"Pucha" in Chile means "darn." It is such a tame word, you can say it in front of your grandma, as our program director told us. I remember the first time I realized the brilliance of this word. It was the day a handful of us gringos visited the house of Pablo Neruda in Santiago and were trying to walk to the Providencia neighborhood to buy some clothes. We were walking along this sidewalk and it just ended on the side of a busy four-lane highway. In our American impatience we waited to cross the road, and at the last minute before we charged across we realized the two far lanes were moving in the opposite direction and we had to wait for another two minutes before making a run for it. At the moment of our realization, Tall Andrew said, "Pucha!" and Megan turned to me and said, "This is definitely a pucha moment."
My week has been filled with "pucha moments." Nothing to get too upset about, almost nothing worth an expletive, but definitely moments of frustration for me. First of all, I felt like my Spanish had been coming along pretty well, but this weekend, I hit some sort of wall. I spoke very little, and understood far less than I have been in most conversations. I realized that everyone has just been asking me the same questions over and over again, and that I have gotten really good at answering those questions, but if the conversation goes beyond the limits of my small vocabulary, I am immediately lost. I was most frustrated by this fact on Saturday, when Lito, his wife Marisa, their daughter Catalina, and Marisa's brother Pablo (veeery handsome!) came over for onces. They were all talking so fast and at the same time, and I had no idea what was being said. I would have been really cranky about it, except that Marisa took pity on me and would occasionally lean over and sum it all up using simple vocabulary. Pucha!
Second, this was supposed to be the week I started working with my classes, but due to circumstances beyond my control, I still have not been able to be alone with my students. Namely, my coteacher decided to give an exam this week, which took up more time than expected. Now she's away at training for the rest of the week, and we didn't work out the details of dividing the class before she left because all the arrangements were made last minute. In any case, I am a dejected teacher with no class to teach. I did get to work with a handful of students in a workshop yesterday. They are working on understanding a page out of these little books their teacher has given them. The pieces are about things like the history of music or science. I helped the girls understand the pieces by going word by word, helping them look up unknown terms, and acting things out so they understood the main idea. (Please note, I look quite foolish acting out ballet, a violin concert, and drawing pictures of a harp, but I hope in the end it makes my students more comfortable learning English and feeling foolish themselves.) I have been infinitely frustrated with my relationship with my coteacher, and for whatever reason, I find it difficult to work with her and get things done. To be fair, though, she can be very kind and generous to me in moments when I least expect it, and she is pretty overworked, so I can understand why there is so little time to plan. In general, Chilean teachers are not paid well and most put in 45 hours of teaching per week, not including planning time, which creates a state of madness and struggle for some, I think including my coteacher. However, sometimes I get the feeling that since I don't work the same hours, some of the teachers feel I don't really work that hard. Also, if I stick around in the teacher's lounge too long, they are always coming up to me with creative ways for me to use my "extra" time. Everyone wants me to take a class for them, and I feel like an asshole saying no, but I am also really clear about the fact that I am a volunteer, and am not getting paid in the same way they are. But still, I have to be really protective of my time! Another teacher came up and asked me if I would sing the Star Spangled Banner at an assembly, with him acompanying me on the piano. He seemed unruffled by my explanation that I don't sing well, as he kept saying, "It's not important!" over and over. Umm, sir, I think it will be important if I make an ass of myself butchering my country's national anthem in front of an auditorium of high school girls! Pucha!
It is starting to feel like fall in Chillan. The leaves are starting to change color and fall. The mornings are overcast, although it usually burns off by afternoon. However, it is freezing in the Liceo! My hands are icy if I am online for too long. Pucha!
My major pucha moment of the weekend concerns my cellular telephone. It likes to cut out in the middle of phone calls from home. In addition, I had a little episode on Sunday when my dad, and as I later discovered, my mom were both trying to call me. I would answer and only hear dead air. My temper flared up, and I seriously had to talk myself out of hurling my piece of crap cell phone at the wall. I shed a few angry tears (my first in Chile!) and finally my dad was able to get through. There is nothing like the feeling of knowing home is calling and not being able to talk. Seriously, I live for those calls. Pucha! (Actually, this was the one time "pucha" didn't quite cut it.)
I can tell Chile is starting to get to me in general, because I am pissy sometimes, and in general, the moodiness I am famous for in my family has returned. I try to shelter the people here from it as much as possible. I have found an area to jog. It's pretty cute, actually. Two streets near my house form an "L" and in the middle, there is a median that is landscaped into a park-like area. The pathway is sandy, too, which is much better for my joints, and presents far less possibilities for me to fall on my face in front of traffic as I run over the uneven concrete of the sidewalks. Also, I have been reading a lot, and btw, if anyone is interested in reading an interesting book, I would recommend The House of the Spirits by Isabel Allende. Incidentally, she is the neice of Salvador Allende, a fact not lost on me as I read the book. Read it read it!
It is almost the weekend, and there is some big birthday festivities at my house on Saturday for my host brother Reuben, who is coming down from Santiago with his girlfriend and her kid to celebrate. My cousins and other brothers are all coming over, and I am kind of exited to see what a birthday celebration is like in Chile. Hopefully, the remainder of the pucha moments will be banished by food, music, and if I am lucky, some Spanish conversations I can actually understand!
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Weekend Update
So, about the beach. I was pretty pleased with myself, because I was able to buy a bus ticket to Santiago, ride the entire five hours, take two subway lines across Santiago, and locate the house of my cousin´s family successfully all by myself in Spanish. It´s kind of a cool feeling when a small accomplishment feels really big. I feel like my scale here is much smaller. I feel really good when I can order ice cream and understand what is said to me, or get all my errands done in under two hours, or have a conversation with my host brother. Conversely, when things go poorly, and you have to abandon a story because your meaning isn´t clear, or you confuse what someone is talking about and make an ass of yourself, it can be devastating.
