Six Months in Chile

I’ve been back for more than a week now, so the novelty of my return has probably worn off on you as much as it has on me. Nonetheless I thought I’d share some final thoughts as they relate to being back.

1. I miss my students like crazy. 
2. I miss my Chilean family and Osorno friends like crazy. 
3. One thing that became abundantly clear, even in Santiago, was that I was not ready to be surrounded by English, and to a degree I’m still trying my best to resist it. In my spare time, of which I currently have a lot, I’ve been watching episodes of my new novela, Teletrece’s Primera Dama. Martin Rivas was great and all, but THIS, oh man this is a show. Related, I’m starting to appreciate the fact that I came back to Southern California where two out of three radio stations broadcast in Spanish and a local church has several Spanish masses. I’ve taken advantage of both realities and already preset a station that has played a few songs I heard from my time in Chile (no Américo…yet), and I went to Spanish mass yesterday and felt right at home even though I probably stuck out in the crowd.  
4. Also excellent about coming to San Diego is the weather. This past weekend saw temperatures in the high 70s, low 80s, so it was like I never left Santiago. I’m finally getting my summer…in December of all months.  
5. In general, I’d say the transition from life in Chile to the United States was painless from a logistical standpoint. Chile is an incredibly developed country, so it didn’t weird me out to come back to the bustle of California. The only thing that shocked me was the sheer number of people everywhere we went — we stopped by Costco on the drive home from the airport; talk about getting thrown into the deep end. Nonetheless, I’m still a little shocked at how quickly hot water comes out the faucet here, and it’s nice to have my own bathroom. Also, it’s nice to be able to flush toilet paper again as opposed to throwing it in the trashcan in public bathrooms as I had to do in South America. 

Last thing I did in Santiago — an Austral in the Plaza de Armas

Valparaiso, a bustling port town located 2 hours west of Santiago, has the personality of San Francisco, Berkeley and Barcelona inside the body of Rome. The aspiring travel writer in me should note that Valparaiso is known for being a little on the gritty side, especially around the bus terminal. In my opinion, it felt no different than some of the neighborhoods I walked through in Osorno, but I’m still glad I took this trip with my five male friends from the program.

Our agenda for this trip was simple. Beach. Beach. Beach. I even decided to forgo watching El Clasico between Real Madrid and Barcelona in favor of more beach time.

Five of the six volunteers taking part in this trip were all located in the south, so the blazing sunshine we felt once we got to Santiago was a welcome, if a bit jarring, treat. I’d spent the past six months traveling around and exploring other cities in the south of Chile, but I didn’t realize how much I needed a true vacation until I flopped onto my towel on the beach in the neighboring town of Viña del Mar.

And my requirements for a true vacation were easily met — we ate a lot, partied at night, and sat on the beach and did nothing. No lesson plans, no extracurricular activities, just relaxing after six months of hard work in the classroom. A few of us even treated ourselves to a nice seafood dinner along the water in Viña. Easily my best meal in Chile.

I would classify Viña del Mar as the Cannes of Chile — fancy beach community that draws a lot of tourists, especially come summertime, with prices to match. For this reason, we kept the cheaper Valparaiso as our home base and shuttled over the beach every morning with ease on the city’s new metro system that connects the two destinations.

When we weren’t baking on the beach, we spent time figuring out what makes Valparaiso so “bohemian” as compared to other Chilean cities. While we were there, they had some sort of multicultural festival, including a showcase of Moroccan music in the center of town. We spent a nice afternoon eating empanadas and walking up and down the cities numerous hills, enjoying the views and colorful graffiti along the way.

Views

Graffiti

In many respects, the week I spent traveling around the central regions once the program ended functioned as something of a decompression chamber to prepare me for life back in the United States whether I liked it or not. I went from pretty consistent Spanish exposure within my family and around town, to the tourist-friendly areas of Santiago, Valparaiso and Viña del Mar where restaurant staff didn’t hesitate to address us in English in spite of our ordering in Spanish. It made me miss Osorno and all my friends there a lot, and it was weird to walk around and not expect to run into anyone I knew, as usually happened in our placement cities.

