For those of you that know spanish, you know that you can add an "ería" on the end of any word, and it become the place where you sell that word. Por ejemplo, Zapatería is a place where you sell zapatos, or shoes. So a librería, you would think, is a bookstore. Well I had already learned that in Chile, this is not necessarily so. Renato´s parents own a librería, but there are no books there. Mostly its office supplies, but it also carries any other odd number of things. Apparently librería, also means Staples. When he told me this, I obviously thought it was ridiculous. And a bit upsetting, since book stores are so important to me. Values are built into a language. If you don`t have have a word for something, how can it be important? This is apparent in the poor quality of bookstores in Chile, the even worse quality of libraries, and the generally low interest in reading that I`ve encountered. The government is running a big campaign trying to encourage people to read. Anyway the point is that this faulty definition came to bite me in the ass today.
So I finally started doing something at work. I ´m trying to figure out different ways to get books to the isolate communities where we work, where they don`t have any type of written texts. Today, I decided to dedicate my morning to asking bookstores for donations of childrens books for a library in a community called Camapu el Solar. Even though my boss frowned at the idea, I decided to give it a try. This was something I was familiar with. Asking for donations. I went to the Chilean yellow pages and wrote down the addresses and phone numbers of all the librerías in Osorno. Then, I ran into the problem. There was no one too tell from the listings which kind of librería this was. One with, or without libros. Well, that didn`t stop me. I called about 10 or so listings. The first woman who answered seemed surprised. Books? No, we don`t sell any books. The next woman also seemed surprised. Books? OF COURSE we sell books. Haha.
Once I had narrowed down my list, I went off to do some begging. I printed out a nice sheet with a description of our project and our logo and picture and description of the community that wanted the books. On the way over, I had a craving for an empanada de orno (yes, with meat) and realized that Chile was finally getting to me. I entered into the first bookstore frightened and speaking with much uncertainty. Thankfully, this place was my most willing participant. She asked a few questions and then told me if I came back next week, she would have a pile of books to donate. ¡Exito! I was overwhelmingly excited about my sudcess, and walked to my next destination with a shit eating grin on my face. Wait till I tell Pedro, I thought.
Now since I walk around alone a lot here, I`ve become accustomed to the unwelcome attention of every chilean man that I pass by on the street. I suppose its not much different than the whistles of a big city in the US, but here it seems to be more persistant. Anyways the norm is a kissing noise, but never really anything more so its never really an issue. On my walk back from the first book store, a man said something I had never heard before from a strange man hitting on me. "You are so beautiful! May god bless you!" Hahaha. For some reason at the time it was hysterical, and more well appreciated than a creepy whistle. I continued on to more and more librerías. Some, only full of notebooks, pens and random toys, and others with books for donation.
I came back triumphantly to inform Pedro of my success and of course he didn`t think much of my "I told you so" face. But my other colleages smiled and congratulated me in continuing despite Pedro´s pessimism. I wrote up an official document so that we could sign and officiate the book donations and next week I will make my next round. When I go visit the community next week, I will check out the new book shelf they made and bring them whatever I have collected. I also connected with a local library that has backs of books that we are going to lend out for a few weeks at a time.
Next, I´m supposed to be brainstorming ideas for how to help "organize the youth." My creative juices aren`t flowing at the moment, which is why I´m at the office writing a blog entry. Let me know if you have any ideas. I think we`re going to start with a movie screening.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Sunday, January 25, 2009
el Espectuloso Futrono
Like I mentioned earlier, a forestal (forestry engineer) who works in my office invited me to go away with him and his friends for the weekend. I was equally surprised and excited by the invitation. Renato is probably my favorite officemate, but we hadn`t really spent much time together. He had always been really helpful correcting my spanish and explaining things to me I didn´t understand. Turns out he`s probably the nicest person I`ve met in Chile. And everyone here is sooooo nice. Anyway he picked me up and we drove up to Futrono just the two of us, because his friend was already there. During this trip, I discovered that Renato speaks english nearly as well as I speak Spanish. This was surprising, since I had been struggling to understand everything in the office for two weeks and he hadn`t spoken more than two words in english. But refresheing to watch someone else struggle to speak as a nice change, and we developed a nice rhythm of speech where we flow easily back and forth between the two idiomas. Needless to say we had a nice ride.
We arrived in Futrono after about an hour and a half. I knew it was a town on a lake, and was expecting a tiny cabin where I could find a place to lay in my sleeping bag. Instead there were three BEAUTIFUL cabins right by the lake, among a bunch of beautiful mountains. We arrived just as the asado was beginning (I think I´m on number 5 or so? definitely an expert). Now please try and imagine why this situation might be overwhelming for me. I arrived with a 29 year old from my office that before this last hour and a half in the car, was mostly a stranger to me. He knew one person at the party, and the rest were just as much strangers to him. Not only am I a foreigner in a place with very few foreigners, but I have a limited mastery of spanish and to top it off am at least 7 years younger than everyone in the room. I had an idea that Renato would facilitate conversation and take care of me all night, but this was night the case. He introduced me as Cereza, the gringa from his office and set me on my own.
Somehow, I survived. The thing is that not only is it hard to communicate on a basic level, but everything in my life is surprising to everyone. You`re still in school? Uhhh I`m only 20. Are you really traveling alone? Yes, all alone. So you`re a sociologist? Uhh not really. YOU DON`T EAT MEAT?! Well, in Chile I do. So you`ve known Renato for a long time? Uhh something like that. What do you do with your project? Well, I just arrived. I´m still working on it... OBAMA!? yes! You know how to dance salsa? Definitely! ahha. After a few drinks, conversation became less frequent, as we danced the night away. Thankfully, my language skills don`t hold me back on the dance floor. And the girls were delighted that I knew how to dance salsa. I even knew a bunch of their music, which everyone found somewhere between cute and hysterical. Of course the reggeton, meat, and pisco continued till about 6am, but I conked out at 4 (I´m still building up my endurance...).
The next morning (well, afternoon) we all greeted each other like old friends, and comiserated over our hangovers. After a typical Chilean breakfast (instant coffee and bread with butter) we packed up our trucks and took a beautiful hour long drive to the other side of the lake, where there was a beautiful beach. We stopped a few times to admire waterfalls, mountain scenery, and rivers. We brought along two kayaks and hung around on the beach till we were cold and hungry. By the time dinner came around (remember, thats about 9pm) I was pretty exhausted of trying to communicate all weekend, and was glad when Renato and I decided to head home. We had another nice car ride with lots of language and cultural exchanges. Its great to have someone that I am able to talk to. He´s a terribly nice guy, and I expect we`ll be hanging out more. He moved to Osorno just for this job, so it sounds like he doesn`t have such a swinging social life either. He lives a few hours away in the country and has already invited me to go with him to meet his parents and see the office supplies store that they own. In other friend news, I get along really well with another intern at the office and she has invited me to come to her house for dinner this week.
