Getting used to the changes in daily life has been a series of trial-and-error episodes in which I typically end up making a fool of myself. Oh, the joys of studying abroad.
First, I am still trying to figure out the public transportation system. There are micros, which are buses; colectivos, which are group taxis; and there are good ol' fashioned taxis, which end up being my salvation when I screw up with the former two. I made it successfully to the gym and the mall today, and I felt very proud of myself. Coming back from the mall, I thought I would get off the bus in the center of town and take a colectivo to my house, but when none came, I opted for a taxi. It's not safe for a female to be out alone at night, so I was in a hurry to get back into the safety of some other form of transportation.
A couple of times, some colectivo drivers took down the route signs on their cars and just took me where I needed to go for a normal cab fare. The first time, I didn't yet know about colectivos, so I thought I was just getting into a taxi. When the driver I told me that he didn't go in that direction, I wondered what the big deal was with just turning around. I didn't say that out loud, but the guy could tell I was a confused foreigner. He took me home. The next time, just a few nights ago, a colectivo driver just offered to take me to where I needed to go, which was a hospital across town, or so I thought.
I had asked a doctor with whom I am acquainted and who is a friend of Paola dn Eduardo's to write me a prescription for a medicine my mom is having trouble refilling for me at home. I went to the hospital where he wrote me a health certificate for the university a week earlier, but he was at the public hospital that night. When I finally made it to that hospital, after having gotten off the bus too soon and walking a little while at 9 pm and praying for safety, he greeted me by saying, ''Welcome to Cambodia.'' The ER waiting room was full, and the triage units were old-fashioned at best. They're still trying to figure out the public-private healthcare system there, but at least they are trying. Maybe the U.S. will be trying is we get a change of party in the White House.
And oh yes, I am voting by absentee. Not gonna miss this election just because I'm on another continent.
Right across from the private hospital I mistakenly went to is my new gym. It is brand new, has televisions in all the cardio machines (and Frasier, The Nanny, and lots of other stuff is in English with Spanish subtitles, instead of being dubbed like La Anatomía Según Grey). Also included in the price is a personalized program based on an assessment by a trainer, kinesiologist, and nutritionist. My appointment with the trainer was okay--he's Colombian, and I understood everything he said, which is typically not the case when speaking to Chileans. My confidence in my Spanish was thus restored for a little bit. I found out what percentage of me is fat, what is lean, water, etc. He also pinched my fat in a few places with a little device that measures one's fat rolls. I felt good about my arms and back, but I was humbled when he got to my belly! How embarrassing. Thankfully, he didn't measure my backside, because that would have been uncomfortable on more than one account! My program is pretty hardcore, but it's doable, and and I am pretty sure that I will be ripped by the time I come back to the U.S. I kind of want one of those fat-pincing devices, though. That could be pretty entertaining.
martes 25 de marzo de 2008
El Puerto de Lebu
Last Saturday, the 22nd, Eduardo and Paola took me to a port town called Lebu. During the tw0-hour drive, they pointed out the eucalyptus and pine forests. Unlike other places in Chile, after harvesting the trees, they replant them in these forests. I wish I had asked to stop so I could have taken pictures.
Lebu is so beautiful. The smell of the river made me think of going to the Tennessee river in the summer. It's not exactly a good smell, but it brought back memories and a twinge of homesickness. That didn't last for long, though, once we went to the sea side of Lebu. The river and the ocean mix together at the Boca de Lebu (mouth of Lebu). We drove to a beach that had caverns called Las Cavernas de Benavides. It was fascinating to go inside the cavern and look at the ocean through the opening. The most impressive had more ocean on the other side, and as we turned a corner, I heard flute music that seemed like it was playing the soundtrack of the cavern. Once we got to the other side of the curve, I saw that there was a floutist. Very good idea. Really sets the mood.
On that side, Paola and I climbed over some rocks that had been smoothed by years of ocean waves runnign over them. We went to a place that is a real oddity: ther was a hole in one of the rock formations, and it has an opening somewhere in which waves splash in and make a really loud noise. That was pretty cool.
The ocean and all the rock formations on the shores made me think of the hardened lava on the beaches of Kona. I chastise myself for always comparing something I've seen somewhere else to what I see here. This is not Spain, Mexico, Hawaii, or the continental U.S. It's Chile. Still, aren't historians supposed to draw comparisons? I really do like it here. I cannot emphasize enough how nice the people are. That's one difference with Spain. I don't have to worry about annoyed looks or impatient old men here! I feel like I'm cheating on Spain a little, but it has only been two weeks. I stil have plenty of time to adjust.
Lebu is so beautiful. The smell of the river made me think of going to the Tennessee river in the summer. It's not exactly a good smell, but it brought back memories and a twinge of homesickness. That didn't last for long, though, once we went to the sea side of Lebu. The river and the ocean mix together at the Boca de Lebu (mouth of Lebu). We drove to a beach that had caverns called Las Cavernas de Benavides. It was fascinating to go inside the cavern and look at the ocean through the opening. The most impressive had more ocean on the other side, and as we turned a corner, I heard flute music that seemed like it was playing the soundtrack of the cavern. Once we got to the other side of the curve, I saw that there was a floutist. Very good idea. Really sets the mood.