Anyway, it was pretty great to see my family in such an exciting setting as Chile. My Uncle Paul pointed out the irony that we have to go all the way to Chile to see each other, when we only live one state apart in the U.S. Daniela´s family was so lovely and kind and welcoming, and as always, it was cool to spend more time with Andrew and Daniela and get to know them better. Their daughter Stella is so precious! I had so much fun playing with her on the beach. My first couple of weeks in Chile, I kept getting struck by the magnitude of doing entirely normal things in an entirely different place. Ex: "Oh my god, I can´t believe I am eating dinner...in Chile!" or "Oh my god, I can´t believe I am going dancing...in Chile!" This feeling returned to me as I waded in the Pacific: "Oh my god, I can´t believe I am standing in the Pacific Ocean...in Chile!" I was grinning from ear to ear, partly because I absolutely love the ocean, and partly because, even a month into this adventure, I still can´t believe it is really happening to me. Stella kept wanting me to pick her up and wade into the ocean, and then race back to shallow water before the waves got us. This was a really fun game until Daniela joined us on the beach. Stella and I turned to wave to mommy, and I got hit but a huge wave that soaked me up to the crotch. The walk home was not pleasant.
I love looking at the night sky in Chile. At both the beach and in Chillan, the sky is beautiful when it is clear, and relatively free of light pollution, so you can see so much. Some of the constellations are different down here; for example, you can still see Orion, but you can also see the Southern Cross, which Uncle Paul pointed out to me and that I have never seen before. In a couple weekends, I am going north again to the city of La Serena, where nearby they have an astronomical observatory that I hope to visit.
I was really excited that through the family I was able to visit Valparaiso and Vina del Mar for a day. Both the cities were beautiful and interesting in entirely different ways. I hope to go back there and spend an extended amount of time. Valpo is kind of dirty and bohemian, with brightly colored buildings and houses tucked into the steep hills. We didn´t spend much time there, but we did go up in the ascensor to admire the vistas of the water and the cities. Vina is much cleaner and a bit more upper class in some ways, where there are beautiful beaches with parks and condos littering the shore. I got to eat a ton of seafood with my family at a restaurant in Vina, and discovered the richness of Chilean sea bass, which I would highly recommend to anyone. From the window of our restaurant on the beach, we could see sea lions swimming around the dock, scavenging from the fishermen above on the dock. It was really nice to visit with insiders who could take us to all the special spots. Daniela´s dad Samuel was the sweetest tour guide, making all sorts of little stops so Uncle Paul and I could get a taste of the cities. I hope to go back with my friends or my mom!
Sunday was one giant test of my patience. I was pretty much done with the seven hours of buses back to Chillan before I even boarded. My frist bus, from the beach to Santiago, was fine, until we entered Santiago. I was trying to confirm with the bus driver that he would be stopping at the Alameda, and he said something grudingly to me that I couldn´t understand. I was momentarily panicked, but some people sitting across from me told me they were going to the same stop, and assured me we would get there. Those kind of little moments of kindness mean infinitely more when you are traveling by yourself, nervous and tired. I could have leaped across the aisle into the lady´s lap, but I restrained myself. On the second bus, there was a screaming child in front of me that I thought seriously about strangling. Also, my dad calls me every Sunday, and especially this Sunday I was almost desperate to talk to him, so for an hour and a half on the bus I was clutching my cell phone so I could be sure to not miss his call. When he did call, however, I couldn´t hear him very well because of the din on the bus, and there are no words to describe my disappointment. Contact with home is at times my motivation, the one thing I look forward to above everything else that I am doing. Cell phones and email make it so much easier, but when my phone cuts out on Beth or mom, or I can´t hear Dad because of the noise on the bus, it is devastating.
This week has been another test of my patience. I spent the week observing my coteacher´s classes, and I feel really ready to have my own classroom. I have come to dread Tuesdays, in which we have teachers meetings until very late. In the English deparment meetings, the teachers speak in Spanish and some outright ignore me, but for some unknown reason, I am still required to be there. It feels like a monumental waste of time. I am trying to look at it as a chance to practice listening to and understanding Spanish, but at the end of the day, I just want to get the hell out of there! Some of the little quirks of beauracracy in Chile have started to irritate me, such as the meetings, or even just a general feeling I get of people watching over me and treating me like a child in the work setting. They will call me five times to make sure I bring an important number, but not tell me for a week that I am expected to sign in or out whenver I arrive or leave the Liceo.
However, after spending the week getting to know some of the students, I really feel like I made the right choice in coming here and that I am needed and appreciated. The different cultures of the different classes are so interesting. My two senior classes are utterly devoid of excitement about learning English, and could mostly care less about me and my class. However, some of the younger classes are so darling and eager! One of my sophomore classes is really excited, and some of them crowd around me whenever they can and ask me all sorts of questions: personal questions, some questions I find very strange, like do I know any famous people in America (apparently it seems like America is just teeming with famous people and you are likely to run into one on the streets of Seattle), and then they all want me to help them translate names of groups and song titles. This takes some improvization, like when I was trying to explain what "slipknot" means. After several attempts and the aid of my electronic translator, I think I got through to the girl. The one freshman class I have is so precious. I went to class on Thursday in a generally irritable and uninspired mood, to find that the class had prepared a surprise welcome party for me (independent of their teacher)! They had prepared a modest yet stunning spread of pop, chips, and cookies and had decorated the board with balloons, drawings, and the words "Welcome Miss Tiffany." One girl made me a beautiful sprig of flowers out of beads. I was so stunned and touched by the display, I welled up a bit. It is an amazing thing to feel so welcomed by a group of girls that have no idea who you are. It meant all that much more to me since I have almost no one here that I feel close to, while everyone I love is so far away. Also, it was a good moment for an attitude adjustment and a reminder that no matter how cranky I get, I can never allow myself to let my students down and must be prepared to do my best every day to teach them.
