Today after my Chilean Culture class, I met up with my intercambio, or language partner, for the first time. His name is Ariel. We walked around Puerto Barón, the port closest to Casa Central, for an hour or so. We had a lot to talk about because we've both traveled all over Europe and are interested in learning each others' native tongue (I guess that's the point of intercambios, right?). We also talked about our studies (he's working on finishing a degree in commercial engineering), our favorite Chilean foods, and some cool places around the area.
We decided we're going to spend one hour talking in Spanish and one hour talking in English. Ariel is currently taking English classes at an institute in Viña del Mar, and he says he only has three months to learn English, because after that he has to work. That's perfect for me, because as far as I'm concerned, I also have three months to become fluent in Spanish! I feel like my friend Daniel from Austria; when he was studying at SU last year, he was always talking about getting rid of his accent. I was never self conscious about my accent until one of my Chilean buddies, Pablo, told me one time when he was drunk that when I talk in Spanish, I sound like a robot. And there are so many gringos here that pronounce all the cognates just like they're pronounced in English, and it drives me insane! I don't want to be categorized. I want to lose my accent too; I want to be able to roll my Rs and I want to speak like I can write. And in order to do that, I need to quit hanging out so much with my gringo friends here. I need to meet more Chileans! I'm going to see how often Ariel wants to meet to practice, and hopefully I can get a lot of practice in with him.
Abrazos,
Kelsey
jueves, 28 de agosto de 2008
Having an 8:15 class isn't so bad after all
When I first signed up for classes, I planned on taking 21 credits. I knew it was a heavy load, but since it costs me the same to take as many as I can cram, I figured I'd take advantage of saving the money. My program requires me to take at least twelve credits while I'm here, so I signed up for the three Spanish courses first. Grammar for Foreigners and Written Spanish are both worth four semester credits, while Communicational Spanish and Chilean Culture is worth six credits. That already puts me at fourteen credits.
I had originally signed up for a class called Modern History of Chile, also worth four credits, but the schedule changed last minute and made it so that I wouldn't be able to (it wouldn't have transferred back as anything anyway; what could a Criminal Justice major do with two Latin American history courses?). I also originally signed up for Physics and Humor (to transfer back as my basic lab requirement at SU; it transfers back as PHYS 104), worth two credits, and a class called Mapuche Games (Mapuche is the indigenous tribe to Chile), worth two credits, because I thought it'd be a good thing to balance out all the other crazy stuff. Well since Mapuche Games is in Viña del Mar and I had my Chilean Cultura class getting out ten minutes before that, I obviously had to drop it.
Because Physics and Humor is a class with other Chilean students, it didn't start until last Thursday, even though all my other classes started on August 4. So Mondays I have two classes (four hours apart) starting at 11:45, Tuesdays I only have one class at 2:oo, Wednesdays I have three classes (with time for lunch between the first two and a two hour break between the others) starting at 11:45, and Thursdays I only had my class at 2:oo for the first two weeks of school. And Fridays I never have class! Yay!
Well all the courses with Chileans started on August 18. I decided to also take up a class called 20th Century Latin American History, because I took a class my senior year in high school called 20th Century World History, but it mainly focused on World War I, World War II and the Cold War. That class was very intriguing to me, and since it didn't tell much about anyone in the southern hemisphere I wanted to broaden my understanding of this era. This class and my Physics class are both on Thursdays, and I believe they are worth two credits each, so on top of my three Spanish classes, I will end up with eighteen credits.
Last week, my mamá told me she would be up at seven, when I needed to be up for my Physics class, and if I wanted she would make sure I got up, since I'm used to sleeping in a bit. I thought this sounded like a great idea because I knew there was no way I was going to be able to peel my lazy ass out of bed in time to leave by 7:35 or 7:40, take the metro train (because the buses are completely and unbelievably packed at this hour) to school and survive an hour and a half of a science class if I didn't get up in time to eat a piece of bread beforehand. So I didn't set my alarm of course. Well she came in to wake me up, and I asked her for ten more minutes, but she didn't come back after ten minutes. She didn't want to bother me. So I woke up at twelve. Lame.
I was really bummed out I missed my first class with Chileans. And I was pretty damn sure I was the only extranjero in the class. So I wrote the professor an email that basically said that I missed the class but I wanted to make sure I didn't miss any important information, and that I still wanted to take the class and I would definitely be there the next Thursday. Check out what he responded with (I'm sure you'll be able to tell what I said by what he said):
And I did. The class today went really well. I was right, I was the only foreigner in the class. I was sitting pretty much square in the middle too, in my bright red SU hoodie. There are actually two professors in the class, Ángel Romero and Carlos Wörner. Professor Wörner looked very mad scientist, with his nice brown suit with the inner silk vest and the crazy grey beard and unruly hair. And let's not forget the round glasses. Professor Romero looked a little more average except that he was wearing a lab coat full of white board pens. He drew a lot of hilarious pictures too while we was explaining the principles of Archimedes. He drew a bath tub with Archimedes floating on top of the water and his hand touching the bottom of the tub, and he drew a bathing suit to be polite but then he erased it. Then he drew water spilling out the edges of the tub, wrote EUREKA!! next to him, then drew wet foot prints running through a distant door, with two little buttcheeks and a leg behind the doorway. It was quite chistoso (funny). Especially because in Spanish, eureka is pronounced eo-rake-uh. And he shouted it out too. Haha.
And that was it. He told us don't bother taking notes because they really aren't necessary (I'm going to anyway, just in case I need to prove to anyone at my school what we learned is legitimate), because we were never going to have tarea (homework) or pruebas (tests). Our only obligation is consistent and punctual attendance and some sort of thing at the end of the semester, I didn't quite catch everything he said, but it's basically a presentation of some physical concept, and if we just want to draw it on the board and sit back down, we can.
So even though I have to try and adjust to going to bed earlier (which has not been working out very well by the way, especially when three days a week I get home at 7:30), and even though I have a four hour break after that class until my 2:00, then I have another two hour break before my 5:20 class, I think Physics and Humor is going to be a great class, and Thursdays aren't going to be as horrendous as I thought. I'm pretty stoked for it, especially that I can be in a class with probably forty other Chileans. I can listen more to the dialect (because my Spanish teachers tone it down), to the way they ask and answer questions, and I can have a good time and relax a bit. Alright.
Nap time,
Kelsey
I had originally signed up for a class called Modern History of Chile, also worth four credits, but the schedule changed last minute and made it so that I wouldn't be able to (it wouldn't have transferred back as anything anyway; what could a Criminal Justice major do with two Latin American history courses?). I also originally signed up for Physics and Humor (to transfer back as my basic lab requirement at SU; it transfers back as PHYS 104), worth two credits, and a class called Mapuche Games (Mapuche is the indigenous tribe to Chile), worth two credits, because I thought it'd be a good thing to balance out all the other crazy stuff. Well since Mapuche Games is in Viña del Mar and I had my Chilean Cultura class getting out ten minutes before that, I obviously had to drop it.