Though being with the other volunteers had its sensational moments as well. In Santiago we found a gringo bar and watched college football (alongside a slew of Notre Dame fans who came to watch them play against USC. Gross. Go back to South Bend) and went to a fancy mall in the Las Condes area where I saw my first Starbucks in six months. And it was a relief to use my regular sense of humor that I never figured out how to translate into Spanish.

But the fun had to end some time, and the boys and I parted ways at the bus terminal in Valpo where the rest of the group left to live it up in La Serena, another beach town five hours north of Valparaiso, and I made my way back to Santiago to get ready to go back to the U.S.

Another sad bus station goodbye

Beach in Viña del Mar. The water was freezing, but we all jumped in anyway.

Casino in Viña

Valpo has a bunch of funiculars that help you scale the hills if you decide to use them. This is the one right behind our hostel.

Santiago from Cerro Santa Lucia

**Step into my time machine with me and pretend that it’s Thanksgiving again, aka the night I left Osorno…

EOD purchased my bus ticket back to Santiago for the night of 11/24, but I had been telling everyone that I was leaving on the 25th. I wasn’t mentally prepared to leave a day earlier than I had planned, so I switched my bus ticket at the terminal for a departure on the next night.

So while the rest of the volunteers were up in Santiago sharing some form of Thanksgiving together, I was on the bus alone, sleeping and eating snacks from a cardboard box. I say this not to elicit pity from you readers but to prove that the six months leading up to the night of my departure have been so amazing that missing a major American national holiday didn’t even faze me.

In retrospect, it probably would have been a good idea to leave with the rest of the Osorno volunteers from my program so we could distract each other from any sadness on the bus ride, but I was stubborn and decided to ride solo.

Coincidentally, the bus company I took had a massive accident a few days before my departure that resulted in the death of 19 passengers, but I wasn’t terribly concerned for my own trip. My family, host teacher and friend Anita dropped me off at the station, and, to be blunt, it sucked. I can’t even convey the sadness I felt as we waved to each other when the bus pulled away.

Over the course of my time in Chile I amassed a collection of more or less 40 songs that remind me of nights out, school moments and volunteer gatherings, so I listened to this playlist over and over on the bus ride as a way to keep the memories of Osorno alive in spite of the distance I was traveling.

Typically I could stare out the window of my bus rides for hours, but I woke up on my way to Santiago and kept the bus curtains shut. Gone were the rolling green pastures and snow-capped volcanoes and blue lakes of the south. Instead I was surrounded by brown hills, McDonald’s franchises, and factories.

In all honesty, it was like driving on the 10 to Palm Springs. The surroundings would have been a welcome site if I saw them when the program started, but at that moment all I wanted to do was head back to where I came from.

In addition to the change in landscape around me, the bus arrived at the Santiago terminal 20 minutes, which only solidified the fact that I was no longer in the south. But thanks to this early bus, I made it to the hostel in time to change quickly and meet up with the rest of the group. I left my arrival in May to the last minute, so it only made sense to come down to the wire for closing ceremonies too.

The event took place at the UNDP (woohoo!) building in Santiago and included all the volunteers from the 12-, 8-, and 6-month program lengths. We watched picture slideshows and videos, received diplomas, and had a coffee break. And that was it.

The sadness of leaving behind all the people I love in Osorno was somewhat assuaged by seeing all my volunteer friends again. In the last few weeks of the program I spent a lot of time with my family and friends in Osorno, and I felt a little bit proud of how much I had integrated myself into the local community when fellow volunteer Dave saw me at the hostel and said “Where have you been these past two months?!”

So, to make up for lost time, I put blogging and touching base with people back home on the back burner and prioritized hanging out with my friends for the next few days.

Tomorrow I will regale you with tales of our mini vacation in Valparaiso.

One of the other volunteers and I made it a point to visit Fuente Aleman, where Anthony Bourdain had a lomito sandwich during his No Reservations: Chile show. The place was packed, and the sandwich did not disappoint. We also washed it down with a microbrew porter from a brewery in Valparaiso. My sandwich had pork (lomito meat), avocado, tomato, sauerkraut, and cheese.

More timeline trickery, but these photos of Cerro Santa Lucia are from the day I spent wandering Santiago alone before my flight back to the U.S.

I owe you all a bunch of posts from the program closing in Santiago and my short travels over the past week, but since landing at LAX yesterday morning, it’s been hard to find much motivation to do anything except figure out how to get back to Chile.