Anyway, it was pretty great to see my family in such an exciting setting as Chile. My Uncle Paul pointed out the irony that we have to go all the way to Chile to see each other, when we only live one state apart in the U.S. Daniela´s family was so lovely and kind and welcoming, and as always, it was cool to spend more time with Andrew and Daniela and get to know them better. Their daughter Stella is so precious! I had so much fun playing with her on the beach. My first couple of weeks in Chile, I kept getting struck by the magnitude of doing entirely normal things in an entirely different place. Ex: "Oh my god, I can´t believe I am eating dinner...in Chile!" or "Oh my god, I can´t believe I am going dancing...in Chile!" This feeling returned to me as I waded in the Pacific: "Oh my god, I can´t believe I am standing in the Pacific Ocean...in Chile!" I was grinning from ear to ear, partly because I absolutely love the ocean, and partly because, even a month into this adventure, I still can´t believe it is really happening to me. Stella kept wanting me to pick her up and wade into the ocean, and then race back to shallow water before the waves got us. This was a really fun game until Daniela joined us on the beach. Stella and I turned to wave to mommy, and I got hit but a huge wave that soaked me up to the crotch. The walk home was not pleasant.
I love looking at the night sky in Chile. At both the beach and in Chillan, the sky is beautiful when it is clear, and relatively free of light pollution, so you can see so much. Some of the constellations are different down here; for example, you can still see Orion, but you can also see the Southern Cross, which Uncle Paul pointed out to me and that I have never seen before. In a couple weekends, I am going north again to the city of La Serena, where nearby they have an astronomical observatory that I hope to visit.
I was really excited that through the family I was able to visit Valparaiso and Vina del Mar for a day. Both the cities were beautiful and interesting in entirely different ways. I hope to go back there and spend an extended amount of time. Valpo is kind of dirty and bohemian, with brightly colored buildings and houses tucked into the steep hills. We didn´t spend much time there, but we did go up in the ascensor to admire the vistas of the water and the cities. Vina is much cleaner and a bit more upper class in some ways, where there are beautiful beaches with parks and condos littering the shore. I got to eat a ton of seafood with my family at a restaurant in Vina, and discovered the richness of Chilean sea bass, which I would highly recommend to anyone. From the window of our restaurant on the beach, we could see sea lions swimming around the dock, scavenging from the fishermen above on the dock. It was really nice to visit with insiders who could take us to all the special spots. Daniela´s dad Samuel was the sweetest tour guide, making all sorts of little stops so Uncle Paul and I could get a taste of the cities. I hope to go back with my friends or my mom!
Sunday was one giant test of my patience. I was pretty much done with the seven hours of buses back to Chillan before I even boarded. My frist bus, from the beach to Santiago, was fine, until we entered Santiago. I was trying to confirm with the bus driver that he would be stopping at the Alameda, and he said something grudingly to me that I couldn´t understand. I was momentarily panicked, but some people sitting across from me told me they were going to the same stop, and assured me we would get there. Those kind of little moments of kindness mean infinitely more when you are traveling by yourself, nervous and tired. I could have leaped across the aisle into the lady´s lap, but I restrained myself. On the second bus, there was a screaming child in front of me that I thought seriously about strangling. Also, my dad calls me every Sunday, and especially this Sunday I was almost desperate to talk to him, so for an hour and a half on the bus I was clutching my cell phone so I could be sure to not miss his call. When he did call, however, I couldn´t hear him very well because of the din on the bus, and there are no words to describe my disappointment. Contact with home is at times my motivation, the one thing I look forward to above everything else that I am doing. Cell phones and email make it so much easier, but when my phone cuts out on Beth or mom, or I can´t hear Dad because of the noise on the bus, it is devastating.
This week has been another test of my patience. I spent the week observing my coteacher´s classes, and I feel really ready to have my own classroom. I have come to dread Tuesdays, in which we have teachers meetings until very late. In the English deparment meetings, the teachers speak in Spanish and some outright ignore me, but for some unknown reason, I am still required to be there. It feels like a monumental waste of time. I am trying to look at it as a chance to practice listening to and understanding Spanish, but at the end of the day, I just want to get the hell out of there! Some of the little quirks of beauracracy in Chile have started to irritate me, such as the meetings, or even just a general feeling I get of people watching over me and treating me like a child in the work setting. They will call me five times to make sure I bring an important number, but not tell me for a week that I am expected to sign in or out whenver I arrive or leave the Liceo.
However, after spending the week getting to know some of the students, I really feel like I made the right choice in coming here and that I am needed and appreciated. The different cultures of the different classes are so interesting. My two senior classes are utterly devoid of excitement about learning English, and could mostly care less about me and my class. However, some of the younger classes are so darling and eager! One of my sophomore classes is really excited, and some of them crowd around me whenever they can and ask me all sorts of questions: personal questions, some questions I find very strange, like do I know any famous people in America (apparently it seems like America is just teeming with famous people and you are likely to run into one on the streets of Seattle), and then they all want me to help them translate names of groups and song titles. This takes some improvization, like when I was trying to explain what "slipknot" means. After several attempts and the aid of my electronic translator, I think I got through to the girl. The one freshman class I have is so precious. I went to class on Thursday in a generally irritable and uninspired mood, to find that the class had prepared a surprise welcome party for me (independent of their teacher)! They had prepared a modest yet stunning spread of pop, chips, and cookies and had decorated the board with balloons, drawings, and the words "Welcome Miss Tiffany." One girl made me a beautiful sprig of flowers out of beads. I was so stunned and touched by the display, I welled up a bit. It is an amazing thing to feel so welcomed by a group of girls that have no idea who you are. It meant all that much more to me since I have almost no one here that I feel close to, while everyone I love is so far away. Also, it was a good moment for an attitude adjustment and a reminder that no matter how cranky I get, I can never allow myself to let my students down and must be prepared to do my best every day to teach them.
