confused

I love confusion. You have to, when it happens so often. Today was my first day of Responsibilidad Social, and it was chaos. First of all, Mondays now include a commute to Sausalito in Viña, then Casa Central in Valpo, then leaving early from class to make it back to Sausalito in time for this class. Today I went, found rooms 1-12 easily and had to ask for directions 3 times to find room 13, which is where my class used to be. Instead it was some horrific math class, and I backed out quickly, asked for directions again, went to reception, was directed to room 8, where my class also used to be apparently. Back to reception, who directed us to an auditorium filled with students not from my class, but others listening to a seminar from our professor... no class today. It only took 45 minutes to realize this. I did eventually encounter other confused student from my class, who shared the reading assignment with me. Haha, everyone was so confused, so imagine my confusion, having never been to the class at all before and only picked up a few words in between po this and po that, but I love it, it's fun.

I've decided that the indecisive micro drivers are my fav, the ones that are like ok, it seems like you are a student, so I guess you can pay the lower fare. They are good people.

Medusa

How amazing is it that the word for jellyfish in Spanish is medusa? Dani communicated this to me today through a drawing in butter during tea. What a good idea- I think I will walk around with a container of butter to better express myself. Today we had a lot of sisterly bonding time over TV and tea and animated discussion of the hombres calientes de intercambio, who are represented by 5 nationalities. In other news, Jono came back to life after a stomach infirmity, and Argentineans speak funny, or at least differently. I did not realize that I had become accustomed to a Chilean accent, but compared with a different one it sounds very distinctive. To Argentineans and Chileans alike, I am still Gringa.

Colliguay

Colliguay is this tiny mountain village inland from Valpo, small enough to not be on my Lonely Planet map. Dani and I joined some of her friends today (Sat 29th) on a drive to from a town just outside of Viña to the valley of Colliguay, about a two hour journey. We all piled into one of those little sort of mini bus looking things, which yes did have seat belts, but not much space. I have been looking forward to my first edge of a cliff drive for a long time, the kind where you have to drive about 5 mph or you will go over the edge. I am kidding, it was not quite that bad. There were some guardrails and high banks, but still there was an abundance of signs that said things like "USE EXTREME CAUTION" and "extremely steep slopes" and ones that showed pictures of cars being crushed by falling rocks (my personal fav). What a shame I destroyed my camera, that should be documented somewhere.

After two hours of dirt road hairpin-turn stick shift driving while sitting in the back seat, I was completely crippled by stomach upset, so when we arrived I curled up in a ball and missed much of the scenery before the early nightfall. This area looks like the mountains of southern California, with a lot of scrub and cactus, and is ridiculously pretty.

Soon after we pulled out of a park type area, we literally ran into cows, as they were being herded on the road towards our vehicle. It was like in the Lion King, during the stampede. Their eyes were creepily lit up from the headlights... maybe they were zombie cows.

After an equally thrilling/terrifying rest of the return trip, I got to play with the kids at a friend's house (Lunar lava!!... we made our own martians). I like hearing children talk, because there simple sentences are easy to understand. Plus, they are adorable when I don't know how to say something in Spanish, because they have no idea how to react, and just smile and stare at you and for some reason sing a lot. Yes, I am anxious to start volunteering in a school, I can't wait.

Cumpleaños felíz!

On my 21st birthday, I woke up at 11:45 (yay for sleeping in) to 7 cards from the US being dumped into my lap, followed by freshly squeezed orange juice (not in my lap, though that would have been ok too.)

I went to the university to finalize my schedule, which makes me a lot happier about my life. And on the commute, both micro drivers gave me the student discount!! That has never happened before! There was a sign on the one micro that said "Don't destroy the seats!" Haha, that was a gift right there, for some reason I think it is hilarious that there is actually a sign requesting that you don't destroy part of the thing you are riding on. I also enjoyed the "Evite molestias, baje por atras" because I thought it was in reference to annoying people, but molestias are annoyances- to avoid annoyances, leave from the back [door]. Oh well, I still enjoyed it.

I invited some friends over, at 7, but in Chile that is like 3 hours too early, so at 9 some friends came over. At first, we had two from Germany, one from Switzerland, one from Japan, and me, with no Chileans there to help us all communicate in our mediocre Spanish as a second language. But never fear, the Chileans arrived, helped us correct our errors, and we commenced the bathroom trap door game. I am pretty good at opening the door from the outside, but I do love to watch people get stuck unbeknownst of the danger. AThomas was stuck in there during the birthday song. In Spanish it is essentially the same, but somehow cooler. It was a full Spanish conversation night, with many different accents and nationalities represented. I also realized how gullible I am; Thomas did not really fight off a dog with a knife, and Jono's middle name is not Honey (ok, it was more convincing than you think), among other things:)

Thanks for the well wishes everyone!

the name game

For some reason, everyone I encounter greatly enjoys my name. No one has ever done this before, but there has been a boom in the giving of nicknames department. Included are the following: Señorita Grim (Ken: "your name is seriously Ellen Grim? that's awesome!!), just Grim (or GRIM!!!!!!!!, Jacob), Ellen Grim (really, everyone thinks this is hardcore, to use the full name), Grom (Rodrigo; can't remember the reasoning for that one), and Luterana (Australia Thomas). Also Helen is popular among Chileans, because the name Helen is common in Chile, but Ellen is virtually nonexistent (interesting, as the 'h' is not usually pronounced in other words). AThomas thinks the title "Lady of the Lake," from camp this summer, is the greatest title one could possibly have, followed closely by "unicorn." Either way I am kind of like a guardian figure... I will be sure to put this on my resume.

Micros

I have developed an obsession with the micros. They are often one of the most interesting things I encounter during any given day. Maybe I will study them and write a book. Me and the ice cream man can sit in the back and chat it up and observe people.