On that side, Paola and I climbed over some rocks that had been smoothed by years of ocean waves runnign over them. We went to a place that is a real oddity: ther was a hole in one of the rock formations, and it has an opening somewhere in which waves splash in and make a really loud noise. That was pretty cool.
The ocean and all the rock formations on the shores made me think of the hardened lava on the beaches of Kona. I chastise myself for always comparing something I've seen somewhere else to what I see here. This is not Spain, Mexico, Hawaii, or the continental U.S. It's Chile. Still, aren't historians supposed to draw comparisons? I really do like it here. I cannot emphasize enough how nice the people are. That's one difference with Spain. I don't have to worry about annoyed looks or impatient old men here! I feel like I'm cheating on Spain a little, but it has only been two weeks. I stil have plenty of time to adjust.
miércoles 19 de marzo de 2008
Firsts
This week, I had my first classes and my first Rotary club meeting. Everything went really well. I'm still nervous because they haven't resolved my application/admission problems yet, and tomorrow is the last day to sign up for classes (I've been attending this week without actually being enrolled). I'm going to go harrass them at the Graduate School office tomorrow. I feel bad for not having applied when I should have, but I really was confused about the application date! Scott was there, and he knows that I followed the link in the email, and on that page it said that the last day to apply was Jan. 1. I should have opened the damned attachment, which had the correct date on it, but it had the same name as an attachment that had already been sent to me. I feel so disorganized. I hate having to explain to everyone here what happened, because it makes me regret more and more that I didn't open that attachment!
Bueno, I'm doing the best I can right now. Monday, I met with Professor Robles, who is the new director of graduate studies in the History Dept. He's very young and really helpful. He told me that the history professors at the UdeC are really conservative, and that if I tried to propose anything outside their ideology (such as calling Pinochet a dictator rather than a president), then I would not be successful nor have a happy experience. He told me which professors I should take, and one of them is Alejandra Brito, who is a good friend of UNM history prof Dr. Liz Hutchison. The other class is with an American professor (it's taught in Spanish, of course), Susan Foote.
Dra. Foote's class is about analyzing testimonies as both historical sources and literary works. We're also going to look at poetry as testimony. It's actually a literature grad course, but it is cross-listed as a history grad seminar. I participated in class when we were analyzing a poem, and I felt very proud of myself! Some of the guys in the class (there are 5 of us total) speak very fast, and it is hard to understand them. Every day, though, I understand more and have to ask for fewer repetitions. Seriously, Chilean Spanish is very close to Cuban Spanish, as if the speaker's tongue were swollen. I love it, though. It's very pretty. I imagine my experience right now is akin to someone who learned British English and went to study in Tennesse or some other Southern state!
My other class, which is with Dra. Brito, is going to be not only interesting, but also helpful for my thesis. It's called, "Gender, Power, and History." We're reading a lot of the classics on gender analysis, as well as some works about Chile. I'm really excited about it. I actually have a leg up on the other students since I took Dr. Ferguson's seminar on the history of sexuality. I have already read the basic texts (Foucault, Scott, some Butler, Laqueur, etc.), so all I need to do is refresh myself on those.
Those are the only two classes I am taking. My undergraduate house-mates can't believe it, but that's how it is in grad school in the U.S., too. Two classes (6 hours) is full time for a grad student, and rightfully so! I didn't want to take another since a) the classes are in Spanish and will therefore require more work on my part, b) I have other responsibilities with Rotary, c) These classes are probably not going to count for any degree I get, and d) I'm in freaking Chile and want to enjoy my time here rather than spend it chained to a desk.
Anyway, I also had my first Rotary club meeting and speech last night. It was at my host club, which is a young club consisting of young professionals in the thrities and forties. It's the first club in Conce to mix men and women! Diane had already given two speeches the week before, so she had her presentation down pat. I basically did what I always do, which is more or less to shoot from the hip. A better term would be "extemporaneous." That's what we learned in public speaking. I had a power point with different maps and country music and bluegrass stars and scenes from Tennessee and Kentucky. I figured I'd keep my first presentation pretty light. I'll add some stuff about the economy for the more conservative clubs. I gave a little quiz at the end, and the people who answered first got small bottles of whisky (jack, jim, and makers), a Nashville shot glass, and a mix CD of classic country and bluegrass. I don't know if I'll do any of that for my other presentations. Maybe the CD's, but no more whisky. I don't know that it would be received as well as it was at this club.
So, in sum, I'm very happy with both my classes and my Rotary stuff. Diane and I are giving another speech Tuesday at another club, and we're going out tomorrow night with some of the Rotaracters (college-level Rotary) tomorrow night. I'm feeling more and more at home every day. (And by the way, yet another student moved in last night! His name is Milton, and he's from Bolivia. What is up with these Latin-American guys with anglo names?) Anyway, for now I'll say chau chau, and que les vaya bien.
