Yup...I'm officially on summer vacation until March 9th.

How can it possibly be the end of January already? I can hardly believe that today was our last day of our Intensive Spanish class, but it’s true—we’ve been here for over three weeks! That being said, this past week was busy! I’ve done little else but prepare for final presentations and plan our February travels, but for your reading pleasure, I’ll elaborate.

On Monday, the 26^th, we had class until 3:00. Afterwards, I went with Liz, Laura, and Caitlin, the girls I’ll be traveling with, to purchase tickets for our first bus (to Pucón) and our first flight (from Puerto Montt to Punta Arenas). It was exciting because, having made those first purchases, we knew we were officially going somewhere in February. I’ve been reading my guidebooks religiously lately, carefully cross-referencing Lonely Planet’s suggestions with the wisdom in Frommer’s. It’s been an overwhelming but exciting task trying to plan out our Chilean adventure, but it seems I’ve become the primary planner in our group, at least for the time being. It’s hard to determine how much we have to plan/book ahead of time and how much we can leave up to a later decision. We figured that, for a Monday, making two purchases was a fine start. Though, to keep us on track, I made a list of goals to accomplish by the end of the week. SPOILER ALERT… we have indeed accomplished these goals, and our trip has really taken shape!

On Tuesday, we only had class until 1:00, and after our lunch break, we all got on a bus and headed for the comuna of Lo Espejo, which is a significantly poorer area than anywhere we’ve been spending our time. Our destination was an educational center known as Santa Adriana, and the purpose of our visit was two-fold: first, we were given a tour and a brief overview of the facilities and the program, as Santa Adriana is one of our several options for service sites during the semester (for the Poverty & Development course); secondly, after spending some time hearing about Santa Adriana, we split into smaller groups and were all escorted to the homes of low-income families in the community for whom Santa Adriana has been an important support system. Santa Adriana, though nowhere near as nice-looking as a facility of its type in the United States (for the most part), is a place for children to go before or after school when their parents are at work or away. Because the children are growing up in a poverty-stricken neighborhood and because there are many temptations (like drugs) for them if they roam the streets unaccompanied, Santa Adriana is a safe place for parents to send their kids. While there, they can take part in a number of activities through which they exercise their minds and bodies, develop social skills, engage in the arts, and learn/do homework.

The family I visited, along with Alex, Evie, and Stefani, consisted of a 40-something-year-old woman, Mónica, and her five children, ages 18, 15, 7, 6, and 4, I believe. Their house was tiny and simply decorated, and it wasn’t hard to tell that they have very few possessions. There were no toys around, pictures were taped on the walls, and the couches had holes in them. Nevertheless, we were warmly greeted and were quickly made to feel comfortable as Mónica began telling us about her life. Meanwhile, the younger children, two girls and a boy, entertained us with their silly antics. They were clearly delighted to have visitors, and we were more than willing to humor them and snuggle with them. Standing off to the side and saying very little were Mónica’s older daughters, both of whom looked much older than their actual ages. Mónica told us about the importance of Santa Adriana for her family; the center is a safe place for her youngest children to go, and they eat there, which helps save Mónica money and stress, as putting food on the table is an everyday struggle. Mónica also told us about the family; most all of her relatives live in the immediate area (in fact, a few of them came in and out while we were there), and she has never lived anywhere except Lo Espejo. She is unmarried now, as the father of her first two children abandoned her years ago, leaving her to raise her children alone. And, she is soon to be a grandmother. This last piece of news caused her eyes to well up with tears, and right in front of us, we saw the weight of the world crushing this beautiful, loving, strong woman. The news was fresh—she had just been informed by her oldest daughter the evening before—and it was clearly a painful and difficult fact to accept. Mónica had her daughter, who is now pregnant, when she was about the same age, and to see her daughter beginning the same sort of difficult life that she has had is not an easy thing for Mónica to watch.

