To get to the airport to go home I have to take a bus to Santiago and then take another bus from the bus terminal in Santiago to the airport. I bought my bus ticket to Santiago today. I leave at one o'clock on Friday.
It was a strange feeling, buying that ticket. I've known for months that I would quit the country on the fourth of December. I've known my flight is at 11:40 at night. But I haven't felt like I was leaving until I bought my bus ticket. As I walked away from the bus station it sank in: I'm going home on Friday, December 4th. I wasn't expecting the feeling to wash over me so suddenly.
Things I have not done in three months:
Drank Mt. Dew or Pabst
Watched football
Eaten at La Rockita (formerly La Roca)
Seen or acted in a play
Texted unlimitedly
Driven a car
Heard the voices of my family and friends
Understood everything that a stranger said
Pet a cat
Washed my own clothes
Had a job
Gone to church
Spoken one language for a whole day
There are many more things in Corvallis that I have missed. The interesting thing about all of those is that I managed to live without them. What a powerful idea: I can take my life, turn it inside out, and be okay. I can be more than fine; I can thrive. How many people feel comfortable with that idea?
Monday, November 30, 2009
Thursday, November 19, 2009
The Strike Continues
As I've briefly mentioned, the students at the University here are on strike to protest increasing tuition rates. The "strike" just means that the students are occupying the campus and forbidding the professors access to teach. After the strike is over their school year will be extended to cover the lost time. However, since we have a set date for leaving we can't really afford to wait.
So our professor moved our classes, first to two high schools in the city. On Mondays and Wednesdays we would meet at a school downtown, and on Tuesdays and Thursdays we were meeting at a school near my house. Classes started at 5pm and went until 7 or 8.
As of this week we are meeting at called Club Nuble, which is mostly a venue available for rent. When my sister had her bachelorette party it was at Club Nuble.
It's a nice place, closer to all of our houses than the University was. We have all of our classes in the same room where we sit around a conference table. Classes now run from 9am to between 1pm and 2pm, and one day a week we return at 4pm for another class.
The whole experience with the strike has been haphazard. I'm impressed with how the professors and my fellow students have adapted to the changes. It's been 3 weeks since the strike started and it's hard to remember what attending the University was like.
It's beginning to sound like we won't be returning to the University campus before our term is over. Yesterday one of our professors told us that the situation has actually gotten worse. During a meeting between the students and administration one of the students nearly struck one of the faculty members.
The students take the striking seriously. Last week a bunch of them decided to WALK to Concepcion, which is an hour away by bus! It's a little further than what it would be to walk from Corvallis to Salem. It took them two days to get there. I also got to play guitar for a concert the students held. At the building were we performed the students had stuffed some clothes so that it looked like a person and hung the "body" from a noose out of a second story window.
The building was also covered in handmade signs. Students had blocked the main entrance by stacking up dozens of desk chairs so that there was only a small space to walk through. The students take turns watching the door. All of it is a little surreal but it's kind of fun too. Definitely something we don't see in the States today.
Playing for the concert was fun, too, although our set didn't go well. My friend Dave and I have been jamming with a Chilean friend we made down here, and we've just been learning popular songs and covering them. We played in a bar (La Biblioteca) a couple weeks ago, and this concert at the school was our second performance.
We played in an auditorium. The space was nice, but they didn't have a proper sound system for it. The guitars each had only one medium sized amp, and the vocals were run through the PA system in the house. The drums didn't have microphones at all. And there were no monitors. All of this adds up to us not being able to hear each other when we performed.
I didn't realize it until we started playing under these conditions, but when we play together we play by listening to each other. Sure, we know the chords and how to play the songs, but we truly feed off of each other and we need to hear each other to make the songs happen. As soon as the ability to hear each other was gone our songs suffered.
Three other bands played as well, and they didn't seem to have as much trouble as we did. But they had all clearly been together for longer than we had (we've been playing together for only three weeks). One of the songs we played we had only learned the day before. Whereas the other bands could rely on each member having his part memorized, we could not.
It was still fun though, and I learned a lot. And our last two songs actually went well, so it wasn't a total disaster. But I gained a huge appreciation for bands that are able to perform well consistantly under any conditions. I also gained a huge appreciation for monitors.
Next week is Thanksgiving, and our group will attempt to kill the missing-the-holidays blues with a little Thanksgiving of our own. We have one more week of all of our classes, and then a final week of Spanish 311 for 2 hours a day. Then I'll get on a plane and head back to Oregon.
The time really has flown, hasn't it? I'm ready to come home and I look forward to seeing my family and friends and taking classes at OSU. The strike is interesting, but I prefer the stability of our education system. Just one more example of the perspective I now have on life in the States.
If I don't write again before November 26th, Happy Thanksgiving!
So our professor moved our classes, first to two high schools in the city. On Mondays and Wednesdays we would meet at a school downtown, and on Tuesdays and Thursdays we were meeting at a school near my house. Classes started at 5pm and went until 7 or 8.
As of this week we are meeting at called Club Nuble, which is mostly a venue available for rent. When my sister had her bachelorette party it was at Club Nuble.
It's a nice place, closer to all of our houses than the University was. We have all of our classes in the same room where we sit around a conference table. Classes now run from 9am to between 1pm and 2pm, and one day a week we return at 4pm for another class.
The whole experience with the strike has been haphazard. I'm impressed with how the professors and my fellow students have adapted to the changes. It's been 3 weeks since the strike started and it's hard to remember what attending the University was like.
It's beginning to sound like we won't be returning to the University campus before our term is over. Yesterday one of our professors told us that the situation has actually gotten worse. During a meeting between the students and administration one of the students nearly struck one of the faculty members.
The students take the striking seriously. Last week a bunch of them decided to WALK to Concepcion, which is an hour away by bus! It's a little further than what it would be to walk from Corvallis to Salem. It took them two days to get there. I also got to play guitar for a concert the students held. At the building were we performed the students had stuffed some clothes so that it looked like a person and hung the "body" from a noose out of a second story window.
The building was also covered in handmade signs. Students had blocked the main entrance by stacking up dozens of desk chairs so that there was only a small space to walk through. The students take turns watching the door. All of it is a little surreal but it's kind of fun too. Definitely something we don't see in the States today.
Playing for the concert was fun, too, although our set didn't go well. My friend Dave and I have been jamming with a Chilean friend we made down here, and we've just been learning popular songs and covering them. We played in a bar (La Biblioteca) a couple weeks ago, and this concert at the school was our second performance.
We played in an auditorium. The space was nice, but they didn't have a proper sound system for it. The guitars each had only one medium sized amp, and the vocals were run through the PA system in the house. The drums didn't have microphones at all. And there were no monitors. All of this adds up to us not being able to hear each other when we performed.
I didn't realize it until we started playing under these conditions, but when we play together we play by listening to each other. Sure, we know the chords and how to play the songs, but we truly feed off of each other and we need to hear each other to make the songs happen. As soon as the ability to hear each other was gone our songs suffered.
Three other bands played as well, and they didn't seem to have as much trouble as we did. But they had all clearly been together for longer than we had (we've been playing together for only three weeks). One of the songs we played we had only learned the day before. Whereas the other bands could rely on each member having his part memorized, we could not.
It was still fun though, and I learned a lot. And our last two songs actually went well, so it wasn't a total disaster. But I gained a huge appreciation for bands that are able to perform well consistantly under any conditions. I also gained a huge appreciation for monitors.
Next week is Thanksgiving, and our group will attempt to kill the missing-the-holidays blues with a little Thanksgiving of our own. We have one more week of all of our classes, and then a final week of Spanish 311 for 2 hours a day. Then I'll get on a plane and head back to Oregon.
The time really has flown, hasn't it? I'm ready to come home and I look forward to seeing my family and friends and taking classes at OSU. The strike is interesting, but I prefer the stability of our education system. Just one more example of the perspective I now have on life in the States.
If I don't write again before November 26th, Happy Thanksgiving!
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
New Photos
I was sitting outside school today, waiting for my classmates to arrive, when I got a call from one of them. Apparently class had been moved that day. Since I was going to be upwards of 45 minutes late to class, I decided to walk from my house to downtown and take pictures instead. Three hours and 160 photos later I was finished. The pictures can be found on my new album on Facebook.
I also have some more commentary on security in those pictures, so go look at them if you want to know more.
I also have some more commentary on security in those pictures, so go look at them if you want to know more.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
The Typical
I wake up at different times depending on the day. The last two weeks I've been getting a ride with a professor to school, and she has to be at the school at 8am. But class doesn't start until 10am or 11am, so if I don't ride with her I can get up later. My mom always has breakfast ready on the table in the kitchen, which always consists of bread with butter and jam. Sometimes I grab a piece of fruit if I'm feeling especially ravenous.
If I don't ride to school with my professor I take a colectivo. A colectivo is a taxi that operates like a bus; that is, it has a specific route that it follows throughout the day. They are a little more expensive than the buses. This is because they often have a more direct route because they don't service as many people as a bus does.
The colectivo drivers are very aware of their surroundings. They are constantly honking their horn or flashing their lights to attract the attention of potential fares. Every time they pass someone who is standing on the street they check their mirrors to make sure that person wasn't looking for a ride. One time I was half a block from the colectivo I take when it turned down the street in front of me. It's not a big deal because there are probably half a dozen cars running the same route at any given time. If I miss one, the next one will be a short time in coming. But this driver saw me, stopped, and waited for me without me even hailing it. I don't know if the driver recognized me or if he was just gambling on the chance that I needed a ride. The drivers here are good at their jobs.
