The biggest and best wave of my life (and other news)

Hello again!


It feels like it’s been awhile (almost a week, I suppose) and I am starting to realize that keeping up with this will be a bit of a challenge, though I’m going to try my very best. It’s important to me that you all know roughly what my life is like here, and it also forces me to keep track of how things are moving along, which I know I’ll appreciate later. Thank you to all who have left comments here or sent emails and the like. I know life is busy, and I appreciate that you take time out to make me feel connected and loved.


Today was pretty wonderful, but I’ll get to that in a minute. I think I’ll fill in the space between the last post and this one by beginning with the events of Wednesday, which was the 14th.


On Wednesday, like every other day for this three-week Intensive Spanish course, I had class all morning. It really isn’t too bad getting up for class since it doesn’t start until 10 and I live one block away from school. Although living downtown while almost everyone else in the program lives in different parts of the city is inconvenient and difficult at night when people go out, I really couldn’t ask for a better commute to school. Some people have to ride the metro for a half hour or forty minutes every morning to get to the University. I can leave my house at 9:55 and still be on time. After class, it has become customary to get lunch, either in the cafeteria or in a restaurant somewhere in town (preferably a “Ticket Restaurant,” that is, one which accepts our meal vouchers). On Wednesday, about five of us got empanadas and ice cream and had lunch in the park. I will say that although some of the food is pretty bland, I love the ice cream.


Eating in the park was a nice change of pace, though the stray dogs were a bit obnoxious. They’re everywhere in this city, which made me sad at first (and will undoubtedly put a frown on Kelly’s and Brittany’s faces), but none of them look sickly and they’re really just roaming free, sleeping where they please, gathering meals when they can, and crossing the street as if they know exactly when it’s safe to do so. The dogs in the park were staring at our empanadas, so some of us shared a few pieces with them. There’s something kind of sickening about watching a dog eating an empanada, though. And by the way, since I received this question and ought to have addressed it in the first place, an empanada is bread, shaped like a taco but closed like a Hot Pocket, and it is usually served warm as it contains anything from vegetables, chicken/beef/mystery meat, and/or cheese. If you’re wondering about the cheese here, I can tell you one thing: it’s nothing to write (or blog) home about. I may be a Wisconsin cheese snob, but that’s a fact.


After lunch in the park, several of us went to Santa Lucia hill, which is a beautiful park (obviously on a hill), containing a fountain, statues, pathways, an old church, and other lovely things. It was perfect for a sunny afternoon as it gave us a bit of exercise and a nice view of the city from the top. We were able to see the Andes to the east, beyond which is Argentina, though not visible from this hill. In the opposite direction, we imagined the Pacific coast, although all we were able to see was the city. Parts of Santiago are unimpressive. It’s not the cleanest city in many areas, and parts are obviously much better off than others. But I do like the many parks throughout and the strange mix of buildings, some old and clearly influenced by and constructed during the Spanish rule, and some new, as is the case with the skyscrapers that sometimes tower over the antique edifices alongside them. The city is an anachronism in that parts of it harken back to a very different era while other parts clearly reflect our technology-reliant, capitalist-driven, bigger-is-better world.


On the way back down the hill, I tried something called huesillo (I think), which is a Chilean beverage consisting of peach juice and—get this—corn. At the bottom of the cup is a pile of this corn-like stuff and also a whole peach, so the beverage is really something of a snack in and of itself. I wasn’t a fan of the food-in-my-drink concept (this will not surprise my parents or Katharine), but the peach juice was good, and it actually inspired me today to eat a peach—as in, bite into a FUZZY peach and eat it. It was delicious, after I got over the fuzzy texture, and I felt rather accomplished. Perhaps huesillo is next. Or, perhaps not. Anyway, after the hike, we walked across the street and browsed the many booths at the fair in Santa Lucia, a perfect place to shop for souvenirs or, as I plan to do, to get a Chilean memento for one’s self. I have my eye on some Chilean-style sandals, though I decided to think about the color and design I’d like and then return. They do have my size, which I could hardly believe, as I’m basically a giantess in this country.