Because Physics and Humor is a class with other Chilean students, it didn't start until last Thursday, even though all my other classes started on August 4. So Mondays I have two classes (four hours apart) starting at 11:45, Tuesdays I only have one class at 2:oo, Wednesdays I have three classes (with time for lunch between the first two and a two hour break between the others) starting at 11:45, and Thursdays I only had my class at 2:oo for the first two weeks of school. And Fridays I never have class! Yay!
Well all the courses with Chileans started on August 18. I decided to also take up a class called 20th Century Latin American History, because I took a class my senior year in high school called 20th Century World History, but it mainly focused on World War I, World War II and the Cold War. That class was very intriguing to me, and since it didn't tell much about anyone in the southern hemisphere I wanted to broaden my understanding of this era. This class and my Physics class are both on Thursdays, and I believe they are worth two credits each, so on top of my three Spanish classes, I will end up with eighteen credits.
Last week, my mamá told me she would be up at seven, when I needed to be up for my Physics class, and if I wanted she would make sure I got up, since I'm used to sleeping in a bit. I thought this sounded like a great idea because I knew there was no way I was going to be able to peel my lazy ass out of bed in time to leave by 7:35 or 7:40, take the metro train (because the buses are completely and unbelievably packed at this hour) to school and survive an hour and a half of a science class if I didn't get up in time to eat a piece of bread beforehand. So I didn't set my alarm of course. Well she came in to wake me up, and I asked her for ten more minutes, but she didn't come back after ten minutes. She didn't want to bother me. So I woke up at twelve. Lame.
I was really bummed out I missed my first class with Chileans. And I was pretty damn sure I was the only extranjero in the class. So I wrote the professor an email that basically said that I missed the class but I wanted to make sure I didn't miss any important information, and that I still wanted to take the class and I would definitely be there the next Thursday. Check out what he responded with (I'm sure you'll be able to tell what I said by what he said):
----- Original Message -----From: Luck, KelseyTo: aromero@ucv.clSent: Thursday, August 21, 2008 6:44 PMSubject: FIS 021-01Buenos días,
Hi
Hoy día yo perdí la clase de Física y Humor, y quisiera preguntarle a usted si perdí muchas informacionesnot to much
. Yo quiero tomar esta clase y estaré presente la semana que viene.
great
Gracias por todo, que esté bien.
Kelsey LuckAngel Romero
I knew instantly that I was going to like this guy.
And I did. The class today went really well. I was right, I was the only foreigner in the class. I was sitting pretty much square in the middle too, in my bright red SU hoodie. There are actually two professors in the class, Ángel Romero and Carlos Wörner. Professor Wörner looked very mad scientist, with his nice brown suit with the inner silk vest and the crazy grey beard and unruly hair. And let's not forget the round glasses. Professor Romero looked a little more average except that he was wearing a lab coat full of white board pens. He drew a lot of hilarious pictures too while we was explaining the principles of Archimedes. He drew a bath tub with Archimedes floating on top of the water and his hand touching the bottom of the tub, and he drew a bathing suit to be polite but then he erased it. Then he drew water spilling out the edges of the tub, wrote EUREKA!! next to him, then drew wet foot prints running through a distant door, with two little buttcheeks and a leg behind the doorway. It was quite chistoso (funny). Especially because in Spanish, eureka is pronounced eo-rake-uh. And he shouted it out too. Haha.
And that was it. He told us don't bother taking notes because they really aren't necessary (I'm going to anyway, just in case I need to prove to anyone at my school what we learned is legitimate), because we were never going to have tarea (homework) or pruebas (tests). Our only obligation is consistent and punctual attendance and some sort of thing at the end of the semester, I didn't quite catch everything he said, but it's basically a presentation of some physical concept, and if we just want to draw it on the board and sit back down, we can.
So even though I have to try and adjust to going to bed earlier (which has not been working out very well by the way, especially when three days a week I get home at 7:30), and even though I have a four hour break after that class until my 2:00, then I have another two hour break before my 5:20 class, I think Physics and Humor is going to be a great class, and Thursdays aren't going to be as horrendous as I thought. I'm pretty stoked for it, especially that I can be in a class with probably forty other Chileans. I can listen more to the dialect (because my Spanish teachers tone it down), to the way they ask and answer questions, and I can have a good time and relax a bit. Alright.
Nap time,
Kelsey
martes, 26 de agosto de 2008
A new chapter in this crazy memoir of mine
I should have started writing about all this earlier. Now it's been a month already and I have to recap everything. I can't remember all the specifics! Everyone will have to bear with me.
Let's briefly continue with the night I met my family, since I didn't get to finish that part yesterday.
July 27. We finally arrived to my little hacienda in Viña del Mar. When we arrived I saw a huge gate and a door which were part of a think wall. I thought this was the house, with a door to an adjacent garage. But when my mamá chilena opened the door, we were still outside. I saw a pool, a huge palm tree, and a three story house inside this enclosure. I had never seen a fence or enclosure such as this before! It was a bit surprising. I really liked the look of things so far.
As everyone helped me with my bags, I walked inside and met my hermanita chilena (my little Chilean sister), Macarena. She gave me the traditional kiss on the cheek and gave me the grand tour of the house. In the downstairs I saw the kitchen, a huge dining room with an all-wood interior, a giant living room with couches, a stereo, a fire place, and arches everywhere. In the next room was a full size pool table. I honestly think it's larger than full size; I don't believe I've ever seen a pool table that big. The last room in the downstairs belongs to my hermano mayor (older brother), Felipe, and it had its own bathroom (well, a Jack-and-Jill bathroom with the room with the pool table) with a jacuzzi. On the second floor, I saw a bedroom painted green with a desk and a display board on Patagonia (the bedroom of the Chilean student that lives here, but she was on vacation), a large bathroom with an opaque door, another bathroom ("my" bathroom), my mamá chilena's room, my hermana mayor (older sister) Paula's room, my hermanita Maca's room, the computer room on the third floor, and finally, "my" room.
Mi pieza. For the first time in over a year, I have a room! I don't have to sleep in a closet or on the top bunk of someone else's bunk bed, I don't have to share a 14' x 15' square with someone else and use a communal bathroom in flip-flops, I don't have to sleep on a mat on the floor, I don't have to sleep on a couch in a living room. I have a room! All to myself! And it's painted green!
Don't get me wrong, I have had a wonderful experience in all of the aforementioned sleeping situations. It's just that with all the nomading around that I've been doing the last year or so, it's really nice to once again have a place that I can call my own for a while, and not have to worry if my sleeping habits, music, or obsessive-compulsive tendencies (thanks mom) are going to bother anybody else. I can hang pictures by the thousands, I can hang my clothes or keep them in drawers, I can pile my hoodies on the chair (something I am very guilty of, no matter where I go), and I can stay awake until the sun comes up and sleep until it goes back down. In addition, I only share the bathroom with one other person, who is hardly ever here. Yay, I can keep my shampoo in the shower, I can keep my toothbrush on the counter, and I can leave my hairbrush wherever I please! No shower baskets, no flip-flops, no bottom drawers, no shave cream for men, no electric razors... This is great!