One of the best things is showing the driver my matrícula, the thing that sometimes gets me a student discount but does not necessarily have to be honored, by discretion of the driver only. Some of them nod before I can even ask, some try to argue it, some don't say anything and are confused that I have a piece of paper and not a card. Today (the 27th) was the best though- I showed my matrícula and the driver looked at me, listened to my brief memorized script about being an exchange student, and shrugged and was like, sure, why not? He just shrugged at me and gave me the benefit of the doubt, somehow declaring me worthy of a fare reduced by 35 cents. It honestly made my day. This action, however small, was part of the culture for me, the culture of the micro and of Chile. It showed empathy and some form of trust, kindness, not necessarily attributes I would have before associated with bus drivers, but now I do. The passing of the coins, the trust, the politeness factor- how people move over a seat for you or hit the button to stop when you can't reach or yell to the driver if the door is closed on you... it is all amazing and fascinating. I really do want to write a book about it, there is like this distinct micro culture. I wonder if it exists the same way in other cities, in other parts of South America. I will let you know.

the prodigal wallet

This is another one of those semi-miracle things that seem to happen quite often in Chile. The driver of the unmarked taxi in Santiago returned my wallet to Michael's house, where we were dropped off at the end of our Rapa Nui trip. Several things can be said for this. One, what a nice guy! I am insanely lucky. Two, what luck that the night we were dropped off, Michael insisted that the driver pull up right in front of the door to his apartment. At the time I thought this was not entirely necessary, but as it turns out that is the only reason the driver knew exactly where to go, because of Michael's insistence. I bought a new cédula (Chile ID) in the meantime, but it's worth it because the picture is about 100 times better.

It [the wallet] ran away to Rapa Nui, then ran away from me, but is now found!!

Rapa Nui

Rapa Nui=Isla de Pascua=Easter Island, as in the one with the big heads.

G(German)Thomas, 4 days before trip: "I am going to Easter Island this weekend." Me: "OOOO I wanna go." Simple as that, I literally bought my plane ticket 4 days before, and packed about 30 minutes before leaving. It sounds so light, like ok, let's have a picnic this weekend! Except it was Rapa Nui, the place known around the world for its heads.

Late Thursday evening Thomas and I headed to Santago to meet Michael and avoid an extremely early morning commute. We ate out at about midnight, which is apparently a very popular time to eat dinner. Our waiter became known as wayon (dude) instead of garzón, the proper term, after a lengthy discussion about proper restaurant etiquette.

You know you are going to a special place when your entire flight applauds when you land. Really, everyone applauded. After Michael searched for his Ipod for 15 minutes (it was in his pocket), we set out to our hostel, a whopping 7 minute walk... about 40 for us actually, as we have no sense of direction, we had to be helped twice by nice islanders who are accustomed to worse than us. Our hostel was called Rana Kau...you know it has to be good with a name like that. I roomed with some pretty sweet Italians, who said caou for hello instead of goodbye. That messes with your head after a month of saying chao as you leave. There is a pretty nice view from the hostel, including a hill with three crosses on top. As soon as I saw it, I knew I had to climb up there, the view had to be amazing, and who wouldn't want to run up an extinct volcano for fun? That's right, no one.

You probably know Rapa Nui for the moai, the large stone statues spread around various location around the rim of the island. Our first encounter with them was, as the Lonely Planet guide predicated, in the town of Hanga Rau. It really does not seem at first like anyone could have possibly made them, like it's some factory product that isn't real. The more I saw, the more both real and unreal it became as I thought of the effort to make and then move the things all over the place, for many kilometers.

The island itself is tiny, with 4,000 residents. For being so small, it has all of the stuff a town needs. Except a dentist. My favorite Hanga Rau fact: a dentist flies in once a week from Santiago, for one day, to offer services to the whole town. The residents there are mostly of Rapanui decent, or European decent, or Chilean, it's a huge mix. Rapanui and Spanish are spoken by most, and English is common as well, due to the tourism business. Speaking of, 90% of the island runs on tourism. More thoughts on culture/tourism later.

We opted for a guided bus tour of the largest loop on the island for the first day, both to complete the loop, as it's a really long bike ride, and to learn a lot more than we would on our own. The eastern coast has a lot of, well, ruined ruins, toppled moai and pukau (the hat things). It also has a lot of wild horses and cows, which apparently are chased frequently by dogs who trail behind tourists. The land is wide open, almost completely devoid of trees, and is really beautiful even in terrible weather. I expected the weather to be sort of static, but found instead a dynamic mix of rain and sun and storm and wind, which I absolutely loved for the unpredictability.

Around noon we make it to the quarry, at the volcano Rano Raraku. This part of the national park is probably the most famous image of the island; some ridiculous number of moai are scattered about on both sides of the crater, which also has a small lake. The moai are heavily guarded, as the rangers will literally follow behind your group to make sure you don't touch anything. It is exhilarating and somewhat unimaginable to think how these things were made. After a short lunch, where I had to pay to use a bathroom (a rather low blow if you ask me), we reached the quince moai. This includes the largest platform that was ever found and has 15 restored moai peering inland with the ocean as a backdrop. This was probably the most surreal part of all, and was a place where one could really just kind of sit and stare and wander around and explore for about 5 hours... or days. It's just like empty land and horses and then bam! 15 huge old statues, still intact somehow. I stood on a knoll for a picture, and Thomas threw Inca Toll, the traveling singing rabbit, towards me, where she proceeded to smash into the ground and sing for everyone when the button was set off. This was apparently the funniest thing our guide had ever seen. In all seriousness though, this is a special place, thought-provoking, dynamic, historical, unimaginable, one of my favorite sites on the whole island.

Finally, we made it to the Anakena beach, one of the island's small sand beaches. It was quite a weird experience, with two major archeological sites surrounded by white sand, and some really spectacular moai, the Ahu Ature Huki, and the 7 of Ahu Nau Nau. There was a large hill right next to the ocean that I had to climb simply because it was easily accessible, then I had my first ocean experience. Yes, my first swim in the ocean. It was like when you give a small child a bouncy ball; you can't pull them away, and they are completely absorbed and entertained by the simplicity of it. The water was insanely clear, and the waves somewhat significant. Mostly, it was entertaining, and I enjoyed being able to revert back to childlike behavior for a little while.

