Sentiments on Christmas from this past September

Christmas is nearing fast and it doesn't feel like it at all. It' s hot and there is a serious lack in the amount of Santa Clauses I'm used to seeing. I've gotten news that Asheville/Winston-Salem has just gotten the most snow in years and I spend my days in swim suits and shorts rather than sledding down the snow hill. This Christmas is clearly going to be different. I know that sometimes I act impervious to homesickness (I don't feel homesick right now, I have too much going on, plus Mom's here with me.) Note: I'm perfectly happy right now and I'm really enjoying my time with Coty's family. But I just wanted to include a page from my journal from earlier this semester to let at least Haley and Dad know that I'm going to really miss their company over these holidays.

"9/24/09

I'm supposed to be studying but I can't get the idea that I'm going to miss Christmas off my mind. It's making me cry just thinking about it. I'm going to miss the piney aroma and the happy glow of our Christmas tree. I'm going to miss Mom's search for the perfect candle to make the house smell warm and spicy. I'm going to miss the Christmas carols playing through the house as we scurry around getting ready for a party. I'm going to miss Dad getting dressed up as Santa and coming home with sorties about how the children responded to him. I'm going to miss fighting over who gets to eat the last of Becky West's Christmas toffee. I'm going to miss Bandit and Tollie hating their reindeer antlers. I'm going to miss getting up Christmas morning and crowding into Mom and Dad's bed to open stockings and eat biscotti cookies. I'm going to miss how Haley gets me a The Farside (an old comic strip by Gary Larson) calender every year, and every year I get excited because I love The Farside.  I'm going to miss getting presents labeled as "From Santy Clause," wrapped in our same wrapping paper. I'm going to miss hearing "Thank you sweet pea!" or "Sweet bear!!" from my Daddy. I'll miss getting together with the Reisters and Grandma to eat an early dinner. I'll miss the children performing a Christmas ceremony at PUCC and remember how it felt like the big performance of my life back when I used to be involved. I'll miss going to the Warrick's house for Christmas Eve-Eve and being shocked at how big Carter has gotten. I'll miss snuggling with little Pearl for hours reading a book. I'll miss being covered in cat hair. I'll miss Dad's wild hairs about doing things in the Christmas spirit, like baking a LOT of cookies to give to people and then having us eat them all. I really hope I can supplement al that I'll miss with something."

And off we go.

Maureen, Colomba (dog), Me, kitten, Ian, kitten, Juanita, Yoly

This is my last day in Chile, though it doesn't feel like it. Nothing feels final ever, you know? Let's hope it never is. I've been awash with feelings of sadness and excitement, but I feel like the only way for me to get through this goodbye is just to keep following my feet. Last night we had a despedida for me (a goodbye party) and I had to keep myself from crying the entire night. Not because it was sentimental in anyway, considering the conversations we have can last for hours while discussing merely where the best bakeries in Valparaiso are in relation to the main plaza. But I think that all of my emotions stemmed from the fact that I was sitting there in the room with all of the Chileans that make me look back on my time here and think, they are my Chile. They are the reason that this trip has been full of love, support and laughter. They are my family here, and this is our last meal together. 

Yesterday before the despedida I went to meet Marisol, a Chilean woman who studied abroad with Jan Morris (a teacher at the Downtown Elementary School) back in 1973 (right before the Golpe de Estado in Chile). We talked all about Jan and her family, how many times Marisol came to visit and what it's like to be a foreign exchange student. Those of us who are fortunate enough to have a supportive and loving host family (or really, just fortunate enough to study abroad) are really lucky to be able to take a glance at how another culture lives and also, how our own cultures live. Her stories about Atlanta, Georgia and Winston-Salem made me pine for home a little bit. She said she's been back to visit Jan's family at least 7 times. Que suerte! It's great to find a family connection  that remains just as strong across country borders. 

Today is going to be hard, tomorrow will be harder. Today I'm going to wander around Valparaiso one last time with some friends, finish packing, and then go out with friends for our last night together. The plan is to not sleep so that I can sleep on the 24 hours of bus ride that I have in front of me. One hard thing is knowing that all of my friends are going home to spend Christmas with their families while I'm continuing on. I'll be meeting up with Mom in Buenos Aires, Argentina two days from now, but knowing that Haley and Dad are home without us for the first Christmas in 20 years makes me so sad. 

