I calculated the other day that I’ve been in
March is almost over (!), and, looking back, it has been a really important month for me. I was worried about “settling down” after a month of being so transient, and I think that, in certain ways, I have settled into some sort of routine, but some of that is necessitated by the fact that the semester has begun and I can’t be frolicking about aimlessly 24/7. However, I’ve decided that this does not mean the fun has to stop! Although sometimes schoolwork beckons and other times I really just want to have a chill night in my house, my friends and I are in fact continuing to explore—and we hope to do more of it in the next month too.
MUCH to my surprise, more and more each day,
Subconsciously, during January (the last complete month I spent in Santiago), I’d been living my life here as if here were not actually my life; I’d been viewing the world through the lens of someone who had been displaced, someone who was always on the outside looking in, someone in a temporary situation, unwilling to actually attach. The truth is, this world here IS my life, though only for six months, and the places I go, the people I meet, and the things I do HERE are my real life right now. This sounds like a ridiculous revelation, but to finally allow myself to like
Finally, when I think about this whole situation, I realize that I do have an actual life here—and that’s a new development! Although I still haven’t found my favorite restaurant or bar or café (more exploring is always in order when it comes to food and drink!), I feel comfortable now; I feel like I’m actually part of this world I’m in rather than just a spectator peering hesitantly from the periphery, not planning to actually enter. I have friends—not just “substitute” friends to keep me company while I miss my “real” friends, but people I actually trust, people who actually know me, people I am learning from and enjoying and sharing with, people I will miss… a lot! I have a bedroom here that I actually really, really love, and that seems trivial, but it’s important—it’s a safe space that I now consider to be mine. I have a running route and have figured out how to successfully stash my keys and my iPod in my layers of clothing while running here. I have a family and while I sometimes think they’re loony and they sometimes think I’m strange, I feel closer to them and feel that we are having more and more meaningful conversations. I have a set schedule of classes, I know my way around campus, and I have a favorite table in the library. I actually love and crave certain Chilean foods and drinks and am officially a pisco fan; forget everything I said initially about it being gross—it’s delicious. I have a “parish” (
All in all, though I resisted a bit, looking at
That being said, here’s a quick update on the “day to day things.” First, my classes are fine. I’m only taking three of them, as the Mujer, Iglesia, y Sociedad class I was hoping to take on Mondays didn’t work out. This means that I have classes only on Tuesdays and Thursdays, which seems ludicrous, but it’s working out alright. School is definitely not the most exciting part of my semester, but it’s a necessary part. Marcelo’s Poesía class is interesting because he is phenomenal. My Siglo de Oro class is alright, though I’m not a huge fan of the things we’re reading right now and I sometimes feel like I’m going to fall asleep because my teacher talks the whole time and it’s right after lunch (bad combination). My Pobreza class with Isabel is only once a week, but it’s a struggle because it’s a 3-hour period (right after my Siglo de Oro class, too!) and it’s sometimes just not as thought-provoking or interactive as I would have hoped. But, my service placement is going to be awesome, I think. I should also mention that the UAH cafeteria has really great food, and it’s nice to live only two minutes away because, even on days that I don’t have class, I go there to eat sometimes. It’s so delicious!
My service placement is at a place called Cerro Navia Joven, and I’ll be working with a program for adolescent mothers and their children. We haven’t officially begun, but my impression is that, in a week or two, the center will start running talleres (workshops) for these women, and that’s where we come in. We’re going to have a lot of freedom and a lot of responsibility to make this placement what we want it to be for us, and that’s what I was looking for. I’m excited to help out with the workshops which, depending on the needs of the group of women, vary topically from self-esteem to legal assistance to arts and crafts. It will be refreshing and amusing to hang out with the girls’ beautiful children, too, but I am actually more excited to have conversations with the young mothers, to understand their living situations, daily struggles, and life outlooks, and to hopefully do a taller with Lizzie (who is also serving here) for these women. I’ll be going to my site every Wednesday for about three hours, and my duties will vary each week, but Lucía, the lady in charge, and the other “monitors” (who are volunteers who run the workshops) are all so kind-hearted, open, and welcoming.