Also, I expect to design a plan for my internship this week. I have been given permission to design whatever kind of program I want with the communities we work with, and I have a few ideas. Details to follow.....
p.s. espectaculoso is a strange combination of espectacular and fabuloso that came out of my tired mouth. renato found this hysterical. but we both decided its a pretty strong adjective, so we`re going to try and use it in everyday speech.
We arrived in Futrono after about an hour and a half. I knew it was a town on a lake, and was expecting a tiny cabin where I could find a place to lay in my sleeping bag. Instead there were three BEAUTIFUL cabins right by the lake, among a bunch of beautiful mountains. We arrived just as the asado was beginning (I think I´m on number 5 or so? definitely an expert). Now please try and imagine why this situation might be overwhelming for me. I arrived with a 29 year old from my office that before this last hour and a half in the car, was mostly a stranger to me. He knew one person at the party, and the rest were just as much strangers to him. Not only am I a foreigner in a place with very few foreigners, but I have a limited mastery of spanish and to top it off am at least 7 years younger than everyone in the room. I had an idea that Renato would facilitate conversation and take care of me all night, but this was night the case. He introduced me as Cereza, the gringa from his office and set me on my own.
Somehow, I survived. The thing is that not only is it hard to communicate on a basic level, but everything in my life is surprising to everyone. You`re still in school? Uhhh I`m only 20. Are you really traveling alone? Yes, all alone. So you`re a sociologist? Uhh not really. YOU DON`T EAT MEAT?! Well, in Chile I do. So you`ve known Renato for a long time? Uhh something like that. What do you do with your project? Well, I just arrived. I´m still working on it... OBAMA!? yes! You know how to dance salsa? Definitely! ahha. After a few drinks, conversation became less frequent, as we danced the night away. Thankfully, my language skills don`t hold me back on the dance floor. And the girls were delighted that I knew how to dance salsa. I even knew a bunch of their music, which everyone found somewhere between cute and hysterical. Of course the reggeton, meat, and pisco continued till about 6am, but I conked out at 4 (I´m still building up my endurance...).
The next morning (well, afternoon) we all greeted each other like old friends, and comiserated over our hangovers. After a typical Chilean breakfast (instant coffee and bread with butter) we packed up our trucks and took a beautiful hour long drive to the other side of the lake, where there was a beautiful beach. We stopped a few times to admire waterfalls, mountain scenery, and rivers. We brought along two kayaks and hung around on the beach till we were cold and hungry. By the time dinner came around (remember, thats about 9pm) I was pretty exhausted of trying to communicate all weekend, and was glad when Renato and I decided to head home. We had another nice car ride with lots of language and cultural exchanges. Its great to have someone that I am able to talk to. He´s a terribly nice guy, and I expect we`ll be hanging out more. He moved to Osorno just for this job, so it sounds like he doesn`t have such a swinging social life either. He lives a few hours away in the country and has already invited me to go with him to meet his parents and see the office supplies store that they own. In other friend news, I get along really well with another intern at the office and she has invited me to come to her house for dinner this week.
Also, I expect to design a plan for my internship this week. I have been given permission to design whatever kind of program I want with the communities we work with, and I have a few ideas. Details to follow.....
p.s. espectaculoso is a strange combination of espectacular and fabuloso that came out of my tired mouth. renato found this hysterical. but we both decided its a pretty strong adjective, so we`re going to try and use it in everyday speech.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
El Proyecto
So I don´t know if y´all have noticed, but I´ve pretty much avoided describing my "job" or "internship" or "practica." Whatever you want to call it. Well its been two weeks of me flailing around the officina and I have a better idea of whats going on (but not a complete one) so I figure I should share. I am working for a three year project who´s name is Mapu Mawidan Ko. These three words mean earth, mountains, and water in the language of the Huilliche, the indigenous group in this area. We are sposored by a few organizations and seem to have an endless amount of money. Overall the goal is to raise the incomes of the families in the 17 communities we work with. The communities are all around Osorno in the two poorest comunas (counties?) in all of Chile. There is a focus on the sustainable use of resources of their bosques (forrests) which are aplenty. There a few componentes (components) that work in different ways with each community: Tourism and Artisenry, Forrestry, Agriculture, Commercialization and mine group-- committed to organizational development. Projects include: helping the development of the mining of leña, or firewood, which most chileans use to heat their stoves and homes; the establishment of tourist stops for camping and such; the development of handcrafts such as wool products and wooden carvings; and management of native forrests that the government gives subsidies for.
Phew. So after three days of a planning workshop, two days of reading documents, and a few days of hanging around going to meetings and asking questions to figure all that out, and more. Keep in mind, there is not only the trouble of following all the intricacies of the organization, but doing so in Spanish-- a language I have far from mastered. The tricky part, is what the fuck I´m going to do there. All the people that work their are experts in their field be it forrestry or agriculture or tourism. Or, the people in my componente are social scientists. Which is exactly why they stuck me where I am: I´m a sociologist, remember? Hah.
So needless to say, my role is still unclear. Carolina, mi jefa, wants me to see all the communities and get a feel for whats going on. So a usually day consists of me bumming around the office for a while checking my email, hanging out with the other interns (three chilean girls of my age) and completing a few tasks around the office until Carolina says ¡vamos! Then, I get in a truck with any variety of my very lovely office mates and we drive an hour or more into the beautiful countryside. Sometimes I doze off in the back and enjoy the view, and other times I attempt to carry on a conversation in spanish. Either way, I´m usually pretty happy. Then we arrive at some community center with our organizations name on it and wait around for at least a half hour but sometimes half the day until the meeting begins. Meanwhile I kiss and greet all of the people present, but rarely do I learn anyones name (a silly chilean tradition that I am still struggling with). I´ve witnessed a variety of meetings about a variety of topics. My comprehensition ranges greatly, depending on who is speaking. The campesinos speak softly and don´t enunciate very well. Needless to say its hard to understand them.
Anyway I am sort of supposed to help analyze community dynamics, help with the planning of workshops internally for the office and externally for the community members and help with organizational development. Or at least thats what my componente does. Right now it seems I might try and shape up our website, and translate it into english. Which is just fine with me. I might help make other tourist materials so they can add parts in english too. Its still tough to understand everything, and express myself how I want to in the office, but things are getting better. I´m okay bumming around but I feel guilty taking up everyone´s time, but even without speaking spanish or having any skills, they seem to be happy to have me around. Go figures. Like I said, they are all wonderfully nice.
Oy. I´ve already written so much. But in truth, its to make up for my new way of life where I have become a woman of few words. Imagine that! I keep warning everyone that when I finally speak with more fluency, they´ll see the real gregarious me. For now, I listen and nod a lot and often keep to myself. When I´m not laughing that is. Anyway its always a relief to be able to express myself intelligently again, which is why my blog entries are so long and detailed. I would shorten them (COUGH COUGH BLUNDERS) but I keep getting good reviews. Thanks for listening! I´m going away this weekend to another lake town with a co-worker and some of his friends. I´ll probably come back dyyying to write in english, so expect another entry then.