Here's the plan, Stan: 8am Sunday board a bus for Mendoza, Argentina. Around 12pm Monday arrive in Buenos Aires, meet up with Mom in our hostel! Spend a week touring around Buenos Aires, and then head on to Mar del Plata to spend Christmas with the Navesi family. Then, a few days after New Years I'll be heading to Cordoba, Argentina to WWOOF on an organic farm that I've found! [Here's their website, take a look! www.lagranjadecapilla.com.ar]

 I'll stay there until mid-February and then I'm meeting up with Adrienne (close friend from UNCA) in BsAs and we're going to Uruguay! Woo! Then I'll come back and teach English in Buenos Aires!

It's crazy that a third of my trip is now over. I'm so sad to leave Chile, but I have Argentina ahead of me. Bring on the next seven months! Happy Holidays everyone!

To the South of South America!

I went with three other friends (Lindsey, Lindsey, and Renee) to tour around the south of Chile. We didn’t head into Patagonia (although some of our friends went there instead and had a blast backpacking in Torres de Paine) but we had a few good adventures of our own.

The south of Chile is especially known for how green and lush it is (la naturaleza) and the European influence on the bigger cities (German influence especially.) We headed first to Valdivia, which is flooding with German influence, and has it’s own brewery which is famous throughout Chile, called Kuntsmann (I’m not a beer connoisseur, but it was good!) We ate beer ice cream and had a good time in the museum impersonating the most bizarre German mannequins I’ve ever seen. 

Slogan of the day: Das gute Bier!

(Mapuche medicine woman and man)

Also in Valdivia, we went to a Mapuche cultural festival (the Mapuches are the indigenous people of Chile who are still fighting to keep their culture alive) and saw some beautiful artwork done of current Mapuche tribe leaders. 

Finally, we went to el Castillo de San Sebastián de la Cruz Fort, which wasn’t much to look at at all, until we realized that there was a man who was willing to take pictures of us in old-fashioned costumes and print out pictures for 3 mil (like 6 bucks). This was most definitely worth the visit.

The Lindseys (left)

Me and Renee, battling (below).

Next we went to Puerto Montt, a port city before the start of Patagonia, and one of the most dangerous cities in Chile. We mostly wanted to go to Puerto Montt so that we could visit Petrohue, a beautiful city with waterfalls and El Lago de todos los santos (All Saints Lake), but we had more cut out for us. 

The day after seeing the water falls of Petrohue and the lake (BEAUTIFUL, by the way. We drank out of the lake), we were stopped on the street by a man who told us that he needed gringas (blonde, German-looking tourists) for a movie he was working on. 

[Side note: It’s funny, I’ve never associated myself with Germans, but people ALWAYS think I’m German! And really, I’m a good percentage Dutch… but definitely 100% United Statesian, whatever that means. So now, when they ask me if I’m German, I think to myself, “Well yeah, I kind of am.”] 

So anyway, we were a little bit hesitant about this man wanting 3 blonde-haired blue-eyed gringas for his "movie," but we gave him our number and he'd call us the next day. Of course, in our minds we're inventing all of these stories about how we'd arrive the next day and they'd take us into a room and kill us, or have us do unflattering things in front of a camera. But he called us the next morning and asked us to meet him in an outside touristy fish market called Angelmo. It was an absolutely ugly day, very cold, rainy, windy. 

We got to Angelmo and wandered around the fish market trying to figure out where the film was taking place until finally we realized that we were on the set. The director took Lindsey (the most blonde-haired and blue-eyed of the three of us) and immediately put her in as an extra in the movie. Meanwhile, the other Lindsey and I asked around about the film and found out that it's tentatively being called "Patagonia," or "Como una estrella en el cielo," and it's being done in German. We watched Lindsey (gringa tourist extra) follow around the actress and politely turn down the street venders, as her part entails. Lindsey and I watched her proudly like show biz moms. Finally, it was our turns to be on screen. The director put us in our positions and told us that when the actress shows up at the bottom of the stairs we were to walk across the set. The first time we didn't understand our cue and Lindsey walked right in front of the actress, cutting off her lines. Hah! We knew that something had to be lost in translation because the German director would approach us, gabbering in German and waving her arms. Then, her Chilean translator would step in and repeat everything in Spanish, which we would then translate into English in our own heads. 