Regarding hostels, I have determined that they might be more interesting than micros, which is a pretty big deal. Every evening everyone comes back from their adventures and sits around chatting in about 7 languages about moai and travel and life. Every single person is so interesting; the lady from Japan traveling the world by herself, the hostel workers who speak Rapanui and Spanish and English, the Canadian who took 5 months off of school to run around South America. It would be worth staying even just for the opportunity to chat with these people. We opted for a show later this evening, which I am sure had fairly limited authenticity, but was really neat anyway. It involved a band, dancers, and a lot of singing in Rapanui.

Speaking of Rapanui, the church holds its service in both Rapanui and Spanish, with an interesting combination of singing, the addition of an accordion and bongos (yes, an accordion), and lots more tourists than islanders. The service held many similarities to a Lutheran service, and I quite enjoyed it. It was quaint and as Thomas said, full of joy.

After church the next day, we set out on bike to the western cliffs and interior. I feel like I am describing the land in a Redwall book whenever I use terms like 'western cliffs.' There is a great array of ruins spread along the coast, various moai at Tahai Kote Riku and Ahu Hanga Kio'e, as well as walls and house platforms. The whole area was volcanic boulders and high cliffs, the perfect place for a picnic, so picnic we did. Not a good place for the bathroom though, with winds strong enough to push over your bike. We spelunked in the cave of dos ventanas, crawled around fallen moai at Ahu e Peu, and turned inland, towards Rano Aroi, the volcano in the middle of the island, which I wanted more than anything to climb, which you probably guessed by now. We happened on the Te Pahu Cave next, which was like a massive lava tube with bases for houses in it. Thomas went hobbit style, without shoes, and I ruined mine. At the end was a tree, growing out of a partial cave-in. It was like Indiana Jones or a Tree of Life or something, this one tree emerging through rays of light towards the window at the top. It was really spectacular and surreal, especially since we had not previously known of its existence from the guidebook, we just happened upon it by chance.

At this point, two dogs had been following us around all day. One left us at the cave, the other stayed. He was with us for 9 hours, through rain and wind, two caves, and later a minimountain. As we entered back into daylight, there was the volcano, blanketed in clouds, not very accessible in 2 hours of daylight. We tried, but arrived on a private road and were chased away. The moai of the Ahu Akivi were there as well, the furthest inland site. Then for the disappointed return, without and volcano climbing. But we randomly found a sign that said Puna Pau, and knew that this had to be good, again simply because of the cool name. It turns out that this is the quarry for pukao, the hats that some moai have, were made out of softer reddish rock. It is also at the base of that hill, the one with three crosses. I call it Cerro Tres Cruces, but I think it is actually Maunga Tangaroa, which sounds a lot cooler. I bolted to the top, in wind that 5 minutes before had pushed over my bike. Though cloudy and rainy, the view was spectacular. The crosses were beautiful, and absolutely huge. It was a very spiritual place, with nature pounding away, white crosses intact and unharmed, with incoming storm and rain bands in the background. This was my favorite moment of the trip, the time spent on this hill and the dynamic that the land and weather created.

The bike ride back was on dirt road, in pitch black, with pounding wind and rain, and it was awesome. Here we experienced what is quite possibly the creepiest sound known to man. This is the sound similar to that of wind around power lines, except a product solely of the land, not manmade structure. It was the sound you hear before a tornado hits, a train. Nevertheless, we made it through and found our way back, gratified by the thrilling works of the island, and to be honest, not too disappointed to have missed the big volcano hike.

Finally, after a quick revisit to the Puna Pau quarry site the next morning, we embarked on our massive hike to the southwestern corner and volcan Rano Kau. The revisit for Thomas and I was due to the fact that the evening before, we completely bypassed all of the archeological aspects of the hike in order to conquer the three crosses hill. I should note on the Puna Pau revisit was done once again on bike, and that my camera was promptly smashed on the ground during the only three seconds of the whole trip that it was not tied to my belt loop. Yes, it flew from my bike at a pretty decent speed, and so my pictures from this point on are slightly out of focus. On to Rano Kau, southwestern corner of the island, and far from the crosses.

This massive caldera is still full of water and teeming with lots of plant life, including a band of florescent pink flowers. Here also is the Orongo village, with a nice amount of petroglyphs and stone houses. This is another absolutely unbelievable place. It overlooks a bright blue inlet and is ridiculously exposed to the elements on the edge of sea and crater. There are various-sized dwellings all around, about 40 in total. My favorite part of this area was the park ranger in the tiny station. We got stranded here during a rain shower, during which time we conversed almost exclusively about Inca Toll and how surprisingly common it is for travelers to carry stuffed animals, though they are usually smaller and don't sing. He started the song three times I think, and it was absolutely hilarious.

I gave some thought to the culture of Rapa Nui, and I can't figure it out. The entire society thrives on tourism, so does that mean that the Rapanui culture is lost, and has been recreated to fulfill the needs of others from around the world? Children learn both Rapa Nui and Spanish in school. Is the tourism more of a hinderance to the culture, or does the income help sustain an older way of life? Is tourism well-received, or is it a daily annoyance? Most of the culture died off when the Rapanui were taken for slaves or killed each other, and I do not know how much of this culture is still evident today. I would love about another month here to contemplate, get to know the people, not simply pass by.

So ends our trip. About 30 seconds after the taxi dropped us off in Santiago, I realized that my wallet was gone. Yes, I managed to lose my wallet that for the entire trip had been physically attached to my pants with a carabiner (see a theme yet? I lose anything that is attached to me, but not things that are loose). I unclipped it in the taxi and apparently left it there. So much for my Chile ID into which I had invested about 5 hours in total to obtain. My ISIC and metro cards are lost too... but luckily I had a separate holder for everything else, and I only lost about $45USD of stuff. But really, it was attached to my pants! I have a skill for losing things out of my pockets apparently.