I had dinner with the family on Wednesday night and did homework with Kena, which was low-key and nice. Sadly, Kena left on Friday, and I didn’t even get to say goodbye to her. She’s returning some time in March, so that makes me feel better, but I hated that she was gone so suddenly. Apparently her parents in Salamanca told her it was time to return. She is such a sweet girl and had really begun to seem to me like a little sister (though of course not a replacement for my own beautiful little sister, Brittany). I’ll be excited to see her again. On an exciting note: I was able to understand a rather fast-paced, long, and detailed conversation during dinner, which gives me hope that my listening abilities are improving. I’ve gotten much more used to the Chilean accent, which is definitely distinct. The plural –s at the end of words is often dropped (I’m beginning to sound like Dr. HK, my language structure instructor at Marquette), and there is a certain, indescribable way in which Chileans make the language their own. We tend to study Spain-style Spanish, so, not surprisingly, the language here is different and throws me off a bit.


Thursday was slightly obnoxious. Because we’re staying here for six months as students, we need something called a carné de identificación, basically a Chilean I.D., equivalent perhaps to a social security number. The process is lengthy when you’re doing it with 22 other people, and it took several hours. One of our instructors, Marcela, accompanied us to the two stops we had to make, the Police Department and some other official-ish place, and that was very kind of her. We each had to go in to a room and give our visa to this guy, who in turn entered all of our information in and asked us some easy questions and then stared at his dinosaur of a computer as if mentally willing it to send the information to the printer. It took forever and it was boring and it doesn’t deserve anymore space here. However, some of us were able to take a stroll around town while others were still doing all of this nonsense, and we walked to the Plaza de Armas (which I’ve already visited—the place with the massive Cathedral), as it was fairly close and no one else had been there. I guided us there (kind of) and we went to the Cathedral again and then slowly made our way back to the Police Department. Thank goodness we got that little break or I may have gone crazy.


When we were finally finished with all our government-mandated business, we found a little Ticket Restaurant and decided it would have to do since we were on the brink of starvation. We were pleasantly surprised to find that there was a plethora of lunch options, ranging from lasagna to soy burgers, and our low expectations of the place made the food seem even more appetizing. It didn’t disappoint—we had a delicious lunch and decided that we’d discovered a diamond in the rough at this unimpressive-looking Ticket place. A word to the wise, however: if you discover something surprisingly wonderful, DO NOT RETURN. It will only upset you when, the second time around, it’s not as fantastic. Three of us four original diamond-discoverers returned the next day with two new eaters who had been promised the meal of a lifetime. It wasn’t that great and they were clearly unimpressed and confused, as we’d constructed in their minds an image of a luxurious, magical lunch venue.


After lunch on Thursday, we were all pretty tired after having trekked all over town for these I.D. things. We also felt stuffed, after our meal, and unmotivated, as the fruit of our labor from the day was a mere piece of paper, a “temporary” I.D. that we need until we pick up our real I.D. cards at the end of this month. Not very exciting. We all returned to our respective homes. I did my homework and watched a movie with Gladys, who, having worked the evening before, was spending the afternoon relaxing with some of her favorite dramas. We watched an old movie from the States; I think the title was “The Immortal Melody.” It was kind of cute, and as it was in English, I got to sit and listen the movie without exerting much effort while Gladys read the subtitles. Afterwards, I took a shower (I’m always ready for one mid-afternoon here because the heat is so intense and the city air makes me feel grubby). I then took a short nap, did more homework, and had dinner with my family.


After that, some kids from the program called to say that people were going to go to a bar in Providencia, where many of them live. So, I called Stefani, who lives downtown too, as you’ll recall, and we decided to join them. I really shouldn’t have gone out, as I was tired and had a bit of a headache. We went to one place, called Ramblas, where I had an intense glass of red wine and listened to lots of Michael Jackson songs (shout out to Molls). I really want to go somewhere cuter—with folksy music or Chilean music or a live band maybe—but we’re still trying to find our way around. I called it an early night and Stefani and I took a Radiotaxi home. Apparently, these taxis are more trustworthy than the normal taxis, and they come highly recommended by the program and our families. It was pretty cheap to split (if only taxis were so cheap in cities in the U.S.!!), which was good. I was glad I’d gone out because it was the first time I’d hung out in the evening with anyone from the program, but I’m not usually a fan of going out on school nights, so I was happy to still get a normal amount of sleep.


It’s a good thing that I did sleep because Friday was a long day. We had class, though only until 12:30, and then we all went on what was essentially a field trip. Our destination was La Moneda, the capitol building I’ve described before, and the museum below it, where I visited with Andrea and Stefani, though briefly. We went to the museum first, and I loved it. There was a Violeta Parra exhibit being featured, and I liked that (we had just read about her in our class), but I was far more interested in the other featured exhibit about Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera, both of whom were extremely well-known artists in Mexico. We had a great museum guide, and he told us all sorts of interesting things about the paintings we saw. There were some rather famous works in this museum, which was so awesome. I really like and appreciate art, though I can’t create it myself, so I thought the museum visit was awesome. What’s great is that it cost us about $.50US. I truly wish things were more reasonable at home, especially things related to the arts. There are concerts and shows and exhibits all over this city, and most of them are rather reasonable. It’s great, and I hope to take advantage of more of it soon.