(Below: Our big scene! Famous German actress on the left.)

We thought that our time spent on this movie would be like one, two hours tops, but at 3pm we left Angelmo in route to a restaurant to continue filming. Now, my hair was in braids when we were at the fish market so I was severely unaware of how greasy it was. We were instructed to take our hair down and to change clothes for the restaurant scene, obviously, since that would be strange that the same 3 gringas from before just happened to be in a trendy restaurant scenes later. Talk about self-conscious. We tried to steam some of the grease out with a straightener, but that didn't help much. The Lindseys hadn't brought any other clothes apart from t-shirts, so of course they had to have a costume change. 

A woman took them into the bathroom and put this terrible lacy, ugly bit of shirt on Lindsey P (the girl who looks like she's wearing a table cloth) and said, "There, that's better." Oh my gosh how we laughed. On the set we were supposed to be pretending to talk and eat salad while the actors were doing their thing (you know, like acting...) but they sat me and Lindsey together and we had the hardest time keeping a straight face and it wasn't like there were lots of extras in the restaurant. There were like, 10 of us, total. I don't think they included us in the scene. This is why actors don't act with their best friends. In the end, we got paid 5 mil (10 bucks)each (two free dinners! Woo!) (Me and Lindsey with our "chilean family")

We left Puerto Montt and spent a few days in Puerto Varas and Frutillar. Both were beautiful but extremely touristy. Frutillar is especially known for its German influence and architecture. We ate apple strudel. Das gute strudel!

Next we headed up to Pucón, a city in central Chile that was not on our itinerary but we decided that we could squeeze it in, and boy are we glad we did. 

Very close to Pucón is Huerquehue National Park, with some of the most beautiful lakes I've ever seen. We hiked for about 7 hours and just basked in the natural glory of clear waters, blue skies, and the smoking Villarrica volcano.

Left: Cascada Nido de Aguila

Right:

Villarrica volcano with Tinquilco Lake

Me in front of Lago Toro

The Three Pigs at Huerquehue Park

And then we went home.

Some more pictures.

Me with Pablo Neruda, my love (lying beside his grave.)

Pig and I at Isla Negra (Lindsey 1)

Other pig and I at an asado (barbecue)... (Lindsey 2)

We five girls have stuck together all throughout our Chilean Culture and Ortofonia classes! Yeah Grupo 3-B!

(Abby, Lindsey2, Lindsey1, Me, Renee.)

Algunas fotos recientes

Me at Laguna Verde

Las tres chanchitas for Halloween (The Lindseys and Me)

Camouflage 

Me and Maureen (host sister)

Yoly and Maureen

Maureen's birthday party

Everyone but Yoly knew this was coming. She was in good humor about it afterward, which impressed me.

Sorry I haven't posted in a while. I have a mass of emotions, feelings, and stories that are anxious to bust out of my heart and gush from my fingertips. It'll come soon enough.

La Cabalgata

On Friday we went to Con Con (a beachy section of town to the North) for a Cabalgata (horseback riding.) I’m going to admit that I thought it’d be lame (my reasoning based on the few times I’ve been on a horse and the week of horse camp that I did when I was 8) but it most definitely was not. As we got our horses and started the trail ride, my horse made it clear that he was not up for being ridden and began fighting with the other horses by getting too close and nipping at them. So they changed my horse. 

Now, I don’t have a lot of horseback technical skills. I can sit on top and steer one direction or the other, presuming the horse is walking slowly and calmly. So when my horse took off galloping away from the group (with me perched on top), I had no idea what to do. I pulled on the reins and leaned back and “Whoooaaaa”-ed by every thing I tried seemed to just encourage her to go faster. We went speeding over a sand dune and into a corner of bushes. I breathed a sign of relief when we stopped and began to try to encourage my horse to turn back to the group. She had other plans. She turned toward the wall of bushes (which towered over my head) and plowed straight through. All that my group could hear was me yelling, followed by leaves rustling and twigs breaking as we went tromping through the wall. Forgive this Harry Potter reference but I felt as though I had been through platform 9 ¾. Once through the bushes we sped towards a river, splashed through it at top speed, and finally slowed to a trot. I remember being at Girl Scout camp when I cantered on a horse for the first time, quite on accident. I had been surprised and terrified, and the counselors made a big deal about it (as counselors do.) Here I was, galloping for the first time, out of control, but it was seen as no big deal.