Immediately after my helpers dumped my bags on my hard wood floor, we all went downstairs to tomar once. Once is like tea time. It takes place sometime between 7 and 10pm, sometimes later. It's a time when the family can all sit down and recap their days over a cup of tea and some bread. I was seated next to Maca, with mamá to my left and Felipe to my right, with Paula and her pololo (Chilean word for boyfriend) in front of me.
Once made me really nervous. I was already a bag of nerves from the time of descent in Viña del Mar and throughout the family assignment process, and here I was sitting in a brand new kitchen with six people I'd never met before, preparing myself to speak in a language not my own, a language I had more or less dabbled in but had not really lived.
But it wasn't so bad. One of the very first things they asked me was ¿Estás pololeando? and I hadn't the slighest clue what that could mean. On top of my blank stare, I think I may have raised my eyebrow like I'm known to do, because my hermanita started cracking up. They tried explaining: ¿Tienes pololo? ¿Estás pololeando? Again, I had no idea what a pololo was and the gerund pololeando just sounded absurd to me. Finally, the mom asked me ¿Tienes alguien que es como tu novio? Ahhhh. The light bulb has been illuminated. Apparently, here in Chile a novio is a like a groom in a wedding, and less like a boyfriend. If I were to say I had a novio here like I had learned back in the US, I would be speaking very formally. So they use the word pololo for boyfriend (or polola for girlfriend), and pololear means to date. Now I get it!
Unfortunately, to this day, I still have trouble understanding Paula because she speaks really fast. It's a bit easier now, but sometimes my head still spins when she asks me a question. My program director, Lizette, told us all at our orientation meetings in Santiago that we picked a hard country to study Spanish in because the people here speak such a distinct dialect that it's going to be one hell of a time for us to pick it up, especially the decent percentage of kids who came with zero Spanish-speaking background (and I mean zero. I know several people who came here without knowing how to say ¿Dónde está el baño?. And I thought I was nervous).
The reason is, a vast majority of the Chileans speak very fast, they omit the s at the end of all of their words and the d in words like nada (naa) and complicado (complicao), and they speak in a familiar "you" form different than the usual. When I want to say ¿Quieres comer? (Do you want to eat?), they would say ¿Querí comer?. When I want to say ¿Cómo te llamas? (What's your name?), they would say ¿Cómo te llamai?. When I want to say ¿Dónde vives? (Where do you live?), they would say ¿Dónde viví?. Another thing the Chileans use that no one else uses is this cute little suffix po. Sípo, yapo, claropo, nopo, levántatepo, cállatepo, déjamepo, obviopo, etc etc. It's like an emphatic note at the end of each word. You'd hear it most in arguments or commands, but in other situations too. Like the other day my hermano told my mamá, "Si necesitas algo mamá llámamepo" (If you need something, call me!). Sometimes my hermano Felipe and I banter back and forth as such, and obviopo is my favorite one. Hence the url of this blog.
So as you can see, being fairly recently introduced to a Spanish-speaking environment, not only do I have to try and pick out all the words in a rapid-fire conversation, but I also have to distinguish the new form from the form I am used to. I don't really use the new form myself, because to me it's a bit strange to just adopt it when I can't hardly explain how I slept the night before, but now I can understand it a lot better than when I first arrived.
Well, anyway, the rest of my first night went well. I felt a little weird after eating because I didn't know if I was eating too much or too little, and I didn't know when would be an appropriate time to get up and excuse myself, as I never eat at a dinner table and thus have zero table manners. When I finally made my way up to mi pieza, I started unraveling my life and tried putting the pieces back together. It was still so surreal to me to have two canvas bags sitting on a bed with an unfamiliar comforter in a lime green bedroom with three big windows and a view of the populated hills. I remembered telling my friends in Atlanta that if we missed our rescheduled flight to Santiago that I was going to get back on a plane destined for Seattle and forget this whole thing. At this point in my night, despite all the neat people in my family, despite the big house with the palm tree and pool out front, despite the sunset over the port that I had seen before all of that, I half-wished that's what I had done. I spent a good five to ten minutes just staring into my two suitcases that were overflowing with unfolded shirts and beauty products and pictures and books and school supplies. I unpacked the pictures first.
I sat on my bed and looked through every single picture I brought. There must be about 400 of them. I have three or four Walgreens picture pockets full. The first twenty or so in the first pocket are pictures that I printed from my month or two of staying at Keith's house. A picture of him smoking, a bundle of pictures of Caleb's girlfriend Autumn and I, Keith and Caleb being twin jerks, the Cat, Karl making a weird face... Those two months meant the world to me. What Keith and I had going before I left Seattle was amazing, comfortable, shared, lovely. I can't wait to live it again when I get back in three months.
I was up until two in the morning unpacking my suitcases. I believe my goal at the time was less focused on organizing the things in my room and more focused on just getting the stupid things out of my sight.
July 28 - August 1. Week of orientation. That's right, my first full day of actually living in Chile was also my first day of orientation. I remember thinking, "Am I ever going to get a break? I haven't stopped since I started..." And I spent this week running on empty from around 8:30 in the morning until about 6:45 at night. Thursday was the only exception. On Thursday, we had to spend the entire morning registering for classes, and since there was no way of knowing when everyone would be done with this clusterfuck of an event, we had the afternoon off. I got home around two that afternoon, and I took a three hour nap.
August 2-3. My first weekend in Viña del Mar. Want to know how exciting it was? I slept. All day, both days. I seriously needed it.
August 4. First day of classes. My first class was Español Escrito (Written Spanish), 11:45-1:15, and I found it to be quite boring (and still do). We just chose partners and took down each others' information in order to present one another to the class. It was like being in nineth grade all over again. This class only had twelve people in it. Later, four hours later to be exact, I had another class, Gramática para Extranjeros (Grammar for Foreigners), 5:20-6:50. The professor for this class is pretty funny. He makes the lectures a little more fun with his weird examples. I got home around seven, ate once, waited around for Keith to get off work so I could give him a call, and went to bed.
August 5. This day was easy, because on Tuesdays I only have one class, Español Comunicacional y Cultura Chilena (Communicational Spanish and Chilean Culture), 2:00-3:30. I didn't have to get up early, I didn't have to sit around for lectures all day, and I was out before four. The profesora for this class was really sweet. I love her.
August 6. This was my most complicated day (before the classes with Chilean students started after August 18). Español Escrito 11:45-1:15, just enough time to run across the street to the ISA office and eat my colación (sack lunch), then back to Cultura Chilena 2:00-3:30, with a two hour break just hanging out in the computer lab at the ISA office until my Gramática class 5:20-6:50.
August 7. Cultura Chilena 2:00-3:30. That was all.
August 8. No classes on Fridays, ever! Yay!
Well, after yet another suffocatingly long blog entry, I must say goodnight. My mamá noticed I was busy typing away and brought me once...
If you want to leave a comment, please click the link at the end of this entry that says 0 comentarios (or whatever the number may be). Thanks for reading!
Hasta pronto!
