Here we go acostumbrandome...

It's been a pretty relaxing weekend--I've been spending my time hanging out with my family, exploring Viña, eating bland food, and trying to keep warm without burning myself. There have been some moments in which I've felt like reality was starting to set in, which I guess is to be expected at this point. Yesterday, for example, I was at the mall where I bought a sweet new coat, and went to the bathroom having just downed a lovely bottle of Fanta. My memories of standing in awe of the complete lack of line etiquette in Mexico came rushing back as I watched women of all ages flooding into the restroom, pushing past me, and placing themselves in front of specific stalls. It took me a few minutes to catch on to the fact that in Chile one does not form a single queue; rather, you pick a stall and hope for the best. Naturally, I picked wrong. A little girl of about 9 and I had both placed ourselves in front of the handicapped stall at the back of the restroom. We waited for several minutes in the headache-inducing warmth of the highly-populated bathroom until a woman and her half-naked daughter finally emerged. Apparently something had gone wrong with the toilet and there was now urine everywhere. The girl and I gave each other a look and moved on to new stalls. I don't think I'll ever quite get used to the sight of 3 1/2-feet-tall old ladies brusquely pushing me aside with no regard to the the fact that I was there several minutes before them (as well as the fact that I really have to pee; soda goes right through me).

I've also been dealing with the forseeable awkwardness of living with someone else's family. It's always interesting to see how different people can do simple everyday things. My family's great, I should say--I'm feeling very happy with my living situation, and every once in awhile I have to stop myself and look around, taking note of how comfortable I actually feel here after such a short period of time. Still, there are those moments when you look around, shiver with the cold, and wonder how this new reality you've strangely flung yourself into is going to pan out. I had one of those moments a few nights ago while watching "The Terminal" with my host mom in her room. Turns out she's one of those people who thinks it's wonderfully acceptable to comment and chat through movies. She also thinks Tom Hanks is hilarious, which presents its own set of problems. With about 30 minutes to go in the movie I found myself curled up under her pink "gringa" blanket, trying desperately to rub feeling back into my nose, listening to the racking snores of the form lying beside me, glancing back and forth between the television and the pile of my laundry waiting to be ironed (who irons jeans?) stacked in the corner, the iron lying curled up on the floor (presumably trying to keep warm), my ankle growing ever more numb, and feeling fairly lonely, fairly uncomfortable with the fact that this was what I was doing with my Saturday night.

But more often than naught, I find myself surrounded by quite eccentric, quite funny people, who are obsessed with telling me about Chilean lingo, and who enthusiastically thrust plate after plate of food (very tasty plain angel hair pasta has been the specialty ever since I got sick again) in front of me. I've been meeting extended family member after close friend after significant other. They all speak really fast, and for some reason can't find it within themselves to pronounce the second halves of their words. It's endearing. And I'm starting to get a good feel for the city; I've been walking up a storm and taking in some spectacular sunsets. Today I even did some hiking of sorts in the Quinta Vergara with Amanda and Mary Ellen. I made sure Amanda took pictures as I inched my way down a very steep trail, clinging to painfully-prickly cactus, as I tried to get my booted self down from our vista-producing perch above the park. Plus, I now know where all the good make-out spots are in Viña.

My big accomplishment for the day was managing to register myself at the local YMCA. It took quite a bit of effort to get accross my intention to enroll so I could come everyday, instead of the regular three per week. The "profe," who I took to be the resident trainer, tried to convince me that if I went to the gym six days a week I would simply be too tired. I tried to explain that, in my booted state, this probably would not be the case. Later, as they instructed me how to use a stationary bike (gee, thanks)--for only 20 minutes, mind you--one of the workers came by to check on me a few times, and told me that he was going to have someone come by to examine my ankle to see what I could and couldn't do. This alarmed me a bit since I've been using my boot, and the fact that it's winter, to take a break from shaving. Luckily, the person who finally came to "examine" me simply asked the same questions I'd already answered and then introduced me to a fellow gym-goer who was going to teach me how to use the weights (again, thanks...). I don't think the profe likes me very much, but I plan on winning him over.