I usually arrive at school with a few minutes to kill. This always turns out to be a good time to make plans with friends to go to lunch or play sports after class. Then our group has class for a couple of hours straight. As we exit the building after class some mix of our Chilean friends can always be found waiting for us. They know our schedule better than we do. Most people at this point head home for lunch, which is a big deal in Chile.
I had lunch at a family friend's house two weekends ago. We started off with barbequed sausages wrapped in bread. There was salsa and some kind of salmon dressing that could also be spread on the bread. For drinks they had wine, Coke, water, and two kinds of juice. While we sat eating and drinking the host grilled up a huge piece of steak and pork. Once these were cooked we went inside for the main course. In addition to the meat they offered potatoes, lima beans, asparagus, and a salad. Everyone had wine with this part of the meal. After that they brought out two icecream cakes with rasberry sauce. They poured so much rasberry sauce on my plate I thought I was going to puke. My dad ate a bowl of the rasberry sauce straight up. Next we had coffee with chocolate sweets. After that I was offered a glass of whisky, which of course I accepted. We continued to sit at the table as some people had second helpings of icecream cake and coffee.
After the lunch hour (or three hours) on Tuesday and Thursday we have one additional class in the afternoon. Other then that our days free in the afternoon. Some days I hang out at school, others I just go home and read. Lots of people in our group brought books to read so we've all been sharing them. I've read Dances With Wolves and Running With Scissors since I've been here, and I'm working on Gulliver's Travels right now.
During the week I study at night, but we don't have class on Friday so Thursday night we usually go out to one of the many fine pubs in Chillan. Friday and Saturday nights are frequently spent at the Bronco, a local discoteca, though most of us have grown disillusioned with the place since the novelty wore off. Someone in our group usually ends up there every weekend, however.
The last week has been interesting because the students went on strike last Wednesday. They call it "En Toma" here (in take-over). Basically the students occupy the campus and don't allow the professors on-site to teach. As a consequence our group has had our classes moved to local schools around Chillan. On Monday and Wednesdays we have class at a school downtown, and Tuesdays and Thursdays we have class at a school near my house. Classes have also shifted from being in the morning to starting at five in the evening because the schools are obviously filled with young children until then.
The students are striking because they want a freeze in tuition rates, which were set to increase this year. This sort of thing is common in Chile, and the students almost always get what they want I'm told. But until they resolve the situation with the education leaders they don't have class. No one knows how long it will last, but history seems to say 3-4 weeks. So for the remainder of my time in Chile I may not attend class at the University I came to study at.
After classes I now come home and eat "once" (Spanish word for eleven), which is like a mini-dinner. And we eat it around 8 o'clock in the evening, so I don't know where the term once came from and neither does anyone I've asked. Once consists of bread, meat, cheese, and palta (avacado), with tea or coffee.
I'm hoping to take more pictures of the strike (I've put a few up already). Earlier this week there was a protest downtown and several of our friends got arrested. I wish I'd been there to see that! With any luck I'll get to witness some other shenanigans before the strike has ended.
If I don't ride to school with my professor I take a colectivo. A colectivo is a taxi that operates like a bus; that is, it has a specific route that it follows throughout the day. They are a little more expensive than the buses. This is because they often have a more direct route because they don't service as many people as a bus does.
The colectivo drivers are very aware of their surroundings. They are constantly honking their horn or flashing their lights to attract the attention of potential fares. Every time they pass someone who is standing on the street they check their mirrors to make sure that person wasn't looking for a ride. One time I was half a block from the colectivo I take when it turned down the street in front of me. It's not a big deal because there are probably half a dozen cars running the same route at any given time. If I miss one, the next one will be a short time in coming. But this driver saw me, stopped, and waited for me without me even hailing it. I don't know if the driver recognized me or if he was just gambling on the chance that I needed a ride. The drivers here are good at their jobs.
I usually arrive at school with a few minutes to kill. This always turns out to be a good time to make plans with friends to go to lunch or play sports after class. Then our group has class for a couple of hours straight. As we exit the building after class some mix of our Chilean friends can always be found waiting for us. They know our schedule better than we do. Most people at this point head home for lunch, which is a big deal in Chile.
I had lunch at a family friend's house two weekends ago. We started off with barbequed sausages wrapped in bread. There was salsa and some kind of salmon dressing that could also be spread on the bread. For drinks they had wine, Coke, water, and two kinds of juice. While we sat eating and drinking the host grilled up a huge piece of steak and pork. Once these were cooked we went inside for the main course. In addition to the meat they offered potatoes, lima beans, asparagus, and a salad. Everyone had wine with this part of the meal. After that they brought out two icecream cakes with rasberry sauce. They poured so much rasberry sauce on my plate I thought I was going to puke. My dad ate a bowl of the rasberry sauce straight up. Next we had coffee with chocolate sweets. After that I was offered a glass of whisky, which of course I accepted. We continued to sit at the table as some people had second helpings of icecream cake and coffee.
After the lunch hour (or three hours) on Tuesday and Thursday we have one additional class in the afternoon. Other then that our days free in the afternoon. Some days I hang out at school, others I just go home and read. Lots of people in our group brought books to read so we've all been sharing them. I've read Dances With Wolves and Running With Scissors since I've been here, and I'm working on Gulliver's Travels right now.
During the week I study at night, but we don't have class on Friday so Thursday night we usually go out to one of the many fine pubs in Chillan. Friday and Saturday nights are frequently spent at the Bronco, a local discoteca, though most of us have grown disillusioned with the place since the novelty wore off. Someone in our group usually ends up there every weekend, however.
The last week has been interesting because the students went on strike last Wednesday. They call it "En Toma" here (in take-over). Basically the students occupy the campus and don't allow the professors on-site to teach. As a consequence our group has had our classes moved to local schools around Chillan. On Monday and Wednesdays we have class at a school downtown, and Tuesdays and Thursdays we have class at a school near my house. Classes have also shifted from being in the morning to starting at five in the evening because the schools are obviously filled with young children until then.
The students are striking because they want a freeze in tuition rates, which were set to increase this year. This sort of thing is common in Chile, and the students almost always get what they want I'm told. But until they resolve the situation with the education leaders they don't have class. No one knows how long it will last, but history seems to say 3-4 weeks. So for the remainder of my time in Chile I may not attend class at the University I came to study at.
After classes I now come home and eat "once" (Spanish word for eleven), which is like a mini-dinner. And we eat it around 8 o'clock in the evening, so I don't know where the term once came from and neither does anyone I've asked. Once consists of bread, meat, cheese, and palta (avacado), with tea or coffee.
I'm hoping to take more pictures of the strike (I've put a few up already). Earlier this week there was a protest downtown and several of our friends got arrested. I wish I'd been there to see that! With any luck I'll get to witness some other shenanigans before the strike has ended.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Futbol
Six of us were lucky enough to score tickets to the futbol game between Chile and Ecuador a couple weeks ago, Oct. 14. Chile had already qualified for the World Cup the previous Saturday, but Ecuador had not. It was an important game for Ecuador to win. Furthermore, Argentina and Uruguay were playing against each other that same night, both of them trying to qualify for the World Cup as well. Argentina and Chile were in a close race, so if Chile lost that helps Argentina. So even though Chile had already qualified it was still a game they needed to win.
Jessica and I had purchased our tickets last, so we went to Santiago separate from everyone else. We took the train at 8am on Wednesday, the 14th. It was a pleasant and quiet ride. The attendant in our car was a nice guy, he looked German and spoke some English. Jess and I took to calling him Ruperto. Halfway to Santiago there was some problem with the train tracks, so we had to get off the train, take a bus to the next train station, and get on a second train there. This didn't add much time to the trip, however, and we arrived in Santiago a little after one.
We took the metro to our friend's apartment (Nico, the son of our program coordinator) and did some window shopping while we waited for him on the rest of our group to get back. Once they did we took the elevator up to Nico's apartment, dropped our stuff off, and went right back out the door. First stop was a store to buy jersey's for the game. The four girls got red jersey's, Ryan got a red jacket, and I got a white jersey. Nico handed out our tickets for the game and we took the metro to the stadium. When we got off the metro this is the site that greeted us:
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Jessica and I had purchased our tickets last, so we went to Santiago separate from everyone else. We took the train at 8am on Wednesday, the 14th. It was a pleasant and quiet ride. The attendant in our car was a nice guy, he looked German and spoke some English. Jess and I took to calling him Ruperto. Halfway to Santiago there was some problem with the train tracks, so we had to get off the train, take a bus to the next train station, and get on a second train there. This didn't add much time to the trip, however, and we arrived in Santiago a little after one.
We took the metro to our friend's apartment (Nico, the son of our program coordinator) and did some window shopping while we waited for him on the rest of our group to get back. Once they did we took the elevator up to Nico's apartment, dropped our stuff off, and went right back out the door. First stop was a store to buy jersey's for the game. The four girls got red jersey's, Ryan got a red jacket, and I got a white jersey. Nico handed out our tickets for the game and we took the metro to the stadium. When we got off the metro this is the site that greeted us:
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Hundreds of people were there selling flags, shirts, noisemakers, and food. Nico and I each bought a flag, the girls got their faces painted and bought a couple T-shirts, and then we headed toward the stadium. Before we were inside we had to go through the most intense security process I've ever seen. First up, about a 1/4 mile away from the stadium, was this post:
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Next up was an entrance similar to gates you'd find in the States, just some event staff checking tickets:
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The next two checkpoints I didn't take pictures of, so I'll just describe them. The third was the most serious security point where riot police where patting each person down (they weren't shy about it either). Finally, we entered a checkpoint similar to the first one where a person checked our tickets, we walked through the gate, and then a second person tore our tickets. Quite an ordeal, but we were finally in!
The preocupation with safety in this country has fascinated me since the first few days I was here. I was told that Chile had a more affectionate culture than the United States. I interpereted that to mean that the culture was safer as well, but I've learned that's not the case.