It is said that the eyes are the window to the soul, and I felt that, when I looked into Mónica’s eyes, all of her hopes and fears—for herself and her children—stared back at me. This is a woman who works hard everyday, who is trying to give her children a fighting chance, and who is up against seemingly insurmountable obstacles. How does one ever escape the cycle of poverty? For years, I’ve had an answer to this question: education. I stand by the fact that, if a child is given the opportunity to learn, that opens up a lot of doors. And yet, I can’t seem to reconcile this attitude with some things I’ve seen, not only here in Chile but also at home. There’s so much more to the problems many people face than their failure to graduate high school or their lack of an opportunity to go to college. There’s the fact that, especially in Chile but also worldwide, women are still expected to be the main child-rearing figure; obviously, this puts an incredible amount of stress on a young mother who lives in constant fear of being abandoned by her boyfriend or spouse—something that happens all the time—and having to care for her children while making money to do so. There’s the many temptations young children face on the streets, especially in neighborhoods overwhelmed by despair and hopelessness. There’s the physical struggles—like having enough to eat daily—and the emotional and spiritual ones too, like children who see advertisements for things that they can never have and wonder “why can’t I?” all their lives. It is naïve to think that, by putting a child like this in a classroom for seven hours a day, the pain of poverty that has been ingrained in them all of their lives will suddenly evaporate.

And yet, I do believe that learning unlocks doors... it’s just that there are a lot of other doors that need to be unlocked in order for a child to make it to graduation day. In class, we read a poem by famous Chilean poet Gabriela Mistral, called “Todas ibamos a ser reínas,” which means “We’re all going to be queens.” It’s about four young girls who dream of being queens and living near the sea when they grow up—except that, in the end, not a single one of them achieves this dream. Mistral wrote a lot about women and children and Chile, and she herself was a smart and independent woman who endured a lot of disappointment in her life. There are politicians and public figures who throw around the word “hope” a lot, and sometimes I wonder about hope. Most people would say that, for the grand majority of the kids living in a place like Lo Espejo, there’s not much hope. So is it alright to let them talk of becoming queens? Is it alright to act as if they might someday fulfill their dreams? And if not—if we take away their hope—then what is left for them? When we were talking Mónica’s family, Alex and Evie mentioned that they’d love to come back and hang out with the kids or tutor the 15-year-old daughter in English, as she’s been struggling with her classes in school. I was a bit afraid of the promises they were making—what if they don’t actually come back, even if they have every intention of doing so now? These kids don’t need more false hope. Hope is a dangerous thing, and yet it might be their only thing. I’ll continue to reflect on this, though I’m grateful for any insights you all have into the many, many societal issues we have, most of which center around poverty.

After returning from Santa Adriana, I returned to the house with Caitlin and Laura, as we had to work on a project together. The assignment was to make a Chilean dish and then present the recipe and finished product the next day in class. We were fortunate that Gladis was willing to help us out and already had all of the ingredients to make a vegetarian-friendly, traditional Chilean food. Cooking is not my favorite activity nor is it a talent of mine, so I hadn’t been all that excited about this project. I very much appreciated Gladis’ help. We finished cooking and had a snack (Gladis insisted) before the girls left. Later, I did homework and had dinner with Carolina and her boyfriend (“pololo” in Chile), Marcelo. We talked mostly about music, as he is a fan of some pretty intense heavy metal and, well, I am not. Later that night, I had the privilege of conversing via Skype with Molly, which was a very lovely event. Skype has its issues—for example, our calls got cut off about five times before we had a successful, clear 45-minute conversation—but it is free and it is pretty amazing that I can talk to someone in a different country with such convenience. It was wonderful to hear about what’s going on in her life and what’s going on at Marquette (and at St. Ben’s!), though it was surreal to see, out her window, the Catholic Knights building and Cobeen Hall and Wisconsin Ave. One moment, I was feeling super-connected, and the next I was so very aware that I am thousands of miles away.

On Wednesday, our cooking presentation went smoothly, though it’s safe to say that I’m not the next Rachel Ray. After class, our entire group—yes, 23 gringos—traveled via Metro to the Vega Central, which is Santiago’s oldest public market. Walking through the massive warehouse, packed with vendors selling everything from peaches to peppers to fish with big, beady eyes, was an experience for all of my senses. Marcela, who is our Cultural Expression instructor, accompanied us and told us that she loves the market because it’s “Chile en verdad”—it’s the real Chile (no, MU readers, I do not mean Real Chili). It reminded me the market in Chichicastenago, Guatemala, which was my first experience of this sort. The colors of the fresh fruits and vegetables spilling out of their crates is something I always pictured when I imagined what Chile would be like. I liked the Vega, though I didn’t purchase anything because I’m being extremely careful about what I eat. Several cats and dogs were roaming around, and some were resting in very close proximity to the food being sold, so I figured I’d better not risk eating something that would upset my stomach, as it’s been a bit sensitive lately as it is. We did, however, sit down and dine at one of the small restaurants in the Vega. I had some chicken and French fries (I know, not very Chilean) and a refreshing juice made with fresh strawberries. I enjoyed our meal but I must say I’m not upset that it was our last all-class trip around the city. Whenever we go anywhere all together, we make SUCH A SCENE. It’s embarrassing, to say the least, and it robs all of us of any chance we had of blending in around here.