So things here are really quite good. Aside from the occassional brush with my space heater, and a longing-filled glance toward the iron, I feel pretty comfortable. I think it's going to be a really good five months. Plus, I found some super-yummy plain yogurt today! Still looking for Special K...

Mr. Estufa

I woke up early today to go on a tour of la Universidad de Valparaíso, the other university we can take classes at, and was ecstatic to see the sun bursting through my curtains. I found my way to the Plaza de Viña, which is right across the river from me, and found a nice shaft of sunlight that had managed to make its way between the soaring palm trees and tall buildings, and had landed conveniently on a bench in the middle of the plaza. Pepe, our academic advisor, was standing across the plaza on the steps of the Teatro Municipal, but the sun hadn´t made it over there yet, so I waited until everyone else had arrived to go over there. We went by van to various academic departments which are spread out all over the city (just like la Católica, the other university we take classes at), and had a short orientation complete with a 9-minute video about Chile as a tourist destination. This seemed slightly off topic, but afterward the gave us tea and chocolates, so I didn´t complain. There were also a few students from the university who showed us around, two of whom are leaving for a year in Mexico next week. We chatted about Mexico, my ankle, chocolate, and ER, and I was sad that they were leaving because it was great to feel like I was making friends. But I´ve definitely decided that I want to take courses at the Universidad de Valparaíso; they don't get nearly as many international students as la Católica, so it seems like much more of an independent environment--more immersion. Plus, I can walk to both the history and the sociology buildings (I've already become too cheap to take the bus whenever it's possible to avoid it).

This afternoon there was an activities fair at la Católica, which actually wasn´t that exciting, but someone was walking around handing out chocolate-covered something filled with dulce de leche, so again I didn´t complain too much. Tonight there´s a university party being organized by our student advisors--we're to meet outside Viña´s only McDonald's at 10...awesome. My other brother's supposed to come home today, so I'm pretty psyched about that (this also meant that Pauli had to go back to Santiago, which makes me fairly happy as well--she's nice and all, but never shuts up). I also inquired about joining the YMCA, which apparently has good student rates, so that's quite cool.

Oh, one other thing of interest: last night I almost lit myself on fire. So there I was, huddled in front of my favorite estufa, changing the channels on the vcr, when the sleeve of my sweatshirt unwittingly lingered too long, and too close to, the heat panels. When I looked down, my Carleton blue was smoking. For a second there, I was more perplexed than anything else. Then I realized that if indeed I was on fire, I wasn't going to be able to wrestle myself out of my sweatshirt in time to save myself from being burned. At this point it was more disconcerting than perplexing. So I decided to just hit myself, having remembered scenes from tv and movies, and probably some kind of fire-safety class in elementary school (which probably included something about not getting too close to space heaters), about smothering fire to make it go away. This seemed to work after awhile, and I carefully inched away from Mr. estufa. Not too faraway, mind you, but further than I had been previously. My sweatshirt had a nice campy smell for most of the night.

Singed or not, me gusta la chile.

Booted salsa

Last night a bunch of COPA kids met up at Aché Havana, a Cuban club in Valparaíso near the main building of the Universidad la Católica. Taking advantage of happy hour, everyone made sure to get in on the 2 for 1 pisco sours, this country´s answer to Cuba´s mojito or Mexico´s margarita. Piña coladas were also sampled as I found my mind drifting to the north (it´s a strange shift in geological placement). After awhile, even I was drawn down to the dance floor, where I found myself being spun--sort of--by a friendly Valpo-ite. I surprised myself, and those around me, with my relatively coordinated booted dancing. I´ve learned that merengue is definitely easier than salsa when you can´t move one of your ankles. It was a really fun night, though I was a bit troubled by how much it made me miss Mexico. As soon as I started dancing, one of my favorite songs from winter term came on, and I happily sang along with the chorus. But no one else I was with seemed to know the words, and my nostalgic streak crept over me. I miss my friends and the life I managed to make there. I hope I can do as well here.