Bueno, I'm doing the best I can right now. Monday, I met with Professor Robles, who is the new director of graduate studies in the History Dept. He's very young and really helpful. He told me that the history professors at the UdeC are really conservative, and that if I tried to propose anything outside their ideology (such as calling Pinochet a dictator rather than a president), then I would not be successful nor have a happy experience. He told me which professors I should take, and one of them is Alejandra Brito, who is a good friend of UNM history prof Dr. Liz Hutchison. The other class is with an American professor (it's taught in Spanish, of course), Susan Foote.
Dra. Foote's class is about analyzing testimonies as both historical sources and literary works. We're also going to look at poetry as testimony. It's actually a literature grad course, but it is cross-listed as a history grad seminar. I participated in class when we were analyzing a poem, and I felt very proud of myself! Some of the guys in the class (there are 5 of us total) speak very fast, and it is hard to understand them. Every day, though, I understand more and have to ask for fewer repetitions. Seriously, Chilean Spanish is very close to Cuban Spanish, as if the speaker's tongue were swollen. I love it, though. It's very pretty. I imagine my experience right now is akin to someone who learned British English and went to study in Tennesse or some other Southern state!
My other class, which is with Dra. Brito, is going to be not only interesting, but also helpful for my thesis. It's called, "Gender, Power, and History." We're reading a lot of the classics on gender analysis, as well as some works about Chile. I'm really excited about it. I actually have a leg up on the other students since I took Dr. Ferguson's seminar on the history of sexuality. I have already read the basic texts (Foucault, Scott, some Butler, Laqueur, etc.), so all I need to do is refresh myself on those.
Those are the only two classes I am taking. My undergraduate house-mates can't believe it, but that's how it is in grad school in the U.S., too. Two classes (6 hours) is full time for a grad student, and rightfully so! I didn't want to take another since a) the classes are in Spanish and will therefore require more work on my part, b) I have other responsibilities with Rotary, c) These classes are probably not going to count for any degree I get, and d) I'm in freaking Chile and want to enjoy my time here rather than spend it chained to a desk.
Anyway, I also had my first Rotary club meeting and speech last night. It was at my host club, which is a young club consisting of young professionals in the thrities and forties. It's the first club in Conce to mix men and women! Diane had already given two speeches the week before, so she had her presentation down pat. I basically did what I always do, which is more or less to shoot from the hip. A better term would be "extemporaneous." That's what we learned in public speaking. I had a power point with different maps and country music and bluegrass stars and scenes from Tennessee and Kentucky. I figured I'd keep my first presentation pretty light. I'll add some stuff about the economy for the more conservative clubs. I gave a little quiz at the end, and the people who answered first got small bottles of whisky (jack, jim, and makers), a Nashville shot glass, and a mix CD of classic country and bluegrass. I don't know if I'll do any of that for my other presentations. Maybe the CD's, but no more whisky. I don't know that it would be received as well as it was at this club.
So, in sum, I'm very happy with both my classes and my Rotary stuff. Diane and I are giving another speech Tuesday at another club, and we're going out tomorrow night with some of the Rotaracters (college-level Rotary) tomorrow night. I'm feeling more and more at home every day. (And by the way, yet another student moved in last night! His name is Milton, and he's from Bolivia. What is up with these Latin-American guys with anglo names?) Anyway, for now I'll say chau chau, and que les vaya bien.
Settling In
Eduardo and Paola took me to the university and to eat at a seafood restaurant that evening. The university is so beautiful. A large clock sits in the center, and it is the main landmark of the university. As we were walking across the U, a procession of mechones (freshman) passed by. The second-year students make the mechones do crazy stuff during the first weeks of school, and then the different departments throw parties. It’s all in good fun—I don’t think they have them do some of the things that fraternities do to their new initiates.
The seafood restaurant was simple but very good. I need to work on my seafood vocabulary! I also tried two typical beers, a Guzman and an Austral with calefate, which is a fruit from the southernmost part of Chile. The latter resembled an apricot beer, and it was my favorite. I felt like I was going to explode after the restaurant. It’s a little difficult to eat such a heavy meal at 10:00 pm, but I’m sure I’ll adjust.
The next day, as we were searching for a pension, we met Diane. As it turns out, Paola is Diane’s host counselor. She is from Arizona and is studying law. She’s very sweet, has a quiet voice, and is very organized—she reminds me a lot of Tera Rica. She lives in a pension near mine, but is paying a little more. The four of us were walking to an advertised pension when an older lady approached us and told us that she, too, has a pension in a house just across the street. The house was absolutely gorgeous and very large. She was very lively and cute in her red platform shoes. She showed us the room that was available, and it reminded me a lot of a Southern room. The wallpaper was sage green with pink roses, and the carpet matched the green of the wallpaper. I would have half of the room, and she would have the rest in which to put some of her things. I would have all my meals and laundry service. For around $460 a month, especially with such a good location, we were sold on it. I moved into Tia Lucia’s pension the next day.
Before I moved in, though, I had to get some things straightened out. I am still not registered at the U, and the secretary, Lilian, said that the system wasn’t ready yet, but when it was, she would help me register. In the meantime, I can start classes. I met Dr. Valdes, who helped me so much before I came here. He wasn’t as lively as I’d imagined, but he is still very friendly and helpful. When explaining things to me, he took long pauses and looked out the window in thought. These pauses were sometimes awkwardly long! I think he is a person who is very careful with his words.
