well." He wasn't too offended.

Not sure what to expect tomorrow, Easter. Host mom is a catholic, but not a practicing one. There are these little wooden Christ figures all over the house, yet she never talks about faith. I imagine we'll have a large dinner of some sort. I'll spend the day writing a boring paper about melodrama in early 19th century theatre, and probably won't reflect too much on Christ's resurrection. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to resurrect myself from this deathly online procrastination.

A few days in Pucon

Just got back from a long weekend in Pucon, a touristy spot about 10 hours south of Santiago. It was the first of two trips hosted by my exchange program. Twenty four of us went, including Patricio, the program director.

We got rained on most of the weekend, with only a few minutes of scattered sunshine. We couldn't climb the volcano--the most popular activity--but we had a great time nonetheless. We went rafting, as you see here in the picture. That was definitely the coolest thing. I had never been before, but now I could do it every day for the rest of my life. The picture above is one of many taken by a professional photographer throughout the day. We were separated into three groups, each one accompanied by a professional guide. We hit some huge rapids. One was so big we had to get out of the raft and let it float empty while we walked down to calmer waters.

Pucon is stuffed with volcanoes, most of them active but few of them about to blow. We couldn't climb any with the rough weather, but we did spend a few hours in hot springs. I don't really understand hot springs, but they're natural hot tubs at the base of a volcano which, I think, are heated by lava and magma flowing underground. Very relaxing...and very hot!

The other cool new thing I did was ziplining. We drove to a nearby forest to this sort of ziplining park. Once strapped in, we did about 12 different zips, from all different lengths and heights, ending back where we started. I zipped over rivers and rocks from over a hundred feet up--scary stuff, and not for those who don't like heights.

At night it poured. We had wild parties both Friday and Saturday night (we invited our ziplining tour guides to party with us on Saturday night and they ended up joining). We slept in these beautiful cabins with full kitchens, master baths and big beds--a luxury stay.

From what I've heard, the South is the loveliest part of Chile. You get the best weather in the summer, but it's also packed with tourists, and there aren't many places to stay. In the winter it just rains. If you manage to get a couple nice days, though, they say the landscape is even prettier, as everything is green and lush. I hope to explore the south more if I get some time. Pucon, ten hours to the south, is just the beginning. You could ride a bus for another 24 hours and still not even make it to Punto Arenas, which is the last hospitable region of Chile before all turns to ice.

Chileans celebrate Draw

Here's a little sample of how Chileans like to party when their soccer team doesn't lose.

Soccer Cops Again

Last night my friend Sebastian and I walked to Santiago's "bohemian" neighborhood, Bella Vista, to watch Chile play Uruguay in soccer. Chile was down a player 20 minutes into it, but Uruguay still couldn't score on them. It ended in a tie: 0-0.

We were bummed. We had come armed with our cameras this time with hopes to shoot some shots if they won. No more than five minutes had passed after the game, though, before we heard some comotion in the sreets outside. I thought maybe people were breaking stuff. But no. Pure celebration. A crowd of maybe 300 people was marching towards Santiago's center, chanting the national soccer anthem, smashing bottles in the street, jumping on the backs of cars.

We joined the cavalcade. Some drunk dudes from the bar we were at picked us up and demanded that we march with them. They were psyched to hang with the Gringos (the term Gringo, for anyone who doesn't know, is used by Chileans to describe anyone who isn't from Chile. In other countries the term describes a person from the United States. In Chile it's used more generally). People would come up to me and Sebastian asking to have their pictures taken with us, as if we were celebrities or something. The bottom line is that, despite all the Americans that pass through Chile, the majority of Chilenos don't see many in person. Their culture is littered with ours; our news invades their news; our music plays on their radio; our movies and television series air on their cable. The Chileans i've met--not including the friends i've made--will try and speak to me with what little Englsih they know: "whass up man?" or, as one man greeted me last night "What happen muth fucka?" (What's happenin.....) One woman kept trying to say "How do you do?" a greeting she had learned from a movie, but kept saying "How you do?" I hear some kids in my program talk about how the Chileans hate people from the US. I haven't found that to be the case at all. I've found them to be an incredibly curious bunch, always asking questions about how my stay has been, where I've visited, what I like most about the country, etc.