Phew. So after three days of a planning workshop, two days of reading documents, and a few days of hanging around going to meetings and asking questions to figure all that out, and more. Keep in mind, there is not only the trouble of following all the intricacies of the organization, but doing so in Spanish-- a language I have far from mastered. The tricky part, is what the fuck I´m going to do there. All the people that work their are experts in their field be it forrestry or agriculture or tourism. Or, the people in my componente are social scientists. Which is exactly why they stuck me where I am: I´m a sociologist, remember? Hah.
So needless to say, my role is still unclear. Carolina, mi jefa, wants me to see all the communities and get a feel for whats going on. So a usually day consists of me bumming around the office for a while checking my email, hanging out with the other interns (three chilean girls of my age) and completing a few tasks around the office until Carolina says ¡vamos! Then, I get in a truck with any variety of my very lovely office mates and we drive an hour or more into the beautiful countryside. Sometimes I doze off in the back and enjoy the view, and other times I attempt to carry on a conversation in spanish. Either way, I´m usually pretty happy. Then we arrive at some community center with our organizations name on it and wait around for at least a half hour but sometimes half the day until the meeting begins. Meanwhile I kiss and greet all of the people present, but rarely do I learn anyones name (a silly chilean tradition that I am still struggling with). I´ve witnessed a variety of meetings about a variety of topics. My comprehensition ranges greatly, depending on who is speaking. The campesinos speak softly and don´t enunciate very well. Needless to say its hard to understand them.
Anyway I am sort of supposed to help analyze community dynamics, help with the planning of workshops internally for the office and externally for the community members and help with organizational development. Or at least thats what my componente does. Right now it seems I might try and shape up our website, and translate it into english. Which is just fine with me. I might help make other tourist materials so they can add parts in english too. Its still tough to understand everything, and express myself how I want to in the office, but things are getting better. I´m okay bumming around but I feel guilty taking up everyone´s time, but even without speaking spanish or having any skills, they seem to be happy to have me around. Go figures. Like I said, they are all wonderfully nice.
Oy. I´ve already written so much. But in truth, its to make up for my new way of life where I have become a woman of few words. Imagine that! I keep warning everyone that when I finally speak with more fluency, they´ll see the real gregarious me. For now, I listen and nod a lot and often keep to myself. When I´m not laughing that is. Anyway its always a relief to be able to express myself intelligently again, which is why my blog entries are so long and detailed. I would shorten them (COUGH COUGH BLUNDERS) but I keep getting good reviews. Thanks for listening! I´m going away this weekend to another lake town with a co-worker and some of his friends. I´ll probably come back dyyying to write in english, so expect another entry then.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
"¿Andas sola?"
So this weekend I probably took the weirdest vacation ever. I made plans to go to Puerto Octay. I called two hostels that were both full, but the third said that they had room for me. I was concerned it would fill up because of the popularity of the other two places, but the man on the phone assured me it was not a problem. I looked up travel guides, and tourist reviews of Puerto Octay and it seemed to be the place to be. A small town on a lake with beaches and naturaleza. Thats all I needed, right? So I thought I would be arriving at a Lake George type of place, but classier: full of people and activities. It turns out where I landed was more like a Chestertown. This obviously has its benefits and downsides.
I slept on the short busride over, and woke up in the lamest town plaza I had ever set eyes on. This couldn´t but Puerto Octay, could it? The bus terminal was equally as unimpressive with no tourist information, and no other buses. Two taxi drivers stood lazily outside the station (later, I would realize there´s really no reason to take a taxi at all) and I asked one of them to take me to my hostel. He seemed to like me and immidiately identified me as a jew, but I´m pretty sure he overcharged me terribly. Hosteleria La Baja was an equally unimpressive place. There was an old woman with a ¨"la Baja" apron who seemed surprised to see me, and reluctant to let me walk in to town. The only other guest was a lifesize cut out of a Cristal (a chilean beer) girl girl that greeted me at the door. I had a beautiful room with two beds to myself.
I returned to town to make sure I hadn´t missed anything. I stopped at the tourist info shack by the plaza, and confirmed my suspicious: Puerto Octay was dead. I walked around in cirlces for an hour looking at the "attractions" of the town which consisted of a bunch of old houses that looked decrepit and empty. I found a restaurant that boasted IN ENGLISH (something rarely seen in these parts) of chilean seafood. I entered to find that the only services they offered were empanadas de orno (cooked in the oven), beer, and a bunch of pinball games. I ate instead at the only restaurant that had people in it called La Naranja (the orange). The man who served on me was very nice, but flabergasted as to what a New Yorker was doing in his restaurant. The man at the table next to me was confused but enchanted, and gave me a chocolate bar for no apparent reason.
Now because it was clouded over, everything looked a little miserable. In the morning after a good night´s sleep (there was no reason to stay up late) everything looked a lot brighter. My hostel was on Peninsula Centinela, a 3.5 km walk from the town. From accross the lake, the town looked quaint. The lake was quiet and beautiful. I spent the morning following the shoreline. I discovered a few campsites (this is where all the toursits were!) and a big beautiful fancy hotel, called Hotel Centinela. Here, there were beautiful views of Volcano Osorno, a short trail to walk in the woods, and free internet. After spending the morning exploring the beaches of Puerto Octay, I decided I had conquered that place. I got some information from a variety of sources and decided on a new destination for the afternoon: Las Cascadas (the waterfalls).
On my second bus, I met a couple from New York, and also a bunch of Osorno college students heading the same direction as me. They were friendly and I apprecited their compny en route. We said our goodbyes when we made it to the town where they were camping, and I headed down the path to the waterfall. I walked like 4km down a gravel path, and then 2km or so down a path that followed a stream to the mouth of a HUGE waterfall. It was really beautiful.
All and all it was a great weekend, and I apprecited the time by myself (something that is otherwise rare). I made it back in time to go to the Osorno folk music festival, only to get kidnapped by my family to the in-laws house. I onced again underestmated Chilean´s ability to have a good time. I thought that we would stop by for tea, and then go home. I saw cooking going on in the kitchen, and prayed that she was cooking for the next day. Absolutely false. But instead we all ate a grand meal (where I had to fight virorously not to gorge myself) at 12:30 and stayed up till 3am drinking and talking. This family REALLY loves to eat. They are all comfortably plump, and the father even more so. He was complaining at dinner that he barely eats, but continues to gain weight! He described his diet of bread and meat for every meal as he drank several rum-and-cokes, and to me it seemed clear where the problem was. Of course, we spent the night and I´m still here. I told the mother-in-law that I´d prefer to shower when I got back to my house, and she warned me that that wouldn`t happen for a long time. Sigh. Who knew I was such a homebody?
I slept on the short busride over, and woke up in the lamest town plaza I had ever set eyes on. This couldn´t but Puerto Octay, could it? The bus terminal was equally as unimpressive with no tourist information, and no other buses. Two taxi drivers stood lazily outside the station (later, I would realize there´s really no reason to take a taxi at all) and I asked one of them to take me to my hostel. He seemed to like me and immidiately identified me as a jew, but I´m pretty sure he overcharged me terribly. Hosteleria La Baja was an equally unimpressive place. There was an old woman with a ¨"la Baja" apron who seemed surprised to see me, and reluctant to let me walk in to town. The only other guest was a lifesize cut out of a Cristal (a chilean beer) girl girl that greeted me at the door. I had a beautiful room with two beds to myself.