Friday morning, Paola took me to the police station to get my visa validated. She left me there for a long time, thinking it would be a while before I would be seen. One of the officers let me use the internet to look up Eduardo’s number, and we called him to get Paola’s. We got ahold of her, and she came back quickly, not realizing I had been waiting for an hour! Then, we had lunch and a cute little restaurant run by friends of Eduardo’s, and then I went to a doctor and friend of Paola’s who gave me a medical certificate of good health, which I need for my registration, even though I had had to get one for my student visa as well. We went to the pharmacy to get some calomine lotion for my mosquito bites, which are still plaguing my ankles and the backs of my knees, and then we checked out a gym next door that I plan to join tomorrow. It’s super nice, with TV’s in all the cardio machines, lots of strength-training machines, and classes that seem like they would be fun.
That afternoon, I moved into the pension. Right now, they are in the process of moving from a house down the street into this one, but things are falling into place. I ate supper at the other house. I met Carlos, a friend of la Tia who comes around to help out with things, Sadi, a young Cuban woman who has an eight-year-old son named Arturo, Pancha, and Coni. After supper, la Tia, Sadi, Carlos, Pancha, and I went to the supermarket. It reminded me a lot of a super Wal-Mart. I bought some milk, cereal, water, coke zero, and marshmallow Easter eggs to eat and some toiletries and school supplies. Tia Lucia and I slept in the new house, and the rest of the people moved in the next day, Saturday.
That day, yesterday, I met Allen and Piero, the two guys who share a room upstairs. They are very friendly, and Allen especially is very outgoing. I arranged my room, and then joined the others for almuerzo, or lunch. We had empanadas and barbecued chicken, and both were very tasty. That night, we had an asado, or barbecue, on the back patio. It was essentially a meat fest. As the meat was grilling, Carlos, a dance instructor, taught me some salsa pasos and techniques. If I have time (which is doubtful), I’d really like to take lessons from him. Later, he danced with a 15-year-old girl who had been taking lessons from him for three months, and she danced fantastically. I would love to be able to dance like that by the time I get back to the Albuquerque salsa clubs.
Last night after the asado, I went out with Allen, Piero, their friend and classmate Andrea, and another friend of theirs. We went to one of their friends’ 20th birthday party (all of them are 19 or 20, in their second year). The guy’s dad threw him the party, complete with alcohol. I love Catholic countries. In the Protestant U.S., that rarely happens.
At the party, I tried my first piscola, which is a mixture of pisco and coca-cola. It was really good. The pizza was also good—it had corn as a topping! My ability to speak Spanish increased as I drank more. I conversed mainly with Andrea and Allen. Andrea speaks English, so any time we wanted to say something that we didn’t want Allen to hear, we’d say it in English. It’s pretty obvious that Allen has a crush on Andrea. They would be really cute together. I also learned a new phrase, but I think it is an inside joke created by Allen: for people who are snobby, they are called “fucking.” He says that Andrea is “media-fucking,” since she went to a rich kids’ school but still associates with the plebs. I thought that was pretty funny. I’ll have to adopt that phrase.
Sunday, we had another asado for almuerzo. It was nice sitting on the patio, eating, and enjoying the sun. Here, it is the end of summer, like the end of August or beginning of September at home. It should be warming up for spring at home, and it will be weird when winter comes in place of my normal summer!
I am understanding Chilean Spanish a little better each day, and I’ve been here less than a week. Maybe I’ll understand 95% of it in a month. I hope so, at least! Still, the people here are fantastic, and I think I will continue to be very happy here. School starts Monday the 17th, so we’ll see how that goes!
The seafood restaurant was simple but very good. I need to work on my seafood vocabulary! I also tried two typical beers, a Guzman and an Austral with calefate, which is a fruit from the southernmost part of Chile. The latter resembled an apricot beer, and it was my favorite. I felt like I was going to explode after the restaurant. It’s a little difficult to eat such a heavy meal at 10:00 pm, but I’m sure I’ll adjust.
The next day, as we were searching for a pension, we met Diane. As it turns out, Paola is Diane’s host counselor. She is from Arizona and is studying law. She’s very sweet, has a quiet voice, and is very organized—she reminds me a lot of Tera Rica. She lives in a pension near mine, but is paying a little more. The four of us were walking to an advertised pension when an older lady approached us and told us that she, too, has a pension in a house just across the street. The house was absolutely gorgeous and very large. She was very lively and cute in her red platform shoes. She showed us the room that was available, and it reminded me a lot of a Southern room. The wallpaper was sage green with pink roses, and the carpet matched the green of the wallpaper. I would have half of the room, and she would have the rest in which to put some of her things. I would have all my meals and laundry service. For around $460 a month, especially with such a good location, we were sold on it. I moved into Tia Lucia’s pension the next day.
Before I moved in, though, I had to get some things straightened out. I am still not registered at the U, and the secretary, Lilian, said that the system wasn’t ready yet, but when it was, she would help me register. In the meantime, I can start classes. I met Dr. Valdes, who helped me so much before I came here. He wasn’t as lively as I’d imagined, but he is still very friendly and helpful. When explaining things to me, he took long pauses and looked out the window in thought. These pauses were sometimes awkwardly long! I think he is a person who is very careful with his words.