It did feel pretty satisfying to make my way back to my apartment around 3am, not having gotten lost, not having had anything stolen. Sleeping in until noon today was pretty great too. The weather finally lifted, and today was bright and sunny and relatively warm (which was very surprising to me since the inside of the apartment was apparently unaware of the temperature change and had decided to maintain it´s normal temperature of freezing). After la comida, I struck out in search of the beach and Amanda. I found both. We trekked along the shore, through markets, and down a boardwalk-type thing. We saw enormous portions of tasty-looking ice cream being served in halved pineapples. We meandered among the hordes of families and pda-loving couples who were similarly aprovechar-ing the sun. As we sat by the beach the sun started to slowly fall right in front of us, lowering itself down to the flat sea, and casting orange light against the pillar-like condos and apartments and other buildings lining the the avenues at the foot of the hills. This place is absolutely beautiful, despite the sometimes gaudy clusters of 70's-style condos rising 20 stories in the air. Especially in late afternoon, the light manages to make the blue of the sky even bluer and the freakishly green grass and palm trees and bushes even greener. It was great to finally spend time outdoors and to get some exercise. It was the most I´d walked in over 2 1/2 months, so I was ecstatic to go anywhere. And on my way home, I stumbled upon a conveniently-located YMCA 2 1/2 blocks from the apartment. I´m totally joinging tomorrow.

The Bag Lady Cometh...

My Dad has always enjoyed referring to me as the Bag Lady (I tend to carry lots of bags around, I guess), but I have now added new meaning to that nickname. It likes to rain in Viña, and by rain, I mean a lot. And apparently our street is perfectly situated so that all the water in both this city and neighboring Valpo pools around our block. Yesterday I found myself standing in the middle of the street (the only place that wasn´t completely flooded), walking up and down with my newly-bought umbrella, trying to find a place to cross that was flooded by less than 8 feet of water. I was about to give up--to resign myself to walking around for the next few months with a perpetually wet, colorfully moldy boot--when a nice man in a car stopped, parked in the middle of the flood, and told me to climb through his backseat to the relative safety of the lofty sidewalk. This was fantastic...and apparently quite common. Ever since, my mom has been making sure that I leave the house properly dressed--with a plastic shopping bag tied securely over my left food and leg. Yes, this will make me feel less conspicuous.

Things here have been really good, despite the relative lack of blogging time. It´s absolutely freezing (snow in Santiago, and the roads are closed all over the country!), but I´ve made good friends with my family´s estufa (space heater). This whole humidity thing is so obnoxious--it´s so damp that the dry skin I´ve been accumulating on my left foot from lack of, well, anything, can´t even slough at this point--now it´s doing something that more closely resembles sludging whenever I get out of the shower. I told my new friend Emily all about it today on our tour of the university, and she thought it was fascinating.

I managed to pre-register myself for a good 10 classes or so today--I love this whole shopping thing. I think I´ll end up going back either tomorrow or friday and changing the whole thing--so my style. We also got to sign up for conversation partners (30 minutes in Spanish and 30 minutes in English with Chilean students) as well as for extracurriculars like sailing and yoga and salsa. I can´t believe that I´m actually getting excited for classes to start. And I´m starting to feel really comfortable in my family situation. My Dad had to leave a little while ago, and my Mom was telling me how much he liked me--apparently he was supposed to leave yesterday, but he wanted to spend more time with me. I almost died when she told me that. I´ve been meeting lots of different people, too. Yesterday I went to a small town called Quillota with Cris and Pauli to see her grandmother, aunt, and cousin. Her grandmother was hilarious and kept a large bottle of Bailey´s in her liquour cabinet...I love Chile. I also met my mom´s sister today, who was lots of fun to talk to. Even the language seems to be getting a bit easier, which pleases me to no end. So things are really good, even if they are ridiculously cold. I bought slippers, though, and that helped. Now I kind of feel like I´m just waiting for the bad part to hit--like I should be bracing for impact. I do believe that this kind of thing gets easier the more you do it, but I don´t think it´s possible to ever skip the intense culture shock step entirely. It does feel different then either Mexico or Argentina, though; I don´t have that horrible sinking feeling whenever I´m alone or whenever I realize where I am. That frightening sense of vulnerablility and loss of self doesn´t seem so present this time. Or maybe that´s just the honeymoon talking. Either way, I´m amassing quite the collection of shopping bags.