I returned to town to make sure I hadn´t missed anything. I stopped at the tourist info shack by the plaza, and confirmed my suspicious: Puerto Octay was dead. I walked around in cirlces for an hour looking at the "attractions" of the town which consisted of a bunch of old houses that looked decrepit and empty. I found a restaurant that boasted IN ENGLISH (something rarely seen in these parts) of chilean seafood. I entered to find that the only services they offered were empanadas de orno (cooked in the oven), beer, and a bunch of pinball games. I ate instead at the only restaurant that had people in it called La Naranja (the orange). The man who served on me was very nice, but flabergasted as to what a New Yorker was doing in his restaurant. The man at the table next to me was confused but enchanted, and gave me a chocolate bar for no apparent reason.
Now because it was clouded over, everything looked a little miserable. In the morning after a good night´s sleep (there was no reason to stay up late) everything looked a lot brighter. My hostel was on Peninsula Centinela, a 3.5 km walk from the town. From accross the lake, the town looked quaint. The lake was quiet and beautiful. I spent the morning following the shoreline. I discovered a few campsites (this is where all the toursits were!) and a big beautiful fancy hotel, called Hotel Centinela. Here, there were beautiful views of Volcano Osorno, a short trail to walk in the woods, and free internet. After spending the morning exploring the beaches of Puerto Octay, I decided I had conquered that place. I got some information from a variety of sources and decided on a new destination for the afternoon: Las Cascadas (the waterfalls).
On my second bus, I met a couple from New York, and also a bunch of Osorno college students heading the same direction as me. They were friendly and I apprecited their compny en route. We said our goodbyes when we made it to the town where they were camping, and I headed down the path to the waterfall. I walked like 4km down a gravel path, and then 2km or so down a path that followed a stream to the mouth of a HUGE waterfall. It was really beautiful.
All and all it was a great weekend, and I apprecited the time by myself (something that is otherwise rare). I made it back in time to go to the Osorno folk music festival, only to get kidnapped by my family to the in-laws house. I onced again underestmated Chilean´s ability to have a good time. I thought that we would stop by for tea, and then go home. I saw cooking going on in the kitchen, and prayed that she was cooking for the next day. Absolutely false. But instead we all ate a grand meal (where I had to fight virorously not to gorge myself) at 12:30 and stayed up till 3am drinking and talking. This family REALLY loves to eat. They are all comfortably plump, and the father even more so. He was complaining at dinner that he barely eats, but continues to gain weight! He described his diet of bread and meat for every meal as he drank several rum-and-cokes, and to me it seemed clear where the problem was. Of course, we spent the night and I´m still here. I told the mother-in-law that I´d prefer to shower when I got back to my house, and she warned me that that wouldn`t happen for a long time. Sigh. Who knew I was such a homebody?
Friday, January 16, 2009
Sin reirse y sin hablar.
A few comments on things chilean:
Chileans are a mix of indigenous and Spanish blood, but can often times be very white. Especially in Osorno, where there is a lot of french and german heritage. That being said, I don´t stand out too bad as a gringo. So I was surprised when a guy came up to me in a bar the other night, and asked me wher i was from in english. Apparently he did a "intercambio" in Utah and knew I was american. I asked one of my coworkers if without speaking, I could pass as chilena. "Sin hablar y sin reírse." -- without talking and without laughing. So my laughter gets me in trouble again...
Healthy food doesn´t seem to be of concern to anyone. Bread with cheese and ham is appropriate for any and every meal. Salt, sugar, and oil are used generously on everything. This country supposedly consumes more bread per capital than anywhere else in the world (a statistic often repeated but yet to be confirmed ) and no one has heard of whole wheat, or grain. And of course theres plent of beer. Not surprisingly, there are issues with obesity. The funny part about all this, is that after a diet like this, most chileans insist on putting sacarina or some sort of fake sugar in their coffee. That thats going to make up for all the rest of the bad eating habbits. Yeah, right.
In Chile, I have to kiss everyone I meet. Women kiss women and men, but two men will usually shake hands. What I find funny about this is that the kiss always comes before the introduction and sometimes in place of one. Many times I will kiss someone, and never learn their name. You also kiss someone every time you see them, and say goodbye. It really makes it seem like we´re all friends in this country. There´s this wonderfully handsome guy in my office, and it still surprises me that we kiss at least twice a day.
Money here cotinues to surprise me. Yesterday, I bought a delicious nectarine for 50 pesos, which i think is about ten cents. Then today I tried to buy another one but it was in the center of town and he charged me 100 pesos. I felt ripped off, but then remembered the difference was a matter of pennies. You can usually buy an empanada for like 350 pesos, or a little more than 50 cents. But one scoop of ice cream costs 750 pesos, a little over a dollar. The bus I will take today to a lake town nearby will cost 1 and a half luca (1 luca = 1,000 pesos). Thats less than $3 for an hour long bus ride. Then somethings, are just as expensive as they are here. I bought shampoo, conditioner and soap (american brands) and spent a few thousand pesos. I could buy bags and bags of nectarines with that amount of money, but my hair would probably be all dried out.
We joke about Jewish time, and Wesleyan time, and choose-your-own-ethnic group time, but Chilean time is something more profound. Samantha, the woman who organized my trip down here, seriously thinks that the Chilean tendency to start things late is a serious impediment to the country´s development. I still get to work on time everyday, but usually just to wait around for at least 45 minutes until we´re done kissing each other hello, and something finally happens. Yesterday I had to wake up an hour early to get to the office at 8am so I could get in the car to head to the country for a meeting with a community. After an hour of checking my mail, we finally left. We also get a luxurious hour and a half lunch break, and take lots of chatting breaks. this is definitely my kind of office. Since I don´t have any other skills to offer, I will continue to demonstrate my ability to arrive places on time, even if it means waiting outside until someone opens up the office (which it often does...).
Chileans are a mix of indigenous and Spanish blood, but can often times be very white. Especially in Osorno, where there is a lot of french and german heritage. That being said, I don´t stand out too bad as a gringo. So I was surprised when a guy came up to me in a bar the other night, and asked me wher i was from in english. Apparently he did a "intercambio" in Utah and knew I was american. I asked one of my coworkers if without speaking, I could pass as chilena. "Sin hablar y sin reírse." -- without talking and without laughing. So my laughter gets me in trouble again...
Healthy food doesn´t seem to be of concern to anyone. Bread with cheese and ham is appropriate for any and every meal. Salt, sugar, and oil are used generously on everything. This country supposedly consumes more bread per capital than anywhere else in the world (a statistic often repeated but yet to be confirmed ) and no one has heard of whole wheat, or grain. And of course theres plent of beer. Not surprisingly, there are issues with obesity. The funny part about all this, is that after a diet like this, most chileans insist on putting sacarina or some sort of fake sugar in their coffee. That thats going to make up for all the rest of the bad eating habbits. Yeah, right.