After the art museum, we were supposed to have a lunch break. We were running late, though, and we had a tour of La Moneda already booked, so we had to skip lunch. This was our demise. Unlike at the museum, where our guide had been concise and engaging, our guide at La Moneda talked and talked and talked and talked and hardly anyone could keep up with his speed or understand his accent or stay intrigued in what he was saying. Most of La Moneda was lost on me because of this, and I was hardly impressed. After awhile, big, airy rooms start looking the same and portraits of the same historically famous Chilean people get boring and red, velvet curtains from France are no longer surprising or lovely. We all wanted to leave, but the guide just kept talking and kept opening doors to different rooms. When we were FINALLY finished, it was already 5pm. We were so hungry and so upset that, two days in a row, our hunger had been sacrificed for something we didn’t totally enjoy.


I stayed in Friday night, though I think some people may have gone out. I figured that since we’d be getting an early start the following day, I’d better get some sleep. I didn’t regret that decision. However, I had an emotional encounter with my host mom and sister when Carolina asked if I was planning to go out with her, Andrea, and a neighbor guy. I told them my reasoning for taking it easy that evening but then Carolina and Gladis both tried to convince me that I should really go out. At this point, it was already 11pm, and no one ever does anything immediately around here, so I told them that since they wouldn’t be leaving until midnight or so, I just couldn’t do it. I explained that I’m still getting accustomed to the crazy hours young Chileans keep and that I need to balance sleep and staying healthy with my experiences of Chilean night life.


For some reason, I guess because this is always something that I have to give reasons for in my life in Milwaukee, Oshkosh, and now here, I started crying. Gladis had to run a quick errand, so I was left with Carolina, who couldn’t understand what my deal was. I tried to explain that I just feel like, since this is all still so new, I need to ease into things, take care of myself, not spend all my money or calories or time on alcoholic beverages, and see all parts of the culture, not just bars. I told her that I’m interested in a lot of other things (i.e. the aforementioned arts) and that, while I intend to experience the nightlife here, as it’s important to gaining a cultural perspective, it’s not something I can do every night like some people. She seemed to understand me, but I think I was just exhausted from the day and frustrated with the fact that, while I have some close friends at home who really know me and respect me, I still feel that no one here really knows who I am. I don’t want to have to change who I am just to make friends (for example: I don’t want to go out more than once or twice a week just because that’s the only way I’ll get to know people). And I don’t want anyone to think I’m lame, either. I think all of this just hit me, and poor Carolina had to try to deal with the crazy, emotional estadounidense weeping in her bed. Everyone was really nice to me the rest of the night, as if they were afraid I’d start crying about something else. We had dinner (quite late) and I went to bed.


Here comes the fun part: we had an out-of-town class excursion this weekend. Our destination was the coastal city of Valparaiso, which is becoming more well-known and beloved by the minute. The pride and joy of Chile, the late poet Pablo Neruda, had three houses in the country (one in Valparaiso, one in Isla Negra, and one in Santiago). All three are now museums which showcase both the creative and beautiful architecture of his homes and the amazing collection of things he gathered from around the world during his life and travels. The Sebastian (his house in Valparaiso) is pretty awesome, as it’s four or five stories and resembles, in design and decoration, a boat. Neruda was fascinated and inspired by the sea, and the house and his poetry reflect that. I’m excited that we'll be visiting his other homes this semester, too, especially since the one in Isla Negra (his favorite) is supposedly quite beautiful.


Unfortunately, one of the girls in our program tripped and fell on her way out of the bus after the visit and sprained her ankle quite badly, so we had to take a detour to take care of that. We finally made it to lunch, though, at a restaurant with a patio. No one had told us that it’s significantly colder in these cities (we could have figured it, I suppose, but we didn’t), so we were all freezing, but luckily we had two huge tables in the sun on the patio. Our lunch was three hours; Chileans LOVE lunchtime. It was so much fun, though, especially since we didn’t have to pay (though I suppose we’ve already paid for it in the program costs). We got tons of food. First: bread. Delicious, though I’ve been eating far too much bread here. Second: salad. I got the “ensalada chilena, “ and I should have known better. It’s the same stuff my family serves: a plate of onions and tomatoes, which is apparently a salad here. No one uses dressing (they think it’s disgusting), so options for garnishing a salad include lemon/lime, salt, or olive oil. My host mom at least realizes that I like lettuce with my “salad,” so it’s not terrible to eat this type of thing at home. Next, we got our main dishes. Most of us ordered fish, as we were in a coastal city known for its seafood. I decided to try something that Isabel had said was good and something that we don’t have at home. I ended up getting grilled congria, a white fish that was alright in flavor, though not (as Katharine would say) “pants-dropping.” It was fine. Dad, have you ever heard of this fish? Zak? Rob? I'm curious.