Kelsey
Let's briefly continue with the night I met my family, since I didn't get to finish that part yesterday.
July 27. We finally arrived to my little hacienda in Viña del Mar. When we arrived I saw a huge gate and a door which were part of a think wall. I thought this was the house, with a door to an adjacent garage. But when my mamá chilena opened the door, we were still outside. I saw a pool, a huge palm tree, and a three story house inside this enclosure. I had never seen a fence or enclosure such as this before! It was a bit surprising. I really liked the look of things so far.
As everyone helped me with my bags, I walked inside and met my hermanita chilena (my little Chilean sister), Macarena. She gave me the traditional kiss on the cheek and gave me the grand tour of the house. In the downstairs I saw the kitchen, a huge dining room with an all-wood interior, a giant living room with couches, a stereo, a fire place, and arches everywhere. In the next room was a full size pool table. I honestly think it's larger than full size; I don't believe I've ever seen a pool table that big. The last room in the downstairs belongs to my hermano mayor (older brother), Felipe, and it had its own bathroom (well, a Jack-and-Jill bathroom with the room with the pool table) with a jacuzzi. On the second floor, I saw a bedroom painted green with a desk and a display board on Patagonia (the bedroom of the Chilean student that lives here, but she was on vacation), a large bathroom with an opaque door, another bathroom ("my" bathroom), my mamá chilena's room, my hermana mayor (older sister) Paula's room, my hermanita Maca's room, the computer room on the third floor, and finally, "my" room.
Mi pieza. For the first time in over a year, I have a room! I don't have to sleep in a closet or on the top bunk of someone else's bunk bed, I don't have to share a 14' x 15' square with someone else and use a communal bathroom in flip-flops, I don't have to sleep on a mat on the floor, I don't have to sleep on a couch in a living room. I have a room! All to myself! And it's painted green!Don't get me wrong, I have had a wonderful experience in all of the aforementioned sleeping situations. It's just that with all the nomading around that I've been doing the last year or so, it's really nice to once again have a place that I can call my own for a while, and not have to worry if my sleeping habits, music, or obsessive-compulsive tendencies (thanks mom) are going to bother anybody else. I can hang pictures by the thousands, I can hang my clothes or keep them in drawers, I can pile my hoodies on the chair (something I am very guilty of, no matter where I go), and I can stay awake until the sun comes up and sleep until it goes back down. In addition, I only share the bathroom with one other person, who is hardly ever here. Yay, I can keep my shampoo in the shower, I can keep my toothbrush on the counter, and I can leave my hairbrush wherever I please! No shower baskets, no flip-flops, no bottom drawers, no shave cream for men, no electric razors... This is great!
Immediately after my helpers dumped my bags on my hard wood floor, we all went downstairs to tomar once. Once is like tea time. It takes place sometime between 7 and 10pm, sometimes later. It's a time when the family can all sit down and recap their days over a cup of tea and some bread. I was seated next to Maca, with mamá to my left and Felipe to my right, with Paula and her pololo (Chilean word for boyfriend) in front of me.
Once made me really nervous. I was already a bag of nerves from the time of descent in Viña del Mar and throughout the family assignment process, and here I was sitting in a brand new kitchen with six people I'd never met before, preparing myself to speak in a language not my own, a language I had more or less dabbled in but had not really lived.
But it wasn't so bad. One of the very first things they asked me was ¿Estás pololeando? and I hadn't the slighest clue what that could mean. On top of my blank stare, I think I may have raised my eyebrow like I'm known to do, because my hermanita started cracking up. They tried explaining: ¿Tienes pololo? ¿Estás pololeando? Again, I had no idea what a pololo was and the gerund pololeando just sounded absurd to me. Finally, the mom asked me ¿Tienes alguien que es como tu novio? Ahhhh. The light bulb has been illuminated. Apparently, here in Chile a novio is a like a groom in a wedding, and less like a boyfriend. If I were to say I had a novio here like I had learned back in the US, I would be speaking very formally. So they use the word pololo for boyfriend (or polola for girlfriend), and pololear means to date. Now I get it!
Unfortunately, to this day, I still have trouble understanding Paula because she speaks really fast. It's a bit easier now, but sometimes my head still spins when she asks me a question. My program director, Lizette, told us all at our orientation meetings in Santiago that we picked a hard country to study Spanish in because the people here speak such a distinct dialect that it's going to be one hell of a time for us to pick it up, especially the decent percentage of kids who came with zero Spanish-speaking background (and I mean zero. I know several people who came here without knowing how to say ¿Dónde está el baño?. And I thought I was nervous).
The reason is, a vast majority of the Chileans speak very fast, they omit the s at the end of all of their words and the d in words like nada (naa) and complicado (complicao), and they speak in a familiar "you" form different than the usual. When I want to say ¿Quieres comer? (Do you want to eat?), they would say ¿Querí comer?. When I want to say ¿Cómo te llamas? (What's your name?), they would say ¿Cómo te llamai?. When I want to say ¿Dónde vives? (Where do you live?), they would say ¿Dónde viví?. Another thing the Chileans use that no one else uses is this cute little suffix po. Sípo, yapo, claropo, nopo, levántatepo, cállatepo, déjamepo, obviopo, etc etc. It's like an emphatic note at the end of each word. You'd hear it most in arguments or commands, but in other situations too. Like the other day my hermano told my mamá, "Si necesitas algo mamá llámamepo" (If you need something, call me!). Sometimes my hermano Felipe and I banter back and forth as such, and obviopo is my favorite one. Hence the url of this blog.
So as you can see, being fairly recently introduced to a Spanish-speaking environment, not only do I have to try and pick out all the words in a rapid-fire conversation, but I also have to distinguish the new form from the form I am used to. I don't really use the new form myself, because to me it's a bit strange to just adopt it when I can't hardly explain how I slept the night before, but now I can understand it a lot better than when I first arrived.
Well, anyway, the rest of my first night went well. I felt a little weird after eating because I didn't know if I was eating too much or too little, and I didn't know when would be an appropriate time to get up and excuse myself, as I never eat at a dinner table and thus have zero table manners. When I finally made my way up to mi pieza, I started unraveling my life and tried putting the pieces back together. It was still so surreal to me to have two canvas bags sitting on a bed with an unfamiliar comforter in a lime green bedroom with three big windows and a view of the populated hills. I remembered telling my friends in Atlanta that if we missed our rescheduled flight to Santiago that I was going to get back on a plane destined for Seattle and forget this whole thing. At this point in my night, despite all the neat people in my family, despite the big house with the palm tree and pool out front, despite the sunset over the port that I had seen before all of that, I half-wished that's what I had done. I spent a good five to ten minutes just staring into my two suitcases that were overflowing with unfolded shirts and beauty products and pictures and books and school supplies. I unpacked the pictures first.