In Chile, I have to kiss everyone I meet. Women kiss women and men, but two men will usually shake hands. What I find funny about this is that the kiss always comes before the introduction and sometimes in place of one. Many times I will kiss someone, and never learn their name. You also kiss someone every time you see them, and say goodbye. It really makes it seem like we´re all friends in this country. There´s this wonderfully handsome guy in my office, and it still surprises me that we kiss at least twice a day.
Money here cotinues to surprise me. Yesterday, I bought a delicious nectarine for 50 pesos, which i think is about ten cents. Then today I tried to buy another one but it was in the center of town and he charged me 100 pesos. I felt ripped off, but then remembered the difference was a matter of pennies. You can usually buy an empanada for like 350 pesos, or a little more than 50 cents. But one scoop of ice cream costs 750 pesos, a little over a dollar. The bus I will take today to a lake town nearby will cost 1 and a half luca (1 luca = 1,000 pesos). Thats less than $3 for an hour long bus ride. Then somethings, are just as expensive as they are here. I bought shampoo, conditioner and soap (american brands) and spent a few thousand pesos. I could buy bags and bags of nectarines with that amount of money, but my hair would probably be all dried out.
We joke about Jewish time, and Wesleyan time, and choose-your-own-ethnic group time, but Chilean time is something more profound. Samantha, the woman who organized my trip down here, seriously thinks that the Chilean tendency to start things late is a serious impediment to the country´s development. I still get to work on time everyday, but usually just to wait around for at least 45 minutes until we´re done kissing each other hello, and something finally happens. Yesterday I had to wake up an hour early to get to the office at 8am so I could get in the car to head to the country for a meeting with a community. After an hour of checking my mail, we finally left. We also get a luxurious hour and a half lunch break, and take lots of chatting breaks. this is definitely my kind of office. Since I don´t have any other skills to offer, I will continue to demonstrate my ability to arrive places on time, even if it means waiting outside until someone opens up the office (which it often does...).
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Photitos de mi familia!
Here is the beautiful couple, Sergio from Portugal and Camilla from France. They met and fell in love when they were both studying in Denmark. Sergio followed Camilla to Chile where she was studying for a semester, and then she took a year off of school to come live in Osorno. They are adorable, but unfortunately leaving very soon.
To the right is another beautiful couple (gay jokes are always fair game in these parts). Javier is Eli's husband and Sofi's father, and Sergio. There is rum, melon, and white wine inside. Incredibly delicious. All of this pictures are from Sergio´s birthday party last night. Everyone stayed up until 4 am, drinking, eating and talking. I conked out at around 2am, but then again I was the only one that had to work at 9am this morning. All the way above is the table setting. There was plenty of meat.
La Sofi- the new love of my life. She is unfortunately more in love with my glasses, than me. She is four years old and almost five. Most often, she will yell: Cereza! Ven a jugar! (come play with me!). For those of you that don´t speak spanish, that is in command form.p.s. uploading photos here is really slow. refer to facebook if possible for more excitement.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
¿Sabes que es un asado?
Do you know what an asado is?
This was the question my friendly new office mates kept asking me. It was my first day at the office, and it just so happened they were planning a party for the next night. What luck! Well from what I gathered, an asado was some sort of party that involved eating meat. Chileans loooove their meat (Por ejemplo, I went to a restaurant yesterday for lunch and asked for vegetarian options. The waitress pointed to a salad with chicken on it). Anyway I was game for a party, as I always am. The people at my office are some of the nicest people Ive ever met, so I was sure it would be fun. I assumed it would be a tame, office party and I would get home in plenty of time to recount my second day of work to my chilean family. So when i realized I had forgotten my key to the house, I wasnt worried. My Señora is always home.
Well it took us about two hours after we finished work at 6 to arrive to the site of the asado. Nico joked that we wouldn´t be eating until at least 10:30. Turns out, this wasn´t a joke but a conservative estimation. We waited to gather together at the office for about 45 minutes, and then waited a half hour as Carolina went to the bank. Then we went to Elizabeths apartment for no reason that was aparent to me, until we finally made it to Pamelas house. Did I say house? I meant estate. The home I live in is very simple and small and the other houses I have seen in town do get bigger, but are mostly modest. Pamela lives outside of town in a beauuutiful house with a ton of land around it. The group was gathered around a HUGE beautiful tree that provided plenty of shade from the sun (it doesnt set until about 10pm or so).
I quickly understood why all of my friends were so alarmed when i said I wasnt too interested in eating meat. Honestly I{m stil unsure of what animal we were eating, but I think it was lamb. Either way the entire animal was layed out in the back of Renato´s truck and was put on a giant skewer over a giant fire. Yummm. The men positioned themselves around the meat and the women around a nearby bench. I went straight for the tree. It was perfect for climbing. When everyone noticed that I was having trouble getting up, a guy from the office offered to hoist me up. From the top I looked down on the scene before me. Everyone was laughing and taking pictures of me up in the tree. The women were drinking and laughing, and the men tending to the meat. Eventually when I came down I offered my services and help to turn the animal. It takes over an hour to cook the asado and I quickly realized I was not going to make it home anytime soon. Everyone quickly learned of my silly vegetarian tendancies and when I asked about salad, Rueben pointed to the sausages on the grill. Awesome. I made sure I at least had a ride (we were well outside of walking distance from town) and made several failed attempts to call home (using the phone isn´t as self explanatory as you might think). I had a few beers and went with it. I was pretty exhausted and uptight from trying desperately to understand everything that happened in our workshop that day. As I drank, I relaxed and my spanish came out with much more ease. ´
It was a great party. Everyone quickly learned to make plenty of jokes about me. I developed my first series of nicknames: la gringa, el Bronx, Sara. The one that I think will stick is Cereza, or cherry. Sarice is too difficult for anyone to say even when it is butchered with the chilean accent. By the end of the night I forgot completely I was at an office party. I taught english words, and people explained Chilean expressions. We passed the guitar around and had a group sing along. Renato played "knocking on heavens door" and made me sing. By 2am I was exhausted and anxious to get home. I hadn't talked to my Señora and wanted to get home to my bed. We all kissed and said goodnight. We were meeting in just a few hours at the office for the last day of our planning workshop for the new year. I succesfully navigated my friend to my home and admitted to those in the car that I didnt have my key. After ringing the doorbell for five minutes with no response, one girl in the car insisted that I come stay in her apartment, where she had an extra bed. I complied against my will. All I wanted to do was sleep.