Friday morning, Paola took me to the police station to get my visa validated. She left me there for a long time, thinking it would be a while before I would be seen. One of the officers let me use the internet to look up Eduardo’s number, and we called him to get Paola’s. We got ahold of her, and she came back quickly, not realizing I had been waiting for an hour! Then, we had lunch and a cute little restaurant run by friends of Eduardo’s, and then I went to a doctor and friend of Paola’s who gave me a medical certificate of good health, which I need for my registration, even though I had had to get one for my student visa as well. We went to the pharmacy to get some calomine lotion for my mosquito bites, which are still plaguing my ankles and the backs of my knees, and then we checked out a gym next door that I plan to join tomorrow. It’s super nice, with TV’s in all the cardio machines, lots of strength-training machines, and classes that seem like they would be fun.
That afternoon, I moved into the pension. Right now, they are in the process of moving from a house down the street into this one, but things are falling into place. I ate supper at the other house. I met Carlos, a friend of la Tia who comes around to help out with things, Sadi, a young Cuban woman who has an eight-year-old son named Arturo, Pancha, and Coni. After supper, la Tia, Sadi, Carlos, Pancha, and I went to the supermarket. It reminded me a lot of a super Wal-Mart. I bought some milk, cereal, water, coke zero, and marshmallow Easter eggs to eat and some toiletries and school supplies. Tia Lucia and I slept in the new house, and the rest of the people moved in the next day, Saturday.
That day, yesterday, I met Allen and Piero, the two guys who share a room upstairs. They are very friendly, and Allen especially is very outgoing. I arranged my room, and then joined the others for almuerzo, or lunch. We had empanadas and barbecued chicken, and both were very tasty. That night, we had an asado, or barbecue, on the back patio. It was essentially a meat fest. As the meat was grilling, Carlos, a dance instructor, taught me some salsa pasos and techniques. If I have time (which is doubtful), I’d really like to take lessons from him. Later, he danced with a 15-year-old girl who had been taking lessons from him for three months, and she danced fantastically. I would love to be able to dance like that by the time I get back to the Albuquerque salsa clubs.
Last night after the asado, I went out with Allen, Piero, their friend and classmate Andrea, and another friend of theirs. We went to one of their friends’ 20th birthday party (all of them are 19 or 20, in their second year). The guy’s dad threw him the party, complete with alcohol. I love Catholic countries. In the Protestant U.S., that rarely happens.
At the party, I tried my first piscola, which is a mixture of pisco and coca-cola. It was really good. The pizza was also good—it had corn as a topping! My ability to speak Spanish increased as I drank more. I conversed mainly with Andrea and Allen. Andrea speaks English, so any time we wanted to say something that we didn’t want Allen to hear, we’d say it in English. It’s pretty obvious that Allen has a crush on Andrea. They would be really cute together. I also learned a new phrase, but I think it is an inside joke created by Allen: for people who are snobby, they are called “fucking.” He says that Andrea is “media-fucking,” since she went to a rich kids’ school but still associates with the plebs. I thought that was pretty funny. I’ll have to adopt that phrase.
Sunday, we had another asado for almuerzo. It was nice sitting on the patio, eating, and enjoying the sun. Here, it is the end of summer, like the end of August or beginning of September at home. It should be warming up for spring at home, and it will be weird when winter comes in place of my normal summer!
I am understanding Chilean Spanish a little better each day, and I’ve been here less than a week. Maybe I’ll understand 95% of it in a month. I hope so, at least! Still, the people here are fantastic, and I think I will continue to be very happy here. School starts Monday the 17th, so we’ll see how that goes!
Settling In
Eduardo and Paola took me to the university and to eat at a seafood restaurant that evening. The university is so beautiful. A large clock sits in the center, and it is the main landmark of the university. As we were walking across the U, a procession of mechones (freshman) passed by. The second-year students make the mechones do crazy stuff during the first weeks of school, and then the different departments throw parties. It’s all in good fun—I don’t think they have them do some of the things that fraternities do to their new initiates.
The seafood restaurant was simple but very good. I need to work on my seafood vocabulary! I also tried two typical beers, a Guzman and an Austral with calefate, which is a fruit from the southernmost part of Chile. The latter resembled an apricot beer, and it was my favorite. I felt like I was going to explode after the restaurant. It’s a little difficult to eat such a heavy meal at 10:00 pm, but I’m sure I’ll adjust.
The next day, as we were searching for a pension, we met Diane. As it turns out, Paola is Diane’s host counselor. She is from Arizona and is studying law. She’s very sweet, has a quiet voice, and is very organized—she reminds me a lot of Tera Rica. She lives in a pension near mine, but is paying a little more. The four of us were walking to an advertised pension when an older lady approached us and told us that she, too, has a pension in a house just across the street. The house was absolutely gorgeous and very large. She was very lively and cute in her red platform shoes. She showed us the room that was available, and it reminded me a lot of a Southern room. The wallpaper was sage green with pink roses, and the carpet matched the green of the wallpaper. I would have half of the room, and she would have the rest in which to put some of her things. I would have all my meals and laundry service. For around $460 a month, especially with such a good location, we were sold on it. I moved into Tia Lucia’s pension the next day.