I sat on my bed and looked through every single picture I brought. There must be about 400 of them. I have three or four Walgreens picture pockets full. The first twenty or so in the first pocket are pictures that I printed from my month or two of staying at Keith's house. A picture of him smoking, a bundle of pictures of Caleb's girlfriend Autumn and I, Keith and Caleb being twin jerks, the Cat, Karl making a weird face... Those two months meant the world to me. What Keith and I had going before I left Seattle was amazing, comfortable, shared, lovely. I can't wait to live it again when I get back in three months.I was up until two in the morning unpacking my suitcases. I believe my goal at the time was less focused on organizing the things in my room and more focused on just getting the stupid things out of my sight.
July 28 - August 1. Week of orientation. That's right, my first full day of actually living in Chile was also my first day of orientation. I remember thinking, "Am I ever going to get a break? I haven't stopped since I started..." And I spent this week running on empty from around 8:30 in the morning until about 6:45 at night. Thursday was the only exception. On Thursday, we had to spend the entire morning registering for classes, and since there was no way of knowing when everyone would be done with this clusterfuck of an event, we had the afternoon off. I got home around two that afternoon, and I took a three hour nap.
August 2-3. My first weekend in Viña del Mar. Want to know how exciting it was? I slept. All day, both days. I seriously needed it.
August 4. First day of classes. My first class was Español Escrito (Written Spanish), 11:45-1:15, and I found it to be quite boring (and still do). We just chose partners and took down each others' information in order to present one another to the class. It was like being in nineth grade all over again. This class only had twelve people in it. Later, four hours later to be exact, I had another class, Gramática para Extranjeros (Grammar for Foreigners), 5:20-6:50. The professor for this class is pretty funny. He makes the lectures a little more fun with his weird examples. I got home around seven, ate once, waited around for Keith to get off work so I could give him a call, and went to bed.
August 5. This day was easy, because on Tuesdays I only have one class, Español Comunicacional y Cultura Chilena (Communicational Spanish and Chilean Culture), 2:00-3:30. I didn't have to get up early, I didn't have to sit around for lectures all day, and I was out before four. The profesora for this class was really sweet. I love her.
August 6. This was my most complicated day (before the classes with Chilean students started after August 18). Español Escrito 11:45-1:15, just enough time to run across the street to the ISA office and eat my colación (sack lunch), then back to Cultura Chilena 2:00-3:30, with a two hour break just hanging out in the computer lab at the ISA office until my Gramática class 5:20-6:50.
August 7. Cultura Chilena 2:00-3:30. That was all.
August 8. No classes on Fridays, ever! Yay!
Well, after yet another suffocatingly long blog entry, I must say goodnight. My mamá noticed I was busy typing away and brought me once...
If you want to leave a comment, please click the link at the end of this entry that says 0 comentarios (or whatever the number may be). Thanks for reading!
Hasta pronto!
Kelsey
lunes, 25 de agosto de 2008
One month down, three to go
Well, as all of you probably know, I left to study abroad in Chile on July 23. I haven't written anything of my experiences thus far, but I'm sure many of you have already seen the plethora of photos I've uploaded to facebook. If not, check them out! There will only be a few photos on here.
So I guess I should start from the beginning.
July 22. I picked Keith up from the ferry at 7:45 as usual. When he got to the car, he hugged me extra tight. He took me to Azteca as a last hoorah for us, as we love to go out to eat. I got a little Spanish practice in with the waiter, and told Keith to best plates to eat. I always end up ordering for him.
After that, we had to run to Fred Meyer to get me another suitcase to replace the one that a taxi driver had broken in New York. Standing in the luggage aisle with him was a bit of an experience - it would be the last time we'd go shopping together for a year.
When we arrived home, all we could do is what we do best - coexist. We have a way of just sitting next to each other, close enough to touch, without saying or do anything. We've fallen asleep in parks, relaxed on tiny couches, and spent hours at pizza parlors in downtown Seattle. It's just something that we do, something that I cherish. I believe there can't be much that is more relaxing and satisfying than just having a little while without words, and being able to share that with someone else.
After Keith went to bed, I turned on some acoustic music and packed my entire life into two suitcases. I was leaving for an entire year, with the exception of three weeks in December that I'd come home to visit everyone. I knew Keith had been pretty upset about it a few weeks prior - he never wanted to talk about me leaving of course, so I wouldn't bring up any exciting news about Chile, my new host family, anything like that. It really was a suffocating experience to know that there was nothing I could say to soften the impact for him, and watching what little stuff I own being crammed into two canvas bags that must weigh less than fifty pounds a piece was a bit overwhelming. I finally called it a night and laid down next to my honey without having finished packing. I couldn't stand the fact that he was sleeping alone and I was still there one more night. I cuddled up with him and he mumbled something (he's always talking in his sleep) and I held him closer than ever.
July 23. Karl, our housemate, woke up bright and early to drive Keith and I to Puyallup, where we would meet my sister-in-law and go to the airport. The ride down was fun, I always have a blast being around Keith and Karl and the rest of our friends. I think Keith slept on my shoulder most of the time, as he usually does when we're in transit. We stopped at Jack in the Box for what was supposed to be my last "American" meal, and met Tessa. Karl actually seemed to have a little sparkle in his eye when he said bye, which made me really happy. Being able to get to know him better after having met him three years back has been really gratifying; he's such a nice guy. Even though he left a thousand Cherry Coke cans all over the house for me to gather before the ants got to them, I had a great two months living with him.
On the drive to the airport, I had to sit in the front because there was no room in the back. I was a little nervous we'd be late because I had to deposit a check and we couldn't find a Bank of America, and spent too long driving around the SuperMall looking for one. We ended up being pretty early, which was really gratifying. I went to check in and was told that one of my bags weighed 62 pounds, and that I was going to be charged $80 for it. Keith helped me take all the soft lightweight things such as clothing and toiletries out of my carry-on and organize them into my heavy bag, while I put all the books, binders, school supplies, and computer hardware into my carry-on. My carry-on weighed 28 pounds after that. I checked my bags, and we went outside to chill for a little while.
Since Keith works in Seattle, he told his boss he was coming in a little late, and he arranged a coworker to come pick him up. I still had probably a good two hours before I had to start going through security, but his coworker called and said he'd be there in about 20-30 minutes. That's when everything really started to show on Keith's face. We held each other close and told each other sweet nothings and I tried to reassure him that everything was going to be fine and that the time would fly by. I held back tears to show him that we can be strong through this phenomenal distance (before I left I gave him a webcam and a mic and made him download Skype so we could still have some way of seeing each other). I don't think I've ever seen him so bummed out, and it tore me up to sit there with him and know that at any moment his coworker was going to show up and we would have to say goodbye, and he'd have to go back to work, to the warehouse that he despises, the whole day, and go home for the first time on the bus, to an empty house, with just the cat waiting there to greet him.
Finally the moment came. We stood up, we hugged, we kissed, we looked into each other's eyes... It was all so emotional. I told him that I loved him more than ever and I was going to call him when I landed in Atlanta, and to try and make it through work without being too bummed out. He told me he really loved me too, he's going to miss me so much, and to be careful out there. Then he walked to the car, and I turned around to walk inside. The second I turned my back to him, I began to tear up and cry a bit. It was ephemeral, but it hurt more than anything had hurt in a long time. What hurt me the most was knowing that while in Chile I was going to explore, learn, interact, come into contact with new and unimagined things, and the time for me was going to pass much quicker than it would for him. He would continue going to work every day, being away from the house for eleven hours a day, riding the ferry two of those hours, coming home to an empty house and only seeing Karl on the weekends because Karl gets home from work when Keith is already in bed. I just couldn't imagine how lonely he'd feel. I felt awful for him, and I was already replaying all our best moments in my head.