I recommend everyone travel with an interesting object. My bunny, Inca Toll, constantly draws attention, and therefore conversation. Every time I clip her to my pack and walk around I get at least one or two comments. And you never know when a park ranger will sing and dance with it.

a dream in Spanish

Good news! It finally happened... I had a dream that was completely in Spanish. This is good, it means I am thinking in Spanish quite a lot. I have been waiting for this to happen for a long time actually. In the dream I was traveling with G Thomas and I told him " Vamos a regresar," we are going to return/come back. Not quite sure what else was going on, but there was more Spanish which I cannot remember.

I also find the transitions hard. For instance, when I am speaking in Spanish and then I go to write an email in English and I have to really think about what I am doing and allow my mind to change gears. There is so little English influence that my mind can soak in more Spanish, pick up on more pieces of a conversation, be lost a little less. It's a milestone, but there is so much more to learn. And I love it, the newness, the challenge, the confusion, the humor, all of it.

Alcachofas! and some thoughts on life too

I have a serious problem when it comes to navigating classes. Ok, today's adventure was not really my fault, but still, problem. I was psyched for my traditional Chilean dance class but when I arrived there was no dance class to be found in gimnasio Casa Central. Another student was very nice, took pity, and helped me through this whole process, which involved several office visits in CC and next door, much communication confusion, asking random people where to go, and a search through three separate buildings. Darn them for changing the class location! The poor Chilean boy endured 45 minutes of this but was very nice, and was impressed that I knew what 'flaite' meant. Finally, 50 minutes after class started, I walked in on some awesome cuerca, the traditional dance of Chile, and greatly enjoyed the remainder of the class.

Today was the coldest, most penetrating rain I feel like I have enter encountered. When I returned to class after lunch, my host mom made sure I was ready. Off I went, armed with umbrella, trench coat (my rain jacket was soaked through somehow) and newspaper-lined shoes. I absolutely love my language and culture class; every time we are all confused, it turns into a hugely amusing discussion involving the translation of ridiculous dichos (Chilenismos) into English, which never make sense but for that reason all the better for discussion, and funny role-playing.

And on to the main event: artichokes. Yes, artichokes. It was one of those evenings that you expect to be nothing but instead turns out to be a great time, like most good times, unplanned. Funny how it always works that way. German Thomas (G Thomas for short) was supposed to visit to discuss travel plans. An hour and a half later I thought, I will knock on his door, just because proximity allows. And because he didn’t call, the evening turns out to be much more interesting than sitting in my room, ironic, yes. I ended up meeting his roommate, Josethomas, and Josethomas’s girlfriend Soledad. They fall under the category of people that you are extremely happy to see together because they are so insanely nice- they create an aura of contentment in a room. And they were great to practice Spanish with, for both clarity and patience, just easy to get along with in general, all three really.

To the part where I actually talk about artichokes… we then ate artichokes. My first impression of the things was that they had been burned and rained on, sort of wet and gray, once beautiful and edible but now dead and hideous. And then I ate it. Here I will appropriately use the phrase “party in my mouth” to describe the flavor of the artichoke. First off, a big part of this is the process; it is an art form. You have to peel off the leaves individually and then dip them into a sauce of olive oil, lemon, mayonnaise, and salt. Only dip the bottom end in, because that is the part soft enough to eat. Then you clench the leaf between your teeth pull the excess leave away, so that you eat only the soft bottom part of the left. I’m sorry, there is no better way to describe it, really, that is exactly what you do. Then after eating all of the leaves you have the core left. First the stringy part is to be removed with a fork. You must break the core in half, remove the top layer because it has spines in it, and then you can eat around the rest of that half. The rest is edible, so you break it into smaller pieces, place these in your sauce cup, mix, and eat with a fork. This is the entire process, and it is well worth it. The rich flavor of it is complemented by the sweet fatty bitterness of the sauce. It is the best food I have had in Chile. Why don’t people do this in the US? Has it not been discovered yet? I want to let everyone in on the secret of artichokes- it’s a life-altering experience.

After this very late snack, we beatboxed while trying to learn German from G Thomas. Apparently the exercises used to learn the trickier language sounds are exactly like beatboxing. Then we moved on to tongue twisters. Not only are they fun in English, but apparently they are also in Spanish and German. Ejemplo:

Erre con erre cigarro

Erre con erre barril

Rápido corren los carros

Por la lína de ferrocarril

Try saying that if you can’t roll your ‘r’s…

This was particularly exciting because before Josethomas finished it, I had completed the last line for him. Thank you for requiring the memorization of this verse, Mr. Nobile, Spanish 1… 7 years ago.

Ahh the little green book, How to Survive in the Chilean Jungle… both useful and hilarious. I am never gonna get to read it, as everyone finds it extremely entertaining. I have literally seen Chileans cry from laughing so hard at it. I think Thomas is going to copy the whole thing (which is not really illegal here, texts for school are photocopied, not bought.) It is an entire book of idioms that Chileans use, because they use an insane number of them. They speak Chilean, not Spanish, making it that much harder/more interesting/more fun to learn.

This place is so much more than ocean and hills and pretty colored houses and Spanish. It is people, awesome people, you just have to live it. The culture, the friendships, you seek them out, but often they seek you out too. When something does not work out, it seems to be for a reason. For example, I was bummed at the idea of sitting around this evening and not visit anyone else, friends that I have not seen in two weeks. But, because no one answered my calls, ironically, I somehow ended up meeting new people, experiencing Chile and friendship in a way that was spontaneous and unexpected, like most good things, occurring by chance when you expect a different outcome. I met G Thomas on the university bus on the ride back from the tour of the ocean studies building, week 1, for about 45 seconds, really. I kept running into him, we became travel buddies, he moved into my building completely by accident, and here we are. Another example, I met A (Australian) Thomas and Jono crew through another person who I did not enjoy being around at all, and they just happened to have met this person too, the night before, and sort of saved me really. They only came to meet me, not even to see the other person. Weird how all of this works. Where I put forth the most effort, I gain less, so to speak. The learning, language, people, experience, culture, comes to you spontaneously, unplanned, trial-by-fire, not from a textbook. Maybe the best things in life are the accidental ones, the coincidences, the things you don’t expect, the not so fun that becomes fun, the hard that becomes the most important thing you learn, the fun that becomes not fun but makes a great story.