When family members or friends get together it's customary for the women to kiss each other on the cheek. Women kiss all the men on the cheek as well. Men greet each other with a handshake or a bro-hug. Families are especially close. Last night my older sister went out for her Bachelorette party, and my mom and sister both went with her. My sisters frequently sleep in the same room or bed as the parents. So at first glance it seems that Chile does have an affectionate culture. But this warm attitude only extends as far as the front door of the house. Once you step outside it's a completely different story.
People here are extraordinarly distrustful of strangers. My host-mom has explained to me that every time I go out at night she worries about me. I frequently walk to the grocery store about 5 minutes from my house. We live in what I would consider a suburb, on the edge of the main part of Chillan. In our neighborehood we have full time security guards posted at the only entrance to our housing track. The streets are well lit all the way to the store, and there's a high school a block away. Down the highway from the store I go to there is a military base that houses a battalion-sized detachment of the Chilean Army. And yet my mom still worries about my safety.
When Dave and I were in Santiago we stayed at a friend's house. As we were getting ready to go out one day (during daylight hours no less), the mother of the house took David and I aside to explain about safety. When Dave and I had trouble understanding her point she took us into the kitchen, grabbed a knife off the counter, and held it to her own throat to demonstrate what could happen to us. Dave also had a draw-string bag and it took us a few minutes to convince the mother to let us take it. She thought it was a traditional backpack with zippers, and she was telling us that it was unacceptable to go out with it because it would be such an easy target for pick-pockets.
Everywhere I go in Chile I am reminded of the safety-conscious Chilean mind. Almost every house, store, or building has bars on the windows of the bottom floor and fences with spikes, shards of glass, or electric wires. Houses that don't have fences or bars on the windows, like mine, have security guards patrolling the area 24/7. Every store has their own security staff, in part because there is no local law enforcement (Carabineros, the national police, serve as law enforcement, but because they are a part of the federal branch they are more of a presence than a public service). Businesses always have extra gates that they pull down at the close of business each day. Doors on the homes here do not open from the outside without a key. One of the girls in our group can't open the door to her house from the inside without her key.
But before I paint Chileans as complete safety-freaks, it's also become apparent to me that at least some of this is warranted. One of my sisters in my family and my brother have both had cell-phones taken out of their hands while they were talking on them. My brother was standing outside his school in Chillan when his was taken. And last week one of the Chilean students went to Santiago to get her passport to the U.S., and she got drugged and had all of her stuff stolen. She doesn't remember being in Santiago, only the bus ride there and waking up on the bus coming back to Chillan. So while the security measures in Chile sometimes seem excessive, there is a reason they exist.
How does a culture like this develop? Why is the culture in the United States different? These questions have been bouncing around in my mind the whole time I've been here, and I still don't have an answer to them. Perhaps it's not important to answer why things are the way they are. Maybe it's better to understand and adjust than to explain or diagnose the difference as if it's some kind of problem or sickness.
I've come to love Chile and the people here, and I think part of that love is learning how to look past the undesirable parts of a culture. I know that being here has definitely made me appreciate the States and look past the ugly parts of American culture.
People here, in general, respect the United States. It is still seen as a desirable place to go. My host-mom wants her son to spend some time in the States and become fluent in English. Several of the students at my University are going to the United States to work this Winter (their Summer), and those students are considered the lucky ones. I think I am most grateful to Chile for giving me back some of the admiration I had for my country.
Chile did win their match against Ecuador, 1-0. Nothing too crazy happened in celebration that night, though we did happen upon a square where people were climbing statues and flag poles. Up the street from the square, at the entrance to an apartment building, a dozen Carabineros decked-out in riot gear stood guard. I couldn't help but smile. This is Chile.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Vina del Mar
We went to Vina del Mar for the weekend, about 7 hours north of Chillan by bus. The city is right on the coast, and though it was supposed to rain on us not a drop fell for the whole weekend.
We left Friday morning and returned to Chillan Monday morning, so we got a solid weekend in. On the way to the city we stopped at one of Pablo Neruda's houses, which was fun. I bought one of his books of poetry a week ago for $40! The cashier told me the price in Spanish, but I thought "No way it's that much, I must've misunderstood" and waited until he gave me the receipt to sign. Well, it was that much. I should trust my Spanish comprehension a little more, was the lesson I learned. Anyway, they had the same exact book, at his house, for half the price. Oh well.
The house was interesting, but what stays with me is the fact that he amassed all of that beautiful stuff and now he's dead and it doesn't matter. I guess it's nice for us, but in the scheme of his life it's now a wash. And his poetry isn't even that good, in my opinion, so I came away from his house encouraged to do something with my life that truly matters.
We stayed at The Hotel O'Higgins in Vina del Mar, which is a grand old place that's a little run down but fun. My friend Ben put it best: "I think every room in this hotel is a little different." When Dave and I entered our room I said to him "I feel like I'm in the Bourne Identity," and we were both expecting to be assassinated in our room sometime during the weekend. That didn't happen, thankfully
We ate breakfast and dinner for free (or it was included, rather) each day, and we ate lunch out in the city. The first night we were there we went out to find some fun, but ended up going to a pub that charged us $30 more than they should have. People in our group argued for a long time with the bartenders, nearly starting a fight, but eventually we paid the extra and left. It ruined our night. We all gathered at a McDonalds down the street and tried to get up the motivation to go somewhere else, but we all just went back to the hotel around 2am, which is ridiculously early compared to most nights out.
The next day we went on a tour of the city. We took a little boat ride through the harbor and saw some sea lions. Then we took these things called "ascensors," which are little cars on tracks that go up steep hills, to the top of the city. We walked through the narrow streets, looking at what vendors were selling. We eventually had lunch at a restaurant that overlooked the harbor.
That afternoon Dave and I took a four hour nap, and we were awoken around 8pm by the sound of cars honking their horns. It's not uncommon here, but it seemed excessive. I looked out the window, expecting to see crowded roads, but there were only a few cars. Perplexed, I studied the scene for a bit. I noticed that the cars were driving around with Chilean flags hanging out their windows, and then it made sense; the people were celebrating their futbol team. At the time I didn't know, but later I found out that their team had won their game against Colombia earlier that night, thus qualifying for the World Cup in 2010 in South Africa.
As I was watching the cars drive in circles around the plaza outside our hotel I heard chanting coming from the park. So we grabbed our cameras and walked over. What we found was quite the spectacle.
Hundreds of people were there, dancing and chanting and flag-waving and drinking, celebrating their team's victory. And more people were arriving all the time. I would say over a thousand people eventually showed up, and it went on for over four hours. We got some great videos, including one of a guy diving into a shallow pond in the park and smacking his head. He wasn't okay, had to be helped out by his friends, and later we saw an ambulance arrive and then speed off after a few minutes. But that was nothing compared to the rest of the night.
I moved from the park to an intersection right next to the park, where a second large group of people were gathered, dancing in the street and blocking traffic. Some cars tried to drive through the intersection, but the people were hitting and jumping on their cars so people gave up on trying to drive though. Police had showed up at this time, blocking off one street next to the park, and a big bus with police in riot gear was on another side of the square that formed the park. This intersection was the corner between the blocked off street and the riot bus.
Some cops on motorcycles finally showed up to escort the cars through. There were two of them. One drove his bike up to the front of the intersection, and got off his bike. The second lead the cars through the intersection to safety. No one touched the cars with the police there, but a girl kept trying to reach for the parked bike to touch it. Her boyfriend tried to hold her back, but she got to it and tipped it over, breaking one of the mirrors and the kickstand. When the bike fell everyone in the crowd let out an ominous "ohhhhhhh."
The cop was obviously pissed off, but he didn't see who had done it, so he just picked up his bike and held it up. A second officer came over to pick up the broken mirror. Just as it seemed like things were cooling off, I heard a bottle break on the ground. I looked to my right to see five of the riot police approaching. Apparently they had started to walk toward the intersection when the bike was tipped, and someone had thrown a bottle at the approaching officers. The police made for the side of the crowd that the bottle had come from, and everyone scattered. There were too many people for the officers to be able to pick out exactly who had thrown the bottle, so the incident blew over. The shops behind where I was standing had thrown down their gated doors as soon as the bottle broke, and they now reopened them. But it was close to being a riot.
I walked away from this intersection, thinking nothing else would happen, when I heard more bottles breaking on the ground. I realized that the people in the park were throwing bottles at the riot bus and the officers on the other side. This continued for a few minutes, with the riot police eventually packing up and driving off. There were less than a dozen of them and they obviously weren't up to the task of tangling with a mob if it came to that, so they did the right thing. As they were driving off a guy tried to push a garbage can in front of the bus. The bus nearly hit him but swerved and drove around him.
I forgot to mention that I was recording everything I've described, so I have some interesting video footage to show people when I get home.
Later that night we all went out again, looking for some dancing. We found a nice little club, but one of the guys in our group got kicked out immediately because he had brought in a bottle of rum, and they wouldn't let him back in. So we decided to move camp.
This eventually lead us back to the McDonalds from the night before. At 5am, as we were leaving, a couple of guys got in to a scuffle with the security guards. They were kicked out of the restaurant, but they didn't take kindly to it and were kicking the doors, and one of the doors they kicked hit one of the security guards.
The offenders were leaving the premises, but now it had become personal. The guards followed the guys down the street, throwing trash, food trays, chunks of concrete, and anything anyone could get their hands on.
I took a study-abroad preparation class before I came to Chile, and in this class they told us in no uncertain terms to avoid large gatherings of people and disturbances. I did exactly the opposite of this more than once that night. And I took my camera each time.