Last week, we went to Cerro Navia to accompany one of the monitors, named Cecilia, on a few visits to some of the girls’ homes. Many of the girls participated in the program last year, so Cecilia has a relationship with them already and was visiting to check up on them (since the last two months or so have been vacation for everybody), to drop off some school supplies for those girls who are continuing their high school education (some of them have dropped out since having their babies), and to invite them to participate again in the workshops this coming year. We met three girls, Gabriela, Laura, and Joselyn, who were between 14 and 16 years old. Laura’s baby was sleeping, but we were able to meet Gabriela’s beautiful little boy, Bastian, and Joselyn’s toddler with an attitude, Valentina.
It’s hard to fathom the lifestyles of these girls. Their homes are incredibly humble, and often kind of dirty, and the girls are just that—little girls. They are absolutely gorgeous, and their babies—especially Bastian, with his big brown eyes and filthy, adorable face—are precious, and my entire being reacted when we met them. I felt, physically, the sheer weight on their shoulders, and my heart ached for them, not because their lives are terrible but because their lives are so immensely difficult and they are so very young. Yet, these feelings of pity and/or awe are only superficial, initial reactions. What I have learned from other service opportunities is that people are resilient and people are strong, and service isn’t about feeling bad for someone’s situation or wondering how in the world someone perseveres in the face of such obstacles or, for that matter, trying to “fix” it all for them. The point is to walk with them, help them in ways they wish to be helped, and love them as brothers and sisters in Christ. This is what I hope to do this semester, and it will be challenging but beautiful—I can already tell.
In other news, I’m still running, planning to do the 10K in one week (on Palm Sunday). I’m excited for it, and having a goal has kept me motivated. Also, I’ve joined the school’s first “club” volleyball team! We had try-outs and I was selected, though at the next try-out, our coach, Gabriel, told everyone that they could be on the team. (This is nice because it will allow me to meet more people, but it makes our team pretty large with a pretty wide range of skill levels, so practices should be interesting.) We practice Mondays and Wednesdays, and although practice is located at Colegio San Ignacio (where we swam a lot in January) and it takes awhile to get there, it’s worth it. At first, I thought the girls on the team had pretty much zero experience, and it seemed like no one was serious about playing. I tried to keep my mouth shut, but it was hard—we were doing the STRANGEST, most pointless drills! I had to tell myself over and over to just chill out and go with the flow, but it was frustrating; sometimes, things just do not make sense to me here.
But things are looking up, and our second practice was much better than the first—we actually PLAYED, and my hitting was really on, and it felt SO good! It’s such a great way to meet people, and although I don’t yet know all the words I would like to use so as to communicate effectively on the court, I’m learning a lot already. Sports are awesome in that they can unite people even when there’s some sort of barrier (language, in this case), and I think it’s going to be really awesome getting to know the girls on the team and playing this sport in a different context. Plus, it’s incredibly humbling because I usually feel fairly confident in this particular environment (i.e., a gymnasium), but with my limited volleyball vocabulary, everything is a bit different: I don’t immediately understand the drills sometimes (and other times I simply don’t understand the rationality behind them), and I can’t be as vocal on the court as I would like to be—but these are lessons for me, as most frustrating and challenging situations in life and in Chile are!
I have a legitimate Chilean friend now too! Her name is Yolanda, and she’s a junior on my team who happens to live about five minutes from my house. I called her before our second practice and we met up before leaving, which made the long metro ride so much more enjoyable. Yolanda is really sweet and funny and has a lot of spunk, and we had a really enjoyable conversation on our way to practice on Wednesday. I am excited to get to know her and to actually hang out sometime. Speaking Spanish with her helps me a lot too—I have plenty to work on still, but I can feel myself getting more and more accustomed to being around this language all the time. I have good and not-so-good days, speaking-wise, but I’m so much better than I was the day I arrived. The thing is, the growth comes rapidly at first and then more slowly, so my improvements are more subtle at this point, but all of the exposure I’m getting is making a difference, even when I don’t think so at the time.