Getting lost and found (several times), learning cuerca, eating artichokes, beatboxing in German, role-playing chilenismos, running around in a trenchcoat, and fighting your way onto the metro at rush hour. All in a day’s work.

La Campana

Every while some wild coincidence comes up in my life that is truly unbelievable. This rare occasion has happened twice to me in Chile. The first was my chance encounter when I met Ken, Ricardo, Thomas, and Jono, who don't even go to the same university as me but some of whom live really close. The second is with German Thomas. He lived for 2 weeks in a hostel in Valpo and then moved into an apartment in Viña. I asked where, he said Recreo. Really? No way! Close to Plaza Recreo? Right next to it. Cool, let's meet at the plaza and then you can show me where you live. I walk outside and there he is, pointing to my building. Yeah, same building. Really? Are you serious? Out of thousands of places he could have moved into in either city, what are the odds... and without prior knowledge of where I live, only that I lived in Viña. That is pretty ridiculous. And it's the apartment 3 floors directly above mine. For real. I had to share that solely because it is completely inconceivable. This is not as creepy as it sounds, I promise. After rereading, it sounds super creepy, but really it is not.

Moving on, I finally made it to a national park, my first national park in all the world, Parque Nacional La Campana. After nearly two hours and 4 micro rides later (yes 4, we changed buses 4 times to get to this place, it's a bit off the main micro routes) we found ourselves at the base of several crazy twisty mountains. I wanted to charge up the closest one and get to the snowy peak, but it was too late in they day. Dani, German Thomas, and I made it to a nice overlook though, and on several other forest paths, including a lofty waterfall. I definitely have to go back for a full day excursion to complete the 7 hour trek to the top though. Overall, a fun outing, from micro exchanges to empanadas napolitanas in Olmué. I have decided that I want to visit every national park in Chile that I am able and do as much hiking as is possible. Side note, apparently there are tarantulas in the park?! Weird.

rain and supermullets

When it rains here, it is a lot of things. First and foremost, a penetrating icy cold, like a cold where my feet might start rotting and falling off, even with wool socks. Second, it's exciting. Wind and rain and angry ocean don't stop the city at all. I quite enjoyed riding the metro 200 meters from the raging death zone of wave and rock. The drains in the cerros get full really fast, and subterranean water bursts from the street in geysers from overfilled pipes. This is normal winter in region V of Chile. Life still move in the city, perhaps even faster. Venders frantically sell umbrellas, food venders move under the overhangs of buildings, and the ice cream guy still sells ice cream on the micro. Side note: I love that guy, and my day is better every time I see him.

Speaking of micros, I find them super interesting, especially when they are completely full. People will walk on and just move to the back without paying. I did not understand this until I asked Ken about it. It's a trust system. The people are trusted to pay on their way out. And sometimes, change or payment is passed along. Like one person in the back will pass their coins up to the front, and it makes it there. That is so cool! I love when the micros are full, full of interesting people. I love watching how the micros work. Between the passengers, crazy turns, and the ice cream man, I am always entertained. Using the micro is a gamble though, because sometimes my matrícula, a university document, is accepted as a student card, which as an extranjero I am unable to get. When it's accepted, I pay $150 pesos (about 27 cents USD). If the driver does not deem it valid, because they don't have to, then the metro is cheaper at $275, rather than a micro ride at $350. The card for intercambios was eliminated by the Chilean government like a year ago, so I am unable to get a regular one.

On the use of 'po':

Me: "... they put 'po' on the end of everything!"

Kevin: " Sí po. cool po."

Me: "I will email Señora about that."

Kevin: "Ok. Yeah po good idea po."

Me: "Yo po. Don't make fun of my po, bro."

Kevin: "Don't taze me bro. po."

My fourth random thought to write about is mullets. The mullet is popular here, not just among the younger generation either. And when I say mullet I mean super mullet. Like short everywhere else except the back where there are like 3 or 4 super dreads, that are 2 feet long or more. I see it all the time, honestly. Not all of them are that way, a shorter mullet is popular as well. Ha, no Chilean boys for me, they better cut their hair first. This is coming from the gringa, who is not accustomed to and is therefore fascinated but not impressed by the mullet/super mullet.

And back to the rats, the giant ones. Yep, day 4 of giant rat discussion. I think the final ID on the thing is a coipo. It is essentially a large amphibious rat. I want one. I am going to tame one, and walk around with it. Think about how safe that would be, no one would mess with a girl holding a huge ferocious water rat, about 5 times the size of a normal rat, maybe more. People freak out at things that are larger than they "should be," or larger than they are accustomed to seeing. For instance, tarantulas, or giant salamanders or hummingbirds, weird and freaky, is it not? This is why I would be safe with a pet coipo.

