Despedidas...blessings... beautiful people.

Buenos días, my dear friends and family,

It’s hard to believe that when I started this blog over six months ago, the people, places, sounds, tastes, and experiences that have come to define my life here were not at all a part of my world. It’s such a blessing that, during my time in Chile, I was able to foster such meaningful and lasting relationships and really internalize the culture in which I have been immersed. Of course, it now seems like my “normal” world is so far away, and I’m experiencing a bit of shock with regards to the fact that I will be transplanted from here to there in a matter of one night! There are certainly a number of reasons I’m excited for home, but the strange thing about this is that I wasn’t just traveling or studying or visiting here; I was living. And just when I have arrived at a really comfortable point with my life here, it’s time to go! So, in a very real sense that would have been impossible for me to comprehend at the beginning of this adventure, I am leaving one home to go to another. I’m spending a lot of time right now just trying to enjoy my last few days here, but I’d be lying if I said my brain isn’t working overtime trying to comprehend this whole situation! Still, I’ve been kept busy…

Lizzie, whose friendship to me over the last several months has been such a treasure, left last Friday, the 10^th, and we spent the majority of the week leading up to her departure just enjoying Santiago and having a good time. That Monday, I saw a French movie with Jill and Liz at our favorite foreign film theatre, Cine El Biógrafo. The movie was pretty lame, but we were still quite happy; before the movie, we enjoyed a marvelous dinner at a restaurant called Patagonia, so we were pretty excited about the delicious wine and dessert alfajores that we’d had. The movie theatre and restaurant are both located in a cute, semi-hidden neighborhood called Barrio Lastarria, right behind Cerro Santa Lucia. There’s an artsy ambiance in this up-and-coming café culture hub, and it was really nice to spend the evening there with good friends.

The next day, a group of us returned to Villa Grimaldi, this time for a guided tour (which definitely adds something to the experience), and we had lunch at OH! Salad Garden together afterwards. This delicious build-your-own salad joint is a newly discovered favorite of mine and would be a huge hit in the U.S! It was fun hanging out with the girls (Lauren, Laura, Alex, Beth, Karrah, Jill, Lizzie) and I’m glad we made a second trip to the park because our guide was really endearing, patient, and eloquent. He told us more about the place and a little bit about the fact that he was tortured at Villa Grimaldi during the dictatorship. It’s hard to look at someone and try to see the things they’ve gone through, especially when the things are as traumatic as his experiences, and it amazes me that he’s able to give tours and talk frankly about everything that happened there. I suppose it’s a way of reclaiming the experience and trying to make something productive out of it, which is the only way to go about all of this. Chile, along with a lot of Latin America (and really the whole world, as each nation has its own history of violence), faces each day the challenge of moving forward without forgetting the past.

On Wednesday, I went skiing with two friends (Laura and Cathleen) at a beautiful mountain called Valle Nevado. Although the ride up made me a bit motion sick and the altitude (we were at 3,000m) definitely affected all of us, it was still a spectacular day. The trails were long, the powder was fresh, and it was a sunny day in the Andes—what more could one ask for?! I’ve never had the chance to ski anywhere outside the Midwest (sad, I know) and I’m now more dedicated than ever to hitting the slopes at Vail or Whistler or Jackson Hole or something… it was unbelievable! We skied for a few hours, had peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and then hit the slopes for another two hours before our bus took us back down the mountain. It was a shorter day than I would have liked, but I loved it and am really glad I got to go. Plus, after I got back, I summoned up enough energy to meet Jill and Lizzie at Pub 36.5. We could absolutely not let Liz leave without making sure we saw José Miguel playing the guitar one last time together, and it was a perfect finale. He covered Victor Jara’s famous “Te Recuerdo Amanda” (obviously a favorite of mine), thanks to Jill’s obnoxious demands that he do so, and we enjoyed ourselves thoroughly, as always.