We switched my horse again (the guide’s recommendation.) The third horse was wonderful and speedy. As we continued walking along the dunes, the setting transformed into a scene from Aladdin. Sand blew down the dunes in ripples and our horses galloped through the sand as if we were chasing 40 thieves or escaping The Mummy. We reached the beach: beautiful blue waters and seagulls flying everywhere. To ride along the beach is spectacular; the wind blowing, waves crashing, sun at your back. It was practically out of a movie. Our horses galloped along, going as fast as they wished along the entire stretch of beach. 

My new favorite moment in riding a horse is the transition from trot to gallop. Trotting is no fun at all. Your bum bangs on the saddle and you can feel every bit of skin and fat heaving up and down. But breaking into a gallop is like taking off in a plane. All of a sudden everything is smooth and your moving with the horse. With each stride I was terrified of falling off, holding on for dear life, and exhilarated all at once. Derek pointed out that we consistently are throwing ourselves into activities that we are maybe not quite ready for (snowboarding, horseback riding, etc...) Hah!

Friends, finally.

Renee, Francisco, Pablo, Pancho, Lindsey, Catie, Ashley, Mia, Me, Lindsey

It's the first week of month number 3 and I officially have 11 friends! Normally I would think, How sad... but making actual Chilean friends in Chile has proven to be more difficult that I thought. BUT ever since the ball got rolling, now I have things to do all the time and people to be with! Fantastic! Francisco (aka Pancho), Francisco, and Pablo are some of my closest friends here... they took us to a beautiful beach/lake called Laguna Verde which is completely untouched, uninhabited, and pretty much just virgin. I wish you all could appreciate with your own eyes how beautiful it is.

There's this cove of bright blue water surrounded by rocks and seagulls and mountains. And then, a small lake (lagoon, I guess you'd say) that is bright clear, like looking into an old green bottle. We're going back there in a few weeks to camp. Fabulous. 

Faces

I've come to the conclusion that there must be the face or the essence of everyone you know, everywhere you go. Each day I live here in Chile I think to myself, "I wonder who I'll see today?" For example, the other day Brad Zabel drove up my street. I've seen Daniel Massoglia on the metro and I traveled around Peru with a mixture of Haley and Katja. It's so interesting to me how the brain works this way, relating everything new to what it already knows. It's both an instigator and a cure for homesickness. On the one hand, I see people I think I know and wish I could be home with the freedom to run up to them and shout loudly into their ears "Hey how are you doing?!" And on the other hand, why miss home when everyone I know is right here with me in Chile in spirit and in remembrance. This is my time to be here and to do the things I can't do in the States, like walk to the beach and read, or have lunch for hours with my host family, talking about every topic under the sun. Seeing this illusion all the time is a fun game, but it's also like I'm being told, "We're all here with you, now go on." I think that these faces are what is getting me, and what will get me through being a year abroad. 

More thoughts on Peru

When I crossed the Peru/Chile border, the change was immediate. The people were clearly from an indigenous line, the currency was in soles, the time flew backward an hour (unbeknownst to us.) I was so struck with how open, warm, and welcoming the country was. I didn't feel like people gawked at me like they do in Chile. Los Peruanos (Peruvians) speak English so much more clearly than Chileans (In English, compare a southern accent with a crisp Indian accent.) All of a sudden, I could understand everything everyone said without feeling like I was putting the common people out of their way. And they were so nice and smiley! 

In Peru my group seemed to always be on the go, and therefore we did get to see a lot of places. I think our final transportation count was around 16 or 17 buses, 11 taxis, 2 minibuses, 2 planes, 1 train, and lots and lots of walking. 

In  Aguas Calientes we woke up at 3:15 am to hike up to Machu Picchu. 

We didn't exactly know what we were getting ourselves into. We walked down (guided by my headlamp) to the beginning of the 15ish (more?) s-curves which led up to the mountain to MP. We climbed what seemed like a million steep rock steps in the dark. There was wheezing, sweating, and some complaining, but this was only a warm-up to our day. At 5:30am we arrived at MP's gates. I was number 38 out of the first 400 people to be allowed in to climb Wayna picchu (the tall mountain towering over the ruins in all of the famous pictures of Machu Picchu.) Wayna picchu was truly a test of strength and character. 