I flew through security for once. Usually when I have all my computer junk with me, I get stopped and screened only to find that what they thought was a sharp weapon was just my external hard drive. I knew there would be one or two students from my program, ISA, on this flight, so I made sure my ISA shirt was visible and sat around at my terminal for a good hour or so. I didn't end up meeting anybody.
The flight to Atlanta was smooth, relaxing, on time, all that. I had a window seat, and I watched us leave Boeing Field and fly over South Seattle, and blew a kiss to South Park, where Keith's work is. It was surreal to realize that I wouldn't be back until December to my one and only home, the city I could never move away from.
I arrived in Atlanta and the instant I stepped off the plane I ran into another ISA student, Kevin from Bellingham. He was on my flight, but I hadn't noticed him beforehand. We walked straight to our terminal because we only had about an hour layover. There we met another ISA student, Amy from New Jersey. There were a lot of people at our terminal getting on a flight to Manchester, so we thought we'd go get a quick bite to eat and come back to see if there were any more students there (we were given flight rosters beforehand, and noticed that about 20 students were going to be on that flight, so we were looking for them). We ran to Qdoba and grabbed some food to take with us, but when we got back to the terminal, it was a ghost town. No one was there, the gate was closed, the screen was turned off. We were confused. We walked around a bit to ask another desk attendant what was going on, but they were all busy. We finally went and found a screen with departure information, and saw that our flight had been rerouted to a terminal half way across the airport. I had two carry-ons, a huge quesadilla and a drink, and I had to run somehow to the other terminal. It was quite an interesting jaunt.
We got to our new, unannounced terminal at 10:05pm. Our plane was due to leave at 10:10. The woman at the counter not only stuck to the book, but she was extremely rude. She told us that we could absolutely not enter the gate, we should have been there a half an hour before, the door was already closed, and obviously we had been taking our sweet time to get on the plane because we all had boxed food from the food court. We tried to tell her that the gate change was not announced on the loudspeaker as it usually is and that we went to the gate on our ticket only to find it to be desolate. She told us she didn't have time to help us right now and that we all need to go and take it up with Delta. I was pissed.
We waited in line for two hours at the Delta helpdesk and got nothing accomplished. We didn't even make it to the front of the line. Kevin had discovered that we could use some Delta help phones to call and reschedule our flight, and Amy's mom booked her a hotel room at the Embassy Suites and she offered to let us stay with her. The only problem was, all of our luggage was supposedly going to beat us to Santiago, and since I had switched out all my clothing and toiletries to make my luggage lighter, I had no clothes, no toothbrush, no nothing. Neither did the other two. And our flight wasn't going to be until 10:10 the next night. I knew it was going to be a rough couple of days.
July 24. We checked out of the Embassy Suites, probably one of the nicest American hotels I've stayed in, around 11:00. What were we going to do for eight or nine hours before having to do the routine airport sweep? Well, Amy was on facebook the night before and had seen that two other students had missed their flight to Santiago also.
In the airport we met Tara from Idaho and Josh from Colorado. They had been on a flight together from Colorado that ended up arriving late to Atlanta. We all decided to gallivant around Atlanta for the day, as none of us had been to the south. We were scoping out some restaurants that would have more authentic southern food, but all we could find were fast food places and Japanese food. We ended up stumbling upon a little gyro restaurant and ate some delicious things there. We explored the City Hall and various other things. We were obvious tourists because we were all wearing the same shirts, so every once in a while some people looking for spare change would come up to us and say, "Hey, where y'all headin?" Josh would usually come up with something witty like, "To Hell if I don't change my ways!"
After a little venturing in Atlanta, we got back to the airport early to ensure we wouldn't have to spend another night there. We finally got on the plane, which was delayed about a half an hour, and settled in separate areas of the plane in preparation for our ten hour flight. I actually ran into my former math teacher at Seattle University, Professor Carter, who was flying down to Santiago to teach for a semester. That was wild. I was also seated next to a guy named Linco from Chicago whose dad is a Valparaíso native, and he was going down to visit him. He told me about all kinds of delicious food to try, things to look out for, places to visit, etc. It was really cool to have someone who'd been there before several times to be able to tell me about the area. Maybe I'll get a chance to meet up with him while I'm down here.
July 25. 7:35am, we finally arrive to Santiago. The airport to me seemed a little bit unorganized and extremely busy, something I would become accustomed to in this entirely unknown environment. We found our bags, proceeded through customs (which was a lot smoother than customs in the US), and found our ISA directors. We met several other students who had somehow missed their flights back in the US too, and we all headed for our hotel in Santiago so we could join the other 50-something kids in our big group.
We got to our hotel, Hotel Rent-a-Home, and were shown to our rooms. We only had about 45 minutes of free time before we would embark on a day's worth of discoveries, so I took advantage of taking a long, hot shower after two days of traveling like a drifter. I had only gotten about six hours of sleep since the morning I'd left Seattle, and even with the shower I felt pretty disgusting. We saw all kinds of things that day, things that were quite new and interesting, and I can't even begin to name specifics I was so drained. I have lots of pictures though. I probably have about 150 pictures just from the few days we spent in Santiago alone.
Fast forward a bit.
July 27. The golden day; the day to meet our new Chilean families. We had all built little friendships with people in our program, explored considerable amounts of Santiago (even though about ten of us had missed a day there), and emotions were through the roof as we left Santiago in anticipation to lead new lives in this foreign locale. So many of us were exhausted that day; you could see many of the students crashed and hanging halfway in the aisles asleep on this hour and a half bus ride to the coast. Some of us would be living in Viña del Mar, others in Valparaíso. Most of us would be studying at Pontificia Universidad Católica de Valparaíso (PUCV), but some would be at Universidad de Viña del Mar (UVM). Some of us would have lots of siblings, some none, some with a farm or a pool or lots of pets, some with single parents, or grandparents living in the house. As we were discussing all of the information we'd received on our families, we began our descent from the hills near Viña del Mar and saw something we never imagined.
Wow. Here you can see in the distance the sun setting beneath the clouds, with the gorgeous backdrop of the Valparaíso port and the vast Pacific Ocean that I know and love. This is when it really started to hit us. This is when it all started to finally come together. First we were just chit-chatting about our families on paper, but now we knew that in the fast-approaching end of the hour we would be meeting these families for real, these Chileans that would be welcoming us into their homes and giving us a space to call our own, a street, an area, a neighborhood, a city to be associated with as we learn and grow throughout this educational and intellectual endeavor of ours. I've never felt so nervous-excited in my life. Many students were so anxious that they were running to the little bathroom in the back of the bus, especially after the lengthy ride from the big city.