Conversations with my family also help me, and every once in awhile, I have a really nice talk with someone over once or dinner and it makes me feel really good. I’ve had a few such talks with my mom recently. One day, we talked about stereotypes of people in the United States, and she told me that although she used to think all of us were confident, independent, and had everything we needed, she has realized that things are not always that straight-forward. She says that both Alexia and I are hard workers and she can tell that we don’t take things for granted and that we don’t just get things handed to us, and this has made her realize that things in the
While I often feel like I don’t have much to offer and, rather, I’m simply the one who is doing all the learning, all the growing, and all the receiving, I am maybe on the giving end of things sometimes too. I suppose that what I have to offer is my perspective and, well, myself as a representative of my country, and that’s more important than I realized because it’s actually changing people’s thinking here! In fact, one day at lunch, I told Gladys that it’s difficult for me to be served so much here but that it’s a valuable growing experience as well because it’s another side of humility that I’d never thought about. I mentioned that, while it’s quite clear she loves to care for people and be the one bustling around getting whatever everyone needs, she should perhaps step back and allow others to serve her too sometimes. The very next day, I insisted on doing the dishes, and she let me (though reluctantly) after she recalled what I’d said the day before. This was an important moment because I thought, Wow, I actually brought something to this relationship!
We also had a good talk over lunch one day about the Mapuche culture, which I know I’ve mentioned once or twice in this blog. As it turns out, Gladys has a Mapuche friend, and she mentioned that it would be really awesome to have this friend over for dinner one night so I could hear her story, which is evidently pretty amazing. Again, Gladys told me that she used to think the Mapuche people were very simple and were very different, but then she saw a TV show about their lifestyles and met this Mapuche woman, and now she has a huge amount of appreciation and respect for this culture and the Mapuche people. Gladys makes up her mind about things and about people pretty early (she decided after meeting my dear friend Jill for about five seconds that Jill is a phenomenal human being… though she’s right on in this particular case!); to her credit, though, it seems that Gladys is willing to change her way of thinking or at least consider another side of a situation, especially when faced with a real person or a real story. She said, after getting to know this Mapuche woman and learning about the culture and the difficult life this lady has had—not just because she’s Mapuche but because she has gone through a lot in her marriage, with her family, and so forth—she now realizes that humans are humans, and we all have a lot of the same issues and feelings and thoughts. Similarly, she says she now sees Alexia and me as “niñas” just like her other niñas (
Besides all of this, which is pretty standard, a few exciting things have occurred recently. First, I purchased tickets to spend Semana Santa (Holy Week) in
The other day, I went to dinner with Jill, Lizzie, and Caitlin at an Irish resto-bar in Patio Bellavista, which was nice for several reasons: first, it was an Irish resto-bar and it was Happy Hour, so I enjoyed some yummy Mistral pisco. Secondly (though this is actually the most important thing, of course!), spending time with three people I really enjoy, and especially getting to see Jilly again, was really great. And finally, it was fun to go to Bellavista because it’s been awhile and there are many more things to explore there! On a sad note, though, Jill’s friend (from her program) ate something bad while traveling and, as a result, has been in the hospital for a week. But, this is no minor food poisoning. This girl is seriously ill, and Jill informed me today that her kidneys are actually failing. Her family flew in to be with her because things are that serious. So, keep this friend of Jill’s in your prayers—it’s quite scary, and I really hope things improve SOON.
On Thursday, Lizzie invited me to a show at the National Library. Her host mom, Bernadita, is a hip, whimsical, spunky little lady who always knows what’s going on in town, so she had planned to attend this show and had mentioned it to Liz. When Lizzie told me it was a Cueca concert, I was so excited! I know I talked about the Cueca a bit when I described the traditional fair we attended on the
This concert was actually focused on traditional Cueca music, not dances, and featured a 12-man band. The guys were all dressed in spiffy outfits with fedoras and vests, and the small auditorium was transformed into a giant party after only a song or two. New ears may find the Cueca to be a schizophrenic-sounding racket, as it almost seems like the guitar, harp, tambourines, tuba, drums, bass, and piano are all producing entirely distinct tunes. But there’s a hidden rhythm to the upbeat smorgasbord, and I found myself clapping along and smiling widely like the rest of the audience simply because there was an incredibly contagious, familial energy.
After awhile, people started dancing. The band invited three women, dressed in glittery black dresses, to sing a song (which was lovely) and, afterwards, they descended into the crowd and were greeted by men eager to dance the Cueca with them in the small space between the first row of seating and the stage. But other people danced on the sides of the room, in corners, and in front as well—ordinary people from the audience, some complete strangers and others clearly coupled. Middle-aged men reveled in the opportunity to trot around cute, younger women, and these lovely ladies played their roles well, smiling and spinning, gracefully pushing the men away until the song’s conclusion, which calls for a kiss on the cheek and a hug.