Bienvenidos a la third dimension

Okay, so I admit that I slept in my long underwear last night, but it was still an amazing night´s sleep. Apparently this family doesn´t feel it´s necessary to get up before noonish on sundays, so I was quite content wrapped up in my pile of blankets. After awhile I roused myself and had a banana. Later on I finally met my dad, Richard, who is super friendly and fun to talk to. We all had comida (with a special plate for me...the one on a "dieta," complete with cooked veggies, potatoes, rice, and bread). Then we lounged around and talked about earthquakes and religion and politics and chile. Richard showed me pictures from the cruise he took to Tierra del fuego and promised to make me a list of all the places I should go. Later, Cris and Paule took me on a drive up the coast so I could see the ocean during the day. We drove through Reñaca and Con Con, then to a lake and over the backside of the hills. THis place is gorgeous. It was late in the afternoon and the light was bouncing from the water to the brightly-painted roofs. Waves crashed against enormous rocks and mariscos were being served in every restaurant that lined the shore. I saw a poorer side of the cities as we climbed the hills behind the shoreline. Small shacks stood shoulder to shoulder on the rocky ground and children played with soccer balls and dogs. A refinery grew out of the verdant pasture-like ground, reaching its dark spires up toward the incoming clouds. A naval training camp bore signs saying not to take pictures, and James Blunt came on the car radio as we passed a donkey grazing near the median of the busy avenue.
As we wound back down the curvy hills, the setting sun blazed between the high-rise apartment, striking my sunglasses and bathing the green country in fire. When we got home I decided to venture out to the local supermarket (we´re within a block!) in search of shampoo and lotion, but mostly because I wanted to see what Chile had to offer in the way of fiber bars. I was slightly disappointed to find the store almost completely lacking in the bar department. But it was worth it anyway; I bought almonds.

I´ve found myself in an interesting frame of mind these past few days. Everyone always talks about the inevitability of drawing comparisons between a host country and your home, but I didn´t expect to be comparing everything to Mexico. I have to catch myself everytime I try to contextualize a situation in terms of "cuando estaba en Mexico." I think my family´s already sick of hearing about it. I´m finding myself longing for my Mexican family, for my Mexican friends, for the familiar streets and bars that were filled with Oxxos and musical exitos that sound strangely out of context here. It´s like that time early in December when I was sitting in the zócalo in Puebla hearing the covers of Beatles songs. Only now, my cultural twilight zone has an added third dimension. Last night, as I was being driven around by Cris and Paule, they told me how the Mexican World Cup theme song (Mexico, Mexico, vamos a ganar...), which inundated both the radio and the tv all 3 1/2 months I was there, makes Chileans laugh. I have to admit, it kind of made me cringe. But así es. And now I´m sitting here in a fairly chilly apartment, not sure I´ll make it to Cafe Journal tonight where some COPA kids are celebrating their birthdays because I´m sleepy and still sick, trying to acostumbrarme to the end of the world. It´s very green, I can say that. Oh, and I have a working cell phone that´s not quite as ghetto-fied as my Carleton-issued one from winter term. Plus, I´ve got a great-seeming family and a supermarket (however poorly-stocked--I couldn´t even find gum!) around the corner. There´s yogurt in the fridge, and I had a hot shower around 1pm. I really can´t complain.

Viña says hello!

So I finally got to move in with my host family yesterday! After sadly watching the other 38 students embark on their hiking adventure up La Campana in Olmue, I found myself yet again without much to do at the hotel. But after some stationary biking, a shower, and some time wasting, they finally came back for lunch and we were treated to a succession of meat and carbs, carbs and meat, and ice cream. And after one last orientation session we were off to Viña del mar to meet our anxiously-awaiting families.