I took a lot of pictures of the celebration and a few videos, too. I think I can also post videos on this blog, so I'll try when I get home from class today. Stay posted!

Oh! Just found out that Holly is in to College of Charleston, her first choice for school. She's so fortunate. I'm sure everyone at home is just as radiant as I am here in Chile.

Soccer Cops

The governments of Chile and Peru are in the ring fighting over ocean territory. Peru wants to redefine the border, while Chile's saying forget it. Word is that Peru will take it to the international court in the Hague if need be.

But why take it all the way to the Hague? Why not settle it over a soccer match instead? Soccer and politics are equally popular here; and curiously, both cultural obsessions tend to fail the people more than serve them.

Chile's no match for Brazil or Argentina in soccer, but the people go crazy over a win nonetheless.

So it was tonight. Chile beat Peru 3-1 in 90 minutes. I went to my friend Felipe's to watch it. We muted the TV and listened to radio commentary instead. There's more bias towards Chile. News specials after the game showed scores of fanatics dancing and singing in Plaza Italia, the city's center, ten minutes walk from my house.

We quickly flagged down a bus and drove to the madness. What a sight. Hundreds of Chileans jumping up and down in a massive circle, drinking beer and smoking cigarettes. I didn't know the words to the songs they were singing and felt rather out of place. One highly inebriated man climbed ten feet to the top of the Metro sign and waved his shirt around his head like a helicopter as the crowd went wild for him. He was greeted by the riot police-- a blur of green uniforms-- upon descent. The police are intense looking, but not that intimidating. Most of them are scarcely over five feet tall. Napoleon complexes, I suppose. Tonight they were dressed like football players, there to stifle the fans of soccer players. They wear helmets with plastic masks, bullet proof vests and elbow, arm, knee and shin pads. One expected them to start rollerblading in synchrony around the mob.

After the Metro Man was detained, his behavior clearly out of accordance with Chilean ethic, the mob switched from celebratory to combative. For two or three minutes it rained beer bottles on the police. But the police didn't retaliate, even though under attack. It was exciting to witness, adrenaline pumping through me all the while.

The party lasted about 45 minutes before the cops broke it up. To untie the knot, a high-pressured water tank rolls slowly towards the crowd, ready to spray at the defiant. Tonight, when the tank neared, everyone took off at a jog--(not running, as that suggests fear of the police, but not walking either, as that means getting pelted with a jet of water).

Felipe and I managed to stay dry, though others got the drink. Now, we wonder, will Chile stay dry, or will Peru get the drink?

Second Thoughts on Classes

This is a picture of the communal garden just outside my apartment. My window looks down on it. Every morning there's a man outside sweeping the leaves off the grass (yes, sweeping). It's very well kept, as each tenant pays a fee each month to keep the property clean.

Having settled into my classes a bit, I've found that some of them are not what they seemed. The narration class, so far at least, is nothing of journalism. We've been studying short stories, the way their composed, the various ways to tell a story, etc. We're studying the foundations of narration, dating all the way back to the the Hebrew Bible--the first best selling story. But

of course the Western Canon is extensive (and subject to personal interpretation as to what exactly constitutes "canon") and the course provokes an overwhelming urgency to get-out-and read, which isn't always easy to find the time for. We had to write a page and half about our first day at the University--how we felt, what happened, etc. My story is pretty funny:

It took me three sets of directions from three different people just to get to the Communications building. The campus is tiny, too, so when I arrived, 20 minutes or so later, not only was I sweaty and tired, but thoroughly convinced that I would never succeed in Chile.

The classroom is on the thrid floor, so I decided to take the elevator that day (tired and all from walking). I got into the elevator, quickly pressed the button that closes the doors, and waited. No movement. I pressed the button to the third floor six or seven times in a row hyperactively, and still the elevator wouldn't budge. The button that opens the door wouldn't work either. The only other button after that was the emergency button, which I refused to press, as I imagined all too vividly the fire department of Santiago coming to campus, their sirens blaring, to rescue the North American who just HAD to take the elevator. All the while I'm sweating my ass off because it's 90 degrees outside and 105 in the elevator. Finally, out of desperation, I wedged my fingers into the crack where the door closes and pried the thing open with the tips of my fingers. I was able to make a crack just wide enough to squeeze out of.