An older woman sitting in front of me (she was probably about 80!) and the man who I presumed to be her husband arose at one point and walked toward the front of the auditorium. Other couples were dancing, but these two slowly made their way through the bouncing couples and claimed a space right in the middle of the dancing area. Then, almost in slow-motion, they began to do the Cueca—and it was one of the most beautiful things I’ve seen in my entire life. He was chivalrous but humble, slow-moving but energetic, persistent but innocent. She was strong and confident, making subtle yet striking movements and maintaining vigilant eye contact with her pursuer for the duration of the dance, which seemed to go on for years in some faraway microcosm. Lizzie and I were absolutely paralyzed, as was the majority of the audience. We stared at the couple in complete awe, unable to speak to each other about the simple, gorgeous show we were all seeing, and Lizzie and I were both near tears by the time the song ended. The crowd roared. Clearly, no one had been watching the other young couples or, for that matter, the band. The stage had shifted for those few minutes to this man and this woman and their eternally young, classy spirits. My thoughts flew immediately to my Grandpa Wolff and late Grandma Pat because, like them, this couple exuded love and respect for one another and seemed perfectly content in their humble little dance, not caring whether or not the rest of the world even existed.
The couple happened to be sitting right in front of us, and they both returned to their seats after the song ended, completely nonchalantly despite the huge applause they had received. They sat calmly for the rest of the show, and as much as I wanted to see them dance together again, it was as if they understood that it would only take one dance to silence all of the competition—and that’s all we, the audience, would get to see. Much to my delight, though, the band returned for an encore—and so did the old woman. All night, a semi-sleezy looking man had been doing the Cueca with ladies with long legs and long hair, and he clearly thought he was quite the dancer and quite the womanizer. Midway through one of the band’s final songs, the old woman stood up and walked toward the stage. Lizzie and I got excited, thinking we were in for another treat courtesy of her and her husband, but the old man remained seated.
The woman walked with a humble vengeance once more toward the front of the room, pushing her way past a few dancing couples on her way to the guy with his slick-backed hair, shaking it with a woman in a short skirt. The old lady pushed her way in between the two of them and whipped out her handkerchief, and the crowd erupted. She could have been this guy’s mother, but her freshness and attitude made her seem the younger, and her boldness seemed to knock the wind out of this guy for at least a moment. The ladies stole the man from one another once or twice before the song ended, but it was all in good taste, and it was clear, in the end, who the winner was (even the “other woman” would admit this). When the song ended, the hollers and cheers for the old lady filled the room, and she and the younger woman embraced for a full minute, both laughing and clearly having one of those “younger” moments together. At this point, I turned to Lizzie and told her I want to be exactly like this old woman when I grow up: bold, confident, beautiful, and spunky. And then the lady got even cooler.
When the show ended, I had to tell the old woman how awesome she was. She and her husband seemed interested in where Lizzie and I were from and wanted to know what we’d thought of the dancing and the music, and we told them we’d loved every moment of it. Then, we found out that the two of them run a studio, where they offer workshops… which means that Lizzie and I could learn to do the Cueca from this phenomenal lady! We took their information and plan to go to a lesson soon, as they’re offered every Tuesday and Thursday night. The Cueca looks easy enough, but, as we learned that night, the most important part of it comes from within. I’m not sure if that lady will be able to teach me how to project that sort of intensity, but I’ll enjoy watching her try!
The next day was Friday, so I didn’t have classes. However, I had a very important interview for the Manresa Scholars program at Marquette, and I was nervous that my Skype connection wouldn’t be strong enough, so I sought out an Internet café in my neighborhood and did the interview from there instead, which was slightly awkward. Here I am, sitting in the corner for about two hours, talking first to my Daddy (test call), then jabbering about my faith life and service experiences and personal development, then giggling to Molly (who I spoke to for about 20 minutes after my interview… I had to call SOMEONE!). The other people, even if they didn’t understand everything I was saying, must have thought I was a lunatic. I think the interview went alright, and I was relieved that the connection had been strong so nothing was lost because of a bad technological situation. I rewarded myself afterwards with a delicious whole-wheat empanada with spinach, mushrooms, and cheese, as well as some peach juice and a yummy chocolate truffle—all of this from a cheap, hole-in-the-wall restaurant near the University which features a wide array of vegetarian options.