Lizzie’s wonderful host mom, Bernardita (fondly known as Berni), had a special event planned for all of us on Thursday morning. We visited, together with some members of Liz’s family and some of their friends, an organization in Santiago called Fundación Solidaridad (Solidarity Foundation). There, we heard from Winnie, who is the director, all about the history of the organization, which currently helps the marginalized women of the city to sell the crafts they make and organize themselves into groups of artists. The foundation began during the dictatorship when Winnie and her friends started reaching out to the prisoners and helping them create various artwork and crafts to sell. The group was seen as subversive and anti-Chilean, which is absolutely ludicrous, and their efforts were suppressed by the corrupt government on more than one occasion. Fortunately, the Catholic Church was able to help them continue their work, giving them shelter in the Cathedral in the central square of Santiago.

From there, they continued their outreach; later, after the return to democracy, their focus shifted to helping women. What’s awesome about the organization is that it truly is an example of solidarity. Winnie and her colleagues don’t create the networks of women and tell them what to do; rather, they help the already constructed communities of women to organize themselves and self-govern, and then they provide the legal/technical support needed to help the women sell (both locally and externally) the beautiful things they make. The arpilleras are the most famous product of this beautiful process; these gorgeous, woven pictures tell a colorful story and, in their simplicity, send an incredibly strong message. Many of the works are snapshots of the life of women during the dictatorship, showing them working and congregating and waiting for the return of the men who disappeared. Winnie was super-charismatic and informative, and we all purchased a few items from her store before heading out into the sunny day, inspired and educated.

Starving, we headed to lunch at Liguria, which is always a good choice. Lizzie, Jill, and I shared a delicious bottle of wine and took our time at lunch, staying at our table on the sidewalk for hours. For some reason, winter here has been uncharacteristically well-behaved in the last few weeks, and we’ve been treated to several sunny, temperate days, well-suited for long, leisurely lunches with friends (often outdoors!). After our meal, some inexplicable, irresistible force from somewhere in the ether forced us to go across the street to Bravissimo, that marvelous mecca of temptation. Lizzie, realizing that it was probably her last chance, finally got a “copa” (one of those things you always look at but never order), and Jill and I ate our share, too, caving into the “Winter Special”: buy two flavors and choose one of the following options: a third flavor, a cream topping, or an exterior or interior “baño de chocolate” (like dipping it in chocolate). Pretty amazing. Although we were having a really lovely afternoon, I was feeling very odd, and I headed home afterwards to rest.

I tried to sleep for a few hours and couldn’t because I had the chills and a headache and felt so ill. I got worried, and so did my host family, because the swine flu has been on everyone’s mind here. I felt really feverish and started to wonder if I might have pneumonia, especially since my chest had been feeling a bit weighed-down (this is probably due to the smog). After an Ibuprofen, some food, and an online chat with Mom and Brittany, I started feeling better. Gladys was concerned but I told her I’d like to wait until the next morning to see how I felt; if I hadn’t improved, we’d go to the doctor (which would for sure be an adventure). I was forbidden to leave my house that night or the next morning, so I spent hours in bed, resting and doing nothing, which was probably good for me even though it was hard to stay home when Lizzie was preparing to leave.

Thankfully, my fever went away and I felt considerably better by noon the next day, so I was able to meet up with Lizzie and Jill at a cute café called Sabor de Buenos Aires. There, we had delicious tea, shared some yummy pastries (we decided to split a tiramisu, apple strudel, and pear pie three ways because none of us could make up our mind), and chatted away the afternoon. We headed to Lizzie’s house to help her finish packing, which felt pretty strange. While arranging her things and reminiscing about the last several months, we listened to some of our favorite Chilean songs (especially “Todos Juntos” by Las Jaivas) and had one last piscola together—of course. Then it was time to say goodbye, a surreal experience that I kind of forgot I’d have to deal with. We left Lizzie in her sunny yard, after big hugs for her and her host mom and their cute dog Mafalda, so that she could have an hour or so with her family before heading to the airport. I heard later from my host mom, who works at the airport and was working that evening, that she’d stopped by to see Lizzie at her gate and had given her a little Chile keychain. This is typical Gladys—to show up matter-of-factly, give a humble gift, and, while the other person is expressing all sorts of emotion, lovingly tell him or her to be reasonable. It’s a tough love approach but love nonetheless, and I was happy to hear that she’d kept Lizzie company while my friend waited for her flight.