The meal would have gotten a “C” if it had ended there but what ensued boosted this meal experience to an “A.” We drank tons of wine, feasted on delicious ice cream, and sat around giggling for another two hours. It was quite fun, and I had some good conversation with Liz, Lauren, and Caitlin, the girls sitting near me at the table. I’ve been so afraid that I won’t make any connections with anyone, but these girls are really nice (many of the others are as well), and I am less worried after this weekend.


After we were finally finished eating, we drove through the hills of Valparaiso en route to Viña del Mar, the neighboring, more touristy, city. I should mention, before I move on with this story, that I instantly fell in love with Valparaiso, as many people do. First of all, there’s the Pacific Ocean. Like Neruda, I have always liked the water and have always wished I lived on a lake, for example. Seeing the ocean and trees and birds in the sky was a change of pace from the hustle and bustle of Santiago, and it was refreshing. The cooler temperature was, although sometimes uncomfortable due to our lack of preparedness, a welcome change, and the best part is that I’m not allergic to the air in Valparaiso as I seem to be in the smog-covered Santiago. I felt free and healthy and alive in Valparaiso, and I felt like I could take a deep breath and relax. It was a beautiful day, and there’s something about the humble, colorful homes that is peaceful. The rainbow of colors cascades down the hills as far as one can see and the city itself exudes a special character and charm. I must return.


The bus took us to Viña del Mar, right to the door of our hostel. We’d called to book spots while on the bus, according to a recommendation from the Lonely Planet guidebook, and the choice was a good one. This place was right on the main drag, and it was clean, provided a very small breakfast, and was $16US/person/night—not bad for a place of this quality. The sheets and the shower and the floors were clean, so I was happy. We had six girls in one room, which was kind of fun, as I haven’t had roommates in awhile. We took a short walk down the main street because we wanted to get bus tickets for our return trip the following day, just so that we knew we had a ride and we didn't have to worry about it. As it turns out, it’s pretty easy to just walk up and get on the next bus, as they leave for Santiago every half hour. The trip home cost about $5—you really can’t beat that—and after booking our tickets, we began walking back toward the hostel but were detoured a few times.


First, I spotted a Church and wanted to check the Sunday Mass schedule (9,10,11, and 12 on Sunday—pretty good options there!). Then, someone needed to stop in store. Someone else needed the Internet Café. Then we found a Walgreens-type place, so people who hadn’t planned to stay but had decided to anyway could get some toothbrushes and essential items. (By the way, 22 of the 23 people stayed for the night, all in the same hostel, so that was a lot of fun. The only person who went home was the girl who got hurt, and I can’t blame her. She’s apparently doing OK— it was a bad sprain and she can’t walk for two days, but then she’ll have a boot for awhile and hopefully will be OK for traveling in February). We slowly made our way home, getting distracted once more by a market, where I purchased a Pashmina scarf to keep me warm that evening and a lot of postcards for all of you wonderful people.


We decided to take a group nap before preparing for a night out, but when we woke up at 10pm we found ourselves rather unmotivated. We all felt kind of dirty, so we got ready quickly with whatever resources we had and ended up going to the same place everyone else was going (a booming club with “three heaving dance floors,” according to the guide book). Liz, Caitlin, Lauren and I had wanted a quieter setting but hadn’t wanted to just go off and explore in the dark. Café Journal was the name of the highly acclaimed club, and most people really liked it. I thought the building was neat, but the music was terrible! Lots of techno and 80’s music from the States—not what I want to hear in Chile. We danced very briefly, each had a Pisco Sour (the national drink of this country; when I figure out what the heck Pisco actually is, I’ll let you know), and called it an early night at 1:30 or so. Some people wanted to go to the beach early in the morning and then leave around 1 the next day, but I’d figured that if I was already in this different city, I ought to hang out for awhile, so I’d booked my ride home for 5:25pm on Sunday so as to allow ample time for the beach.