After my quick meal, I went shopping for a little while with Lizzie, which was somewhat painful for both of us, as neither of us particularly enjoy shopping, things were too expensive, and we didn’t really know where to go. I had to hurry back to school for a welcome/information session with the campus ministry department here (Centro Universitario Ignacio). There, I heard (again) about the many things the department does, most of which are community service opportunities, and I talked a bit with Cathleen, a student in my program who arrived later than most of us and is still pretty new to me. She generously invited me (and, by association, Liz) to a jazz club that night, as she’d been invited by a Chilean girl in her History class. As I had no other plans at that point and thought that a jazz club sounded pretty awesome, I accepted. I later found out that this place, Club de Jazz, is pretty famous. In fact, Louis Armstrong once played there!!
I went, first, to Lizzie’s house for dinner, and I was MORE than pleasantly surprised to find that Bernadita had made FISH for dinner. For the first Friday in all of my Chilean Lenten experience, I was successful in avoiding meat, thanks to Bernie’s phenomenal fish dinner. I told her that, the week before, I’d been willing to sell one or several of my limbs for a good ol’
We made our way to the jazz club then, which was kind of a journey. It’s in Nuñoa, a richer, more residential area of the city on the periphery that I’d never visited. We had to take the Metro, take a micro, and then walk a little bit, but we were rewarded with a cozy ambiance, some good jazz, and, of course, wine and empanadas (a brilliant combination). The wine was in fact a carmenére, which is cool for a few reasons. First, I’d never tried it before. Secondly, because of a very wide-spread pathogen, most grapes used to create this type of wine have been wiped out in the majority of the world. It was thought that carmenére was pretty much extinct until
The jazz performance ended at about 1am, which is early for
Because I would have done almost anything NOT to miss our next event, I woke up after only three hours of sleep and got myself ready for a field trip Lizzie, Caitlin, and I had planned for Saturday afternoon. We met by Lizzie’s house and rode the Metro for a really long time before arriving in the Puente Alto neighborhood, where we quick snatched some snacks (humitas and empanadas) and got on a bus to—yay!—the Concha y Toro vineyard!! Concha y Toro is a huge exporter of Chilean wine and a competitor in the global wine market, producing some delicious wines from several different vineyards. (You may have tried/heard of Casillero del Diablo, which is produced here in
Our tour included a movie about the company, a stroll around the property, some grape-tasting (yum!), lots of explanation about the process of making/storing/selling the wine, and, of course, some tastings! We tried, first, a heavy, golden-green, DELICIOUS Amelia chardonnay. Then, we enjoyed a Casillero del Diablo carmenére (less dry than the one at the jazz club). After our tour, we got to choose our third type, and I decided to try a Trio
Last night, I saw a movie with Caitlin (“El Sustituto,” known as “The Changeling” at home—lovely, but soooo heavy/sad/horrifying!!!), and I chatted with Carolina for awhile before calling it a night. I woke up this morning to FINALLY chat with Zak on Skype, as he’s been working third shift and finished at 7am his time, 9am my time. It was wonderful to finally see him, though it did make me a little sad. I went back to bed for an hour because I was still so tired, and I woke up again to go to Mass at
The homily today was lovely. The first reading was about God’s “new” covenant with His people, in which He writes not on stone tablets but on our hearts, and then John’s Gospel featured Philip’s beautiful statement, “We want to see Jesus.” Thus, the homily was all about what’s going on INSIDE, as Catholics—what we feel, what we want, what we know in our hearts. The priest talks clearly and slowly, and he’s pretty inspiring. He talked about the importance of realizing that Catholicism is about following a person, not necessarily rules and customs (though that’s important) but, at its core, following this guy named Jesus and knowing him and walking closely with him. He talked about how, as we approach Easter, we are especially close to Jesus in His journey, and he encouraged us to really know Christ, in our hearts, as a friend. Lovely! It set the tone for a relaxing little Sunday, and I’ve been doing nothing much but blogging, enjoying lunch and time with my host family, and wearing my pajamas, though I do plan to go for a run in about ten minutes (before it gets dark… which happens now at about 7pm here, much to my dismay) and meet up with Lizzie to do SOMETHING tonight (because she needs to escape from her home where her brother and his friends, like most of the people in Chile, are watching a HUGE soccer game against Peru tonight).