After our few days of despedida with Lizzie (despedir is a great verb that means to say goodbye to someone who is leaving), Jill and I had a couple of days to spend together in Santiago before she too headed home. On Saturday, after a slow morning at the gym and at home, I met Jill in Providencia. We stopped in a bookstore, where I picked up some beautiful kids’ books about Violeta Parra and Gabriela Mistral. Then we decided we’d like a hot drink and a comfy spot, so we went to my favorite café, Juan Valdez, and curled up to chat for awhile. When we got hungry, we hit up another yummy stop, Pizza Nostra, and shared some pizzas, a bottle of wine (obviously), and all sorts of life stories. Tough life, huh?!

It was a lovely dinner, and time flew; before we knew it, it was time to head to Jill’s friend Nellie’s house to hang out with the kids from Jill’s group (she’s here with a different program). So, we headed to her house, where we played a fun game and drank some more wine. As a result, we were quite happy when we left Nellie’s for our next destination: the birthday party of Lizzie’s host brother, Eugenio. We’d been invited by Rosa, Lizzie’s host sister, although Liz herself obviously couldn’t be in attendance. Because we like parties and because we find Eugenio to be an interesting fellow, we decided to stop by his 26^th birthday party, which was held in an empty old house that they rented out for the event. In true Santiago fashion, Jill and I waited over a half hour for a bus to come, but we passed the time well, singing and dancing at the bus stop like silly little kids. We only stayed for an hour or so at the party, but it was indeed interesting. Eugenio was having quite a good time, and the place was packed. We made our appearance, danced awhile, and then headed to my house (for once, it was close!) to go to sleep.

As it was Jill’s last Sunday in Santiago, our plan was to spend the afternoon at Cerro San Cristobol, beginning with Mass at noon at the top of the hill. This meant that, although we’d gone to bed at about 5:30 in the morning, we’d have to get up at 10:30 or so in order to make it to the hill and take the teleferico up to the top. Shockingly, we got ourselves up and got ourselves to the hill, but when we arrived, we found that we could not take the teleferico because it was being worked on. We refused to miss Mass after all our effort, so we took a cab up the hill and walked into the precious chapel at the top just as the bells were ringing and the priest was closing the door.

We were supposed to be at the hill that day. Mass was beautiful—the chapel is so cute, the priest is extremely engaging, and, for some reason that day there was an adult choir which sang at Mass and did a 30-minute concert afterwards. The music was so beautiful, and we were so content, drinking our tea, playing with the little puppy that had come to Mass with the lady in the pew in front of us (only in Chile…), and listening to the choir’s gorgeous harmonies. After Mass, we ate our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on the bench and were approached by a girl from New York who was in Santiago for one week on business and looked pretty nervous. We gave her all sorts of advice and chatted with her for a long time before heading up to the top to check out the view. It was a fairly clear day, so the mountains were more visible than usual. In addition, the hill seemed to be packed with adorable people— babies wearing Oshkosh B’Gosh and crawling all over the stairs leading up to the statue of Mary, and old men wearing Pablo Neruda-esque hats and chatting in low voices as they looked out at the city. It was a beautiful despedida for Cerro San Cristobol, and Jill and I were so incredibly happy we’d made it there that day.

That night, I went with Jill to another of her friend’s houses for once (snack/appetizers). We ate some of the best empanadas EVER and chatted with the people from her program, which was a nice change of pace. I met up with Jill again on Monday to help her get packed and to have dinner at her house. We shared our last bottle of wine together, which happened to be a gift from Lizzie, who’d left us with the beautiful bottle (with a colorful bird on the label) to share in her memory.