Of course the first person I saw once out was the building guard, who kindly explained to me that the elevator is not for students, and that you need a key to access it. So I took the stairs up to classroom only to find it empty. The class was on wednesdays, not tuesdays.

We've barely talked about photography in my photography class. So far we've been reading philosophy as part of the theoretical aspect of the course. Philosophy is hard enough in English. In Spanish, it's killer, but i'm grinding through it. Today my professor asked me if I was having trouble reading the philosophy is Spanish. I said yes, very much so. The he said, "Why don't you read them in English?" I was shocked. Why hadn't I thought of this before? But as nice as the idea sounds, I won't be able to find the texts in English here. We're almost done with the philosophy anyway.

The other classes are just as expected. So far the work is minimum, the readings optional and attendance optional. I don't expect that it will stay this way for the next 3 months, but who knows.

Tomorrow I have a date to play basketbal with a Chilean friend named Felipe after class. He tells me that I may have the height, but that he'll "shoot the Three over my head all day long."

The cranes, drills and hammers play a familiar tune outside my window: Development. It's the most popular song in Santiago right now; you can hear it playing almost everywhere you go. I wake up to the beat of it, go to sleep to it, and have gotten quite good at tapping my foot to it. If I could ascribe lyrics, the tune would go something like this: "There are more apartments than people, but we're not going to stop building, so get your ass down to Santiago and move in!"

No class on Friday. It's a delightful feeling. My next class is Monday night at 6:30, so my weekends are extra long. No plans yet for the day. Thinking about heading out to take pictures. Don't know of what yet. Something other than apartment buildings, to be sure.

Cumpleanos de Betty (Betty's Birthday)

Betty's birthday was on Monday. I don't know for certain how old she is and I don't plan on asking (though she said early in February, in passing, that she was 68). Just the two of us celebrated. I got home from night class around 9:00. I could hear Elvis Presley's "Hound Dog" blasting from inside the apartment as I walked up the stairs. I thought, Wow, Betty's throwing quite the fiesta. The older the wilder. But it was just her inside, waiting in the living room with a bottle of Pisco Sour, Chile's national beverage. She forgot that I had night class on Mondays and thought that maybe I had forgotten her birthday. But no. I came prepared with flowers and cake.

As we sat there chatting and sipping Pisco, Betty confirmed for me what I have suspected since I arrived: that she's very much a solo person. I asked why her daughter and grandaughter weren't here to celebrate with us. Apparently they had exchanged gifts earlier in the day and that was that. I asked if there was anyone else that she would consider inviting. She only mentioned her brother, who lives in Santiago but who she rarely sees as he is "very different" from her. Not one mention of friends, though. If Betty has friends, as I would think a person of her kindness and generosity would, I still haven't met them.

Betty announced after one cup of Pisco that she was feeling quite intoxicated. When she does get tipsy, which is almost never, she talks and talks, which I like, because she speaks to me with an authentic Chilean accent and not a forced, easy to understand Mother-of-a-White-Boy-Struggling-to-Learn-Spanish accent. And she also talks at great length when drunk. She has lots of stories. She told me that when her husband was still alive they used to throw great big parties for eachother's birthday. Her husband must have been a fun man. From the way she speaks of him it often seems that wen he died, the fun in her died too. She misses her man, which is probably why she requests only boys to host.

Overall it was a pleasant celebration. I took a risk by buying her a piece of pineapple cake, but that's her favorite flavor, as it turns out. She let me wash the dishes after dinner, the first time I've done anything except for make my bed to help out around here. She won't accept my help around the house, though this time she accepted the gift.

My Spanish is progressing, especially in the house. Some days I'm really on and other days I can't put a sentence together for anything. Realizing more and more that they don't speak Spanish in Chile. They speak Chilean, which is like Spanish, but very, very distinct. Street talk knows very little of Spanish 101 that schools use to prep you in the States. It's all good, though. I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.