naive Gringa rant

Being around people who are not from the US gives you a completely new perspective of the world. Obviously! Obvio po. It does not take an experience like this to know that. But really, I have no idea how the world works, in general, not just in Chile. I don't know where anything is, what the people are like, or what it is really like to travel. I don't know how to cook, or that black tea is not the same as black coffee, with nothing added to it, it's a different kind, imagine that! I don't know how to interact with people different than me, or those similar to me. In fact, there is not much that I actually know how to do outside of my own little world at home, despite my significant efforts to branch out and become a little more comfortable. It has been a lot of effort; I am not a hermit, I am very socially active, but you might not be able to tell. I am significantly more confused than the language barrier excuse allows. Most people my age from other English-speaking countries know more about my culture than I do, movies, music, especially music, common references I don't get. It doesn't matter of course, but it's interesting. I am nearly 21 years old and have never swam in the ocean. Not once. I live an hour away from the ocean at home. Does this matter? Not at all, but I still want to swim in the ocean. I have never accomplished anything big, my skill set is a very narrow spectrum. I mean I have of course, lots of things I value a lot, such as doing well in a race or getting a good grade or having a great group at camp, but I need to not devalue my accomplishments. Maybe this is my reason for coming here, not only to learn a new language and experience a new culture, but to do something, or to realize the importance of what I do. [as I reread this, this sounds completely insane, but I will keep it as a snapshot of my thoughts, and a good representation of the way my mind works.] I am preoccupied, I do a lot of somethings all the time, but nothing earth-shattering, it's all enjoyable, good, different and varied and exciting in my mind, but actually it is all the same thing, comfortable. I need to grow more than that. I feel egotistical beginning every sentence in this post with the word 'I', though I will bank on my poor writing skills and continue to do so (haha, great example of my mind working faster than my words, resulting in unexplained conversation gaps). I am the epitome of the naive [North]American exchange student; I never know what's going on, how stuff works, where to go next, how to respond (I feel like who, when, and why should be included in there somewhere). It goes beyond language; am just kind of clueless in general. However, there has to be more to me than that, I am smarter than that. Maybe. Actually, probably not, but I will learn, slowly, but I will learn. I am not a Spanish language prodigy, entertaining, funny, musically inclined, good at remembering anything, a great runner, super genus, well-travelled, outgoing, confident, or anything else that I admire in anyone who is not me. Right now, I can tell you what I am not more than what I am. Check back in 4 months from now. My goal: to be able to tell you more about what I can do than what I can't do. And to speak Spanish a bit more fluently than right now, that too. Please do not think that I am going to go out of control and ruin my life, that is not what I mean at all. Here is the disclaimer: I am ok, I promise, overwhelmed but ok, trying to work out my reasoning and goals for this adventure is all.

My perspective is severely skewed I know. I do a lot, and am capable of a lot. I need to hold a certain sense of humor and insensitivity, as well as selflessness as I make this adjustment. A note on this, the adjustment to living in Chile is getting harder for me right now, not easier. That may seem weird, but now I am thinking about long term goals, how to balance my life between classes and other things, thinking about how I want to live differently than at home. I don't want to settle into a really comfortable routine, I have to keep working at the language and experiencing Chilean culture, keep pushing to learn, but at the same time I am developing a life here, a schedule, an order. That is not always an easy thing to figure out. I am comfortable with the basics, now I have to immerse myself into the language more, speaking more, talking to Chileans more, to really begin to learn it.

Switching gears, I want to really travel here. Not just stop and take pictures, but to experience it, live it, look around, explore it. As a wise professor once told me, "Not just get up and go, but to look around." There is a lot South America has to offer, and I can never experience as much of it as I want to.

Jardín Infantil

So all around both cities there are these places that say Jardín Infantil. Being the resourceful person that I am, I of course thought that this was a popular restaurant chain, after all, it had the word garden in it. I wasn't sure about the Infantil part, but it sounded like it could be sushi or something similar. I always pass one on my walk to the metro. Yesterday I thought, hmm, there is a mural with animals and kids on swings, and there are always little kids here, maybe it's not a restaurant. Dani informed me that it is in fact a kindergarten. That's right, a future teacher took almost 3 weeks to realize that this 'restaurant' was in fact a kindergarten. I am going to be a great teacher.

In my Chilean language and culture class today our professor turned us loose on the streets/Casa Central to ask Chileans about the meanings of some distinctly Chilean words. There is probably no faster way to make a class more uncomfortable than to do exactly that. However, it was a fantastic way to learn. In fact, the best way. Talking Chileans about the way they cut words, the double meanings, the idioms, is not only useful but really interesting. I wonder what the students in Casa Central thought all day when the intercambio classes flooded the place asking the meaning of some some pretty outlandish phrases in broken Spanish. They might be used to it and think it's funny. Or they might know to hide. We also were instructed on the 8 levels/steps of a Chilean romance. 8!

Reñaca

As I had only one class today, I felt that a trip to Reñaca was in order. This small city is close to Viña, 30 minutes by bus. From the beach, you can get a nice view of both Viña and Valpo. Dani, Jono, Thomas, and myself walked the beaches and coast from Reñaca to Con Con. It was an absolutely beautiful walk, where we encountered more castle buildings, sea lions, and "lived dangerously." (this is my new favorite term, it actually doesn't mean much except that I feel adventurous living in Chile; I am not going to jump off cliffs or stand in the way of a Micro, promise.)

Oh and there were pelícanos compactos! Compact pelicans if you will, which simply means that the pelicans were sleeping and were all tucked into themselves. They are super adorable.

And the rat things we saw the other day... still not sure of the ID on those, but if they really are just giant rats, I want one to guard my house, because no one would mess with them. No one.

Hogwarts

Casa Central is like a miniature Hogwarts; dark passageways, courtyard, stone, tile, huge. I spent honestly 25 minutes looking for one room today. I gave up and asked a lady in the PIIE office, and then proceeded to get lost again and was forced to backtrack. I finally made it there, the meeting room for all information about the volunteer work I will do during the next four and a half months. Several times I had to turn around because I couldn't find another way of getting out of the passage I had just walked into. I always feel very gringa in there.

Today's adventures included a post-class 4-hour excursion to a place called Mastodonte, like a mammoth. The inside looked like a cave. I had Chorrillana, which is a dish of Valparaíso, consisting of fries, onions, meat, and cheese. Yeah, it was like the Westy, but possibly worse for your health. Caroline told me I was gross after I started helping other people eat theirs.

To get to this place, which is a whopping 10 minutes walk from the university, we traveled by trolleybus. Trolley! Now you know by now that I become overly excited by any new form of transportation that I encounter, so you can imagine my look of glee as I entered the world of the trolleybus. Slightly anticlimactic it was, sort of like an agonizingly slow micro attached to wires, which costs less than any other form of transportation and moves slower too. Still, a fun experience. Next time I am going to race it though.

A thought on literal translations: "Cómo se dice, I am on top of my crap?" I heard this stated as a referece to cleverly scheduling classes to fit in extra majors into one's college program, double counting, etc. "Crap" of course means stuff in a sense, scheduling stuff. And "on top of" does not literally mean on top of another object. Now, try to explain that in Spanish, keeping in mind that the literal translation would make no sense and is absolutely rediculous. And then do it all day, for everything you say. For 14 hours. Or 20. One of the most rewarding parts is saying something in a way that sounds Chilean, not American translated word for word. This is a constant challenge.