Jill left on Tuesday, but not before we met up for ice cream one last time—at Emporio La Rosa, which is a bit pricier but absolutely delicious (especially the rose and Nutella flavors). I said goodbye to Jill on the steps of the Contemporary Art Museum, which I visited afterwards by myself. It was strange knowing that, although Jill and I will see each other plenty at Marquette (though never as much as we hope!), our time together in Santiago is over. I’m so, so happy that she and I had this experience together; because we came with separate programs, we have some really distinct memories and established separate routines and relationships here. Still, it was really wonderful having her here, as she’s someone who knows me from that “other” world known as Home. Plus, Jill has a beautiful energy that is absolutely contagious, and her spirit, as it does in Milwaukee as well, inspired me to really be present here and look for beauty in every moment. I know it will be kind of difficult re-adjusting to home because of the fact that no one else can really understand this experience I’ve had, as hard as you’ll all try; so, knowing that I’ll have Jill at Marquette (and Lizzie just a phone call away!) is comforting.

The photography exhibit on the top floor of the Art Museum was really interesting, featuring photos, videos, and stories of everyday communities around the world. The point was to show sub-cultures, little communities that exist but are often ignored or unnoticed. The exhibit is named “Post-It City” for this reason: the cities, or parts of cities, that are documented are cities that, like a post-it on a page of a book, cover up something or add something but without leaving a mark. They’re temporary in many cases, but they’re colorful, interesting “side-notes” in the world around them. As I’m obviously interested in both writing and photography, I thought it was a really cool concept. So, I wandered around the museum until I got hungry, and then I found a café, sat down with my book, and enjoyed a tea and a spinach and mushroom quiche—all by myself. It was weird being alone because I’m usually graced with the company of a good friend when I’m anywhere in this city, but I enjoyed the solitary afternoon. I wasn’t quite ready to head home, so I stopped at Cerro Santa Lucia, which also deserved a despedida. I found a new route to the top and, while snacking on cookies from the café and stopping every so often to peek at the stunning mountains, I made my way to the look-out point. It was a good stop because Cerro Santa Lucia has been sort of a marker in the chapters of my experience here; my first visit to the hill occurred my first week here, and I also took my sister and mom there almost immediately after their arrival. Therefore, it’s fitting that I also paid the hill a visit during my last week here. Santiago was founded on that rocky, leafy oasis, and from the top, you get a decent view of the monochromatic downtown and the strange and anachronistic nature of this city where skyscrapers and ancient cathedrals coexist in an eccentric, but functional, harmony.

I hung out there for awhile and then headed home to get ready for dinner, as I’d planned to meet up with Annie, a friend from Marquette who is backpacking South America and found herself in my city for a few days. I met her and a few other friends of hers for dinner and a few drinks, which was really nice. It was strange to see her here, but she is a person who’s always inspired me, and as I was in a bit of a reflective mood, it was good to talk to her about this experience, what she’s been doing since she graduated (working a ski season, participating in a conservation corps, and now traveling the continent!), and life in general. She made me feel a bit better, for example, about the fact that I have no clue what I’m doing with my life. Also, it was good to have something to do that night after my two best friends had both left. I was excited about having a week or so to just enjoy my family and the city and do some thinking, but it doesn’t hurt to have a few social interactions in the midst of all that pondering.

Wednesday was a glorious, though emotional, day. I went to the gym in the morning and then met up with Yolanda, who I haven’t seen in far too long. As the semester recently ended, she’s headed to her home in Osorno (south of Santiago by about 8 hours), and it was our last chance to get together before she left for home. Yolanda and I have a really awesome relationship in that we clicked from day one, and we can chat and chat like two little schoolgirls, even despite our language barrier. She’s been a really special person in my experience, and she’s probably the Chilean person I’m most likely to stay in touch with. Despite the time apart, we fell easily into conversation and laughter.