It was kind of like a circus scene as our two buses pulled into the Viña Sporting Club (a sprawling park complete with horse track and gold-plated fencing) parking lot where various Chilean family members rushed the disembarking American students who were quite vocally freaking out and vowing to push over the crippled one because she was standing in the way of their mama´s chilenas. For a few minutes Amanda and I were pushed to the side by Vivi, who informed us that our families weren´t quite there yet. So we stood and watched as student after student jumped into the arms of overly-excited middle-aged chilean women who wrapped them in their warmth and hospitality. Amanda and I were sad. But soon Amanda and I were happy just like everyone else. My mom, Ana Maria, my older host brother Cris, and his girlfriend Paulena arrived a few minutes later and carried my bags to the car. We drove to their apartment which is pretty small, though very nicely situated. It´s a few blocks from the beach, within a block of a supermarket (!), a couple blocks from Viña´s main avenue, and right near a mall. We had a lovely bit of onces (the chilean form of english tea), and then Cris and Paule took me to the mall to get a cell phone and my ID pictures. My stomach, however, had other plans, and it was a sad mixture of stomach-clutching and mall bathroom orientation. I even broke my first COPA rule: I borrowed money from Paule and left her to pay for my phone as I ran back to the bathroom. Later they drove me around Viña and Valpo, which are absolutely beautiful at night--they light up the hills, betraying the curve of the coast and the rise of the land. Dinner was bread and water; I told my family I lived in a prison in a past life.

That night I was ecstatic to find my very own estufa/space heater waiting for me in my room, along with a small tv with which to entertain myself. I hung around talking with my family, showing them pictures, and giving them my Colorado presents almost late enough to meet my host dad, Richard (weird, right?), who got home right after I went to sleep. It was a good first evening, though, and hopefully my GI tract will acostubrarse before too long. Until then, they have some damn good bread.

Pisco sour, por favor

After our invigorating romp through Olmue yesterday evening, and yet another multi-course meal, we all headed out to the nearby karaoke bar for pisco sours, Chile's national drink, and some good old-fashioned socializing. I've become a quick fan of the lemony concoction, and an even bigger fan of the fact that bar nuts are replaced by bar popcorn here. It was splendid. Today has been jammed with orientation overload. We talked about "shock cultural," safety in the city, academic themes (parts 2 and 3), identification, various meetings and plans for next week, and how to avoid being American. I feel duly oriented. In between all the listening, we get thoroughly stuffed with food, and take trips back and forth between our rooms in search of more layers of clothing. Silly winter. Where did my summer go? On the bright side, our beds are super comfy and piled high with several weighty layers of blankets, which makes us all very happy come nighttime. So things here are good, though I'm officially sick of orientation. I want to be on my own, with my family, inundated by Spanish, figuring out how to navigate the area, and meeting Chileans. I also want to be able to hike, but I guess I'll have to take things one at a time (I'll be confined to the hotel pool while the rest of the group goes hiking tomorrow before we meet our families). In the meantime, I guess I should enjoy the lovely hot showers we all get to take.

Fido and my holding pattern

Today was the day I decided it would be a good idea to hop (literally) on a horse. We took an hour-long ride around Olmue, which is quite pretty and mist-covered. I needed a bit of help getting on and off the thing, and I think trotting is significantly more painful when you can only put one foot in the stirrups, but I was more or less successful. My horse, who was named Fido (Fee-do in Spanish), was kind of slow--the guides had to keep pushing him along--but I think we bonded...especially while he was trotting. My coccyx is sore. We also took a slew of placement tests for our program-run grammar class, and began getting oriented on the inner-workings of the university we'll be attending. Being here is kind of strange; I don't feel like it's quite hit me that I'm actually in Chile--it feels more like a holding pattern stuffed with strange food. There's a lot of down time here, and no one really knows what to do with themselves. We're all waiting for our Chilean experience to kick-start itself, and I suppose it has, but right now it just feels like 40 Americans hanging out in a mountain resort where some people speak Spanish. Luckily, the kids all seem pretty cool, and it's fun to get to know them. Still, I think I'll be happy to move in with my family come Saturday. It's strange to think I'll be here for the next five months; when you actually sit down and think about the number it sounds like a whole lot of time--especially when you take the holding pattern environment into account. Everyone's super nice, though, especially to those of us confined to immobilizing boots, so it's hard to feel too uneasy. Although waking up early in the morning and not realizing where you are can be difficult no matter how nice people are. Well, I'm off to see a Chilean-slang-laden film, and then possibly out to a karaoke bar... On a sidenote, some random stranger is taking a series of photos of us (about a dozen kids from the program) as we type away on our laptops in the hotel restaurant. We're all clustered around small tables, intently staring at our individual screens, clearly American students, and clearly disturbed by the fact that, for a change, we're the ones being photographed by people we don't know. It's like we've taken our native environment in our carry-on bags...a new form of globalization?