We did some more trip planning following our visit to the market, and then at about 7pm, I went to Liz’s to work on another project, this one focusing on a poem of our choosing (which happened to be another Mistral poem, this one about Patagonia—very appropriate). Liz had been feeling quite sick for awhile and finally went to the clinic earlier this week after she threw up on the Metro on her way home from class one day. As it turns out, she has some type of bacterial infection. So, she’s been taking it easy and trying to get healthy again, but she’s still not at 100%, even after several days of resting and hardly eating anything. Needless to say, she wasn’t too into planning our project, and after a pretty busy afternoon, I wasn’t either. We worked on it for about an hour and procrastinated for another (I met another girl from the U.S. who lives at her house and I taste-tested her mom’s amazing home-made apricot jam). Then, I headed home on the Metro and went to bed.

Things seem to turn out alright for the most part, and our project was just fine, despite our lack of serious preparation. For the same class (Gramática), we also had a final “exam” that day, which really wasn’t very difficult. What I’ve enjoyed about this class is the fact that, while our professors expect our participation and our effort, we haven’t had to be too stressed about anything; the main purpose of this class was just to give us an introduction/refresher and help us make some quick progress early-on. I’ve enjoyed it thoroughly, and I’m especially excited because I’ll be taking a class with Marcelo, my teacher for the Gramática y Poesía course, during the semester, and he is excellent.

We rewarded ourselves with a lunch out (at a Ticket restaurant, of course), and I was excited when we chose a Mexican food location, as I’ve been craving some flavor and spice in our food. I’m sad to say that I’ve found Chilean food to be rather bland. I had a nice lunch with Josh, Hanna, Caitlin, Laura, and Lauren, but afterwards, we had some business to attend to. First, we went to Sky Airlines with the intention of purchasing our plane tickets home (Punta Arenas to Santiago) for the 20^th of February. I’d agreed that, despite my original expectation to leave Santiago ASAP and travel every day we were allowed to do so, I’d return a week earlier than we have to be back so that we could spend some time relaxing at a beach somewhere. We were able to work with the same travel agent who had helped us earlier in the week, and she is perhaps the most patient, sweetest woman in the world.

When we realized that flights on the 20^th were significantly more expensive than flights on the 19^th, Laura, Caitlin, and I entered into a half-hour debate about whether or not it would be worth the money to spend another night in Punta Arenas and come home on the 20^th anyway. Our angelic travel agent never rushed us, and in the end, despite having clearly stated my wishes to stay in the south for as long as possible, I was clearly in the minority and we purchased tickets for the 19^th. I’ll be frank: our trip to the south isn’t what I originally thought it would be, and I feel like I’ve had to give up some of the things I wanted to do in order to accommodate the group’s wishes. That’s part of traveling with other people, and I realize that whatever we do will be absolutely awesome, but I’ll admit that I’m a little bit nervous that this trend will continue throughout the trip. I refuse to have regrets about my Chile adventure, though, so I’m hoping that everyone will be as excited about I am to do EVERYTHING once we’re there. We’ve made the trip shorter than I originally thought it would, so I’m going to be hoping to pack in lots of awesome things, knowing that, at the end of our trip, a week of more relaxing activities is on the agenda.

After the stress of trying to get everything figured out, we still had another task. Laura and Caitlin hadn’t purchased backpacks for hiking (they were going to use their school backpacks!!), so we went to a store to purchase some. Luckily, we found a decent selection and both girls were able to find backpacks that fit appropriately and had some nice features. I am absolutely happy I bought mine at home, though, with the help of the friendly Scheel’s employee who answered all of my 5,000 questions about my Kelty bag. Here, there was no such person to help us, but luckily, Hanna knows a lot about hiking, and she was a really great asset as Laura and Caitlin tried to find the perfect bags. Afterwards, we treated ourselves to Bravisimo ice cream (I got chocolate mousse this time, straying from my usual Tiramisu), and then we went our separate ways. I had dinner when I got home and then worked for a little while on my final project for Expresión Cultural the next day. The task was to present, for 5-10 minutes, about anything Chilean (quite broad) that we’ve seen/experienced. I chose to talk about the espectáculo in front of the Moneda (the show with the giant copper doll), and I think it went fine today. By the way, if you haven’t checked out the pictures yet, they’re on my photo site (link is to the right).