Before I moved in, though, I had to get some things straightened out. I am still not registered at the U, and the secretary, Lilian, said that the system wasn’t ready yet, but when it was, she would help me register. In the meantime, I can start classes. I met Dr. Valdes, who helped me so much before I came here. He wasn’t as lively as I’d imagined, but he is still very friendly and helpful. When explaining things to me, he took long pauses and looked out the window in thought. These pauses were sometimes awkwardly long! I think he is a person who is very careful with his words.
Friday morning, Paola took me to the police station to get my visa validated. She left me there for a long time, thinking it would be a while before I would be seen. One of the officers let me use the internet to look up Eduardo’s number, and we called him to get Paola’s. We got ahold of her, and she came back quickly, not realizing I had been waiting for an hour! Then, we had lunch and a cute little restaurant run by friends of Eduardo’s, and then I went to a doctor and friend of Paola’s who gave me a medical certificate of good health, which I need for my registration, even though I had had to get one for my student visa as well. We went to the pharmacy to get some calomine lotion for my mosquito bites, which are still plaguing my ankles and the backs of my knees, and then we checked out a gym next door that I plan to join tomorrow. It’s super nice, with TV’s in all the cardio machines, lots of strength-training machines, and classes that seem like they would be fun.
That afternoon, I moved into the pension. Right now, they are in the process of moving from a house down the street into this one, but things are falling into place. I ate supper at the other house. I met Carlos, a friend of la Tia who comes around to help out with things, Sadi, a young Cuban woman who has an eight-year-old son named Arturo, Pancha, and Coni. After supper, la Tia, Sadi, Carlos, Pancha, and I went to the supermarket. It reminded me a lot of a super Wal-Mart. I bought some milk, cereal, water, coke zero, and marshmallow Easter eggs to eat and some toiletries and school supplies. Tia Lucia and I slept in the new house, and the rest of the people moved in the next day, Saturday.
That day, yesterday, I met Allen and Piero, the two guys who share a room upstairs. They are very friendly, and Allen especially is very outgoing. I arranged my room, and then joined the others for almuerzo, or lunch. We had empanadas and barbecued chicken, and both were very tasty. That night, we had an asado, or barbecue, on the back patio. It was essentially a meat fest. As the meat was grilling, Carlos, a dance instructor, taught me some salsa pasos and techniques. If I have time (which is doubtful), I’d really like to take lessons from him. Later, he danced with a 15-year-old girl who had been taking lessons from him for three months, and she danced fantastically. I would love to be able to dance like that by the time I get back to the Albuquerque salsa clubs.
Last night after the asado, I went out with Allen, Piero, their friend and classmate Andrea, and another friend of theirs. We went to one of their friends’ 20th birthday party (all of them are 19 or 20, in their second year). The guy’s dad threw him the party, complete with alcohol. I love Catholic countries. In the Protestant U.S., that rarely happens.
At the party, I tried my first piscola, which is a mixture of pisco and coca-cola. It was really good. The pizza was also good—it had corn as a topping! My ability to speak Spanish increased as I drank more. I conversed mainly with Andrea and Allen. Andrea speaks English, so any time we wanted to say something that we didn’t want Allen to hear, we’d say it in English.
Sunday, we had another asado for almuerzo. It was nice sitting on the patio, eating, and enjoying the sun. Here, it is the end of summer, like the end of August or beginning of September at home. It should be warming up for spring at home, and it will be weird when winter comes in place of my normal summer!
I am understanding Chilean Spanish a little better each day, and I’ve been here less than a week. Maybe I’ll understand 95% of it in a month. I hope so, at least! Still, the people here are fantastic, and I think I will continue to be very happy here. School starts Monday the 17th, so we’ll see how that goes!
The seafood restaurant was simple but very good. I need to work on my seafood vocabulary! I also tried two typical beers, a Guzman and an Austral with calefate, which is a fruit from the southernmost part of Chile. The latter resembled an apricot beer, and it was my favorite. I felt like I was going to explode after the restaurant. It’s a little difficult to eat such a heavy meal at 10:00 pm, but I’m sure I’ll adjust.
The next day, as we were searching for a pension, we met Diane. As it turns out, Paola is Diane’s host counselor. She is from Arizona and is studying law. She’s very sweet, has a quiet voice, and is very organized—she reminds me a lot of Tera Rica. She lives in a pension near mine, but is paying a little more. The four of us were walking to an advertised pension when an older lady approached us and told us that she, too, has a pension in a house just across the street. The house was absolutely gorgeous and very large. She was very lively and cute in her red platform shoes. She showed us the room that was available, and it reminded me a lot of a Southern room. The wallpaper was sage green with pink roses, and the carpet matched the green of the wallpaper. I would have half of the room, and she would have the rest in which to put some of her things. I would have all my meals and laundry service. For around $460 a month, especially with such a good location, we were sold on it. I moved into Tia Lucia’s pension the next day.