We started by climbing another never-ending set of steep rock stairs that hugs the side of the tremendous mountain. The stairs had a width of about 4 feet, sometimes without a handrail (Mom, this isn't for you.) We could choose to go straight up to the top, or to go down to the "Great Cave" (not a cave.) and then go back up to the top. We thought, "Neat." so down we went, not realizing that this cavern

would take us nearly back down to ground level, losing nearly all of the previous advancement we'd made on climbing to the top.We finally got down to the cave, which was a rock undercut with piles of pebbles underneath. The view was gorgeous, as always. Mountains, ridges, and peaks coated in a lush green and highlighted by a bright blue sky. We sat and ate some chirimoyas for a while (a fruit.) Then we started our ascent back up the mountain, which at this point was pretty much straight up. But somehow, it didn't feel especially difficult. Our legs and backs were tired, but not exhausted, It was like we were on autopilot. Reaching the top of Qaynapicchu was like gasping deeply and holding the air in your chest. We had a 360 degree view of Peru, her mountains, and the ruins of Machu Picchu. 

One thing we noticed was how we couldn't see a single house or building in the huge expanse of mountains all around us. The only signs of human life were the ruins, the road to MP, 

and the hydroelectric plant, which wasn't even a huge eyesore. No sign of mountaintop removal, no summer homes, no electrical lines, just pure vegetation and greenery. Hiking back down was hard on the kneeds but definitely rewarding. I wasn't able to find a worthy copy of "The Heights of Machu Picchu" by Pablo Neruda, but I wrote my own little entry. Here it is:

"I am absolutely in awe of the beauty, the intricacy, and the architecture of this place. Surrounding me on all sides are towering mountains of greens, grays, whites. It looks as if this land's creator decided to drape moss over every peak and groove, giving the effect of having spread thick green icing on a cake. And suddenly from the mountains appears this amazing labyrinth of stones. Stones piled, stacked upon stones. I climbed Waynapicchu. I have never before climbed so many stairs. But each stair solidified my thoughts and satisfactions for actually having made it to this stoney, grassy paradise. We couldn't have picked a better day to come, but in hindsight, MP requires two trips. One for Waynapicchu, and one for Machu. I wish I could have a tour of these ruins so that I could understand a little about Incan history. There are so many rooms, windows, and stairs. This place is just such a mystery as far as why it's here, how the Incans lived. I could just stand here and stare at these mountains all day long. Machu Picchu seems to be the perfect mix of nature and man-made figures."

On our way to Cuzco from Aguas Calientes, we decided to walk along the railroad tracks (free instead of paying another $70 to take the train) for 3 hours. Best decision ever. We had so much time to reflect, walk, and gawk at the mountains above us and the river (Rio Vilcanota) to our left. We even 

had some time for a swim!

In our hostel in Cuzco, we happened to flip the TV to The Emperor's New Groove. We watched Cuzco in Cuzco! Hah! Also, we made a friend (Rachel, here with me eating a strange fruit that was like white-hair covered seeds in a pea-pod... they were like eating sweet slimy cotton candy.)

New foods I tried in Peru: Alpaca, guinea pig, some type of hard boiled birds eggs with spicy sauce (SAUCE!) -- Quail-like?, pea pod fruit, raison tamales, goat cheese. 

SUDDEN THOUGHT! The Decemberists (one of my favorite and relatively bands) are playing on our radio right now!!!! Congratulations Decemberists! You've made it to Chile! (My friends and Haley will appreciate this comment.)

(This is how the indigenous Peruvian women all hold their babies, like papooses on their backs. I bought a belt from her.)

Oh the Glories of Peru!

Coca tea for high altitude sickness

Watching the condors in Colca Canyon at Cruz del Condor (6 ft wingspan!)

Machu Picchu Ruins!

Machu Picchu! See that mountain towering over? That's Wayna Picchu. I hiked that.

I'm home from Peru after traveling to Machu Picchu, and may I just say that Peru is the most beautiful country I have ever seen. Granted, I have only seen a total of 4 countries in my life. But oh my goodness, I am in love with Peru. I'll say a little bit more about my trip when I have more time to post, but here are some of my favorite pictures from the trip.

Machu Picchu!!

I leave for Machu Picchu, Peru tomorrow for 8 days! What an adventure, I can't wait!!!