My brother, Kevin: "Yo man, have you eaten chilly yet, because its chile in chili?"

Sorry to disappoint, but the mysterious creature of the deep was found to be coypu, or nutria. I personally think that it is a new species of mutant rat, endemic to Viña. I will figure out a good name for it.

What is a Chilean?

Now that I am sort of used to the idea of being here, I can open my eyes to the culture of the city and the people. Or of the two cities, as they are different. Eventually, I will travel enough to have a sense of Chileans as a whole people, not limited to two tiny dots on a map.

First, what makes South America different? Again, from a very small perspective of only two relatively unfamiliar cities at this point. Today I saw someone hanging laundry on a line outside. At home, we use a dryer. For some reason, I associated this event as being very South American. Why? I don't know exactly, a stereotype surely. Not everyone in Chile does this surely, and lots of US citizens do the same of course. Do I maybe think it is a little more earthy, less wasteful, more simple? Yes. I have been doing some thinking along these lines, where these associations come from, and whether or not they are negative.

I met Ken two nights ago, a Chilean whose father is an ambassador to Japan. Ken speaks fluent Japanese and English in addition to Spanish. Yeah, the rest of us suck at life in comparison. I also enjoy the Aussies, Jono and Thomas. Today, I went with them on a run through Viña, along the beach at sunset, through the festival of Día de los niños and the raging crowds of people. We chased a turtle for like 40 minutes at the ocean only to find that it was a crab, which we then saved from an insensitive child. I had my first taste of Pacific Ocean on my bare feet. Then we saw this weird rodent thing in the river on our walk back. It was a large rat-beaver creature-of-the-deep thing, which we determined after a discussion of whether or not it was a cormorant or duck. It was dark, ok? More discussion. I think that they take their lives less seriously than me, and that that is a good thing. I love structure, but probably need less. Outside of my comfort zone for sure, but that is a good thing, a growing experience. Funny how you are drawn to people so different from you, yet similar in remarkable ways. We must be drawn to people that are different in order to help ourselves grow. At the same time, we are drawn to similarities that we can relate to. It's an interesting balance, and one that I find changes as you mature.

Thomas: "You need to work on your glare. It's too Christian."

Speaking of, I feel like the Prodigal Son whenever I go back to my house. After running around all over the place, they feed me with fresh food and wash my clothes and ask me all about my adventures. Chileans in my experience are extremely welcoming and homey people. They make me feel less touristy and more at home.

Santiago

On Friday undertook my first my first excursion to Santiago. Thomas the German and I took the 10am bus from Valpo to the terminal in Santiago. After about half an hour of figuring out where we were, we somehow figured out the metro (yes, just as fun as the one in Valpo/Viña) to closer to Centro to meet up with Michael, Thomas's friend from their university in Germany. He served as our guide for the day, for sure a good thing because Thomas and I looked at each other that morning and were both like, ok, we are here, now what do we do? Good travel companions, but they spoke in German a lot and I often had no idea what was going on, it was funny. We began on Cerro San Cristóbal, a huge hill in the middle of the city. It is part terraced patio, part park, including a zoo and huge park at the top. We rode a funicular to the top, it's like an ascensor. In case you can't tell, I love those things. The view would have been spectacular, except for the smog. It is insane. Santiago sits in a bowl, surrounded by mountains, and the smog is trapped there. Lots of dogs at the top too, sunning themselves on the patio.

After a lunch of empanadas in the Centro, we visited the Museo de Artes Visuales, which had a spectacular Valentina Cruz exhibit. The top floor was the Museo Arquelógico de Santiago, which included exhibits of indigenous peoples. Later, we walked around Plaza de Armas, which also contained the Municipal de Chile. It was heavily guarded by carabineros. Close by was the Inglesia de San Francisco, the oldest building in Santiago. Finally, we climbed the cerro Santa Lucía, part natural rock formation, part castle, with lots and lots of stairs, trails, and couples. The view from here was much better, as it was closer to sunset and the smog seemed not as bad. The architecture, arches, spires, and fountains, was beautiful. After eating a real tortilla (sort of omelette) we said our goodbyes to Michael, our guide, and headed back to Valpo after a full day of Santiago.

miel and micros

Classes have begun! My first day on Wed was my fullest, with 4 classes back to back. My first class is at the campus in Sausalito, which is just like the education building at Millersville. Well, not exactly, but it is really far from everything else, just like at MU, except further, like in Viña, where my next class is 45 minutes later is in Casa Central in Valpo. It's an exciting trip though, and I love it. I arrived 15 minutes before my class started. You can tell who the exchange students are because they are the only ones to arrive more than 5 second before the class is about to begin. Once in the classroom, I looked to the other estadounidense and said that I felt very gringa. She did to, but it was not a bad feeling, just observation. I thought that since this was a class with Chileans, that I would have a hard time understanding the professor, but I understood the majority of what he said. I immediately loved the idea of education classes here and can't wait to learn about the education system and get out into schools.

Later, my classes were with other exchange student, almost all gringo. And almost all girls. Very similar to my classes at MU in this regard. My professors are excellent. I think I will add a class to make 5, so some changes are likely to occur. While I am throwing around Chilean words, I should point out that my use of flaite was bad. It is a bad term to use, very degrading. Oops oops oops. Now I know. I enjoy integrating idioms into my life, sípo, yapo, obviopo... (po is just tacked on to the end for who knows why, but it's interesting anyway).

And I get to ride the metro to class! Every day! Normal people would not find this interesting, but all forms of public transportation to me are interesting and fun. I love to watch people, and especially to watch my bag during rush hour. Speaking of, I took a micro to my house yesterday because it was dark when I left the university, and it was packed. Like packed to the point where there were seriously 15 people standing on this bus. I think standing for a micro ride should be an olympic sport. It takes endurance, perfect timing, balance, and a constant vigilance for your bag. And then after the nauseating ride around corners and up impossibly steep hills, you have to get off. This is a task in and of itself. You have to pull the thing and then like 10 people step off or move aside for you to leave, then everyone gets back on. So teamwork is a big component too. It is actually great fun, and I will probably do it fairly often just for the experience, though it is a bit more expensive than the metro. The metro has the best view of the ocean, which I also quite like.