It was her idea to go to lunch at the Mercado Central, which is a place I’d been meaning to get to but still hadn’t. So, we spent a few hours eating delicious salmon and drinking mini pisco sours (on the house!) at a cute little restaurant in the busy market. Our waiter was a charming fellow who repeatedly offered to take photos for us with my camera (we obliged him, of course), and a group of musicians was playing traditional tunes right next to our table. The only thing that made the afternoon even more perfect was the Bravissimo we got after lunch and the matching scarves we purchased in the street. It was another perfect despedida, although hugging Yolanda and saying goodbye to her outside her apartment was the strangest feeling. I haven’t figured out yet how to go about saying goodbye to people whom I may not see again ever or for awhile. I hope to see Yoli soon, as she may be taking part in some sort of Work and Travel program in the U.S. this winter, but even that prospect didn’t make it easier to tell my best Chilean friend goodbye. I’m so happy, though, that I met her and played volleyball with her, I’m so happy that we were able to develop a friendship that crosses cultural and language boundaries, and I’m so happy we had one last delightful afternoon together. Before I left, she told me that I’ve changed her view of “gringa girls;” once, she’d befriended a girl from the U.S. who then proceeded to stab her in the back, and since then, Yolanda’s had a bit of a chip on her shoulder. It made me happy that I’ve shown her enough friendship to change her mind, though I find it hard to believe that anyone was ever so mean to this girl. Yolanda has been incredibly open, extremely understanding, and more genuine than most people I know, and I am blessed to have her as a friend.

I’d been invited to my poetry professor Marcelo’s house for dinner that night, so after a few hours at home, I made my way to his apartment, bringing with me a good bottle of red wine and a bunch of roses for the hostess, his wife Sabrina. Because Marcelo has been such an amazing resource for all of us during our time here, and because I admire him as a person, a teacher, and a writer, I thought he’d be a good person to chat with before leaving Chile. I suggested we get together to do so, and he responded by warmly inviting me to share dinner with him and Sabrina, which turned out to be really nice.

We talked about my experiences here and about how they met (Sabrina is from the States), we discussed Santiago and the dictatorship and the effects that era had (and continues to have) on the city’s character, and we talked about writing. Although Marcelo has only ever read things I’ve written for his class (in Spanish), he has some sort of deep faith in my abilities as a writer, and he told me that I’ve been given a gift and am charged with the obligation to develop and share it. It was odd, but inspiring, to have someone express so much belief in my potential, especially based on work I’ve done in my second language. Before I left, Marcelo gifted me a copy of his first published book, which he inscribed, “With care and admiration, for Amanda: I hope someday to receive a copy of YOUR first published work. See you soon, Marcelo”. It was another difficult goodbye, as this teacher has been an inspiration for me this whole time and has become an important figure in my life in Chile. But again, I’m lucky to have had such a great despedida with Marcelo as well as the opportunity to know his wife and to see his home.

Thursday and Friday were pretty slow-going. I hit up the gym, had some long lunches at my house with my family, and got a few things done around town. On Thursday, Andrea arrived from Brazil (she was here when I arrived in January but then left to go back to Brazil); she’s here visiting for a few weeks, and it’s awesome that her visit coincides with my final week here. Andrea brought with her the energy and spunk that she had when we met in January, so it’s been great fun having her around again. She wanted to purchase a few items of clothing, so on Thursday, I headed to the mall for awhile with her, Carolina, and Maria José. In case you doubted that I could eat ANYMORE ice cream, we did indeed stop for some Bravissimo in the mall food court. Although I’m not usually a big fan of shopping, it was a good outing. I purchased a dress/shirt for Carolina for her birthday, and she and I had a good bonding moment when she thanked me for it and told me that she’d really miss me when I left. It’s strange, actually, because my normally less-than-emotional family is beginning to express their affection more overtly. I remember before I left for Chile that, all of a sudden, people started saying what was really on their minds and hearts. I suppose I’m having a repeat of that situation here as I prepare to return home. It’s nice, but it reminds me that it’s important to tell people how much they mean to you on a more regular basis.