The fight continued down the street, with passersby gathering to watch from a distance. The offenders and the guards were yelling and pointing at each other, and continued to throw things back and forth. One of the guys in our group kept swearing at the guys in Spanish and English, and I was afraid that he would attract some attention and bring us in to the fight. I kept telling him to shut up and so did one of the girls in our group, but he wouldn’t listen. Mercifully, the guys fighting with the security guards couldn’t hear him.
I followed the fight down the street until they came to the corner, and the perpetrators went around it. I thought the incident was over, but the security guards kept yelling and pointing, and the guys came back for a second round of flinging stuff at each other. There were cars passing frequently, and a couple times it looked like somebody was going to step into the street at the wrong time. I got closer with my camera, far closer than I probably should have.
The traffic cleared for a minute, and one of the offenders ran into the street spraying what had to be mace at the guards on the other side of the street. As he made it to the middle of the road, one of the security guards hurled a large chunk of concrete into the air. It came down right on the guy's head. He immediately went limp in the road. I caught the whole thing on camera. But now I stopped taping, turned around, and walked away with everyone in my group. We were all shocked. The security guards promptly left the scene as well, everyone coming to the realization that what had just happened was way beyond what the offense warranted. The guy was unconscious in the street, and some of his buddies had gathered around to help him. But it looked like he wasn't getting up on his own that night.
It was a crazy night, and a crazy weekend. We went to the mall and the beach the next day, but it all fades to the background compared to that night. I'm sure I'll get scolded by my family, and maybe by most of the people that read this, but I honestly wouldn't do anything different if I had the chance. It was completely fascinating to witness that up close, even more so since I can go through my videos again and again. I wouldn't trade those videos for anything.
I'm back at home now, but not for long. I got a ticket to the futbol game tomorrow, Chile vs. Ecuador, and I'm going up to Santiago in the morning. I won't be back until Thursday, and since we didn't have class Monday, today is the only day I'll attend class this week.
I'm much better health-wise, almost completely healed I think. I took the last of my antibiotics this morning, and I don't have a cough or any congestion anymore.
I learned two weeks ago that I don’t have the money to travel after the program is finished. I was bitterly disappointed for a couple days because traveling is the equivalent of adventure to me, and I was looking forward to having some great adventures. Despite my inability to travel, I’ve definitely managed to find some adventure.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
English Fast
It has been over a week since my last post, mostly because a few of us got together and decided that we would only speak Spanish this week. It has been an interesting experience.
The thing I learned on my first day here was that, despite my infancy-status as a Spanish speaker, I could still communicate. That held true this week, especially because I have learned a lot more Spanish since my first day here. Once I made the commitment to speak only Spanish, I found that I could do it. If I didn't know a word or a phrase I learned it, because the next time the same subject came up I was going to need it.
I have found my biggest weakness in speaking Spanish is simply knowing conjugations for verbs. Verbs that are used all the time, like ser and estar (to be), tener (to have), ir (to go), and querer (to want), fly off the tongue without a second thought. But when I have to stop and think about a conjugation the conversation slows down. So I've been trying to spend more time familarizing myself with as many verbs and their conjugations as possible. It may seem obvious, but speaking a second language really is a matter of "getting in the habit", or making it second nature.
The part of this process that I have yet to experience is thinking in Spanish. During this last week I barely spoke any English, but I always thought in English. My self-talk was always in English. I was looking for something in my backpack yesterday, and without thinking I said outloud "Donde?" (where), but the words in my head were still "Where is it?" So I'm making the transition, but my mouth and my brain are not in it together yet.
I have also started to pick up some cultural things that Chileans do when they speak. For example, a very common way to say "okay" or "I see" or "yes" is to say "Ah, yah". I do this almost all the time now, even when I'm speaking English. I have a feeling that that expression will become a permanant part of my vernacular. It will be fascinating to see which cultural traits I retain when I go back to the States.
I wonder if people will notice anything slightly "un-American" about me when I'm home. By that I mean culturally, how I behave when I interact with others. There is a professor here that our group has a class with. He is a younger man (early 30's is my guess), and he spent a significant amount of time studying in Chicago and New York. Multiple Chilean students have told me that this professor is "weird" or "crazy", but the more I got to know him the more confused I became. He seemed very intelligent to me, friendly and sensible. What were these other students talking about?
Yesterday I realized what was going on. This professor no longer behaves quite like a Chilean professor, or at the least how Chilean students think their professors should behave. Because he spent so much time in the States, and because of his younger age, he actually developed a teaching style that is more comfortable for American students. That is why I found that my interactions with him never lined up with what Chilean students told me to expect. To them, he is a little weird and crazy, not because he actually is those things, but because he is a Chilean who has picked up some American traits. Very perlexing to Chilean students, I'm sure. And I wonder if any of them have figured this out yet. The students I talked to definitely have not.
A brief personal update: I went to the doctor today because I've been sick for almost three weeks. He prescribed me $80 worth of medication, which I started taking tonight. Hopefully that will help! Our group is spending the weekend at the beach, so I will be back next week with plenty of pictures and stories.
The thing I learned on my first day here was that, despite my infancy-status as a Spanish speaker, I could still communicate. That held true this week, especially because I have learned a lot more Spanish since my first day here. Once I made the commitment to speak only Spanish, I found that I could do it. If I didn't know a word or a phrase I learned it, because the next time the same subject came up I was going to need it.
I have found my biggest weakness in speaking Spanish is simply knowing conjugations for verbs. Verbs that are used all the time, like ser and estar (to be), tener (to have), ir (to go), and querer (to want), fly off the tongue without a second thought. But when I have to stop and think about a conjugation the conversation slows down. So I've been trying to spend more time familarizing myself with as many verbs and their conjugations as possible. It may seem obvious, but speaking a second language really is a matter of "getting in the habit", or making it second nature.
The part of this process that I have yet to experience is thinking in Spanish. During this last week I barely spoke any English, but I always thought in English. My self-talk was always in English. I was looking for something in my backpack yesterday, and without thinking I said outloud "Donde?" (where), but the words in my head were still "Where is it?" So I'm making the transition, but my mouth and my brain are not in it together yet.
I have also started to pick up some cultural things that Chileans do when they speak. For example, a very common way to say "okay" or "I see" or "yes" is to say "Ah, yah". I do this almost all the time now, even when I'm speaking English. I have a feeling that that expression will become a permanant part of my vernacular. It will be fascinating to see which cultural traits I retain when I go back to the States.
I wonder if people will notice anything slightly "un-American" about me when I'm home. By that I mean culturally, how I behave when I interact with others. There is a professor here that our group has a class with. He is a younger man (early 30's is my guess), and he spent a significant amount of time studying in Chicago and New York. Multiple Chilean students have told me that this professor is "weird" or "crazy", but the more I got to know him the more confused I became. He seemed very intelligent to me, friendly and sensible. What were these other students talking about?
Yesterday I realized what was going on. This professor no longer behaves quite like a Chilean professor, or at the least how Chilean students think their professors should behave. Because he spent so much time in the States, and because of his younger age, he actually developed a teaching style that is more comfortable for American students. That is why I found that my interactions with him never lined up with what Chilean students told me to expect. To them, he is a little weird and crazy, not because he actually is those things, but because he is a Chilean who has picked up some American traits. Very perlexing to Chilean students, I'm sure. And I wonder if any of them have figured this out yet. The students I talked to definitely have not.
A brief personal update: I went to the doctor today because I've been sick for almost three weeks. He prescribed me $80 worth of medication, which I started taking tonight. Hopefully that will help! Our group is spending the weekend at the beach, so I will be back next week with plenty of pictures and stories.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Little Battles
I wake up and I take a shower. Is it going to be too hot or too cold today? I can't figure out the temperature knobs. At first it was don't turn the hot on very much because more water will flow through the pipes, and the pilot flame won't be able to heat that amount water. Then it was turn the hot on all the way. That got the hot water going, but now it's too hot. So I turn the cold on, but it doesn't seem to affect the temperature. I turn the cold knob more, fearing the blast of freezing cold water that will tell me I turned it too far. The water is still too hot, it won't cool off. Finally, I turn the cold knob five or six times. There! Now the water cools off, but of course it overshoots. I dial back the cold knob, but the water is now on the fence, fluctuating between freezing and burning. I try turning the hot knob back a little to compensate. Now the water is just freezing.
A lady stands on the street, hailing a bus. The driver doesn't see her and keeps going. A moment of exasperation. She waits for the next bus.
I am sick. I have a cough, a sore throat, a running nose, and a headache from the congestion. But that is nothing compared to what I cannot see. Inside my body a war rages. The soldiers in my veins fight valiantly. Who was the first one to notice the intruder, to sound the alarm? He didn't last long. After getting the word out, he selflessly sacrificed himself, engulfing one of the enemy, destorying himself for the greater good. Who are the generals of my immune system? They direct millions to their death every hour, genocide on microscopic scale. Who are the NCOs of my bloodstream? Inspiring men to fight in the face of unquestionable destruction, forcing others to follow in the footsteps of their fallen comrades? The biochemist and the doctor say they are white blood cells and red blood cells, T-helper cells, enzymes and catalysts. I wonder if it is so simple.
A student hears a word in a foreign language. He has heard it before, but cannot define it. He asks, and is told its meaning. He knows he will forget it next time, too.
I walk into the building where I have Spanish classes. Which room am I in today? B-18? No, that's Mondays. C... C-something. Yes, that's it. Which hallway was C again? Is C across from D? No, C is below D. Okay, at which end of the building? There's hallway B (why can't it be Monday?), so it must be at the other end of the building. Upstairs... no, D is up. C is down. I take a left, but I don't see my fellow classmates. I must've turned the wrong way. I try the other hallway. Yes, this looks familiar (it all looks the same). There, my classmates. C-12. Remember! Wednesdays, C-12.