Today then (Friday), was our last day of class. We had a final test in our Stories class and then our presentations in Culture, as well as a final evaluation (the same test we took three weeks ago when we arrived). I am positive I did a lot better on the final evaluation, which is great because that means the grammar review and the listening exercises we’ve been doing has really been helpful. After class, we again decided we deserved ice cream (OK, so maybe I always think I deserve ice cream). Hanna, Josh, David, and I enjoyed some ice cream at a place called La Naranja (the Orange), located in the Centro, not far from the Moneda, and Liz, who was feeling slightly better but still not healthy, accompanied us but decided to pass on the ice cream (proving she’s actually ill). We then decided to walk to the park in Santa Lucía and hang out for awhile, but we were pleasantly sidetracked when we passed the National Library and realized we’d never gone inside. We walked in and explored for a bit, and we were all impressed with the lovely architecture and stained glass windows in this huge, old building. We were also pleasantly surprised to find a featured exhibit of artwork depicting Valparaíso. I can’t wait to go back to that magical city on the sea, so I was more than excited about the art.

We left and continued toward Santa Lucía and then discovered the Archives building, which I’ve been meaning to visit since I first heard of the exhibit that’s been featured there since we arrived here. Now, though, we were more prepared for it, as it showcases photographs from the 1983-1989 era of repression and revolution in Chile, under the dictator Pinochet, who was responsible for the horrific deaths and disappearances of thousands of Chileans. In class last week, we watched a beautiful, though intense and terribly sad, documentary about the photographers who went out during the riots and rallies to capture the violence and the resistance, which many Chileans—and certainly most of the world—was blind to as a result of Pinochet’s censoring of the media in Chile. I was moved by the dedication and courage of the photographers, who risked death daily to capture moments that shaped a nation and bring the truth to the attention of the people of Chile. And yet, for these photographers, this became something of a sickness. They thrived on the adrenaline rush, the blood, the screaming, and the risk involved in this type of work, and many of them realized, slowly, that they had developed unhealthy attachments to the violence. The video made me think a lot about photography and I learned so much about the very recent history of this country, a country which endured some terrible days and tragic events and is still recovering. Much of the literature we read in Marcela’s Stories class was about the cycle of violence, something that has been ingrained in the people of Latin America in a subconscious but very real way. Seeing the exhibit today, having learned a lot more history than I knew three weeks ago, was really powerful, and it was a wonderful thing to stumble upon this afternoon, as it will no longer be running when we return in March.

We finally made it to Santa Lucía, but by then it was time to go home, especially for Liz, who had used up her limited supply of energy by then. I headed home for dinner and a shower and began getting ready to go out, as was the plan. We had decided to go to Blondie, a club popular with Chileans, which is actually located pretty close to my house. I was excited to check out the place and excited that, for once, I wouldn’t have to fork over a ton of cash for a cab ride at the end of the night. I feel like everything we do happens in the Manuel Montt area, where many of the other students live, and so I figured it was about time we did something in the Centro together. As luck would have it, though, while I was straightening my hair and getting ready, I was informed that the Manuel Montt kids weren’t going to go to Blondie but were instead going to stay in the area and then go somewhere else. I decided that, since the Metro had already closed and going with them at that point would have meant paying for a cab twice in one night, I would pass. It’s frustrating sometimes because I feel like there’s a Manuel Montt club that I’m not a part of. It’s not that I don’t like living in the Centro or that I feel the need to be in close proximity to all the other U.S. kids—I actually think it’s special that I’m not. It’s simply a matter of principle sometimes, and tonight I think the Manuel Montt club should have made good on its promise to do the traveling for once. But alas.

I’m pretty tired, so I think I’ll save my travel itinerary for the next post. I’ll be sure to post it on Sunday or Monday (we leave Monday night for our first destination, Pucón). That way, you can all follow along, as long as you have a map of Chile, that is!

Finally, I want to give a shout-out to Zak: welcome back home, and congrats! You get a month off now—yay!!

And for the rest of you, congratulations as well—it’s the weekend! I hope life has treated you well this week (and if it hasn’t, I hope you’ve found some joy anyway). I have heard from many of you about my near-robbery incident, and I want you to know that I appreciate your concern. I can assure you that I’m taking even more precautions whenever I go anywhere, and I pretty much carry nothing of value with me, even during the day. I hope this lessens some of your anxiety, as I know some of you (ahem, Mom and Dad) have been spending altogether too much time worrying about me. I am fine!

And with that, goodnight!

Amanda