The next morning, I woke up, had breakfast with whoever slowly meandered down the stairs and into the lobby area, and then got ready for Mass. As it turned out, many people took me up on the offer to join me for the service, so that was really awesome. We arrived a little late and weren’t able to get seats close to the front, so the echo was a problem again. Luckily, we had print-outs of the Readings in Spanish, so that really helped me focus more this week. I need to find something that has all of the Mass parts in it so I can actually participate, and I should probably learn the Creed and the Our Father in Spanish. However, I was at least grateful to be able to understand the Readings. I was again moved by the fact that the Church is universal and I can, although I do not understand everything that’s happening, go to a Mass in Viña del Mar, Chile and still feel a part of something. I was so happy other people joined me in going, as I almost figured I’d be going alone.


The best part of the weekend was the beach. We walked there from the Church (after a quick stop at a fruit stand for some sustenance-- this is where I bought the peach), and we quickly found some other people we knew and spread our towels down next to them. It wasn’t long before we got the urge to brave the waters of the Pacific. Several of us ran, hand in hand, into the frigid waves, and it was, although incredibly cold, so exhilarating. We spent the afternoon lying on the beach, toes dug in the sand, basking in the sun. We had crepés for lunch (DELICIOUS) and every once in awhile returned to the Ocean for another rush. Hanna and I were playing around, swimming at the waves as they rolled in, for quite some time at one point. The biggest wave I’ve ever seen came at us. I honestly think someone could have surfed on this one. It was massive, curling back over itself as whitecaps do. We bravely swam into it and let it throw us in the air (stripping off most of our swimsuits in the process) and plop us back down into the icy water (which is, since it’s coming with a current from Antarctica, probably literally a product of ice). It was a life moment: that wave was huge, and it felt so amazing to just swim into it and fly around in it. The afternoon was so peaceful and perfect that I didn’t want to get on the bus at 5 and go back to Santiago, especially after our banana split ice cream treats from Bravisimo after the beach. What a day.


As it turns out, busing around from city to city here is going to be easy and fairly reasonably priced. We got home in an hour and a half and were dropped off at a Metro station. We rode the train to our usual stops and we were home—it was so slick. I had to tell Gladis all about the trip (and then Maria and then Andrea and then Carolina as they successively entered the house), but it was good to see them. They’re starting to feel more like family, and I miss them when I go away. I hung out with them a bit tonight, eating a small dinner and having a drink with the ladies for awhile, but I also took a shower, unpacked my bag from the weekend, and decided that updating this was a must too. This has been a long entry and I’m really tired at this point. I’ll be sleepy in the morning, but that’s what this siesta business is all about, I suppose. (For the record, it doesn’t seem that siestas are necessary a traditional and essential part of Chilean culture, although many people, due to the vampire’s hours they keep, do take a long lunch and then a nap in the afternoon and I have noticed that many stores close between 1 and 3.)


Tomorrow is another day of class, and Mondays are our long days, so I’ll probably just come home after class, go for a run, do some homework for the rest of the week, and take it easy. I must add this: although I had applied sunscreen and didn’t think I had gotten burned at all at the beach (which I was SUPER happy about), when I took off my clothes to get into the shower, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and literally gasped. My body very closely resembles a lobster, and I feel like I’m on fire. This is the worst burn I’ve ever had, which I hate because it’s really important to me to prevent this—and I thought I had! I will be feeling this for a week at least, so I need to avoid the pool. It’s quite a bummer, but I’ve learned my lessons: first, the hole in the ozone is closer to Chile than to the U.S. and the sun is stronger, so sunscreen needs to be applied more often. And secondly, salt water doesn’t help the situation. I think that’s what did me in.


You were all in my thoughts today. I sincerely hope it warms up a bit for you at home. I know winter is always long and cold but there’s no need for it to be paralyzing. I hope you’re doing some ice skating/skiing/hot chocolate drinking/whatever you do to get you through the chill. I love you all, and I love hearing about how things are going. I want to give a particular shout-out to Catí (and Bethany if she reads this): I can’t wait to hear about the Inauguration! I’m officially jealous, though definitely happy for you. Have an amazing time. It's pretty weird that I'm here when my home country is about to make such a big transition. It's hard to stay as up-to-date as I wanted to, but I'm going to try to catch the ceremony on BBC online.


If you've made it this far, I owe you a massive thank you for loving me enough to read such a ridiculously lengthy post. So, thank you, and buenos noches!!


Amanda