A little girl trips on the sidewalk. Her mother helps her up and brushes off her hands. The little girl continues to walk.
A lady stands on the street, hailing a bus. The driver doesn't see her and keeps going. A moment of exasperation. She waits for the next bus.
I am sick. I have a cough, a sore throat, a running nose, and a headache from the congestion. But that is nothing compared to what I cannot see. Inside my body a war rages. The soldiers in my veins fight valiantly. Who was the first one to notice the intruder, to sound the alarm? He didn't last long. After getting the word out, he selflessly sacrificed himself, engulfing one of the enemy, destorying himself for the greater good. Who are the generals of my immune system? They direct millions to their death every hour, genocide on microscopic scale. Who are the NCOs of my bloodstream? Inspiring men to fight in the face of unquestionable destruction, forcing others to follow in the footsteps of their fallen comrades? The biochemist and the doctor say they are white blood cells and red blood cells, T-helper cells, enzymes and catalysts. I wonder if it is so simple.
A student hears a word in a foreign language. He has heard it before, but cannot define it. He asks, and is told its meaning. He knows he will forget it next time, too.
I walk into the building where I have Spanish classes. Which room am I in today? B-18? No, that's Mondays. C... C-something. Yes, that's it. Which hallway was C again? Is C across from D? No, C is below D. Okay, at which end of the building? There's hallway B (why can't it be Monday?), so it must be at the other end of the building. Upstairs... no, D is up. C is down. I take a left, but I don't see my fellow classmates. I must've turned the wrong way. I try the other hallway. Yes, this looks familiar (it all looks the same). There, my classmates. C-12. Remember! Wednesdays, C-12.
A little girl trips on the sidewalk. Her mother helps her up and brushes off her hands. The little girl continues to walk.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Santiago
I should actually start this post by talking about the night before I went to Santiago.
Thursday, Septiembre 24
A group of us went out to a bar called "La Biblioteca" in Chillan. We ordered snacks and drinks and everyone was having a great time. Our group hit it off with the bartenders (well, some of the girls in our group hit it off with them, I should say), and one of the girls got to go behind the bar and make a couple drinks.
After La Biblioteca we went to El Bronco. Apparently the first two nights I had been were not normal, because it wasn't nearly as packed this time. I realize now it's because the first two nights I went were during Chile's Independence week (September 18 is Independence Day), so the students didn't have class. But we still a great time goofing off and dancing. After we'd been there for a couple hours, one of the girls in our group got us together because she had a little surprise for us: the bartenders from La Biblioteca were at the Brocno, and they could get us upstairs into the VIP section! So of course we went!
It wasn't a huge deal, but it was fun. I remembered that when I had been dancing I'd always look up and thought it would be fun to just sit upstairs, drink a beer, and watch the party. So I did just that, and I was right.
As the Bronco was closing down, we got another surprise: the bartenders from La Biblioteca were willing to drive us back into town, which was nice because it saved us the cost of a taxi. So we took them up on the offer. They took us as far as La Biblioteca, and Dave and I walked to my house from there. After getting three hours of sleep, Dave and I got up to go to Santiago.
Friday, Septiembre 25
Dave and I caught a bus to Santiago at 12:45pm. It was about a 5 and a half hour ride, so it was a good time to rest and catch up on some sleep.
When we arrived in Santiago we contacted Dave's friend Paula, the cousin of his tutor at the universidad. Her family was willing to let us stay at their house for the weekend. We found the metro, determined where we were and where we needed to go, and rode the thing all the way across Santiago! I liked the metro a lot. Part of it is above ground, and part of it is underground. There are five main lines that span the length and width of the city. Santiago is huge, if there was any doubt. It took us nearly an hour to get from the bus station to the stop near Paula's house. The metro was packed, but not unbearably so. The whole system was very effecient, and cheap, too. It cost us only 460 pesos (less than a dollar) for the whole ride, including a transfer between lines.
When we got to Paula's house there was yet another surprise in store for us: the family had brought an electric guitar, a bass guitar, and a set of drums for us to play with! Dave was so happy he couldn't stop smiling. We got everything set up and jammed for about an hour and a half. Dave played the drums, and I switched off between the guitar and the bass with Jorge, the father. We mostly covered songs, including Hotel California, Sweet Child O' Mine, Welcome to the Jungle, Hey Jude, Smells Like Teen Spirit, Highway to Hell, Shoot to Thrill, You Shook Me All Night Long, Nothing Else Matters, Bad Moon Rising, and a bunch of songs that Jorge knew and that Dave and I were able to figure out and play along with. Jorge is a great guitar player; he handeled the solos in Hotel California no questions asked. Again, I was amazed at how easily music can bring people together.
Saturday, Septiembre 26
Paula and her friend Catherine took Dave and I to Cerro San Cristobal, where they have a big statue of the Virgin Mary. They also have mass there, and I want to go back sometime to attend it.
On the way to San Cristobal we passed a restaurant. Some of the hosts from the restaurant were outside, joking with people walking by and trying to get them to sit down and eat. Our group got noticed by Ricardo, who spoke very good English. He told us to come back when we were hungry, and he was so funny that we couldn't pass it up, so after San Cristobal we did return. The meal, and Ricardo, did not disappoint. We had a great time, and there are pictures and a video of Ricardo on my Facebook page if anyone would like to see Ricardo in action.
The real highight of the weekend, however, was that night. We went back to Paula's, had dinner, and headed out to a club.
Jorge drove us. First stop was a Hummer parked at a gas station, where they hand out invitations to this dance club to students. Once we had our invitations Jorge dropped us off at the club where we ran into a problem with security. The girl in the Hummer wrote our student ID numbers on the invitations to make sure that no one got more than one. The problem was the girl had written my ID number on Dave's ticket as well as mine. So the security guard wouldn't let Dave in. Paula called her Dad, and he came back, took us to the Hummer where we sorted out the issue, and returned us to the club. This time we got in.
Thursday, Septiembre 24
A group of us went out to a bar called "La Biblioteca" in Chillan. We ordered snacks and drinks and everyone was having a great time. Our group hit it off with the bartenders (well, some of the girls in our group hit it off with them, I should say), and one of the girls got to go behind the bar and make a couple drinks.
After La Biblioteca we went to El Bronco. Apparently the first two nights I had been were not normal, because it wasn't nearly as packed this time. I realize now it's because the first two nights I went were during Chile's Independence week (September 18 is Independence Day), so the students didn't have class. But we still a great time goofing off and dancing. After we'd been there for a couple hours, one of the girls in our group got us together because she had a little surprise for us: the bartenders from La Biblioteca were at the Brocno, and they could get us upstairs into the VIP section! So of course we went!
It wasn't a huge deal, but it was fun. I remembered that when I had been dancing I'd always look up and thought it would be fun to just sit upstairs, drink a beer, and watch the party. So I did just that, and I was right.
As the Bronco was closing down, we got another surprise: the bartenders from La Biblioteca were willing to drive us back into town, which was nice because it saved us the cost of a taxi. So we took them up on the offer. They took us as far as La Biblioteca, and Dave and I walked to my house from there. After getting three hours of sleep, Dave and I got up to go to Santiago.
Friday, Septiembre 25
Dave and I caught a bus to Santiago at 12:45pm. It was about a 5 and a half hour ride, so it was a good time to rest and catch up on some sleep.
When we arrived in Santiago we contacted Dave's friend Paula, the cousin of his tutor at the universidad. Her family was willing to let us stay at their house for the weekend. We found the metro, determined where we were and where we needed to go, and rode the thing all the way across Santiago! I liked the metro a lot. Part of it is above ground, and part of it is underground. There are five main lines that span the length and width of the city. Santiago is huge, if there was any doubt. It took us nearly an hour to get from the bus station to the stop near Paula's house. The metro was packed, but not unbearably so. The whole system was very effecient, and cheap, too. It cost us only 460 pesos (less than a dollar) for the whole ride, including a transfer between lines.
When we got to Paula's house there was yet another surprise in store for us: the family had brought an electric guitar, a bass guitar, and a set of drums for us to play with! Dave was so happy he couldn't stop smiling. We got everything set up and jammed for about an hour and a half. Dave played the drums, and I switched off between the guitar and the bass with Jorge, the father. We mostly covered songs, including Hotel California, Sweet Child O' Mine, Welcome to the Jungle, Hey Jude, Smells Like Teen Spirit, Highway to Hell, Shoot to Thrill, You Shook Me All Night Long, Nothing Else Matters, Bad Moon Rising, and a bunch of songs that Jorge knew and that Dave and I were able to figure out and play along with. Jorge is a great guitar player; he handeled the solos in Hotel California no questions asked. Again, I was amazed at how easily music can bring people together.
Saturday, Septiembre 26
Paula and her friend Catherine took Dave and I to Cerro San Cristobal, where they have a big statue of the Virgin Mary. They also have mass there, and I want to go back sometime to attend it.
On the way to San Cristobal we passed a restaurant. Some of the hosts from the restaurant were outside, joking with people walking by and trying to get them to sit down and eat. Our group got noticed by Ricardo, who spoke very good English. He told us to come back when we were hungry, and he was so funny that we couldn't pass it up, so after San Cristobal we did return. The meal, and Ricardo, did not disappoint. We had a great time, and there are pictures and a video of Ricardo on my Facebook page if anyone would like to see Ricardo in action.
The real highight of the weekend, however, was that night. We went back to Paula's, had dinner, and headed out to a club.