Monday, April 14, 2008
Vamos a la playa!
Some photos from my weekend at the beach; I will post my reflections soon, hopefully tomorrow!
My cousin´s daughter Stella, playing on the beach!
My cousin Andrew and Stella running from the waves.
Me and Stella in the wind.
Andrew and Stella at an asado at Ricardo and Pancha´s house (they are friends of Daniela and Andrew).
Uncle Paul, Ricardo, and Samuel (Daniela´s dad and an awesome tour guide!).
Cool buildings in downtown Valparaiso.
A gorgeous view of Valparaiso from the ascensor, which we went up in...it´s kind of like a wooden box on railroad tracks that goes up a steep hill. You sort of feel like you are going to die it it because it is so rickety. I managed to not take a picture of it, sorry!
More of the view, the small group of sky scrapers above the second ship from the left is where Vina del Mar starts.
Stella, Daniela and me outside our restaurant with a fake but cool shark.
Uncle Paul and me outside the restaurant, where I tasted my first Chilean sea bass (corvina), which was delicious (super rica!).
Sunset in Vina del Mar, so beautiful it almost hurt to stare at the sky.
Daniela´s parents Jimena and Samuel, who were so hospitable and gracious. I feel so lucky to know them!
My cousin´s daughter Stella, playing on the beach!
My cousin Andrew and Stella running from the waves.
Me and Stella in the wind.
Andrew and Stella at an asado at Ricardo and Pancha´s house (they are friends of Daniela and Andrew).
Uncle Paul, Ricardo, and Samuel (Daniela´s dad and an awesome tour guide!).
Cool buildings in downtown Valparaiso.
A gorgeous view of Valparaiso from the ascensor, which we went up in...it´s kind of like a wooden box on railroad tracks that goes up a steep hill. You sort of feel like you are going to die it it because it is so rickety. I managed to not take a picture of it, sorry!
More of the view, the small group of sky scrapers above the second ship from the left is where Vina del Mar starts.
Stella, Daniela and me outside our restaurant with a fake but cool shark.
Uncle Paul and me outside the restaurant, where I tasted my first Chilean sea bass (corvina), which was delicious (super rica!).
Sunset in Vina del Mar, so beautiful it almost hurt to stare at the sky.
Daniela´s parents Jimena and Samuel, who were so hospitable and gracious. I feel so lucky to know them!Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Los Gringos
These pictures are kind of low quality, I will post some better ones later. I just want to put some faces to some names! At the first hostel we stayed at, there was a sweet roof situation, and this is our last supper at our favorite place in Santiago (besides Jammin´Club). Steph and Andrew are in Chillan with me, the others are in Los Angeles, and Jason is not actually part of our program, although he practically is.
Steph, Lukas, Megan, Tall Andrew
Delaney, Jason, Andrew.
Steph, Lukas, Megan, Tall Andrew
Delaney, Jason, Andrew.Vistas of Chillan
The pedestrian street, where my favorite internet cafe and the only bar we have visited are located.
A view of the Plaza de Armas, which so far is the most beautiful place in Chillan that I know of.
Inside the Plaza de Armas.
Views of the Cathedral de Chillan from the Plaza de Armas. Supposedly every foot of the height of the cross represents a certain number of people that died in the 1939 earthquake. I do not know the exact figure.
Views of Chillan from the top floor of Liceo de Ninas.
A view of the Plaza de Armas, which so far is the most beautiful place in Chillan that I know of.
Inside the Plaza de Armas.
Views of the Cathedral de Chillan from the Plaza de Armas. Supposedly every foot of the height of the cross represents a certain number of people that died in the 1939 earthquake. I do not know the exact figure.
Views of Chillan from the top floor of Liceo de Ninas.
Liceo de Ninas
My classroom, after I spent almost three days cleaning it!
Liceo de Ninas...it is under construction right now.
Across the street from us is Liceo de Ninos, the boy´s secondary school. They hoot at the girls from their windows during our breaks.
Liceo de Ninas...it is under construction right now.
Across the street from us is Liceo de Ninos, the boy´s secondary school. They hoot at the girls from their windows during our breaks.
My house
Some views of my bedroom. It is very small, but the wood stove is right outside my door, so it will heat up fast during the winter!
Our living space, where most of my failed conversations in Spanish take place!
Our living space, where most of my failed conversations in Spanish take place!
My family
My host brother, Lito, my mama Emma, and me.
Zuni, our housekeeper, mama Emma, Felipe Esteban, Emma´s friend Elisabeth, who is grand, grand!
Welcome to Chillan
So last Thursday, after five and a half hours on a bus, we arrived in Chillan. The five of us staying here said our goodbyes to the five continuing on to Los Angeles (tear) and were then hustled off to a nearby elementary school for a welcome assembly and reception. We were photographed by the local media, and those of us that could speak Spanish were interviewed. During the assembly, we were introduced to our co-teachers and host families. They had some of the kids from the school perform traditional music and dance the cueca, which is the national dance fashioned after the flirtation between a hen and a rooster. I was enthusiastically enjoying the performance when one of the young men offered me his arm, and before I knew it I was performing the cueca in front of everyone. From what I can tell, you kind of hop around while twirling a handkerchief, which I did to the best of my ability, to varying degrees of success. They love embarassing gringos here. Andrew, the only male in our group in Chillan, was forced to perform three times, so I think he got the worst of it.
I spent the weekend settling in to my new living situation. My host mom, Emma, is very cute. She is 60 and retired from 38 years of teaching mathematics last year. She has many smile lines around her eyes, and smiles freely when talking to me about...well, I am rarely sure what she is talking to me about, but I appreciate her warmth. She is the mother of four boys--Christian lives in Virginia with his wife and two kids, Reuben lives in Santiago with his girlfriend, Lito lives in Chillan with his wife and daughter, and Felipe Esteban lives in Concepcion during the week, where he is studying to be an engineer. Felipe comes home on the weekends, so I met him on Friday. He is a darling 21 year old and smiles and laughs easily. He is very sweet, too. The gringos invited me to the circus last weekend, and I was talked into going by Andrew. Felipe walked me all the way there because he wanted to make sure I would be okay in the city at night, and he ended up staying. The circus was very bizarre...an actual circus in a tent, with animal tamers and acrobats and a 15 minute filler piece by a clown resembling Carrot Top in appearance and mannerisms.