Course Briefing

Here's a summary of the courses i'm taking for those who have asked for it:

1.) Introduction to Narration-- Focuses on the analysis and construction of fiction and non-fiction stories.This is a journalism class. I'll be doing the same things I did in my Intro to Journalism class, only this time all in Spanish. Plus it'll be interesting to see how the professor teaches narration style, as news stories in Chilean newspapers often take a very different format from US papers.

2.) Theory and Critique of the Fixed Image- History and analysis of photography. Not sure as of yet if i'll get to take any pictures. More listening to the professor talk and less doing, it seems. So far, in a way, it's also taken the shape of a philosophy class. For instance, the professor likes to talk about certain philosophical movements that swept through Europe, let's say, and how the written word influenced photographers. Pretty cool.

3.) Theatre of Chile and Latin America- No acting, just reading and talking about important plays. This will be a tough one. Loads of reading (all my classes and readings and lectures are in Spanish). I think we go as a group once or twice to see live theatre.

4.) My fourth class is offered through my exchange program, CIEE, and it doesn't exactly have a name. It's a communications class with a goal of constructing an image of Chile through the different mediums of communication--tv (most popular medium in chile), newspapers, radio, magazines, internet, etc. Even though it's designed for students in the exchange program, it seems harder than any of my classes taught in the university. But there are only four of us in the class and the professor is a great guy. Looking forward to this one.

5.) I'm also taking a Spanish grammer class to brush up on what I've realized is my pretty shakey grammar. Unfortunately Fordham wont give me credit for this one, but it should be worth it in the long run if I keep studying Spanish.

Apart from the CIEE communication class, my courses are primarily teacher talking and students listening. Little room for student input, and we're rarely pressured with questions. It's completely different from Fordham, but I don't mind the format. Only it gets hard to stay focused at times. Often find my mind wandering off and thinking about the beach.

Valley de Elqui

Spent a long weekend (Wednesday- Sunday) in the Valle de Elqui, a small, mountaineous region about 8 hours North of Santiago. In Elqui, ATMs dont exist and cell phones don´t work. Along with 4 other friends I camped alongside a river at the base of a mountain. The ground was hard to sleep on, but the stars were indescribable. In the Southern Hemisphere, some constellations are the same as up North; for the most part, though, it´s a whole different sky down here. And up there in Elqui, where humanmade light is virtually nonexistent at night, the sky is so bright that you don´t even need to light a fire (though we did anyway, to eat).

Had my first day of orientation yesterday. Don´t have to be registered for my clases for another week and a half. The classes actualy begin tomorrow, but what we gringos are supossed to do is go and sit in on the classes we´re interested in taking to see if we like them. I´ve got to get all my courses approved by department chairs back in NYC which could be a tedious proccess. I think it will all go well. Some good news is that students studying abroad in the Spring get preferential registration for the following Fall semester back at Fordham. I get to register for whatever classes I want about two weeks before everyone else. Sweet!

Once I´ve got my schedule figured out I´ll post it up on this blog, as some have asked for full course description as soon as it´s available.

Last night a group of Chilean students from the University brought about 60 Americans to this rustic bar for a couple rounds of Chile´s native (drago) drink, Pisco Sour. Met some new Chilean friends, got there numbers for future hang out sesions, and, most importantly, spoke Spanish all night long. I find that when thrown into situations where I must speak Spanish-like when hanging out with a group of Chilean kids who don´t speak English--my speaking capability jumps tenfold. But my Spanish is broken when trying to speak with a group of Americans. We still do it anyway. It´s the only way to learn. A language is learned in a lifetime, not in two and a half weeks. Must remain patient. My little sister Aimara helps me with this. We´ve been getting along great, as we share the same level of vocabulary.

The Chilean Diet

Meat, fruit and vegetables.

On the day I arrived my mother asked me what I like to eat for breakfast. So I started listing off the usuals: eggs, toast, fruit, bacon, juice, coffee. Betty made all of those things for me the next morning. Actually, she´s made all of those things each morning since I got here.