Jorge drove us. First stop was a Hummer parked at a gas station, where they hand out invitations to this dance club to students. Once we had our invitations Jorge dropped us off at the club where we ran into a problem with security. The girl in the Hummer wrote our student ID numbers on the invitations to make sure that no one got more than one. The problem was the girl had written my ID number on Dave's ticket as well as mine. So the security guard wouldn't let Dave in. Paula called her Dad, and he came back, took us to the Hummer where we sorted out the issue, and returned us to the club. This time we got in.
This is the front of the club:
Pretty cool, right? Well, we walked inside and this is what we found:
Fun, but more like a bar than a disco. I think Dave and I were both a little disappointed for a second. But people were having fun, so Dave found an open table and started to sit. But no, the girls pointed to a doorway at the back of the room. We went through it, down some stairs, and turned the corner to find this:
Yes, the dance floor is actually a dance pit. Yes, those are platforms rising out of the pit. And yes, some professional dancers utilized them:
So we spent a couple hours dancing, having the time of our life, thinking the night couldn't get any better, when the girls took us through another door, where we again went down some steps and turned a corner:
A wholly separate dance pit, and in this room they play 80's music (Night at the Roxbury, a song from the Grease soundtrack, ect.). Dave's exact words upon entering this room: "What!?"
At 5am the club was shutting down, so Jorge came back to get us. We slept until 11am.
Sunday, Septiembre 27
Ever since Dave had heard that there was a Starbucks in Santiago he'd been dying to go, so before we got on the bus back to Chillan we got Dave his coffee fix. It wasn't as good as in the States. We discovered that we are indeed coffee snobs.
Another long bus ride, and we were back in Chillan. We had homework and a quiz the next morning to study for, so our fun had come to an end that weekend. But what a weekend it had been! I didn't even get to do as much sight-seeing as I wanted to do, so I think it's safe to say that I'll return to Santiago. I just might try and go to that club again, too.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Language Notes
As I've been getting more accustomed to hearing and speaking Spanish I've started to develop affection for the language.
The primary thing I like about Spanish is that words change meaning based on context. In English the word changes when the context changes. A good example of this is the Spanish preposition "por", which as far as I can make out is most frequently used to mean "for" in English. But "por" can also mean "through", "in", "by", and "per". So in English you would have to say "written by" or "in the evening", whereas in Spanish you can say "escribo por" or "por la tarde". Even more extreme examples would be "por fin", which means "finally", and "por supuesta", which means "of course".
I like this about Spanish because it makes the language a little easier to learn; as long as I can recognize the word "por" in a sentence I can understand it in terms of the verbs and subject. In English I would have to know each of those different words for every context. It gives me a little more appreciation for how difficult English must be to learn.
I'm pretty sure I've always been taught this in my Spanish classes, but it finally clicked last week sometime. Those moments of recognition of understanding are the most rewarding part of learning something.
Of course, just as I like this about Spanish and don't like it about English, there are things that go the other way. My favorite example of this is comparisons. In English if I want to say something is nicer, bigger, or more whatever than something else, I can just use that word, modified with an "er" or est" ending (nice, nicer, nicest). When comparing in Spanish, I have to say "es mas (grande, simpatico, ect.) que (the thing I'm comparing)". It's not a big deal, but it makes me feeling like I have to say a long sentence when I want to compare something, instead of just being able to say "It's nicer".
Having thought about this pet peeve of mine I realize it's not that much longer in Spanish, but it still annoys me every time I have to use it.
Language is fun!
The primary thing I like about Spanish is that words change meaning based on context. In English the word changes when the context changes. A good example of this is the Spanish preposition "por", which as far as I can make out is most frequently used to mean "for" in English. But "por" can also mean "through", "in", "by", and "per". So in English you would have to say "written by" or "in the evening", whereas in Spanish you can say "escribo por" or "por la tarde". Even more extreme examples would be "por fin", which means "finally", and "por supuesta", which means "of course".
I like this about Spanish because it makes the language a little easier to learn; as long as I can recognize the word "por" in a sentence I can understand it in terms of the verbs and subject. In English I would have to know each of those different words for every context. It gives me a little more appreciation for how difficult English must be to learn.
I'm pretty sure I've always been taught this in my Spanish classes, but it finally clicked last week sometime. Those moments of recognition of understanding are the most rewarding part of learning something.
Of course, just as I like this about Spanish and don't like it about English, there are things that go the other way. My favorite example of this is comparisons. In English if I want to say something is nicer, bigger, or more whatever than something else, I can just use that word, modified with an "er" or est" ending (nice, nicer, nicest). When comparing in Spanish, I have to say "es mas (grande, simpatico, ect.) que (the thing I'm comparing)". It's not a big deal, but it makes me feeling like I have to say a long sentence when I want to compare something, instead of just being able to say "It's nicer".
Having thought about this pet peeve of mine I realize it's not that much longer in Spanish, but it still annoys me every time I have to use it.
Language is fun!
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Pictures
Well, besides pictures for my friend Benny, I haven't uploaded any pictures of myself. But other people on the trip have, and they're on Facebook, so check that out if you're dying to see a picture of me in Chile.
Life
After all the craziness and non-stop nature of last weekend, it's been nice this week to take things slow and start to enjoy living in Chile.
Tuesday, Septiembre 15
I decided that it was high time I figured out how to get around in Chillan, so I walked to the Universidad from my house. It's a solid walk, about 40 minutes at a good pace, but it wasn't unbearable. I think I'm going to walk to and from school each day. The taxis here are not expensive (about 300 pesos a ride, which is less than a dollar) but doing that multiple times a day, five days a week adds up. I'd rather save my money for when I really need a ride; when I'm coming home at 5am, or taking the bus to another city.
I met Casi and Rhett at the Universidad, and we got lost on the way back home. We were actually only five or six blocks from Casi's house, but the neighborhood was so foreign looking that we didn't realize it. Rhett and I went to my house after seeing that Casi was safe at her house, and it was after dark by the time we got to my place. My family was a little concerned because it was after dark, but everything was okay.
That night the conversation around the dinner table was lively. Mi hermana Valentina is home from school for vacation, and my mom's friend Cecilia also joined us. They talk extremely fast, but I found myself following the majority of what was being said. It was an encouraging moment. Words that I recognize are starting to get cemented in my brain so that I simply hear and understand, and I don't have to try and decipher them. I've especially noticed this tendency with tenses; I very quickly recognize the "o", "es/as", "e/a","amos/imos/emos", "en/an" endings to verbs, and I've come to learn that a huge part of understanding a conversation is simply knowing the subject.
The end result of all this is that it allows my mind to puzzle over words I'm not familiar with so that I acquire a deeper understanding of the converstation. It also made me thankful that I'm in a family with several people living at home because I'm used to hearing Chileans talk at full tilt amongst themselves. Rhett lives with just his madre, so he didn't have that benefit. Several times throughout the evening I found myself in the position of translator, which was affirming for me.
After dinner I went to get coffee (how very Oregonian of me, I realize now) with Elisa, one of the Chilean students here. She speaks good English, so it's a nice mix because we can more fully understand each other but I can still ask her questions about Spanish. Most of the converstation was in English that night, but hopefully I can pull even with her and we can have a conversation in Spanish soon. We also went to a bar that reminded me of the Crow Bar in Corvallis, and I have a feeling I'll be hanging out there a lot.
Wednesday, Septiembre 16
Rhett, Casi, Ryan, Jimmy and I took the bus to Concepcion, near the Chilean coast. It's about an hour bus ride, and it only costs 3,500 pesos (8 dollars) for a rountrip ticket. Unfortunately we didn't plan our trip at all, so once we got to the city we didn't know what to do. We ended up seeing Independence Square, where the country of Chile first gained independence from Spain, and we went to a park where we discovered the local teens like to sneak off and drink. We ran accross a group of students that were drinking and having a good time, though one of the girls in the group was throwing up because she had drank too much. The kids loved us though, practiced their English on us, and wanted us to give them a high five and a pound. It's been a common experience.
Casi, in fact, got more attention in Concepcion than I've ever seen. People all over would honk and wave at her, and there was a hilarious moment when a group of construction workers on the third story of a building were whistling and blowing kisses to her. Casi takes it very gracefully and just smiles and waves.
I went to bed right when I got home that night. I was starting to get a sore throat, and my lips were still very chapped from snowboarding on the weekend.
Thursday, Septiembre 17
I woke up this morning and my throat was still sore, but it's the only symptom I have. I sat down with mi familia for a nice lunch.
The food here is so delicious! I personally haven't eaten anything that I would consider foreign, or that couldn't be found in the States. But everything here explodes with flavor because they use different spices. Lunch is their big meal, so today we had salad with hardboiled eggs, followed by another type of salad. Again, it's just salad, but the flavors are so different, it's wonderful. Then we had a kind of soup with a turkey leg and a big piece of both patatoes and carrots. A special dessert closed out the meal, which was good though I have no idea what it was. Some type of cobbler is the closest description I can think of.
My family is amazing. I have a father, Juan Carlos, a mother, Wihldy, and a grandmother (I don't know here name, come to think of it). I also have a brother, Francisco Jose, who lives at home. He's 18. My sister Valentina is home from school for the week, and she's 22. My other sister, Carolina, is 26, and I think she's coming home tonight. Carolina is getting married on Noviembre 14 (if I remember correctly), so I'll get to experience a wedding, which I am looking forward to.
Here's a picture of mi familia:
Tuesday, Septiembre 15
I decided that it was high time I figured out how to get around in Chillan, so I walked to the Universidad from my house. It's a solid walk, about 40 minutes at a good pace, but it wasn't unbearable. I think I'm going to walk to and from school each day. The taxis here are not expensive (about 300 pesos a ride, which is less than a dollar) but doing that multiple times a day, five days a week adds up. I'd rather save my money for when I really need a ride; when I'm coming home at 5am, or taking the bus to another city.