This weekend has been busy and enjoyable and surprising, like most weekends in
We decided to stay close to Hanna’s house, so we went to a club called Huracan (Hurricane), which was kind of a strange place (with kind of bad music), but it was alright, and Hanna had fun, I think. We left a bit before closing time (5am here) because Hanna really wanted a Piña Colada, and since she was the Birthday Girl, we went on a search for one. Most places were closing, but we begged and got admitted to a bar where, unfortunately, Hanna had to settle for a Mojito instead. After awhile, we went back to Hanna’s and people sprawled out all over her house for what would be a short nap. We woke up about an hour and a half later, running terribly late, and thirteen of us made our way frantically and exhaustedly to the bus station at 8am for the next phase of the weekend production.
Our destination was a “beach house” in an area called El Tabo. None of us really knew where we were going, as Hanna’s host sister, Eli (who is incredibly sweet), had basically planned the whole thing. We got off the bus about an hour and a half later, walked down a quiet, sandy street, and found our little red house, which looked “rustic,” to be kind. Inside, we found a prime setting for a horror movie. Basically, the place was pretty gross. The mattresses and cushions were stained, the wallpaper was peeling, the refrigerator smelled like something was rotting inside, and the bathroom was just plain frightening.
The place gave us the heebie jeebies big time, so we quickly exited and went in search of some food. After wandering around for awhile, we found ourselves “in town,” which wasn’t much of a town, but at least it was reassuring to see people around. A big group of us girls ate at a really cute place (though the food was sub-par) and tried to extend the meal as long as possible so we wouldn’t have to return to our scary little cottage. Finally, we had to pay the bill (and get away from the terrible 80’s music playing in the restaurant) and leave, which meant we couldn’t avoid the beach house any longer. We stopped in briefly, just to change, prepare our guacamole and round up our snacks, and get ourselves organized. The main activity for the day was, after all, the beach, and even though it was cloudy and kind of chilly, we were determined to get out of the house.
As it turns out, the beach was beautiful. There were lots of big rocks, not too many people, and those beautiful crashing waves I love so much. We put our towels down (and our sleeping bags!) and just relaxed, chatted, and ate our chips and guacamole for awhile. Eventually, I purchased a plastic ball for less than $2, which turned out to be a really great decision. A bunch of us played something-like-volleyball for a good hour, and that made me SO happy! Then, I went for a little stroll with Josh, who collected dozens of the seashells all over the beach. Finally, I decided to climb the rocks for a little while and enjoy the solitude of the crashing waves and setting sun. It was getting chilly when we decided to pack up our stuff and head home, but it had been a very relaxing, mellow day, even though it wasn’t the typical beach weather.
We stopped to buy a thing or two at a little crafts market we passed on our way back, eventually arriving at our grubby little home and beginning the evening’s festivities. We went to dinner and then decided it was time to start the party. Of course, there’s nowhere to “go out” in El Tabo, so we brought the party with us instead. Liz and I had purchased tequila, salt, and limes, and it turned out that the tequila shots (combined with our chips and home-made guacamole!) were quite the hit. After a few rounds, though, we moved on to Flippy Cup, which was pretty amusing, especially since a lot of us were bundled in our sleeping bags while playing. All in all, the night was incredibly silly. Surprisingly, and most likely ONLY because of the lack of sleep the night before, Lauren, Lizzie, and I slept beautifully three-across in our disgusting bed (er, mattress) and woke 8 hours later, just in time to pack up and catch our 9:45 bus back to Santiago.
I was pretty much good for nothing on Sunday, and I didn’t make it to Mass until 7pm, but I suppose that was to be expected. The week was so crazy, with St. Patrick’s Day, the paseo, and Hanna’s birthday extravaganza, and I decided that I would not be doing any such partying/consuming until the next weekend, which went fairly well except for the pisco I just had to order when I went to dinner in Bellavista with the girls!
So, you see, all is well here in
I’m living in the here-and-now, but rest assured that I continue to miss all of you. You’re all in my thoughts and prayers (a lot!!), and I sincerely hope, for the sanity of each of you, that the snow in
Love you tons and tons!!
Amanda
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