Anyway, Felipe is a love, and I think Emma likes having a girl around to take care of. We have a housekeeper, Zuni, who is part of the family since she has worked for Emma for something like 23 years. She does the dishes, cleans the house, and apparently does my laundry, which makes me very uncomfortable. I explained to Emma that I feel awkward because I am used to taking care of myself and it feels strange to have someone waiting on me, but she told me to calm down and just enjoy resting this year. Zuni has tea with me in the morning and is very patient with me as I try to piece together in Spanish the actions of the previous day. She is always singing and humming little songs to herself, and talking to our six-month old golden retreive, Achilles. Achilles is very naughty, I think because he is a puppy and Felipe Esteban is away at school during the week so there is no one to play with him. Felipe and I played with him on Sunday, and he tried to use my shirt as a pull toy. We emerged from the wreckage covered in hair, slobber, and grime, and had to shower immediately.
My living situation is ideal. I am four blocks from downtown Chillan, which is more like a shopping center. It takes me about 15 minutes to walk through downtown to my school, which is a three story building called Liceo de Ninas, an all-girls high school. Chillan lacks tall buildings because a 1939 earthquake leveled the city and despite advances in architecture, people here seem unwilling to experiment with multistory buildings. From my third story classroom, I can see all the way to the cordilleras (mountain ranges) that surround the city. My walk to school is very pleasant, as the shop keepers are all out sweeping their walkways and setting up their merchandise. The weather has been beautiful; since Chile is in a drought, I have yet to experience the rain the South is famous for. It is just starting to get chilly at night and in the mornings.
I have had a hard time adjusting to the eating habits of my host family. For breakfast, we have desayunito, which is essentially tea and bread with different spreads like jam or dulce de leche, which resembles caramel that you put on ice cream. Lunches are huge and eaten around 2 pm with multiple courses. Yesterday, for example, we ate salad, bread, spinach soup, fish, and potatoes, and I turned down offerings of pastry and fruit for dessert. Then, around 7 or 8 pm, we eat onces, which is essentially the same as desayunito, with the added choice of a few leftovers from lunch or an extra pastry. I am already concerned about gaining weight here, since at two meals of the day, there is nothing to choose besides white bread.
Another difficultly I have had in adjusting to life in Chile is the directness with which Chileans address your personal appearance. I had been warned about this by multiple sources, but it still shocks me every time. For example, when I met my coteacher, a portly woman with a jovial spirit and a healthy appetite, I was leaning down to give her besos (a kiss to the cheek that is customary in greetings and farewells) and she says to me, "Thank god they sent me a fat one this year!" before she even uttered a hello! When I went to get my picture taken for my Chilean identity card, the women repeated over and over, "You are so white!" My family and coworkers constantly compare me to Lisa, the volunteer they had last year, and the other day at lunch there was a fifteen minute discuss of how Lisa and I are the same age, but I look so much younger, and if I were skinny I would only look about 15 years old. Of course this was the only conversation of the day I was able to understand! Chileans do not mean these sorts of remarks to be offensive and only offer it as a factual observation, which almost feels worse. I am just trying to remind myself of the cultural differences and the intentions behind the remarks, but this does not ward off the initital sting of the remarks. The fact that I am fat and white does not, unfortunately, protect me from the stares, whistles, and remarks of people on the street. I had expected, since Chileans are lighter skinned in general and I have dark hair, that being a gringa here would not be such a big deal, but people stare at me constantly and I feel exposed. I miss the anonymous feeling of being able to walk down the street without attracting attention. This will get easier with time, I hope. However, men make the most appalling remarks as I pass, even when I am walking with my 60 year old mama! Yesterday I was walking home and was assaulted by a call of, "Hey lady!" followed by a string of expletives. Somehow, this is not what I imagined my role of inspiring Chileans to speak English would look like.
The bright spot in my day is at mealtimes when I get to listen to conversations and try to participate. There is nothing like the feeling of acomplishment at finally being understood after struggling to express yourself in an unfamiliar language. Emma has many friends and family that are constantly stopping by for lunch or onces. We had a houseguest named Elisabeth over the weekend. Her and Emma both gave birth to four sons, and as their last sons reached puberty, their husbands ran off and shacked up with younger women. Divorce is very rare here, and the men are free to move on with their lives while the women are on their own. This makes Emma and Elisabeth infinitely sad, although they do their best to reclaim their lives. Elisabeth said she washes her hands of men, and Emma said she would consider a relationship, "sin sexo," or without sex. My contribution to this topic was that it seems unfair to me, because my parents are divorced and, while it sometimes makes me sad because I wish my family could all be together, my parents have found greater happiness with their new partners and have introduced amazing new people into my life. I wish I had more Spanish when we broach this topic, because many of Emma's friends dislike the way men treat women here and have much to say on the topic.
My school situation is slowly taking shape. I will be teaching several classes of freshmen, sophomores, and seniors. Some classes have chosen an English specialty in their studies, and seem very eager to learn and practice. Other girls seem dispondent or sassy, but I try to remember myself at their age and remain patient. I cannot get used to students greeting me with besos, coming from the US where we are instructed to never touch students. My coteacher is having some health problems, so I have been left to my own devices this week, which mostly means cleaning my classroom, which is huge, outdated and dusty, with collateral damage like broken windows, which I am sure I will detest come winter, cracked walls, tagging on desks. However, I have worked hard this week, dusting, scrubbing, hanging maps and arranging plants to make it an inviting place and a productive learning environment. I am excited to get started working with the students!