I arrived safely and without incident, and I’ve already seen a couple friends here in Southern California, which was nice. But I’m still adjusting to being back, so real updates will come over the next couple days.

For now, I will likely crawl into bed since, at press time, my body thinks it’s currently 2 a.m.

Stay tuned.

Downtown Osorno

The first couple blogs entries I posted in May were largely ways for me to avoid packing because I just couldn’t fathom pulling together stuff for a whole six months. Now, I’m using the blog to deny the fact that I’m leaving tonight.

In the morning, I took a quick jaunt through downtown with stops at the bank and the best sopaipilla place in town for my favorite snack — two sopaipillas with cheese in the middle. It’s like the grilled cheese sandwich your arteries never wished you’d discovered. Take that, KFC Double Down.

Doble con queso de campo (farm cheese). Also available with cheese from the supermarket. Campo cheese tastes better but supermarket cheese melts better.

Sopaipilla shack

I think I’ve driven the point of how much I don’t want to leave pretty far into the ground, so I won’t bore you with repeating it. And with all the emotions I’m feeling lately, words are kindof failing me anyway.

We have a day of closing ceremonies in Santiago tomorrow that I might post about, but from here on out, my plans are very much happening by the seat of my pants, so I’m not sure how regular updates will be. But, I will post some sappy reflections on the experience when I am back on U.S. soil, so this isn’t goodbye yet.

Here are more pictures from yesterday’s teacher party.

I think the chemistry teacher looks like Chevy Chase.

The famous bull in the middle of Osorno’s Plaza de Armas. The city’s main landmark, aside from the cathedral.

*****

And finally, Happy Thanksgiving everyone at home!! I’ll make up for my absence at Christmas!

Even if yesterday was my last day of classes, I think I was able to hold it together so well because I knew I’d have the opportunity to see everyone again this morning. But, of course, prolonging the goodbye made it even worse.

According to the EOD schedule, I was supposed to use today to pack and get ready, but Vero urged me to prepare everything over the weekend so I could come back on Wednesday morning for breakfast, or teacher break, as I have been calling it.

It’s really just like recess. The kids walk around the school or go outside to play soccer when it’s not raining while the teachers gather in the room to share snacks and drink tea or coffee.

Just before 9:30 every morning, the three large tables are set with teacups, saucers, instant coffee, tea, sugar and large thermoses of hot water. The auxiliary staff even puts out a table cloth.

I walked to school today and tried to think of some words I wanted to share with the teachers who, over the course of the past 5+ months, have been more caring than I could have imagined. When I got to the teacher’s room at 9:30, there were no tablecloths and tea cups as usual. Instead, the announcement board told the teachers to go to the school dining room at break time.

Apparently, they had put together a more formal despedida than I expected. They gave me even more gifts and asked me to come back and see everyone again soon. I made the rounds of the tables and took pictures with almost all of the teachers, which led one of the teachers to comment that it was almost like a wedding.

In a way, it’s a good thing that it hurts so much to leave because it reaffirms just how lucky I am to have been placed in a school like Santa Marta. The students, though chatty, have been nothing but warm and friendly with me, and the outpouring of affection has come especially strong over the past week.

There are those who always kiss me on the cheek after class and show how much they like me, and their goodbyes still mean the world to me. But the ones that make me cry are the ones from students who don’t usually speak up in class but still wrote me letters and told me to just stay here and not go back to the U.S.

The same is true of the teachers. I had my regular group of teacher friends, but the kind words and unexpected gifts from the ones I didn’t always interact with made it all the more difficult to say goodbye.

And so I prolonged the pain and stayed at school until the lunch bell. I watched the graduation rehearsal with some of my juniors and said final goodbyes to some of the seniors before walking down the stairs for the last time.

One 4 medio boy and two 4 medio girls from each class (A & B) are charged with carrying the school flags for certain ceremonies. Today the current flag holders practiced passing on the responsibility to the next generation for Friday’s graduation.

It’s official; I’m done. The rest of my time in Osorno will likely be spent packing, and while I’ll return to school tomorrow morning for some final goodbyes, my last day of classes ended this afternoon. 

Probably because they’re still on the young side, eighth grade didn’t plan any fancy goodbye party for me, but they expressed their sadness in seeing me go and kept me during break time to take picture after picture after picture. Again, flashes of stardom.