Here's a rough sketch of my itinerary if you care to follow along with me:

Wednesday, Sept. 9th 9:30pm: Bus from Vina to Santiago, wait in airport for a long, long, long time.

Thursday, Sept. 10th 4am-6:40am: Flight from Santiago to Arica (north Chile)

Buses crossing the border, from Arica to Tacna, to Arequipa, to Cuzco, Peru

Friday, Sept. 11th 7am-11am: Train from Cuzco to Aguas Calientes

Bus from Aguas Calientes to Machu Picchu, hostel in Machu Picchu

Saturday, Sept. 12th: Stay in Machu Picchu, hike it, dance around, recite From the Heights of Macchu Picchu, by Pablo Neruda (look it up, now

Sunday, Sept. 13th: Bus from Santa Theresa to Cuzco, hostel it up in Cuzco

Monday, Sept. 14th: Bus from Cuzco to Arequipa

Tuesday, Sept. 14th-Thursday, Sept. 17th: Live with Indigenous Andians

Thursday, Sept. 17th: 4pm-9pm Bus from Arequipa to Tacna, from Tacna (Peru) to Arica (Chile)

Friday, Sept 18th: 1am-3:40am: Flight from Arica to Santiago

Bus from Santiago to Vina del Mar!

And then we exhaustedly will enjoy Chile's independence day, Sept. 18th!!

For those of you who have no idea what Macchu Picchu is, here are some pictures, soon to be followed by my own, if my camera is not stolen:

Alpaca! Boy oh boy oh boy.

Galletas!

Me and Fernanda

The First Batch (Flaites--word for ghetto, cheap,poor)

Finally!

Renee and I decided to make Nestle Tollhouse cookies as a treat for our host families. It was pretty hard though because no one here cooks with measuring cups. The first batch had way too much butter and not enough flour. The next batches were tasty though!! Renee's seven-year-old host sister Fernanda helped us by stirring (tried to help with a lot more but somethings, like cracking eggs, maybe shouldn't be done by impatient youngin's who are only interested in eating batter.) 

For those of you who were wondering...

I received a request to paint a picture with words that describes where I live (Aunt Ana). Here you go:

To get to my house is simple, really. The metro station that runs up the main street (Alvarez) all the way into the city of Valparaiso has a stop right in front of our street (Cantera... meaning Quarry.) Walk along Cantera and do not expect the houses to have the same pampered lawns and breezy porches that we have in the South. The houses are gaited and sit side-by-side like Legos placed together, each second story placed directly on top of the first. They're like little rectangular cakes. At the end of the first block is a tiny shop where we buy our bread, and where I buy chocolate alfajores (a cookie covered in chocolate with "manjar" or dulce de leche in the middle.) Besides this shop is a fast food shop that sells hamburguesas and "completos" -- cheap 1 foot long, delicious hot dogs smothered in cheese, tomatoes, and palta (avocados.) Yes, I've eaten one. 

To the left of this food joint is a construction site where workers are busy all day everyday building a set of apartments. They pause only to hoot or toodle their truck horns at the embarrassed Americans scampering innocently by. On the curb, every day without fail, lounges a little white and brown dog. He's a terrior mix, I suppose. He reminds me of Bandit. He can always be found laying in the street, basking in the afternoon sun with with one arm resting peacefully on the curb. Always watch out for dog poop. 

Finally, as you keep going you'll reach our gate on the left, Cantera 537, Condominio Garden. A small L-shaped line of houses form a community of independent families. Our house is the first on the left, number 1. Columba, the golden-haired fox of a dog is waiting by the door, rear end wagging. Upon entering the tiny house be careful to avoid the wind-chimes that are waiting to touch your face and alert the entire family that you've arrived home. The staircase is immediately to the right. The entire downstairs is comprised of a sitting area, the dining area (separated form the sitting area by a stained glass panel,) the tiny kitchen, my room, and one bathroom. Paintings done by my host mom and her brother adorn the walls with similar brushstrokes and oil dabs. The rooms are all decorated with candles, incense, potted plants, and an occasional statue of Buddha. 