Before I moved in, though, I had to get some things straightened out. I am still not registered at the U, and the secretary, Lilian, said that the system wasn’t ready yet, but when it was, she would help me register. In the meantime, I can start classes. I met Dr. Valdes, who helped me so much before I came here. He wasn’t as lively as I’d imagined, but he is still very friendly and helpful. When explaining things to me, he took long pauses and looked out the window in thought. These pauses were sometimes awkwardly long! I think he is a person who is very careful with his words.
Friday morning, Paola took me to the police station to get my visa validated. She left me there for a long time, thinking it would be a while before I would be seen. One of the officers let me use the internet to look up Eduardo’s number, and we called him to get Paola’s. We got ahold of her, and she came back quickly, not realizing I had been waiting for an hour! Then, we had lunch and a cute little restaurant run by friends of Eduardo’s, and then I went to a doctor and friend of Paola’s who gave me a medical certificate of good health, which I need for my registration, even though I had had to get one for my student visa as well. We went to the pharmacy to get some calomine lotion for my mosquito bites, which are still plaguing my ankles and the backs of my knees, and then we checked out a gym next door that I plan to join tomorrow. It’s super nice, with TV’s in all the cardio machines, lots of strength-training machines, and classes that seem like they would be fun.
That afternoon, I moved into the pension. Right now, they are in the process of moving from a house down the street into this one, but things are falling into place. I ate supper at the other house. I met Carlos, a friend of la Tia who comes around to help out with things, Sadi, a young Cuban woman who has an eight-year-old son named Arturo, Pancha, and Coni. After supper, la Tia, Sadi, Carlos, Pancha, and I went to the supermarket. It reminded me a lot of a super Wal-Mart. I bought some milk, cereal, water, coke zero, and marshmallow Easter eggs to eat and some toiletries and school supplies. Tia Lucia and I slept in the new house, and the rest of the people moved in the next day, Saturday.
That day, yesterday, I met Allen and Piero, the two guys who share a room upstairs. They are very friendly, and Allen especially is very outgoing. I arranged my room, and then joined the others for almuerzo, or lunch. We had empanadas and barbecued chicken, and both were very tasty. That night, we had an asado, or barbecue, on the back patio. It was essentially a meat fest. As the meat was grilling, Carlos, a dance instructor, taught me some salsa pasos and techniques. If I have time (which is doubtful), I’d really like to take lessons from him. Later, he danced with a 15-year-old girl who had been taking lessons from him for three months, and she danced fantastically. I would love to be able to dance like that by the time I get back to the Albuquerque salsa clubs.
Last night after the asado, I went out with Allen, Piero, their friend and classmate Andrea, and another friend of theirs. We went to one of their friends’ 20th birthday party (all of them are 19 or 20, in their second year). The guy’s dad threw him the party, complete with alcohol. I love Catholic countries. In the Protestant U.S., that rarely happens.
At the party, I tried my first piscola, which is a mixture of pisco and coca-cola. It was really good. The pizza was also good—it had corn as a topping! My ability to speak Spanish increased as I drank more. I conversed mainly with Andrea and Allen. Andrea speaks English, so any time we wanted to say something that we didn’t want Allen to hear, we’d say it in English.
Sunday, we had another asado for almuerzo. It was nice sitting on the patio, eating, and enjoying the sun. Here, it is the end of summer, like the end of August or beginning of September at home. It should be warming up for spring at home, and it will be weird when winter comes in place of my normal summer!
I am understanding Chilean Spanish a little better each day, and I’ve been here less than a week. Maybe I’ll understand 95% of it in a month. I hope so, at least! Still, the people here are fantastic, and I think I will continue to be very happy here. School starts Monday the 17th, so we’ll see how that goes!
Going to Concepcion
Before I arrived in Chile, I wasn’t as excited about it as I would have liked to have been. I kept telling myself that once I arrived, I would be more excited, and this turned out to be true. While I was still in the United States, anxiety and preemptive homesickness were the principal emotions I felt. Even though I have been to Spain and Mexico, Chile would be different—different culture, different history, and a different way of speaking Spanish. I would have to become accustomed to someplace new, which is always a bit daunting. I expected these feelings of nervousness, though, because every time I have studied in a new place, I was always nervous in the beginning but happy once I got settled in. A month or two later, it was as if I had lived there my entire life. I still got homesick, but it was bearable, and I was usually so busy that the time passed quickly.
After a long, delayed flight in which I probably annoyed the middle-aged Chilean man sitting next to me, I arrived in Santiago. The airport resembled airports in the U.S. moreso that Madrid-Barajas. That was a nice surprise. The way the people spoke was not a very nice surprise. The Chilean way of speaking Spanish is beautiful, but Chileans speak very quickly, slur their words, and omit the “s” whenever possible. They also have different modismos, but so does every country and/or region. Still, Chilean Spanish is probably the most difficult to understand, next to Cuban Spanish. I feel confident that I will be able to understand almost anything after spending nine months here!