An Andean Haze

There´s this great thing that happens when a plane lands in Chile; the sky starts to bleed orange just as the Andes begin to come into view over the left wing. They´re jagged edges rise up to impossible points, their brown slopes becoming lost in the fog and haze of pre-dawn Santiago light. No one claps when a plane lands in Chile, rather there´s a hushed sort of anticipation, as if the passengers simultaneously take in a collective breath as they gaze out their windows, awed by the misty morning air. Nothing looks real.

I read several books in preparationg for this trip, one of which was titled News From the End of the Earth, and that´s exactly what it felt like as we were descending into this jagged haze of rock and sky--like we our plane was about to topple over the edge of all known existence if we banked too far to the right. It was unreal.

So the trip was dreadfully long, but I´ve now become nicely acquainted with airport wheel chair service--you don´t have to tip in Chile. Everyone´s been super nice to me and I´ve had my luggage shuttled around by several smiling chilenos. Turns out the Chilean accent isn´t a myth--I could barely understand the guy wheeling me through immigration, much less the immigration official who relieved me of a lovely stack of imortant documents that took me months to amass. Right now we´re in Olmue, a small village in a national park between Valpo and Santiago. It´s much warmer today than I was expecting and everything´s beautiful. I´d describe the bus ride here, but I was mostly asleep. It´s a different ordeal than that I went through to get to Mexico. We´ll be here for a few days for orientation before moving on to Valpo to meet our host families. The schedule they gave us says something about a nightly dance--I´ll have to see how my salsa skills can translate to my newly booted form (by the way, my Dad took the honors of naming my boot--a time-honored tradition of all medical accuterments in my family--it´s now known as Billy Bob Boot). Oh, and I welcomed Coca Light back into my life during today´s comida--there´s just no beating Latin diet Coke.

Peering over the Chilean edge, or: The Night Before, Round Two

So right now I'm smiling to myself as I think how fantastically strange it is to be sitting here in my Denver living room, stealing the neighbors' wireless internet on my laptop, and beginning another blog. It feels comfortably familiar, but at the same time happily different in a few ways. I don't have that complete sense of vulnerable dread sinking to the base of my stomach that I remember (almost fondly now) from that chilly night back in December. It was one of the scariest times I can remember (the next day managed to top that night, however). But my 3 1/2 months in Mexico ended up being some of the most amazing I've ever known--it was an experience unlike anything I'd ever imagined, and I came away from it with a wholly new conception of that country. And through it all I used my blog as a way to stay connected to the reality I'd left behind. So now here I am, grateful as ever for my neighbors' lack of stinginess, anticipating tomorrow's trip to Valparaíso, Chile. I'll be gone for five months this time, and will be participating in a direct-enrollment study abroad program through Butler University. I'll be staying with a host family--two brothers this time--who live in Viña del mar, "Valpo's" twin city, and are reportedly four blocks from the beach. (!). This time I'm also heading off with a slight handicap--I'm three weeks out of ankle surgery today, so my trusty boot will be accompanying me. I've decided this may actually be a good thing; I don't have to carry my own luggage or even walk to my gate in Dallas. Plus, I'll get to experience Chilean physical therapy, which I'm actually pretty excited about (I've always enjoyed physical therapy). I won't, however, be able to participate in the orientation's hiking excursions or skiing in the Andes, which makes me kind of glum. But on the other hand, it's a great conversation-starter.

So I feel kind of like I'm standing at the edge of some great abyss (a happy abyss; ignore the urge of connotations). The toes of my right foot, along with the velcro straps of my left, are curled over the layered soil and rock; small pieces crumble ever so slightly and are lost to the updrafts and eddies of the air streams below. I can't really see what's below me as I peer over my nose--it's hazy like the view from atop Monte Alban in Oaxaca. The colors of the sky bleed gauzily into the mountains and hills and valley below. It's peaceful and calm, but there's palpable tension that can't really be defined even though it gives me that familiar feeling of unsettled...ness in my chest. I don't know what's coming, and half of me's scared to death to find out, but another part of me's ready to jump off. Either way, I'll be in Chile come Wednesday morning.