I met Casi and Rhett at the Universidad, and we got lost on the way back home. We were actually only five or six blocks from Casi's house, but the neighborhood was so foreign looking that we didn't realize it. Rhett and I went to my house after seeing that Casi was safe at her house, and it was after dark by the time we got to my place. My family was a little concerned because it was after dark, but everything was okay.
That night the conversation around the dinner table was lively. Mi hermana Valentina is home from school for vacation, and my mom's friend Cecilia also joined us. They talk extremely fast, but I found myself following the majority of what was being said. It was an encouraging moment. Words that I recognize are starting to get cemented in my brain so that I simply hear and understand, and I don't have to try and decipher them. I've especially noticed this tendency with tenses; I very quickly recognize the "o", "es/as", "e/a","amos/imos/emos", "en/an" endings to verbs, and I've come to learn that a huge part of understanding a conversation is simply knowing the subject.
The end result of all this is that it allows my mind to puzzle over words I'm not familiar with so that I acquire a deeper understanding of the converstation. It also made me thankful that I'm in a family with several people living at home because I'm used to hearing Chileans talk at full tilt amongst themselves. Rhett lives with just his madre, so he didn't have that benefit. Several times throughout the evening I found myself in the position of translator, which was affirming for me.
After dinner I went to get coffee (how very Oregonian of me, I realize now) with Elisa, one of the Chilean students here. She speaks good English, so it's a nice mix because we can more fully understand each other but I can still ask her questions about Spanish. Most of the converstation was in English that night, but hopefully I can pull even with her and we can have a conversation in Spanish soon. We also went to a bar that reminded me of the Crow Bar in Corvallis, and I have a feeling I'll be hanging out there a lot.
Wednesday, Septiembre 16
Rhett, Casi, Ryan, Jimmy and I took the bus to Concepcion, near the Chilean coast. It's about an hour bus ride, and it only costs 3,500 pesos (8 dollars) for a rountrip ticket. Unfortunately we didn't plan our trip at all, so once we got to the city we didn't know what to do. We ended up seeing Independence Square, where the country of Chile first gained independence from Spain, and we went to a park where we discovered the local teens like to sneak off and drink. We ran accross a group of students that were drinking and having a good time, though one of the girls in the group was throwing up because she had drank too much. The kids loved us though, practiced their English on us, and wanted us to give them a high five and a pound. It's been a common experience.
Casi, in fact, got more attention in Concepcion than I've ever seen. People all over would honk and wave at her, and there was a hilarious moment when a group of construction workers on the third story of a building were whistling and blowing kisses to her. Casi takes it very gracefully and just smiles and waves.
I went to bed right when I got home that night. I was starting to get a sore throat, and my lips were still very chapped from snowboarding on the weekend.
Thursday, Septiembre 17
I woke up this morning and my throat was still sore, but it's the only symptom I have. I sat down with mi familia for a nice lunch.
The food here is so delicious! I personally haven't eaten anything that I would consider foreign, or that couldn't be found in the States. But everything here explodes with flavor because they use different spices. Lunch is their big meal, so today we had salad with hardboiled eggs, followed by another type of salad. Again, it's just salad, but the flavors are so different, it's wonderful. Then we had a kind of soup with a turkey leg and a big piece of both patatoes and carrots. A special dessert closed out the meal, which was good though I have no idea what it was. Some type of cobbler is the closest description I can think of.
My family is amazing. I have a father, Juan Carlos, a mother, Wihldy, and a grandmother (I don't know here name, come to think of it). I also have a brother, Francisco Jose, who lives at home. He's 18. My sister Valentina is home from school for the week, and she's 22. My other sister, Carolina, is 26, and I think she's coming home tonight. Carolina is getting married on Noviembre 14 (if I remember correctly), so I'll get to experience a wedding, which I am looking forward to.
Here's a picture of mi familia:
That's all for now. I wish I could make the football game this Saturday! Go Beavers!
Monday, September 14, 2009
No Pictures
I spent an hour uploading pictures and it would only display the last one I loaded. I think I'll just post them on Facebook, so check there.
Dancing, Snowboarding, Dancing, Snowboarding
Have you ever had a moment where you stop and realize exactly where you are and what you’re doing, and you wonder what makes you so fortunate to be there? This weekend was full of those moments for me.
Friday, Septiembre 11
At 9:30pm Casi, Ashley, and myself met up with Jimmy and Elisa (our Chilean amiga) to go to El Bronco, a local discotheque (club). All the kids down here love El Bronco. We first went to Fran’s apartamente and spent some time there before finally going to the discotheque at midnight. Everything in Chile starts about 4 hours later than things would start in the U.S., so we had to wait about half an hour before they even opened the doors.
Once inside, El Bronco did not disappoint. First on the bill was a guy playing his acoustic guitar. He played popular songs that everyone knew the words to (excepting the Americans), and we all had a good time drinking and watching him perform.
Once he was done the real party began as the DJ spun it up and everyone hit the dance floor. The music they play in clubs here is so much better than anything I’ve heard in the states. The majority of it is called “reggaeton”, a cross between hip-hop, rap, house, and some type of latin. It’s frequently in ¾ time. They also mix in songs from all over the world. For example, that night they played Billie Jean by Michael Jackson and Sweet Child O’ Mine by Guns N’ Roses. The other thing that makes the club so much fun is that they don’t play a single song for more than a minute or two at the most, so the feel of the dance is constantly in motion. It makes for a fantastic atmosphere.
Saturday, Septiembre 12
We stayed out dancing until 5am, and I didn’t get home and to bed until 6am. I woke up at 7:30am because our group was taking a bus to the mountains to go snowboarding at 8am. The ride up was quick, only an hour and a half, and before we knew it we were on a mountain in the Andes. Everyone got their snowboarding/skiing equipment and hit the slopes.
I promptly dislocated my right shoulder. And I mean right away, on my first ride down, on the bunny slope. I braced myself for the consequences of what had just happened, but to my surprise it didn’t hurt that much.
I realized at that moment, sitting in the snow with my shoulder out of its socket, why dislocating my other shoulder during the play had been such an ordeal: I had gone in to shock. This time, I assume because my body knew what to expect, I didn’t experience that at all. My shoulder was out of its socket, and I felt my body say “So what, I’ve been here before.”
Once I had that epiphany I was able to calm down and find a solution. I remembered what the doctor in the emergency room had done to fix my shoulder during the summer, so I tried to repeat that. And with a snap my shoulder was back in. I had to spend a few minutes recovering before I felt comfortable snowboarding again, but after that I never looked back. The line between a complete disaster and an interesting story is a fine one. It never ceases to amaze me.
Once I had that epiphany I was able to calm down and find a solution. I remembered what the doctor in the emergency room had done to fix my shoulder during the summer, so I tried to repeat that. And with a snap my shoulder was back in. I had to spend a few minutes recovering before I felt comfortable snowboarding again, but after that I never looked back. The line between a complete disaster and an interesting story is a fine one. It never ceases to amaze me.
After the lifts closed we all got our swimming suites on and jumped in to the hot springs. There was some trouble with getting our rooms in the hotel ready, so we received complementary drinks (pisco sours). A small group was playing some music and there was an MC who walked around the pool with a microphone, encouraging guests to sing along to the songs.
Dinner was at 8pm, and it was delicious. My friend Dave and I officially went toe-to-toe for the first time that night. For those who don’t know, that means we drink exactly the same amount of alcohol throughout the course of the night. It’s a thing my friend Liz likes to do, and it’s quite a bit of fun, or as she would say, “rad.”
Everyone else drank quite a bit as well, so when the dining room became a dance floor (complete with two emcees and a DJ) we were all ready to goof off. We were the only people dancing for most of the night. They were giving out free pisco sours for the best dancers, so every time someone in our group won a drink (and we won them all), it was usually shared with everyone else. David won four or five drinks, which sounds like a lot, but if you knew Dave you’d know that’s just par for the course.
They stopped the dancing at the hotel around midnight. Of course, we were nowhere near finished, so we walked to a discotheque in another building at the resort. Again, our group was for the most part the only people dancing, though a few Chilean men already at the club were visibly stoked on the chance to dance with some American girls.
I went to bed at about 3am that night. I wanted to go to sleep early because I wanted to snowboard the next day.
Sunday, Septiembre 13
By noon thirty Dave, Kayla and I were on our way back up the mountain. It was very windy on Sunday, and cloudy too. We were fortunate that the weather on Saturday had been perfect; clear and warm. It was not to be on Sunday, but we still had a great time. Late in the afternoon some clouds rolled in, covering the middle of the mountain. Dave and I took a lift above the cloud layer and got to snowboard down through the clouds. Visibility was very low, around 20 feet at times, so we had to take it slow, but we made it down safe.
At 5pm it was time to head back home, but there was a little surprise waiting for me when I got back home: mi hermana Valentina was home from school for the week, along with her boyfriend (he’s from Argentina!). It was nice to meet another member of mi familia de Chile. Valentina, her boyfriend, and Francisco (mi hermano) played games and drank a little more that night. We played one in particular that was a lot of fun: we wrote down the names of a few dozen movies and took turns acting them out. Francisco and I were on a team against Valentina and her boyfriend. I was a little surprised that they were familiar with every popular movie in the states, including some of the more niche movies like Fight Club. It’s the same with music; Chileans are very in-tune with American pop-culture.
Music has been on my mind a lot for the past three days. I’m repeatedly impressed at how easy it is to get along with people through music. Even in our own group, where we can talk and understand each other perfectly, music and dancing has brought us together faster than years of conversing. There is something beautiful in everyone’s soul that simply understands music. I can’t clarify that thought any further, and I don’t think I’m supposed to. I can add an additional thought: there is no other medium that accomplishes what I’ve seen music do.