I woke up the next morning determined to return to my casa. Unfortunately I couldn´t go until someone told me where I was. Much to my dismay I realized later I was a short walk away from home. Needless to say, I didn´t make it home. Instead I quiety had a cookie and tea for breakfast, and went straight to the office at 8:30. Extremely embarassed, we had to recount the story of my unsuccesful return home to all my tired and hung-over office mates. I smelled like meat, wine and sweat, and didnt get to brush my teeth. I was miserable. I calmed myself with the idea that I would go home for lunch and shower and eat with my family. I finally got through to Javier and explained my story. He laughed and told me to come home safely. I promised I would. Unfortunately, not as soon as I had hoped. We all piled in cars to go to Alejandro´s house for the day because the buildign we had been using was closed (it was Saturday!). 30 minutes later, we were in the country again. There was no way I was making it home for lunch. After some cookies and relaxing in the sun, I calmed down with the promise that we would finish at 4:30. The third day understood more, talked more and participated more than the first two. Plus, now I was comfortable with everyone. They were no longer strangers, but friends.
By the end of the day I was dying to get back and shower. I was definitely smelly. AFter finished a half hour after we said we would, I spent 15 minutes cleaning the dishes from the ice cream we had just finished. Finally it was time for Renato and I to head home. Of course I can take you, he offered, but we´ll stop for a beer first, alright? Sigh. I smiled and complied. One homemade beer (with about half the office) later, Renato finally took me home. I explained the whole story to my family with embarassment as they laughed. OF COURSE an asado goes until 2 in the morning. WHY did you forget your key? And finaly they gave me my new nickname: la gringa caretera, the partying northamerican.
Well. Por cierto, I know what an asado is now. Next time I´ll be prepared and bring some fruit in my pocket. And I´ll be sure to bring my key.
This was the question my friendly new office mates kept asking me. It was my first day at the office, and it just so happened they were planning a party for the next night. What luck! Well from what I gathered, an asado was some sort of party that involved eating meat. Chileans loooove their meat (Por ejemplo, I went to a restaurant yesterday for lunch and asked for vegetarian options. The waitress pointed to a salad with chicken on it). Anyway I was game for a party, as I always am. The people at my office are some of the nicest people Ive ever met, so I was sure it would be fun. I assumed it would be a tame, office party and I would get home in plenty of time to recount my second day of work to my chilean family. So when i realized I had forgotten my key to the house, I wasnt worried. My Señora is always home.
Well it took us about two hours after we finished work at 6 to arrive to the site of the asado. Nico joked that we wouldn´t be eating until at least 10:30. Turns out, this wasn´t a joke but a conservative estimation. We waited to gather together at the office for about 45 minutes, and then waited a half hour as Carolina went to the bank. Then we went to Elizabeths apartment for no reason that was aparent to me, until we finally made it to Pamelas house. Did I say house? I meant estate. The home I live in is very simple and small and the other houses I have seen in town do get bigger, but are mostly modest. Pamela lives outside of town in a beauuutiful house with a ton of land around it. The group was gathered around a HUGE beautiful tree that provided plenty of shade from the sun (it doesnt set until about 10pm or so).
I quickly understood why all of my friends were so alarmed when i said I wasnt too interested in eating meat. Honestly I{m stil unsure of what animal we were eating, but I think it was lamb. Either way the entire animal was layed out in the back of Renato´s truck and was put on a giant skewer over a giant fire. Yummm. The men positioned themselves around the meat and the women around a nearby bench. I went straight for the tree. It was perfect for climbing. When everyone noticed that I was having trouble getting up, a guy from the office offered to hoist me up. From the top I looked down on the scene before me. Everyone was laughing and taking pictures of me up in the tree. The women were drinking and laughing, and the men tending to the meat. Eventually when I came down I offered my services and help to turn the animal. It takes over an hour to cook the asado and I quickly realized I was not going to make it home anytime soon. Everyone quickly learned of my silly vegetarian tendancies and when I asked about salad, Rueben pointed to the sausages on the grill. Awesome. I made sure I at least had a ride (we were well outside of walking distance from town) and made several failed attempts to call home (using the phone isn´t as self explanatory as you might think). I had a few beers and went with it. I was pretty exhausted and uptight from trying desperately to understand everything that happened in our workshop that day. As I drank, I relaxed and my spanish came out with much more ease. ´
It was a great party. Everyone quickly learned to make plenty of jokes about me. I developed my first series of nicknames: la gringa, el Bronx, Sara. The one that I think will stick is Cereza, or cherry. Sarice is too difficult for anyone to say even when it is butchered with the chilean accent. By the end of the night I forgot completely I was at an office party. I taught english words, and people explained Chilean expressions. We passed the guitar around and had a group sing along. Renato played "knocking on heavens door" and made me sing. By 2am I was exhausted and anxious to get home. I hadn't talked to my Señora and wanted to get home to my bed. We all kissed and said goodnight. We were meeting in just a few hours at the office for the last day of our planning workshop for the new year. I succesfully navigated my friend to my home and admitted to those in the car that I didnt have my key. After ringing the doorbell for five minutes with no response, one girl in the car insisted that I come stay in her apartment, where she had an extra bed. I complied against my will. All I wanted to do was sleep.
I woke up the next morning determined to return to my casa. Unfortunately I couldn´t go until someone told me where I was. Much to my dismay I realized later I was a short walk away from home. Needless to say, I didn´t make it home. Instead I quiety had a cookie and tea for breakfast, and went straight to the office at 8:30. Extremely embarassed, we had to recount the story of my unsuccesful return home to all my tired and hung-over office mates. I smelled like meat, wine and sweat, and didnt get to brush my teeth. I was miserable. I calmed myself with the idea that I would go home for lunch and shower and eat with my family. I finally got through to Javier and explained my story. He laughed and told me to come home safely. I promised I would. Unfortunately, not as soon as I had hoped. We all piled in cars to go to Alejandro´s house for the day because the buildign we had been using was closed (it was Saturday!). 30 minutes later, we were in the country again. There was no way I was making it home for lunch. After some cookies and relaxing in the sun, I calmed down with the promise that we would finish at 4:30. The third day understood more, talked more and participated more than the first two. Plus, now I was comfortable with everyone. They were no longer strangers, but friends.
By the end of the day I was dying to get back and shower. I was definitely smelly. AFter finished a half hour after we said we would, I spent 15 minutes cleaning the dishes from the ice cream we had just finished. Finally it was time for Renato and I to head home. Of course I can take you, he offered, but we´ll stop for a beer first, alright? Sigh. I smiled and complied. One homemade beer (with about half the office) later, Renato finally took me home. I explained the whole story to my family with embarassment as they laughed. OF COURSE an asado goes until 2 in the morning. WHY did you forget your key? And finaly they gave me my new nickname: la gringa caretera, the partying northamerican.
Well. Por cierto, I know what an asado is now. Next time I´ll be prepared and bring some fruit in my pocket. And I´ll be sure to bring my key.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
y altiro comienza la aventura.....
Ok. So it has really all began.