Yesterday was Carolina’s birthday, which we celebrated at the house with the normal group of personalities, plus a few extras. The evening was, as they say here, “la raja” (the rage/the best). Some of Carolina’s friends from school stopped over for awhile early on in the evening, bringing with them the cutest 2-month-old puppy I’ve ever seen, named Luna. They stayed for an hour or so before taking off, but their absence was quickly replaced with the arrival of new guests, including my “aunts” Ivania and Claudia, more friends, Carolina’s boyfriend Marcelo, and Alexia and Miguel. The living room was beautifully decorated, and Carolina wore a tiara all night and basked in her birthday-ness. We had drinks and appetizers and laughed a lot, and at one point, the party turned a bit more solemn and Gladys, Carolina, Andrea, and Maria Jose all gave mini-speeches related to Carolina’s birthday, Alexia’s recent return to Chile (where she’s living indefinitely), and my departure. I also was asked to say a few words, something I was not at all prepared to do. I don’t think I expressed nearly enough how important these lovely people have been to me, but I tried. Although I don’t know exactly how the party took on this tone for awhile, I’m glad it did because I taped all of the things that my family members said to me, which will make for a beautiful keepsake.

It’s crazy to think that when I arrived here I was a stranger because now we are really “peaking” as a family. They’ve come to mean so much to me, and I’ll miss each one of them profusely. My host mom loves to watch TV shows similar to the Dr. Phil concept because she has a genuine interest in hearing people’s stories; for this reason, she’ll keep you at the dinner table for three hours, just psychoanalyzing anyone and everyone. She shares her story openly and wants to know yours, and although she comes off a bit intense, you suddenly find yourself telling her all sorts of things you’ve never even admitted to yourself.

The thing is, Gladys’ life has been particularly challenging, and as a result, she’s put up a bit of a barrier and doesn’t like to make herself too vulnerable. She is a very humble, simple woman who knows exactly the way she likes to do things, and she is a totally rational, black-and-white, take-it-or-leave-it thinker. Yet, she has an incredible sense for people and their feelings, as much as she’d have you think that she is not an emotional person at all. She can look at a couple or a woman and her child and see into their souls somehow, which is a gift. I’ve told her that this is indeed the gift God has given her and that she really should have been a psychologist, and she laughs but she knows it’s true. I was flattered once when she told me I have a similar gift (at least in some capacity) because, she told me, I see people as simply people—as human beings with feelings and thoughts and stories. I’ll never forget the couple of times where I caught Gladys on an unusually emotional day and suddenly found myself listening for hours as she opened up to me. She can’t believe I can see past her armor, which surprises me because I think that is precisely what she has the ability to do with people.

Getting to know her has been an incredibly great learning experience for me because she’s not what I expected and yet we’ve grown really close. I expected a Chilean mom who would be extrovertly emotional with me, and she was never like that, never all about the hugs and kisses. But she has the heart of a mother and it is full of love which manifests itself in tiny things. One day, she gifted me two new green bath towels because she knows I like green. Every day, she fills my hot water bottle and tucks it in my bed underneath the covers so that my bed is already warmed up when I get in at night. And she buys my favorite cereals, never gives me hard-boiled eggs, and remembers tiny stories I tell her in passing. She’s an amazingly strong woman who has endured serious poverty and some really heavy stuff, including being a single mother, and she inspires me to not settle for things that don’t make me happy.

Last night, at the dinner table, Gladys gave me a gift for me and my family at home. She raves about how beautiful (inside and out) my mom and sister are, and because she believes in the importance of the family more than just about anyone I know, she is so happy to have met them. (You guys are pretty awesome, by the way!) The gift is a beautiful copper cross with a lapis lazuli stone in the middle, and I almost cried because I know it wasn’t cheap and I know she’s struggling economically right now. The cross is stunning, and I love it, absolutely love it. So will my family, which she knows. She gave it to me nonchalantly and didn’t let me rave about it for too long, but that’s how she works.