There´s always some sort of fruit with every meal. Apples, bannanas, peaches, kiwi and, most frequently, watermelon. Fruit is a comon dessert here in chile, often served with honey or ice cream.

Dinners are feasts. Last night, for example, I ate steak over brown rice, a bowl of chicken soup, bread, a pizza type thing with cheese, tomatoes, olives and herbs, and a salad (and fruit for desert, of course). And there´s always the question "do you want anything else." This comes after the dinner table is cleared and I´m slouching sluggish in my seat with my belt unbuckled. "No thank you," I typically say. "What more could you posibly give me?"

I´m eating a lot, but the diet is healthy. You have to go out of your way to get junk food.

Love and Food

Hey all. It´s been a couple days but I´m back.

Much to report..

There´s a saying here that the amount of food and sugar your mother feeds you is equivalent to the amount of love she has for you. On this scale I´ll be a dearly beloved fatty by the time I return. The phrase "estoy lleno" (I´m full) is my go-to.

Things have quieted down in the apartment since 6-year-old Aimara left to stay with her mom for the week (pictures of this toothless princess to come). Just me and Betty here. That doesn´t sound latino whatsoever but trust me, it is.

Have spent the majority of last couple days with the entire group listening to drawn out lectures about Chile´s politcs. Neat thing about Santiago though it´s hands on history when dealing with politics. You can walk to the spots and see for yourself where history was/is made. Have toured the presidential palaces and many plazas. Lots of stone and stories to weigh it down.

This past Sunday I went out exploring with some friends. We climed Santa Lucia, which is something of a smal mountain with an observatory on top. The view is incredible from up there. The city is surround by mountians on all sides. This time of year it gets smoggy during the day, blocking the view, but I can imagine what it´ll look like once the winter rain knocks the smog down.

I´m off right now to a smal little nook of Santiago known for its Bohemian vibes. Today is the birthday of a girl in the program and a few of us are meting for a smal celebration. The bus and subway system here are wicked easy to learn. Imagine the system of New York diminished to les than a tenth of its size and that´s Santiago (a city of 6 milion people).

Settled with the Fam

Today I moved in with my host family. Like SLR in Sevilla, I´m living with a matriarch, Guttierez. Her husband died ten years ago. For the most part she lives alone, except for when her granddaughter, Aymara, 5 years old, comes to stay with her on weekends.

I´m her tenth son in 8 years! A mother con mucho experiencia! She picked me up today at the hotel with Aymara around 4:30 pm. After unpacking my things--my room smells a bit like the Humphries cottage (nice and comforting)-- we strolled around the neighborhood. I´m very close to the subway that leads to the metro--no more than 7 minute walk. The university is 3 stops away from me. It´s the perfect location in the center of Santiago.

I´ve got a caling card and wil be caling you all as soon as I figure out how to work it. Got a prepaid cell phone today, too. You can try caling me. Local number is 6-21-701-37. Chilé´s international caling code is 56. Further, the code for Santiago is 2.

Mis you all very much. Moving in was very strange today, especially trying to wrap my head around the fact that this is my home for the next 5 months.

Internet is tricky at this aprtment, but we should get the skype thing rolling soon. Facebook me.

Love, D

Safe Landing, Early Thoughts

Grettings all from the southern realm. Weather in Santiago, Chile today: 90 degrees with zero clouds. Nice weather for a smooth flight from Miami to Santiago--8 hrs in total.

Arrival not as chaotic as I anticipated. CIEE very organized in picking up students--who came in waves, off and on from 3 AM to 5 PM-- making life easy for us Gringos.

CIEE treated all students to a nice lunch near the hotel we're staying at. A brief tutorial on general safety and public transportation. Everything is in Spanish. This blog will be some of the only English I use over the next 5 months. Surprisingly, most of the students here are eager to speak the native toungue. Much conversation has been in Spanish instead of English (though it's hard to resist the comfort of E.)

Dinner was lavish. A grand welcoming with all students having arrived at that point. I've met some great kids today and it's hard to believe it's only day 1.

More to come.

Pre-Flight

Flight tonight out of JFK at 7 PM. Thanks to everyone who helped and supported me with the trip up to this point. More info to come once plane touches down.