Yesterday I spent the day with my Australian buddies, hanging around Santiago. Well first I played translator and bought me and then bus tickets and they were very appreciative. I was the nerd of the group and the only one that cared about seeing historical buildings, or any sights at all. I dragged two of them with me on our educational tour, but one got bored after my first lecture. Adam toughed it out with me as we saw the Palacio de la Moneda (the place where Salvadore Allende died and Pinochet bombed on Sept 11th 1973), a minature and extremely lame version of Palacio de la Alambra (a palace built in Granada that the three of us happened to have all seen in Spain), the Plaza de las Armas (sort of a city center), el Mercado Central (a market where we bought cheap, delicious cherries), and toured Bellavista (the cool neighborhood that our hostel was in with great graffitti everywhere). Adam and I shared my first emapanada - the chilean equivalent of a falafel, as my dad might say. By the time we had finished all that it was about 5:00 and I had tired Adam out. Our other Australian friend and I went to lunch, and then I headed up the finiculare to Cerro San Cristobal, a big hill right behind our hostel. At the top is a big statue of the Virgin Mary and lots of great jesus stuff to accompany it (yáll know how i love jesus...). Then we had a not-so-tearful goodbye and promised to talk on facebook.
After a long viaje to Osorno (where i slept on a luxurious semi-cama and kept waking up with a child on my lap), I arrived this morning at like 10:30. Samantha, my lovely organizer, picked me up a the bus station and dropped me off in my new home. I was smelly, sore, and extremely overwhelmed. After a nice cold shower (apparently the heat will be back tomorrow) and some breakfast I was a little more calm. Basically my homestay is going to be fabulous, but Ill write a little more later when I´m less exhausted and overwhelmed, and know more about them. My new family consists of:
Adrianna: the mother who will surely make me fat by force feeding me all the time. She insisted that her house was simple, but it was full of friendship and love. She is beyond adorable.
Eli: her 28 year old daughter who is beautiful, friendly, funny, and I hope will be my new best friend.
Sofia: Eli´s daughter who is almost 5 years old. She is also beautiful and charming and keeps calling me niña (girl) becuase Sarice is too awkward to say. I think Cereza is going to have to make a come back. Eli already started calling me that.
Victor: Better known as gordito, or little fat one, is a university student who has been living with the family for 4 years. He seems quiet and strange, but i´m sure he´ll grown on me.
El padre: i dont remember his name but hes less talkative than his wife, and extremely difficult to understand. he gave me a politics of osorno talk at lunch and i think we will be great friends.
Javier is Sofia´s father who also lives in the house, but i havent met him yet. Sergio and Camilla are portuguese and french respectively and they have been living here for 6 months i beleive. they are on vacation and i haven{t met them yet. They speak to each other in english, which sofia insists is chinese, and it sounds like their spanish is weak.
Tomorrow at 9am I start three days of training for my job (training that the whole office is doing together). Its going to be insanely overwhelming, but hopefully ill be able to follow whats going on.
Yesterday I spent the day with my Australian buddies, hanging around Santiago. Well first I played translator and bought me and then bus tickets and they were very appreciative. I was the nerd of the group and the only one that cared about seeing historical buildings, or any sights at all. I dragged two of them with me on our educational tour, but one got bored after my first lecture. Adam toughed it out with me as we saw the Palacio de la Moneda (the place where Salvadore Allende died and Pinochet bombed on Sept 11th 1973), a minature and extremely lame version of Palacio de la Alambra (a palace built in Granada that the three of us happened to have all seen in Spain), the Plaza de las Armas (sort of a city center), el Mercado Central (a market where we bought cheap, delicious cherries), and toured Bellavista (the cool neighborhood that our hostel was in with great graffitti everywhere). Adam and I shared my first emapanada - the chilean equivalent of a falafel, as my dad might say. By the time we had finished all that it was about 5:00 and I had tired Adam out. Our other Australian friend and I went to lunch, and then I headed up the finiculare to Cerro San Cristobal, a big hill right behind our hostel. At the top is a big statue of the Virgin Mary and lots of great jesus stuff to accompany it (yáll know how i love jesus...). Then we had a not-so-tearful goodbye and promised to talk on facebook.
After a long viaje to Osorno (where i slept on a luxurious semi-cama and kept waking up with a child on my lap), I arrived this morning at like 10:30. Samantha, my lovely organizer, picked me up a the bus station and dropped me off in my new home. I was smelly, sore, and extremely overwhelmed. After a nice cold shower (apparently the heat will be back tomorrow) and some breakfast I was a little more calm. Basically my homestay is going to be fabulous, but Ill write a little more later when I´m less exhausted and overwhelmed, and know more about them. My new family consists of:
Adrianna: the mother who will surely make me fat by force feeding me all the time. She insisted that her house was simple, but it was full of friendship and love. She is beyond adorable.
Eli: her 28 year old daughter who is beautiful, friendly, funny, and I hope will be my new best friend.
Sofia: Eli´s daughter who is almost 5 years old. She is also beautiful and charming and keeps calling me niña (girl) becuase Sarice is too awkward to say. I think Cereza is going to have to make a come back. Eli already started calling me that.
Victor: Better known as gordito, or little fat one, is a university student who has been living with the family for 4 years. He seems quiet and strange, but i´m sure he´ll grown on me.
El padre: i dont remember his name but hes less talkative than his wife, and extremely difficult to understand. he gave me a politics of osorno talk at lunch and i think we will be great friends.
Javier is Sofia´s father who also lives in the house, but i havent met him yet. Sergio and Camilla are portuguese and french respectively and they have been living here for 6 months i beleive. they are on vacation and i haven{t met them yet. They speak to each other in english, which sofia insists is chinese, and it sounds like their spanish is weak.
Tomorrow at 9am I start three days of training for my job (training that the whole office is doing together). Its going to be insanely overwhelming, but hopefully ill be able to follow whats going on.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
La Llegada!
I have arrived safetly in Santiago, Chile! Woo hoo!
So my parents bought me a beautiful new journal to write in while I'm traveling, but I had to promise it wouldn't interfere with the quality of the blog. Just so you know, I have it with me here right now so I don't forget any good details.
Anyway all of my travels went smoothly and reletively uneventfully. The thirteen hour plane ride to Buenos Aires was only half full of people and I had a whole row to myself to sleep. My four hour layover in BA was long, but I had some friends. I met my first two (we can only assume there will be many more to come ) australian travelers who were doing the normal wander around South America deal, and were on their way to Lima. Then, I ran into Deena: my lietenant governer from my high school days in key club who i just recently reconnected with at Cornell. Weird. She was visiting her brother in Santiago who has been teaching English for three months. I also spent about an hour trying to find a sandwhich without ham on it and realized I might need to reconsider my diet regulations while I am traveling. Chileans and Argentinians LOVE meat. yuck.
