Why, they're Chilean

Yesterday´s grammar class was like a wonderful little window of clarity as I read aloud from our Chilean culture workbook and heard myself articulating the reasons for my host family’s weirdness and for my continued feelings of discomfort at home. I taught myself all about what it means to “estar sentido;” which basically translates into Chile’s tripped-up, steroid-popping take on passive aggressiveness. I also dar-ed myself cuenta about my family’s tendency toward mood-swings, their depression-like behavior, their incapability to hold serious, non-superficial conversations, their obsession with scrutinizing everything I eat and everything I don’t eat (not to mention everything Emma ate that I didn’t), and their propensity to runaway to their rooms and anti-socially drown themselves in television. Apparently, they’re just Chilean. Oh, well somebody should have told that me sooner.

Today my host mom bought whole-wheat pita bread. This, of course, was after Lolli, the nana, shoved a gigantic bowl-ful of cazuela in front of me amid my host mom’s repeated questioning of how bad the food she makes tastes.

After three trips to the Servicio de registro civil e identificación, I now officially have my Chilean ID, my carne. And, even more exciting, after several weeks of illegally using Carola’s school ID and, slightly less successfully, my half-sheet of a matriculation receipt given to me by COPA, to get cheaper bus fare, I now have my very own pase escolar. Yay for micro rides that 130 pesos instead 450! In other exciting news, I now also have classes (or, at the very least, have decided which classes I want, even if it’s still not official). In addition to my COPA Spanish class and my Latin American poetry classes at la Católica, I’ve decided on the contemporary history of América Latina class, the Monográfico of Latin American geography class, and a Latin American sociology class, which I went to for the first time today. And, while sitting in said class for the first time today, I found myself next to a girl named Rebecca, who happens to have just graduated from Middlebury and knows a certain Cat Cooley, sister of a certain Anna Cooley, who spent a semester in Concepción, Chile. We’re now presentation partners.

As I write this, Alex should be well on his way to the equator. I have an odd feeling of two very distinct worlds preparing to collide…or maybe the feeling’s less violent than that—less of a choque and more of a…melding? fusion? Hm, well now I just have images of biology labs freshman year in Harbaugh’s class when we learned about precipitates. I’m trying my best not to be nervous, but I won’t lie and say that I’m not just a bit anxious. And yes, I do know you’ll/he’ll be reading this. Bienvenidos!