I was just starting to miss having people to talk to this week, especially now that I am finally being confronted with the challenge of speaking Spanish daily and being forced to use it to communicate my needs. I love my gringo friends here, but like I have expressed before, they are no replacement for friendships I have built over years. However, our friend Jason, the guy we met at our hostel in Santiago who is traveling around South America on a personal journey, randomly appeared in Chillan and we have gone out for beer with him the last two nights. I adore him more and more every time I talk to him. He is perceptive, funny, self-reflective, and so much fun--everything I look for in a good friend. Last night, he and I stayed out later than everyone else and had a two-hour heart-to-heart, which I must say has been the highlight of my week. We now know a little of each other's personal histories, which makes me feel so much more comfortable in friendships. I wish he were in our program, but I think we will somehow manage to see him with semi-frequency. Also, I hung out with Steph over the weekend, and we yapped the entire time. Again, I am so happy we are in the same town!
On the whole, Chillan feels very small and intimate. Jason thinks we are the only gringos in the city. I can see how it might feel boring here after awhile, but I think I will be very busy with my classes and family and that my time here will fly. This weekend, I am taking a bus back up north to the beach to visit my cousin Andy and his wife's family. The following weekend, Emma's son will visit us from Santiago, and I think we will have some sort of large family get-together. I met two of her nephews last weekend, and they are around my age. One of them, Nacho, just got back from four months in Alaska working on the fishing boats. He spent two weeks in Seattle on his way back to Chile, and I almost leaped into his lap with joy when he told me that! He speaks English very well, and I hope to spend more time with him.
And, one small triumph, to end on: yesterday as I was walking home, my bloodsugar got low so I stopped for an ice cream. The attendant and I had a conversation in which I knew exactly what was going on, and expressed myself appropriately. It is kind of amazing when such a small moment can feel so huge and bolster you against all the other struggles!
Oh, and I hope to post some pictures of my home, my family, and Chillan this afternoon!
I spent the weekend settling in to my new living situation. My host mom, Emma, is very cute. She is 60 and retired from 38 years of teaching mathematics last year. She has many smile lines around her eyes, and smiles freely when talking to me about...well, I am rarely sure what she is talking to me about, but I appreciate her warmth. She is the mother of four boys--Christian lives in Virginia with his wife and two kids, Reuben lives in Santiago with his girlfriend, Lito lives in Chillan with his wife and daughter, and Felipe Esteban lives in Concepcion during the week, where he is studying to be an engineer. Felipe comes home on the weekends, so I met him on Friday. He is a darling 21 year old and smiles and laughs easily. He is very sweet, too. The gringos invited me to the circus last weekend, and I was talked into going by Andrew. Felipe walked me all the way there because he wanted to make sure I would be okay in the city at night, and he ended up staying. The circus was very bizarre...an actual circus in a tent, with animal tamers and acrobats and a 15 minute filler piece by a clown resembling Carrot Top in appearance and mannerisms.
Anyway, Felipe is a love, and I think Emma likes having a girl around to take care of. We have a housekeeper, Zuni, who is part of the family since she has worked for Emma for something like 23 years. She does the dishes, cleans the house, and apparently does my laundry, which makes me very uncomfortable. I explained to Emma that I feel awkward because I am used to taking care of myself and it feels strange to have someone waiting on me, but she told me to calm down and just enjoy resting this year. Zuni has tea with me in the morning and is very patient with me as I try to piece together in Spanish the actions of the previous day. She is always singing and humming little songs to herself, and talking to our six-month old golden retreive, Achilles. Achilles is very naughty, I think because he is a puppy and Felipe Esteban is away at school during the week so there is no one to play with him. Felipe and I played with him on Sunday, and he tried to use my shirt as a pull toy. We emerged from the wreckage covered in hair, slobber, and grime, and had to shower immediately.
My living situation is ideal. I am four blocks from downtown Chillan, which is more like a shopping center. It takes me about 15 minutes to walk through downtown to my school, which is a three story building called Liceo de Ninas, an all-girls high school. Chillan lacks tall buildings because a 1939 earthquake leveled the city and despite advances in architecture, people here seem unwilling to experiment with multistory buildings. From my third story classroom, I can see all the way to the cordilleras (mountain ranges) that surround the city. My walk to school is very pleasant, as the shop keepers are all out sweeping their walkways and setting up their merchandise. The weather has been beautiful; since Chile is in a drought, I have yet to experience the rain the South is famous for. It is just starting to get chilly at night and in the mornings.
I have had a hard time adjusting to the eating habits of my host family. For breakfast, we have desayunito, which is essentially tea and bread with different spreads like jam or dulce de leche, which resembles caramel that you put on ice cream. Lunches are huge and eaten around 2 pm with multiple courses. Yesterday, for example, we ate salad, bread, spinach soup, fish, and potatoes, and I turned down offerings of pastry and fruit for dessert. Then, around 7 or 8 pm, we eat onces, which is essentially the same as desayunito, with the added choice of a few leftovers from lunch or an extra pastry. I am already concerned about gaining weight here, since at two meals of the day, there is nothing to choose besides white bread.