Well after all the traveling I was delighted to arrive to a sunny Santiago at 6pm. Turns out it would be sunny for a few more hours still. I'm definitely not in NY anymore.... The hostel I reserved has no sign on the door, but its painted purple, so I knew immidiately it was perfect. There is a roof with loung chairs, a room with free internet access, a room with a TV filled with colorful chairs, free breakfast, and a Charles Bukowski poster hanging up on the red wall behind me. Its fabulous. It was pretty quiet when I got there, but was not deterred. I needed to find some friends so I didn't wander around the city alone at night. My frist attempt was a Swiss dude named Benjamin. All the languages I could talk to him in *(french, english, spanish) were pretty weak, and he was generally pretty awkward. I decided to move on. On the roof I found an Australian dude lounging on a chair, drinking a beer, and listening to his ipod. Perfect. Turns out Ryan and I hit it off. He just graduated from Uni (as they say down under) and is taking a three month trip around the world. He has already done most of south america and a bit of europe, and chile is his last stop before coming to the US. Almost immidiately I got an invitation to a concert, and to go rock climbing the next day. As you can tell, we have similar interests. As soon as I secured my protection for the night, I went to take a shower and prepare to leave. I met Ryan's traveling partner adam, and another Auzzie they picked up, Trunc. The four of us were immidiately a gang. I offered my translating skills for their company. They were happy to comply.
We went out to a nice dinner in town after a lot of deliberation, and told traveling stories and talked about why Americans are stupid. By the end of the meal, it was as if we had been friends for years. We decided to go to the supermarket to buy beer in the cheapest form possible, and then head to the concert. We had heard through the grape vine that there was a show, and Trunc saw a stage being set up at the Plaza del Armas. When we got to the plaza, we quickly realized there was no concert, but we found other entertainment. There was a crowd of people gathered a round a grungy looking chilean telling jokes. As soon as we arrived, we became the butt of every joke. He told a serious of " gringos are idiots" jokes that I desperately tried to translate for my friends. The crowd laughed the hardest when I was unable to translate a word or phrase. Finally he ended the show by dragging my friends into the center of the circle and telling a joke "in english" that still required a bit of translating. He kept asking the crowd for money, but am pretty sure he owed us a piece: we made all the jokes funny.
Well after all that excitement, my friends and I decided to return home to our hostel (a short walk from where we were). Two blocks from our hostel, we stopped at a busy outdoor bar to listen to a guy play the drums. As we stopped, I caught a young, friendly chilean man trying to talk to Adam. I quickly intervened and introduced myself as traductora. He explained that we shouldn't be drinking beer on the street, it was illegal (something that Ryan had promised us it certainly wasn't). Explained that if you had a chair, it became perfectly legal, and invited us to sit down. Well we sat down for about 2 hours as I practiced my new translating skills. The young couple had three children who they had left behind with the woman's mother to go out drinking on a monday night. They were both very generous and friendly and happy to tell us how Chile had the best beer, best wine, best agriculture, and most beautiful women in all the world. By the end of the night we exchanged phone numbers and email addresses. Next time I'm in town, I'll certainly call them.
Today, I am going to take a trip to the embassy, a trip to the bus station, and take the finiculare (spelling?) up the cerro, or hill, that sits behind the hostel. Tonight I'll be on a bus down to Osorno where Sam will meet me in the morning and introduce me to my homestay family and my new job.
So my parents bought me a beautiful new journal to write in while I'm traveling, but I had to promise it wouldn't interfere with the quality of the blog. Just so you know, I have it with me here right now so I don't forget any good details.
Anyway all of my travels went smoothly and reletively uneventfully. The thirteen hour plane ride to Buenos Aires was only half full of people and I had a whole row to myself to sleep. My four hour layover in BA was long, but I had some friends. I met my first two (we can only assume there will be many more to come ) australian travelers who were doing the normal wander around South America deal, and were on their way to Lima. Then, I ran into Deena: my lietenant governer from my high school days in key club who i just recently reconnected with at Cornell. Weird. She was visiting her brother in Santiago who has been teaching English for three months. I also spent about an hour trying to find a sandwhich without ham on it and realized I might need to reconsider my diet regulations while I am traveling. Chileans and Argentinians LOVE meat. yuck.
Well after all the traveling I was delighted to arrive to a sunny Santiago at 6pm. Turns out it would be sunny for a few more hours still. I'm definitely not in NY anymore.... The hostel I reserved has no sign on the door, but its painted purple, so I knew immidiately it was perfect. There is a roof with loung chairs, a room with free internet access, a room with a TV filled with colorful chairs, free breakfast, and a Charles Bukowski poster hanging up on the red wall behind me. Its fabulous. It was pretty quiet when I got there, but was not deterred. I needed to find some friends so I didn't wander around the city alone at night. My frist attempt was a Swiss dude named Benjamin. All the languages I could talk to him in *(french, english, spanish) were pretty weak, and he was generally pretty awkward. I decided to move on. On the roof I found an Australian dude lounging on a chair, drinking a beer, and listening to his ipod. Perfect. Turns out Ryan and I hit it off. He just graduated from Uni (as they say down under) and is taking a three month trip around the world. He has already done most of south america and a bit of europe, and chile is his last stop before coming to the US. Almost immidiately I got an invitation to a concert, and to go rock climbing the next day. As you can tell, we have similar interests. As soon as I secured my protection for the night, I went to take a shower and prepare to leave. I met Ryan's traveling partner adam, and another Auzzie they picked up, Trunc. The four of us were immidiately a gang. I offered my translating skills for their company. They were happy to comply.
We went out to a nice dinner in town after a lot of deliberation, and told traveling stories and talked about why Americans are stupid. By the end of the meal, it was as if we had been friends for years. We decided to go to the supermarket to buy beer in the cheapest form possible, and then head to the concert. We had heard through the grape vine that there was a show, and Trunc saw a stage being set up at the Plaza del Armas. When we got to the plaza, we quickly realized there was no concert, but we found other entertainment. There was a crowd of people gathered a round a grungy looking chilean telling jokes. As soon as we arrived, we became the butt of every joke. He told a serious of " gringos are idiots" jokes that I desperately tried to translate for my friends. The crowd laughed the hardest when I was unable to translate a word or phrase. Finally he ended the show by dragging my friends into the center of the circle and telling a joke "in english" that still required a bit of translating. He kept asking the crowd for money, but am pretty sure he owed us a piece: we made all the jokes funny.
Well after all that excitement, my friends and I decided to return home to our hostel (a short walk from where we were). Two blocks from our hostel, we stopped at a busy outdoor bar to listen to a guy play the drums. As we stopped, I caught a young, friendly chilean man trying to talk to Adam. I quickly intervened and introduced myself as traductora. He explained that we shouldn't be drinking beer on the street, it was illegal (something that Ryan had promised us it certainly wasn't). Explained that if you had a chair, it became perfectly legal, and invited us to sit down. Well we sat down for about 2 hours as I practiced my new translating skills. The young couple had three children who they had left behind with the woman's mother to go out drinking on a monday night. They were both very generous and friendly and happy to tell us how Chile had the best beer, best wine, best agriculture, and most beautiful women in all the world. By the end of the night we exchanged phone numbers and email addresses. Next time I'm in town, I'll certainly call them.
Today, I am going to take a trip to the embassy, a trip to the bus station, and take the finiculare (spelling?) up the cerro, or hill, that sits behind the hostel. Tonight I'll be on a bus down to Osorno where Sam will meet me in the morning and introduce me to my homestay family and my new job.
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