Gladys’ relationship with Carolina, her daughter, is also impressive. They connect on a mother-daughter level when Gladys tells Carolina to do (or not do) things and such, but they also connect on a whole different plane where they are both, simply, women, people, housemates. Carolina amazes me, actually. Although I sometimes don’t understand how she can be 21 (well, now she’s 22) and still get excited about a teddy bear for her birthday, she’s actually really mature and wise beyond her years. Her relationship with her boyfriend Marcelo also threw me off at first, but he’s SUCH a gentleman and he genuinely cares about her. You can see pure love in both of their eyes, and even if their baby talk is sometimes too much to handle, they have a really beautiful balance and they respect each other. Carolina does a lot of work around the house and hardly ever complains, even when Gladys insists that Carolina fold MY laundry or serve me MY breakfast (which I always protest, obviously). The girl is open-minded, smart, perceptive, and caring, and she and her relationship with her mother serves as a testament to Gladys’ strength as a woman.

Living with Gladys and Carolina has been a blessing that I didn’t always fully appreciate because, as we do all the time in life, I was sometimes looking only at the things I didn’t have. I saw how affectionate some of my friends’ host families were and wondered why the women in my family are more closed. I wished silently that Gladys would cook something else because other peoples’ moms made them such delicious dinners. And so forth. But if I’ve learned anything here, it’s that you may come into an experience looking for one thing and leave with something entirely different, something you actually really needed to find, even if you didn’t realize it. Gladys and Carolina have taught me about simplicity, about honesty, and most of all about people. It’s true that we’re all the same on a very basic level, but we all have our own ways of looking at the world and playing the cards we’re dealt. Gladys and Carolina take life as it comes, adjusting to each change without flinching. They challenge each other but are unconditionally supportive. They have their vulnerabilities, too, if you get to know them. And their capacity to love without envy, resentment, or any of the things that so often accompany that thing we call love in our world today, is astounding. They don’t LOOK like a traditional family, and they’re not exactly what I expected, but they are absolutely a family, and a strong one at that.

I should add that, about five minutes ago, just as I was writing about how Gladys is harder on the outside but truly selfless, she walked into my room with MORE gifts. Something for your mom, your sister, and you, she told me. And a little surprise for all of you. She gave me a postcard with this little note written on the back which just about broke my heart because of its simple beauty: “To my daughter Amanda: Thank you for all of the moments we shared in our home. May God illuminate your life fill you with blessings. These are the sincere wishes from your Chilean Mother, who loves you very much. Thousands of kisses, Gladys.” She handed me these things matter-of-factly and then shuffled out of my room; Gladys only knows one way to walk, and it is a rushed little shuffle, which serves her no matter the occasion. I guess I should stop talking about how much I love these women, but I just don’t know if I’ll ever be able to explain—to myself or to anyone else—how I’ve learned to live with and love total strangers. It has been beautiful. Not always easy, but in the end, absolutely beautiful.

Anyway, at about 1am last night, we decided it was time to hit up a bar or club. Our first attempt failed, but we quickly found another, where we were treated to an hour or so of live music before reggaeton and salsa and cumbia beats took over the place and we all started dancing. As it usually does on these sorts of evenings, time flew, and suddenly it was 4:30 in the morning. As a result, today has been a pretty lazy day. I always feel accomplished on Sundays when I get myself up and get to Mass, despite getting little to no sleep, but that is usually the only thing I do other than eating and sitting. I had a long lunch with Gladys and a good conversation with her and with Carolina afterwards. I now should really turn my attention to getting some of my things arranged, as Monday and Tuesday will go by so quickly and I have yet to start packing. Tomorrow I plan to meet up with Alexia, Maria Jose, Carolina, and Andrea for lunch, go to the gym one more time (I’ve made friends with a few people there and PROMISED them I’d come on Monday to give them their own despedida), and buy a mountain of alfajores. What will I do when those delicious little things are no longer at my immediate disposal?!

I sincerely hope you’re all having a wonderful Sunday. I can’t believe it, but I’ll see you SOON. For real. I know it seems like I’m thinking only about how sad it will be to leave here, but you should also know that I’m excited to come home to a family I love very much, friends I’ve missed intensely, and SUMMER!!! I love you all and highly suggest you tell someone you love them today.

Besitos,

Amanda