Enter my room. I don't know how they fit my bed in there. On the left is a large wooden closet with sliding doors. On the right is my bed. To glance around my tiny bedroom is to realize how much art can live within the simples of things. My walls appear to be hand stuccoed. Finger marks of swirls cover my walls as if someone were trapped in here with wet stucco and no door. Directly in front of my bed is a large swirl of finger prints and the darkest layerings of yellow, all encircling some painted shape that appears to be the top of a coconut. One could just as easily argue that there is a windshield-sized yellow swirling breast painted onto my wall. To the left of my bed hanging on the wall is a painting done by my host uncle, Lucho. This painting is a series of dark rectangles containing obscure and unclear scenes with human-like shapes. I didn't understand it until I made the mistake of asking him to explain the war with Pinochet. I had no idea that he had been taken and tortured by Pinochet's soldiers. He told me that this painting is his life story.

The window behind my bed looks directly out onto the fenced patio where our clothes are washed and dried, and where all of the adults smoke, chat, and drink late into the night. The roof covering the patio is plastic and extremely noisy when it rains. If one drop of rain falls, imagine hearing an acorn fall on a tin roof. I love it. Out of my room and to the left is the kitchen. There is just enough room in there for three people to stand in a line to stir soup, chop celery, and make coffee. Above the sink is a fickle contraption called the "Calefont" which is essentially a stove used to light your showers. One doesn't get hot water by merely turning a tap. This took me a while to master.

If you go upstairs you’ll find the rest of the bedrooms. In at 6x4 square of hallway, the computer sits, half-blocking the doors of the two bedrooms on either side. (Imagine the episode from “Friends” where Joey constructs an entertainment center that is so wide that he and Chandler run into it while trying to sleepily exit their bedrooms.) To the right of the desk is upstairs bathroom/shower; to the left is Juanita’s room. She’s an engineering major… She keeps mathematical equations pasted to her ceiling for further studying. The two televisions of the house are in Yoly’s and Ian’s room. There is no one room in which to sit on a couch and watch TV as a family. Television watching is done in bed.

From my bedroom at any point in the day I am sure to this collection of sounds: stray dogs competing for the next spot on Latin American idol, the neighborhood senile rooster, the radio from the neighbors beside us, colectivos (like taxis) going up and down the street. One funny memory (and recently solved mystery): While taking a shower the first morning that I was here, I heard a man call out “Allo!” It would get louder and softer as he walked through the neighborhood. He’d say it about every 30 seconds. I thought to myself, “Is he in trouble? Is he insane? Do Chileans just wander through the streets greeting people? “Allo! Today is a new day! Get out of your showers!” The other day at dinner I posed this question to my host family and got a huge laugh in return. Apparently, the man yells, “Diarioooooo!” meaning, “Newspaper!” The paper isn’t just delivered to any and every house. Well, that cleared up that question really fast.

  I know this entry is super long and I apologize, but it’s been a while since I’ve posted so I’m overflowing with stories. For some reason, the most recent series of stories seems to include me falling down. Here is the newest occurrence:

I was walking home yesterday from my university after a day of feeling pretty sick intestinally (I’m going to leave that to the imagination.) The stairs of the metro station is a common after-class hangout spot for a horde of high schoolers. I walk past them and get to the stairs, and suddenly, I trip over my own feet. I landed hard on my knee, dropped my metro card and busted open my right thumb. Pretty much what the high schoolers saw of my fall was a blonde gringo making her way to the metro stairs and suddenly, lurching forward and down, out of sight past the metro wall. It was the kind of fall where all of your hair flies in front of your face and it looks like your chest has been yanked forward with a rope. I stood up quickly, and called out “Estoy biennnnn!” to the semi-concerned/really-just-trying-not-to-laugh-but-are-actually-laughing-really-hard-behind-their-hands listeners. What a time to fall down! I looked down and saw that somehow the skin on top of my thumb had parted like the red sea and was oozing blood. I had to get on the metro to go home, and public bathrooms and faucets here are pretty much none existent. So I cupped my thumb in my hand and caught the metro. It’s hard disguising a bloody hand in a public place full of people who are already staring at you because you’re foreign. I feel like I hid it pretty well, but I know I dripped blood on the clean metro floor. So there’s one chapter of my falling adventures!

 

My plans for Machu Picchu are coming along! We’re planning to stay with some indiginous tribes for a few days while we’re in Peru. That should be interesting, but I’m wary of it being very touristy. I’m currently hostel hunting. More news later!

Pictures from Snowboarding in the Andes!

me and my friend Derek

Our Group

Outdoors goes ANDES!