At customs, a very nice, older man helped me push my luggage to the bus transfer. I felt bad for his having to follow me around to get cash and a transfer ticket, but I accidentally tipped him extremely well. The only cash I had came from the ATM, so I didn’t have change or ones. Not knowing how much 10,000 pesos was in dollars, I tipped him this, since it was the smallest bill that I had. I tipped him around $22, as it turns out! I’m sure he was very happy.
I didn’t get to see much of Santiago, but what I did see reminded me of Florida a little. There were lots of palm trees, some of them with short trunks, which I hadn’t seen before. Instead of searching for the M bus company as Scott recommended, I just went with the first guy who said he’d get me a ticket. I was too tired to do anything else. I got on the Pullman Tur bus after having bought a sandwich and a coke zero—another pleasant surprise. I slept for the majority of the long ride from Santiago to Concepcion, adding six or so more hours to my trip that began the day before. The man sitting next to me told me where to get off the bus in Conce.
I got off the bus at the Collao station, which is the main station in Concepcion. Across from it is the municipal soccer stadium, where players in bright blue uniforms paraded around and spectators and travelers gathered on the street. I had my two huge suitacases, my rolling carry-on, and my laptop case in tow, and needless to say, it was very difficult to manage them. I don’t know what I was thinking taking three rolling suitcases, and the small one does not attach very well to its larger counterpart. I know I pack too many things sometimes, but in reality, I didn’t pack as many clothes as I have in the past. Most of the weight and the room in my suitcases came from books and shoes. I read in a guide book that in Chile they normally don’t sell women’s shoes above a U.S. size 8, so I knew I had to take shoes for all seasons and occasions. Bringing my thesis research along with books about Chile also took up some of the weight, and I had even cut the number of books to the absolute basics that I would need. I think I will end up mailing a lot of stuff back before I leave, because surely I will have accumulated more things during my nine months here.
I tried to call the numbers that my host counselor Eduardo had given me, but the calls would not go through for some reason. I ended up taking a taxi to his house in San Pedro, and I regret that he paid for it, because it probably cost a lot. I stayed with Eduardo and Paola for a couple of days before moving into my pension, and I had a great time with them. Eduardo is 34 and Paola 31, so they don’t’ fit the typical profile for Rotarians. Their club consists mainly of young professionals like them, so I’m excited to meet them. My first talk is at their meeting this Tuesday night.
After a long, delayed flight in which I probably annoyed the middle-aged Chilean man sitting next to me, I arrived in Santiago. The airport resembled airports in the U.S. moreso that Madrid-Barajas. That was a nice surprise. The way the people spoke was not a very nice surprise. The Chilean way of speaking Spanish is beautiful, but Chileans speak very quickly, slur their words, and omit the “s” whenever possible. They also have different modismos, but so does every country and/or region. Still, Chilean Spanish is probably the most difficult to understand, next to Cuban Spanish. I feel confident that I will be able to understand almost anything after spending nine months here!
At customs, a very nice, older man helped me push my luggage to the bus transfer. I felt bad for his having to follow me around to get cash and a transfer ticket, but I accidentally tipped him extremely well. The only cash I had came from the ATM, so I didn’t have change or ones. Not knowing how much 10,000 pesos was in dollars, I tipped him this, since it was the smallest bill that I had. I tipped him around $22, as it turns out! I’m sure he was very happy.
I didn’t get to see much of Santiago, but what I did see reminded me of Florida a little. There were lots of palm trees, some of them with short trunks, which I hadn’t seen before. Instead of searching for the M bus company as Scott recommended, I just went with the first guy who said he’d get me a ticket. I was too tired to do anything else. I got on the Pullman Tur bus after having bought a sandwich and a coke zero—another pleasant surprise. I slept for the majority of the long ride from Santiago to Concepcion, adding six or so more hours to my trip that began the day before. The man sitting next to me told me where to get off the bus in Conce.
I got off the bus at the Collao station, which is the main station in Concepcion. Across from it is the municipal soccer stadium, where players in bright blue uniforms paraded around and spectators and travelers gathered on the street. I had my two huge suitacases, my rolling carry-on, and my laptop case in tow, and needless to say, it was very difficult to manage them. I don’t know what I was thinking taking three rolling suitcases, and the small one does not attach very well to its larger counterpart. I know I pack too many things sometimes, but in reality, I didn’t pack as many clothes as I have in the past. Most of the weight and the room in my suitcases came from books and shoes. I read in a guide book that in Chile they normally don’t sell women’s shoes above a U.S. size 8, so I knew I had to take shoes for all seasons and occasions. Bringing my thesis research along with books about Chile also took up some of the weight, and I had even cut the number of books to the absolute basics that I would need. I think I will end up mailing a lot of stuff back before I leave, because surely I will have accumulated more things during my nine months here.
I tried to call the numbers that my host counselor Eduardo had given me, but the calls would not go through for some reason. I ended up taking a taxi to his house in San Pedro, and I regret that he paid for it, because it probably cost a lot. I stayed with Eduardo and Paola for a couple of days before moving into my pension, and I had a great time with them. Eduardo is 34 and Paola 31, so they don’t’ fit the typical profile for Rotarians. Their club consists mainly of young professionals like them, so I’m excited to meet them. My first talk is at their meeting this Tuesday night.
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