Of course, there is another side to this coin. While music has brought people together, I’ve also found it to be the only place where I can go back home if I need to. The music on my iPod sounds the same in Chile as it did in the U.S. Remarkable that the single thing I use to escape is also one of the best things for creating friendships.
Honestly, this duality doesn’t surprise me. This principle exists everywhere in the universe. It’s not one way or the other; it’s both. How else can we hope to understand anything? Time at work helps us appreciate the time at play. Time awake is good because we spent time asleep. It’s not God as a single entity or God as three separate beings; it’s both at the same time. In fact, every rule, law, theological argument, and piece of advice can trace its roots back to this: find the point where the two balance.
Hasta luego for now, I will seriously try and post pictures later today.
Friday, September 11, 2009
First Days in Chile
Wow! So much to write about it's hard to find a place to start. This is going to be a long post.
Wednesday, Septiembre 9
Traveling to Chile wasn't bad at all. It was about a 3 hour flight to Dallas, then a 9 hour flight to Santiago. From Santiago we took a bus to Chillan, and that was 5 hours. I can sleep anywhere, so I got plenty of it on the plane and the bus. When I wasn't sleeping I listened to music or read or wrote in my journal. Not a bad way to spend 24 hours.
We arrived in Chillan around 3 o'clock in the afternoon, and the families that everyone is staying with were there to greet us. One family had a sign for their student (Ryan), and the kids were jumping up and down with excitement. I was one of the first people to get off the bus, but I didn't see my family. A women approached me and asked if my name was David, so of course I told her "no", but I knew who David was so I pointed him out to her. He was in the back of the bus so it took him a minute to get out. While she was waiting for him, she told me that she hosted a student last year and that he taught their family how to play beer bong. Truly a game that transcends all cultures.
I saw my mom a few seconds later and introduced myself. Women greet each other and men with a hug and a single kiss on the cheek, so we embraced for several moments. Her name is Whildy. I then shook hands with my father, Juan Carlos. And just like that, I had a Chilean family. We packed my stuff into their car, along with my friend Casi's things. Her host-mom had to take her daughter to the airport that day, so Casi was going to be with my family until her mom got back that night.
Having Casi with me turned out to be a huge blessing. Not only was it easier to be with someone I already knew, but we were also able to help each other understand and speak in Spanish.
The language-switch has definitely been the most interesting and difficult part of the trip. At first I was able to communicate better than I thought I would be able to. That feeling disappeared after 5 hours and I'd exhausted almost everything I knew about Spanish. I spent some time writing down new words in my journal that night. But that was when I had that first "what-have-I-gotten-myself-into?" moment.
Thursday, Septiembre 10
Our group met at the Universidad del Bio Bio at 11am, and Florencia (the leader of the program) introduced us to our instructors and to the program. After this introduction we met our tutors for the first time. They were all just as excited to meet us as our families had been. My tutor, Ximena, was late to the meeting, but I bumped in to her as I was walking around campus. Her friend, Elisa, recognized me, and the only reason she did was because we had been friends on Facebook since the begginning of summer. Thank you, Facebook.
With our new Chilean friends, we all went to the mall downtown for lunch. The Chilean students spoke some English, some of them better than we could speak Spanish. So when push came to shove we spoke in English because it was easier. Florencia had told us that that was okay for the first day, but it was frustrating for me (and others I imagine) because I just couldn't converse in Spanish. It was a strange duality: after being in Chile for only a day I felt like I knew twice as much Spanish as the day before, and yet that still wasn't enough.
At 5 o'clock that evening the Universidad held a welcoming ceremony for us. We each got a nice keychain from the Universidad, and our tutors each got us a gift. A group of students played some music and danced for us, and then we had a small reception with some food. But the big party was outside, behind the school.
It's called a "la peña", and it was so much fun! Hundreds of students were there, and they had a small stage set up for bands to play. Around the perimeter of the event were booths selling food and drink (including wine and taquila). I spent most of the evening with David, Rhett, and Casi, and our tutors and some of their friends. We all tried our hand at dancing, which we were terrible at because we didn't know the dance, but no one else seemed to care, and we certainly didn't.
In fact, the dancing quickly endeared us to dozens of Chilean girls. I lost track of how many times I was asked to have my picture taken with a group of cute girls. I was told I'm "very handsome" and that I'm a "good dancer." David's tutor told me that the guys were "very famous" that night. I had my ass pinched at least twice. All the other guys I talked to had similar experience. Jimmy came away from the evening with the phone numbers of 5 different girls.
The other thing I realized about dancing was that it's one of the only activities that doesn't require verbal communication to experience it with another person. As I've mentioned, my speaking ability is very poor right now, but that didn't matter at all when I was dancing, jumping in a circle with my friends, or just goofing off in general. Having a good time is a universal experience, and language isn't really required for any part of it.
Friday, Septiembre 11
Those are the basics of what I've been up to the last couple of days. There's about a hundred other thoughts I want to share, but they'll have to wait. My brother just told me that in "cinco minutos" we'll be going to the bank to exchange my dollars, and rent ski equipment. We're going to the mountains to snowboard tomorrow. Pictures of the last few days will be posted later.
Hasta luego!
Wednesday, Septiembre 9
Traveling to Chile wasn't bad at all. It was about a 3 hour flight to Dallas, then a 9 hour flight to Santiago. From Santiago we took a bus to Chillan, and that was 5 hours. I can sleep anywhere, so I got plenty of it on the plane and the bus. When I wasn't sleeping I listened to music or read or wrote in my journal. Not a bad way to spend 24 hours.
We arrived in Chillan around 3 o'clock in the afternoon, and the families that everyone is staying with were there to greet us. One family had a sign for their student (Ryan), and the kids were jumping up and down with excitement. I was one of the first people to get off the bus, but I didn't see my family. A women approached me and asked if my name was David, so of course I told her "no", but I knew who David was so I pointed him out to her. He was in the back of the bus so it took him a minute to get out. While she was waiting for him, she told me that she hosted a student last year and that he taught their family how to play beer bong. Truly a game that transcends all cultures.
I saw my mom a few seconds later and introduced myself. Women greet each other and men with a hug and a single kiss on the cheek, so we embraced for several moments. Her name is Whildy. I then shook hands with my father, Juan Carlos. And just like that, I had a Chilean family. We packed my stuff into their car, along with my friend Casi's things. Her host-mom had to take her daughter to the airport that day, so Casi was going to be with my family until her mom got back that night.
Having Casi with me turned out to be a huge blessing. Not only was it easier to be with someone I already knew, but we were also able to help each other understand and speak in Spanish.
The language-switch has definitely been the most interesting and difficult part of the trip. At first I was able to communicate better than I thought I would be able to. That feeling disappeared after 5 hours and I'd exhausted almost everything I knew about Spanish. I spent some time writing down new words in my journal that night. But that was when I had that first "what-have-I-gotten-myself-into?" moment.
Thursday, Septiembre 10
Our group met at the Universidad del Bio Bio at 11am, and Florencia (the leader of the program) introduced us to our instructors and to the program. After this introduction we met our tutors for the first time. They were all just as excited to meet us as our families had been. My tutor, Ximena, was late to the meeting, but I bumped in to her as I was walking around campus. Her friend, Elisa, recognized me, and the only reason she did was because we had been friends on Facebook since the begginning of summer. Thank you, Facebook.
With our new Chilean friends, we all went to the mall downtown for lunch. The Chilean students spoke some English, some of them better than we could speak Spanish. So when push came to shove we spoke in English because it was easier. Florencia had told us that that was okay for the first day, but it was frustrating for me (and others I imagine) because I just couldn't converse in Spanish. It was a strange duality: after being in Chile for only a day I felt like I knew twice as much Spanish as the day before, and yet that still wasn't enough.
At 5 o'clock that evening the Universidad held a welcoming ceremony for us. We each got a nice keychain from the Universidad, and our tutors each got us a gift. A group of students played some music and danced for us, and then we had a small reception with some food. But the big party was outside, behind the school.
It's called a "la peña", and it was so much fun! Hundreds of students were there, and they had a small stage set up for bands to play. Around the perimeter of the event were booths selling food and drink (including wine and taquila). I spent most of the evening with David, Rhett, and Casi, and our tutors and some of their friends. We all tried our hand at dancing, which we were terrible at because we didn't know the dance, but no one else seemed to care, and we certainly didn't.
In fact, the dancing quickly endeared us to dozens of Chilean girls. I lost track of how many times I was asked to have my picture taken with a group of cute girls. I was told I'm "very handsome" and that I'm a "good dancer." David's tutor told me that the guys were "very famous" that night. I had my ass pinched at least twice. All the other guys I talked to had similar experience. Jimmy came away from the evening with the phone numbers of 5 different girls.
The other thing I realized about dancing was that it's one of the only activities that doesn't require verbal communication to experience it with another person. As I've mentioned, my speaking ability is very poor right now, but that didn't matter at all when I was dancing, jumping in a circle with my friends, or just goofing off in general. Having a good time is a universal experience, and language isn't really required for any part of it.
Friday, Septiembre 11
Those are the basics of what I've been up to the last couple of days. There's about a hundred other thoughts I want to share, but they'll have to wait. My brother just told me that in "cinco minutos" we'll be going to the bank to exchange my dollars, and rent ski equipment. We're going to the mountains to snowboard tomorrow. Pictures of the last few days will be posted later.
Hasta luego!
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Setup
I started this blog to provide my friends and family with a way to follow my adventures in Chile. I'm not sure how often I will update it, but I think once a week is a nice goal to shoot for so I'll try that. Sit back, relax, and experience Chile vicariously.
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