Another difficultly I have had in adjusting to life in Chile is the directness with which Chileans address your personal appearance. I had been warned about this by multiple sources, but it still shocks me every time. For example, when I met my coteacher, a portly woman with a jovial spirit and a healthy appetite, I was leaning down to give her besos (a kiss to the cheek that is customary in greetings and farewells) and she says to me, "Thank god they sent me a fat one this year!" before she even uttered a hello! When I went to get my picture taken for my Chilean identity card, the women repeated over and over, "You are so white!" My family and coworkers constantly compare me to Lisa, the volunteer they had last year, and the other day at lunch there was a fifteen minute discuss of how Lisa and I are the same age, but I look so much younger, and if I were skinny I would only look about 15 years old. Of course this was the only conversation of the day I was able to understand! Chileans do not mean these sorts of remarks to be offensive and only offer it as a factual observation, which almost feels worse. I am just trying to remind myself of the cultural differences and the intentions behind the remarks, but this does not ward off the initital sting of the remarks. The fact that I am fat and white does not, unfortunately, protect me from the stares, whistles, and remarks of people on the street. I had expected, since Chileans are lighter skinned in general and I have dark hair, that being a gringa here would not be such a big deal, but people stare at me constantly and I feel exposed. I miss the anonymous feeling of being able to walk down the street without attracting attention. This will get easier with time, I hope. However, men make the most appalling remarks as I pass, even when I am walking with my 60 year old mama! Yesterday I was walking home and was assaulted by a call of, "Hey lady!" followed by a string of expletives. Somehow, this is not what I imagined my role of inspiring Chileans to speak English would look like.
The bright spot in my day is at mealtimes when I get to listen to conversations and try to participate. There is nothing like the feeling of acomplishment at finally being understood after struggling to express yourself in an unfamiliar language. Emma has many friends and family that are constantly stopping by for lunch or onces. We had a houseguest named Elisabeth over the weekend. Her and Emma both gave birth to four sons, and as their last sons reached puberty, their husbands ran off and shacked up with younger women. Divorce is very rare here, and the men are free to move on with their lives while the women are on their own. This makes Emma and Elisabeth infinitely sad, although they do their best to reclaim their lives. Elisabeth said she washes her hands of men, and Emma said she would consider a relationship, "sin sexo," or without sex. My contribution to this topic was that it seems unfair to me, because my parents are divorced and, while it sometimes makes me sad because I wish my family could all be together, my parents have found greater happiness with their new partners and have introduced amazing new people into my life. I wish I had more Spanish when we broach this topic, because many of Emma's friends dislike the way men treat women here and have much to say on the topic.
My school situation is slowly taking shape. I will be teaching several classes of freshmen, sophomores, and seniors. Some classes have chosen an English specialty in their studies, and seem very eager to learn and practice. Other girls seem dispondent or sassy, but I try to remember myself at their age and remain patient. I cannot get used to students greeting me with besos, coming from the US where we are instructed to never touch students. My coteacher is having some health problems, so I have been left to my own devices this week, which mostly means cleaning my classroom, which is huge, outdated and dusty, with collateral damage like broken windows, which I am sure I will detest come winter, cracked walls, tagging on desks. However, I have worked hard this week, dusting, scrubbing, hanging maps and arranging plants to make it an inviting place and a productive learning environment. I am excited to get started working with the students!
I was just starting to miss having people to talk to this week, especially now that I am finally being confronted with the challenge of speaking Spanish daily and being forced to use it to communicate my needs. I love my gringo friends here, but like I have expressed before, they are no replacement for friendships I have built over years. However, our friend Jason, the guy we met at our hostel in Santiago who is traveling around South America on a personal journey, randomly appeared in Chillan and we have gone out for beer with him the last two nights. I adore him more and more every time I talk to him. He is perceptive, funny, self-reflective, and so much fun--everything I look for in a good friend. Last night, he and I stayed out later than everyone else and had a two-hour heart-to-heart, which I must say has been the highlight of my week. We now know a little of each other's personal histories, which makes me feel so much more comfortable in friendships. I wish he were in our program, but I think we will somehow manage to see him with semi-frequency. Also, I hung out with Steph over the weekend, and we yapped the entire time. Again, I am so happy we are in the same town!
On the whole, Chillan feels very small and intimate. Jason thinks we are the only gringos in the city. I can see how it might feel boring here after awhile, but I think I will be very busy with my classes and family and that my time here will fly. This weekend, I am taking a bus back up north to the beach to visit my cousin Andy and his wife's family. The following weekend, Emma's son will visit us from Santiago, and I think we will have some sort of large family get-together. I met two of her nephews last weekend, and they are around my age. One of them, Nacho, just got back from four months in Alaska working on the fishing boats. He spent two weeks in Seattle on his way back to Chile, and I almost leaped into his lap with joy when he told me that! He speaks English very well, and I hope to spend more time with him.
And, one small triumph, to end on: yesterday as I was walking home, my bloodsugar got low so I stopped for an ice cream. The attendant and I had a conversation in which I knew exactly what was going on, and expressed myself appropriately. It is kind of amazing when such a small moment can feel so huge and bolster you against all the other struggles!
Oh, and I hope to post some pictures of my home, my family, and Chillan this afternoon!
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Random musings (title borrowed from Beth)
Sorry for my infrequent posting. Chile is freaking exhausting! We are in trainings all day, and even with breaks, by the end I am fried and in no mood to reflect on the daily tripe. Also, the last class of the day is nearly two hours of Spanish class...the other day we debated euthanasia in Spanish! I never thought I would be able to do something like that--and in truth, I can´t really, although I tried.
There have been some bright spots in my communication, however. Like on Saturday night. I came out of a club, ¨Blondie,¨at about 4 a.m. by myself and tried to catch a cab to my hostel. The cabbie obviously knew I was a foreigner and was trying to rip me off by charging me 4 mil for a taxi home, when my hostel was right around the corner. I told him it was too expensive and walked a block and hailed a different taxi. The driver was SO NICE! We chatted all the way home in Spanish, and he told me my Spanish was very good. I even understood some complex questions, like ¨How does your family feel about you leaving?¨I was pretty proud of myself!
Unfortunately, I came home from the club and threw up the entire contents of my stomach. The culprit, I have come to believe, was a (delicious) empanada I had consumed from street vendor earlier that day after a visit to Pablo Neruda´s house in BellaVista. Sidebar: Neruda´s house was really cool. It´s amazing to think of the life he led, the company he kept. There was this amazing painting of his mistress done by Diego Rivera. In the painting, she had two heads because she was his mistress from years and thus led two lives. In her hair, Rivera painted the profile of Neruda. Very cool.