On to miel... aka bee sauce. This unprocessed honey. I ate so much of it today that I felt nauseous (a common theme apparently). I can't get enough, I want to eat it with a spoon. It's apparently hard to get in the US. Between that and the bread, I don't know how I will adjust to American food again. Tea is great also, I drink like 4 cups a day to keep warm and because it is delicious.

Random note that I forgot to add in past blogs... Dani's friends like to use the bathroom of doom as a game. Remember, the one that traps you in without hope of escape without help? Well, they like to do just that, lock themselves in on purpose because it is funny. And it is. I love standing in front of the door and pretending like I don't understand.

And finally, the elusive 1 peso coin. I have been looking forward to getting one of these since I got here. I finally got the correct change. The one peso coin is worth almost nothing... less than 1/5 of a penny. This is part of the reason why I want it I suppose, I think it's funny. Also, it is teenie, like the size of my thumbnail. It is also really light, like it is hard to believe it's metal. But way lighter than the 5 peso coin, which is also adorably small and worth nothing. Yes, I used the word adorable. You would too if you saw how little it was. Maybe not, but it still gave me a full paragraph to write about.

Two thoughts. The first is that the metros are sweet, fast, entertaining, and cheap, and therefore they are my new favorite thing. Second, nothing beats midnight fries with a friend in Viña.

Actually, three thoughts. This morning, well afternoon when I got up, I walked into the kitchen and my host mom was making me fresh orange juice, as in squeezing the oranges. When I return to the US, I will not be able to drink that orange juice, I can't go back to that after tasting Chile oranges. The bread too. At tea time, about 7pm, I always eat like 4 bread sandwiches with spreads and cheese and whatever. It's not loaf bread... it's better.

Flaites

The beaches of Viña that are closest to my house, though unswimmable, are stunning. I walked from Recreo to Viña, through the plazas, past the Reloj de Flores, which is super cool, and along the ocean. I met up with Trena and Ariel, and we hung out there practicing Spanish until sunset. Then pizza hut. Yes it is the same, minus the language. I returned after tea for the cine at the Mall with Ariel. Enemigos Públicos is excellent by the way, you should all go see it (it's in English). Most of the movies were in English with Spanish subtitles, and were US films. There was only one Chilean film, which very much surprised me.

So in Viña, it is not really safe to walk around at night after dark by yourself, particularly this late. So, we took a colectivo to Cafe Journal, where I could get another colectivo to my house. Precautions taken, no problem. There was this guy close to the cafe, among other people as well. We waited maybe 30 feet away from where he was, but he immediately started creeping towards us, watching. For sure up to no good. I have no absolutely doubts that he was going to do something bad, likely try to rob one or both of us. His actions confirmed it- he got sort of close, and Ariel sort of shielded me and then pulled me away quickly in the opposite direction. We walked quickly up the hill and he did not follow, but went somewhere out of sight. If I had been alone, I would not have even stopped in the area, I would have ran. A scary experience for both of us. After a few minutes a colectivo came and I was safe, but he had to wait for one by himself then. It was absolutely insane. I was glad to have a Chilean friend there. Creepy, stalkerish, shady people one encounters on the street are called flaites. They are the reason you take friends with you at night.

Seriously, don't worry, I never travel alone at night, and never have to walk far because there are colectivos, which are much safer than busses at night. And I have good friends to travel with Please don't worry, I am paranoid, keep money in two places on me at all times, secure all my stuff to my body and don't carry any extra, carry my stuff in front and hold it, carry a phone, have keys which could be a weapon, travel with others, and have at least some common sense and a knowledge of how to get around safely. Constant vigilance! (thank you Moody).

Gringa

Being Gringo means you are from the United States. I have never been so different. I am tall, white, and sound like I am making fun of the Spanish language whenever I talk. One does not really think about these things until they are in a situation where everyone around them is different; at least that is the case for me. Yesterday, Dani had some friends over for her birthday. When I introduced myself, I was immediately referred to as the Gringa. There is not a bad connotation to the word, though from my description it may seem that way. For me, it would be like saying the Mexican, or the German, etc. I wonder what Chileans think of Americans. Do they think of the English language when they meet me? I'm sure. And American music; it is played here constantly. Being Gringa means I am different, and therefore several things. One, apparently more interesting. Two, a target. Everything I need is hidden on me in pockets or underneath my clothing, unless I have a bag, which is slung across my body and held in front. I am very much aware that I am a target. Every time I am on the street I wonder if people can look at me at tell. I feel like they can, but of course there is diversity here too, ethnic, religious, cultural, language, so maybe I do not stand out super much. I also wonder if every Chilean that does not look Latino/a is automatically thought of as Gringo, or as foreign, or maybe not either because they do not look out of place for their clothing or mannerisms (I am excluding language at this point and just thinking about looks and actions, though that of course is shallow). Just stuff I was thinking about. None of this is meant to be generalizing of Chileans, Americans, or whoever in any way, it is just a summarization of my thoughts and observations. Not of this is meant to be negative in any way, just thoughts, neutral.

Today I saw a movie at a Cafe in Valparaíso and was again accompanied by Thomas. It was a small cafe, and I wondered where the movie could be. Turns out, the basement. This did creep me out the entire time, but was safer than it sounds, I believe, because there were other people there, Chileans no less, and I thought that if it were really unsafe, that the Chileans would know, and that no one else would be around. Never would I have gone there alone, or without a crowd around me. Still, I watched the door the entire time because I was afraid it would be closed. Not the case, the owners watched the movie with us and were very nice; they told us that El Topo is a Mexican film, directed by a Chilean. It was a very odd movie, but good practice at least. Mexicans speak much more clearly than the residents of Viña and Valpo, anyway.