We all got off our bus in front of Casa Central, one of the main buildings to our university. Sixty-something kids on that sidewalk, face-to-face with sixty-something Chilean families, and in between us, a mountain of our luggage. My friend Jaimie from Wisconsin and I felt kind of weird looking into the crowd of families, not knowing who we belonged to. We all had name tags with the last names of the families we belonged to, so it was a little more weird thinking that they could spot us out but we were embarrassed somehow. My veins were pumping with anxiety and adrenaline. I am normally a very calm, collected, laid back person and do not get anxious easily, but this situation was quite overwhelming for me. It was a love-hate situation. I loved the feeling of absolute thrill but I hated the pit in my stomach. I knew Spanish, but I never spoke it back home. Never. We hardly ever spoke it in class, and even then, most of the kids in my Spanish 135 class still didn't know that you never pronounce the h. For this reason, I was incredibly self-conscious of the fact that as soon as I left this huge group of shaking gringos that I'd have to start adjusting to not only speaking in Spanish, but understanding the accent, the slang, the idioms, and the words that differ from Mexican and Spaniard Spanish I'd been used to learning.
The moment had come. Lizette, our director, began naming off family names. My bags were some of the last to be loaded onto the truck, so they were among the first to be unloaded, and thus were hiding in the very bottom of the pile. My family name, Peña, was called fairly early in the process and I made a point to dive into the mountain of luggage before revealing myself to whoever was waiting for me. As soon as I grabbed my things and turned around, my Chilean mother, Yanet, was standing there with a giant grin on her face. She greeted me with "Hola mi niña" and gave me a traditional kiss on the cheek. She told me we needed to find her daughter and then we'd be on our way. By then, the sun had set and it was relatively dark outside, but we found my older sister, Paula, and her boyfriend, and we managed to fit my two huge suitcases and two carry-ons into his little car with the four of us and we left Valparaíso to return to Viña del Mar (these two cities border each other, they're like sister cities, super close to one another, and people are always traveling between the two for work, school, play, whatever).
...Well, that's all I can say for right now, as I need to run to class. I'm sure this is enough reading to keep everyone occupied and send them away with a bit of a headache, so please stay tuned for my next blog, which will hopefully be a lot shorter. :]
Love,
Kelsey
So I guess I should start from the beginning.
July 22. I picked Keith up from the ferry at 7:45 as usual. When he got to the car, he hugged me extra tight. He took me to Azteca as a last hoorah for us, as we love to go out to eat. I got a little Spanish practice in with the waiter, and told Keith to best plates to eat. I always end up ordering for him.
After that, we had to run to Fred Meyer to get me another suitcase to replace the one that a taxi driver had broken in New York. Standing in the luggage aisle with him was a bit of an experience - it would be the last time we'd go shopping together for a year.
When we arrived home, all we could do is what we do best - coexist. We have a way of just sitting next to each other, close enough to touch, without saying or do anything. We've fallen asleep in parks, relaxed on tiny couches, and spent hours at pizza parlors in downtown Seattle. It's just something that we do, something that I cherish. I believe there can't be much that is more relaxing and satisfying than just having a little while without words, and being able to share that with someone else.
After Keith went to bed, I turned on some acoustic music and packed my entire life into two suitcases. I was leaving for an entire year, with the exception of three weeks in December that I'd come home to visit everyone. I knew Keith had been pretty upset about it a few weeks prior - he never wanted to talk about me leaving of course, so I wouldn't bring up any exciting news about Chile, my new host family, anything like that. It really was a suffocating experience to know that there was nothing I could say to soften the impact for him, and watching what little stuff I own being crammed into two canvas bags that must weigh less than fifty pounds a piece was a bit overwhelming. I finally called it a night and laid down next to my honey without having finished packing. I couldn't stand the fact that he was sleeping alone and I was still there one more night. I cuddled up with him and he mumbled something (he's always talking in his sleep) and I held him closer than ever.
July 23. Karl, our housemate, woke up bright and early to drive Keith and I to Puyallup, where we would meet my sister-in-law and go to the airport. The ride down was fun, I always have a blast being around Keith and Karl and the rest of our friends. I think Keith slept on my shoulder most of the time, as he usually does when we're in transit. We stopped at Jack in the Box for what was supposed to be my last "American" meal, and met Tessa. Karl actually seemed to have a little sparkle in his eye when he said bye, which made me really happy. Being able to get to know him better after having met him three years back has been really gratifying; he's such a nice guy. Even though he left a thousand Cherry Coke cans all over the house for me to gather before the ants got to them, I had a great two months living with him.
On the drive to the airport, I had to sit in the front because there was no room in the back. I was a little nervous we'd be late because I had to deposit a check and we couldn't find a Bank of America, and spent too long driving around the SuperMall looking for one. We ended up being pretty early, which was really gratifying. I went to check in and was told that one of my bags weighed 62 pounds, and that I was going to be charged $80 for it. Keith helped me take all the soft lightweight things such as clothing and toiletries out of my carry-on and organize them into my heavy bag, while I put all the books, binders, school supplies, and computer hardware into my carry-on. My carry-on weighed 28 pounds after that. I checked my bags, and we went outside to chill for a little while.
Since Keith works in Seattle, he told his boss he was coming in a little late, and he arranged a coworker to come pick him up. I still had probably a good two hours before I had to start going through security, but his coworker called and said he'd be there in about 20-30 minutes. That's when everything really started to show on Keith's face. We held each other close and told each other sweet nothings and I tried to reassure him that everything was going to be fine and that the time would fly by. I held back tears to show him that we can be strong through this phenomenal distance (before I left I gave him a webcam and a mic and made him download Skype so we could still have some way of seeing each other). I don't think I've ever seen him so bummed out, and it tore me up to sit there with him and know that at any moment his coworker was going to show up and we would have to say goodbye, and he'd have to go back to work, to the warehouse that he despises, the whole day, and go home for the first time on the bus, to an empty house, with just the cat waiting there to greet him.
Finally the moment came. We stood up, we hugged, we kissed, we looked into each other's eyes... It was all so emotional. I told him that I loved him more than ever and I was going to call him when I landed in Atlanta, and to try and make it through work without being too bummed out. He told me he really loved me too, he's going to miss me so much, and to be careful out there. Then he walked to the car, and I turned around to walk inside. The second I turned my back to him, I began to tear up and cry a bit. It was ephemeral, but it hurt more than anything had hurt in a long time. What hurt me the most was knowing that while in Chile I was going to explore, learn, interact, come into contact with new and unimagined things, and the time for me was going to pass much quicker than it would for him. He would continue going to work every day, being away from the house for eleven hours a day, riding the ferry two of those hours, coming home to an empty house and only seeing Karl on the weekends because Karl gets home from work when Keith is already in bed. I just couldn't imagine how lonely he'd feel. I felt awful for him, and I was already replaying all our best moments in my head.