3 medio B had another mini-party for me in their class during the English workshop hour, and it only added to all the emotions I had been feeling all afternoon.

3 medio A also pulled together a small party for me, and while many of the students were missing, it was still nice to socialize with them one last time and hear how much they valued the opportunity to have classes with a native English speaker.

I think the flood of emotion of saying goodbye to students peaked over the weekend. I will still miss them like crazy, but my despedidas today weren’t as tough as I imagined they would be.

Now I just have to handle saying goodbye to my family, which I can only imagine will be a thousand times more difficult.

My bed full of recuerdos from my students. This is why I don’t want to leave.

Ok, this is getting ridiculous.

Last night, I made plans to meet up with my host teacher Vero for what I thought would just be a casual hang out as coworkers and friends. She picked me up at home and said we had to swing by someone’s house to pick something up first. I’ve lived here long enough to know that random stops like this are to be expected at any given moment.

We parked in the driveway and even though I was ready to entertain myself on my cell phone while she was taking care of the errand, she said “Come with me.” I had a “wait a minute…” moment when one of my students answered the door, but even then it didn’t seem that strange.

Only when I rounded the corner and saw the lights off in the living room and shadows of balloons on the wall did I realize that my 3 medio B students had thrown together a surprise goodbye party for me.

Roughly half of the class showed up, and we snacked on pizza, crackers and cake. When we were done singing songs and watching videos of recent anniversary week performances and Christopher’s cumbia band, we sat and chatted in Spanish and English for a while.

They gave me little gifts to remember them and even put together a slideshow of pictures from the past few months. If the images didn’t tug at the heartstrings enough, these kids had the nerve to use “To Sir With Love” as the backing track. Come on!

The flag says “With <heart>, Tercero Medio B 2010, Osorno-Chile”

The despedidas just keep getting better. 1 medio B took me by complete surprise with their bag of Osorno trinkets yesterday, and I felt cool having an entire posse of people at the regional closing ceremony in Puerto Varas last night. The invitation flexibly specified one host family member and host teacher, but my entire family insisted on accompanying me, and when we arrived my host teacher was there with a couple other nuns.

The ceremony was emotional, and even on the dance floor of Barometro that night, it was hard to ignore the fact that the experience would be over for all of us in such a short time. We’ve all been reminded that we can come back to visit any time and that we all have many places we can call home here in Chile.

I took an early bus back to Osorno this morning just in time for my last class with 2 medio A. And even if our classes took place on the very last hour of class on Fridays, I was most surprised to hear that they actually found my classes to be a lot of fun. It’s been a joy to watch both sophomore classes mature in the short time I spent with them, and the A class put together an especially complicated production.

They laid out snacks on their desks, gave me card after card after card, and sang me a bunch of songs in English and Spanish. Students clamored over one another to get into pictures with me, and one girl even said they wanted to see me off at the bus terminal next week.

It’s easy to get discouraged as a volunteer teacher, especially if the students don’t progress as much as you would hope. But the level of appreciation and affection I have gotten from all the classes so far is like nothing I’ve ever experienced before and makes me happy to know that I’ve at least gotten through to them in some way.

Can you see the tears?

I love the 1 medio B kids

The despedida continues with an overnight trip to Puerto Varas (yes!) for my region’s closing ceremonies. It’s a bittersweet trip, but I’m excited to be able to go back one last time.

Today I had my last class with 1 medio B. They took a few minutes to thank me and give me the gifts pictured below. This class in particular didn’t realize I knew any Spanish until very recently, so they were pretty excited when I thanked them in their native tongue and begged me to keep talking to them.

In spite of being rowdy and chatty during class, I have a lot of love for these kids, and not just because my sister is one of them. It was hard for me to lose my patience with them when I was too busy laughing at all the funny things they were doing.

The boys, some of whom are pictured above, especially made me laugh on a regular basis. The sign in the background is kindof an inside joke of the class and an adaptation of the famous “Estamos bien en el refugio…” note from the miners. It says “Estamos bien en el claustro los 43”

With the secretarial staff — Karina and Sor Adriana. They would always take care of my photocopies and requests for room keys and projection equipment.

Proof that I belong in Osorno. Not only do I have a fort named after me, but I’m a queen, too!

The My fort.