So yes, I spent Sunday in bed, recovering, being pissed that I was stuck inside on a bright Sunday, my last free day in Santiago. So it goes.
Last Thursday we visited schools and English classes in small groups. I went with this kid in my program who is something like 6´5¨, which was amazing. The kids were fascinated, by him and all of us in general. We were waiting outside the classroom and they were released on a break, and they came out and just stopped right in front of us. Pretty soon they swarmed and a huge crowd gathered. When we observed the second grade class, this little girl came up to me and said, ¨Me llamo Malen. Tengo seven years.¨You could tell she was really working on thinking about how to speak to me in English, and she sort of got fidgety and looked at her shoes and started babbling in Spanish. It was an amazing encounter. The kids practiced saying ¨hello¨and ¨bye bye¨to us, which was precious, and I taught this one boy what the word ¨draw¨means by demonstrating. They had so much energy! It was a cool experience, and made me really excited to get to my placement and start teaching.
This morning in class we did a training about how to coach debate teams, which is one of our responsibilities here. I´m pretty excited about that, too! It seems like I´m going to have so much to do this year, so many responsibilities, and I am ready to meet them. I feel very well prepared by the training I received when I first arrived, and I just want to get to Chillan and get started. Santiago is an incredible city and I am sad to leave it, especially the friends I have made here. I have been very impressed with the Chilean people. Everyone is very helpful and wants to take you around, show you things to do. I have been invited to dinner, shopping, clubs, by people that barely knew me! I would never do that for a foreigner! So far, it is amazing being an American here.
However, there are moments of loneliness. I got two emails yesterday that really made me miss home, and just the feeling of history I have with my friends and family there. I was pensive all day yesterday, feeling like no one here will ever be close to me or understand me fundamentally. I am trying to be patient and understanding that friendships take time. This girl in my program, Steph, is prettymuch on the same page as me in a lot of ways, and I think we will grow to be great pals. She´s going to Chillan too, so I´m glad I will have someone to lean on there that I feel tight with.
If anyone is interested in Chilean cinema, you must see the film Machuca. We watched it for my Spanish class, and it was beautiful. It shows the tensions of the 1973 coup through the friendship of two boys. Netflix it, immediately!
On Thursday I take a six hour bus ride to Chillan and meet my host family! I´m ready to be settled and find a routine. It´s time to say goodbye to Santiago.
There have been some bright spots in my communication, however. Like on Saturday night. I came out of a club, ¨Blondie,¨at about 4 a.m. by myself and tried to catch a cab to my hostel. The cabbie obviously knew I was a foreigner and was trying to rip me off by charging me 4 mil for a taxi home, when my hostel was right around the corner. I told him it was too expensive and walked a block and hailed a different taxi. The driver was SO NICE! We chatted all the way home in Spanish, and he told me my Spanish was very good. I even understood some complex questions, like ¨How does your family feel about you leaving?¨I was pretty proud of myself!
Unfortunately, I came home from the club and threw up the entire contents of my stomach. The culprit, I have come to believe, was a (delicious) empanada I had consumed from street vendor earlier that day after a visit to Pablo Neruda´s house in BellaVista. Sidebar: Neruda´s house was really cool. It´s amazing to think of the life he led, the company he kept. There was this amazing painting of his mistress done by Diego Rivera. In the painting, she had two heads because she was his mistress from years and thus led two lives. In her hair, Rivera painted the profile of Neruda. Very cool.
So yes, I spent Sunday in bed, recovering, being pissed that I was stuck inside on a bright Sunday, my last free day in Santiago. So it goes.
Last Thursday we visited schools and English classes in small groups. I went with this kid in my program who is something like 6´5¨, which was amazing. The kids were fascinated, by him and all of us in general. We were waiting outside the classroom and they were released on a break, and they came out and just stopped right in front of us. Pretty soon they swarmed and a huge crowd gathered. When we observed the second grade class, this little girl came up to me and said, ¨Me llamo Malen. Tengo seven years.¨You could tell she was really working on thinking about how to speak to me in English, and she sort of got fidgety and looked at her shoes and started babbling in Spanish. It was an amazing encounter. The kids practiced saying ¨hello¨and ¨bye bye¨to us, which was precious, and I taught this one boy what the word ¨draw¨means by demonstrating. They had so much energy! It was a cool experience, and made me really excited to get to my placement and start teaching.
This morning in class we did a training about how to coach debate teams, which is one of our responsibilities here. I´m pretty excited about that, too! It seems like I´m going to have so much to do this year, so many responsibilities, and I am ready to meet them. I feel very well prepared by the training I received when I first arrived, and I just want to get to Chillan and get started. Santiago is an incredible city and I am sad to leave it, especially the friends I have made here. I have been very impressed with the Chilean people. Everyone is very helpful and wants to take you around, show you things to do. I have been invited to dinner, shopping, clubs, by people that barely knew me! I would never do that for a foreigner! So far, it is amazing being an American here.
However, there are moments of loneliness. I got two emails yesterday that really made me miss home, and just the feeling of history I have with my friends and family there. I was pensive all day yesterday, feeling like no one here will ever be close to me or understand me fundamentally. I am trying to be patient and understanding that friendships take time. This girl in my program, Steph, is prettymuch on the same page as me in a lot of ways, and I think we will grow to be great pals. She´s going to Chillan too, so I´m glad I will have someone to lean on there that I feel tight with.
If anyone is interested in Chilean cinema, you must see the film Machuca. We watched it for my Spanish class, and it was beautiful. It shows the tensions of the 1973 coup through the friendship of two boys. Netflix it, immediately!
On Thursday I take a six hour bus ride to Chillan and meet my host family! I´m ready to be settled and find a routine. It´s time to say goodbye to Santiago.
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