I flew through security for once. Usually when I have all my computer junk with me, I get stopped and screened only to find that what they thought was a sharp weapon was just my external hard drive. I knew there would be one or two students from my program, ISA, on this flight, so I made sure my ISA shirt was visible and sat around at my terminal for a good hour or so. I didn't end up meeting anybody.
The flight to Atlanta was smooth, relaxing, on time, all that. I had a window seat, and I watched us leave Boeing Field and fly over South Seattle, and blew a kiss to South Park, where Keith's work is. It was surreal to realize that I wouldn't be back until December to my one and only home, the city I could never move away from.
I arrived in Atlanta and the instant I stepped off the plane I ran into another ISA student, Kevin from Bellingham. He was on my flight, but I hadn't noticed him beforehand. We walked straight to our terminal because we only had about an hour layover. There we met another ISA student, Amy from New Jersey. There were a lot of people at our terminal getting on a flight to Manchester, so we thought we'd go get a quick bite to eat and come back to see if there were any more students there (we were given flight rosters beforehand, and noticed that about 20 students were going to be on that flight, so we were looking for them). We ran to Qdoba and grabbed some food to take with us, but when we got back to the terminal, it was a ghost town. No one was there, the gate was closed, the screen was turned off. We were confused. We walked around a bit to ask another desk attendant what was going on, but they were all busy. We finally went and found a screen with departure information, and saw that our flight had been rerouted to a terminal half way across the airport. I had two carry-ons, a huge quesadilla and a drink, and I had to run somehow to the other terminal. It was quite an interesting jaunt.
We got to our new, unannounced terminal at 10:05pm. Our plane was due to leave at 10:10. The woman at the counter not only stuck to the book, but she was extremely rude. She told us that we could absolutely not enter the gate, we should have been there a half an hour before, the door was already closed, and obviously we had been taking our sweet time to get on the plane because we all had boxed food from the food court. We tried to tell her that the gate change was not announced on the loudspeaker as it usually is and that we went to the gate on our ticket only to find it to be desolate. She told us she didn't have time to help us right now and that we all need to go and take it up with Delta. I was pissed.
We waited in line for two hours at the Delta helpdesk and got nothing accomplished. We didn't even make it to the front of the line. Kevin had discovered that we could use some Delta help phones to call and reschedule our flight, and Amy's mom booked her a hotel room at the Embassy Suites and she offered to let us stay with her. The only problem was, all of our luggage was supposedly going to beat us to Santiago, and since I had switched out all my clothing and toiletries to make my luggage lighter, I had no clothes, no toothbrush, no nothing. Neither did the other two. And our flight wasn't going to be until 10:10 the next night. I knew it was going to be a rough couple of days.
July 24. We checked out of the Embassy Suites, probably one of the nicest American hotels I've stayed in, around 11:00. What were we going to do for eight or nine hours before having to do the routine airport sweep? Well, Amy was on facebook the night before and had seen that two other students had missed their flight to Santiago also.
In the airport we met Tara from Idaho and Josh from Colorado. They had been on a flight together from Colorado that ended up arriving late to Atlanta. We all decided to gallivant around Atlanta for the day, as none of us had been to the south. We were scoping out some restaurants that would have more authentic southern food, but all we could find were fast food places and Japanese food. We ended up stumbling upon a little gyro restaurant and ate some delicious things there. We explored the City Hall and various other things. We were obvious tourists because we were all wearing the same shirts, so every once in a while some people looking for spare change would come up to us and say, "Hey, where y'all headin?" Josh would usually come up with something witty like, "To Hell if I don't change my ways!"
After a little venturing in Atlanta, we got back to the airport early to ensure we wouldn't have to spend another night there. We finally got on the plane, which was delayed about a half an hour, and settled in separate areas of the plane in preparation for our ten hour flight. I actually ran into my former math teacher at Seattle University, Professor Carter, who was flying down to Santiago to teach for a semester. That was wild. I was also seated next to a guy named Linco from Chicago whose dad is a Valparaíso native, and he was going down to visit him. He told me about all kinds of delicious food to try, things to look out for, places to visit, etc. It was really cool to have someone who'd been there before several times to be able to tell me about the area. Maybe I'll get a chance to meet up with him while I'm down here.
July 25. 7:35am, we finally arrive to Santiago. The airport to me seemed a little bit unorganized and extremely busy, something I would become accustomed to in this entirely unknown environment. We found our bags, proceeded through customs (which was a lot smoother than customs in the US), and found our ISA directors. We met several other students who had somehow missed their flights back in the US too, and we all headed for our hotel in Santiago so we could join the other 50-something kids in our big group.
We got to our hotel, Hotel Rent-a-Home, and were shown to our rooms. We only had about 45 minutes of free time before we would embark on a day's worth of discoveries, so I took advantage of taking a long, hot shower after two days of traveling like a drifter. I had only gotten about six hours of sleep since the morning I'd left Seattle, and even with the shower I felt pretty disgusting. We saw all kinds of things that day, things that were quite new and interesting, and I can't even begin to name specifics I was so drained. I have lots of pictures though. I probably have about 150 pictures just from the few days we spent in Santiago alone.
Fast forward a bit.
July 27. The golden day; the day to meet our new Chilean families. We had all built little friendships with people in our program, explored considerable amounts of Santiago (even though about ten of us had missed a day there), and emotions were through the roof as we left Santiago in anticipation to lead new lives in this foreign locale. So many of us were exhausted that day; you could see many of the students crashed and hanging halfway in the aisles asleep on this hour and a half bus ride to the coast. Some of us would be living in Viña del Mar, others in Valparaíso. Most of us would be studying at Pontificia Universidad Católica de Valparaíso (PUCV), but some would be at Universidad de Viña del Mar (UVM). Some of us would have lots of siblings, some none, some with a farm or a pool or lots of pets, some with single parents, or grandparents living in the house. As we were discussing all of the information we'd received on our families, we began our descent from the hills near Viña del Mar and saw something we never imagined.
Wow. Here you can see in the distance the sun setting beneath the clouds, with the gorgeous backdrop of the Valparaíso port and the vast Pacific Ocean that I know and love. This is when it really started to hit us. This is when it all started to finally come together. First we were just chit-chatting about our families on paper, but now we knew that in the fast-approaching end of the hour we would be meeting these families for real, these Chileans that would be welcoming us into their homes and giving us a space to call our own, a street, an area, a neighborhood, a city to be associated with as we learn and grow throughout this educational and intellectual endeavor of ours. I've never felt so nervous-excited in my life. Many students were so anxious that they were running to the little bathroom in the back of the bus, especially after the lengthy ride from the big city.
We all got off our bus in front of Casa Central, one of the main buildings to our university. Sixty-something kids on that sidewalk, face-to-face with sixty-something Chilean families, and in between us, a mountain of our luggage. My friend Jaimie from Wisconsin and I felt kind of weird looking into the crowd of families, not knowing who we belonged to. We all had name tags with the last names of the families we belonged to, so it was a little more weird thinking that they could spot us out but we were embarrassed somehow. My veins were pumping with anxiety and adrenaline. I am normally a very calm, collected, laid back person and do not get anxious easily, but this situation was quite overwhelming for me. It was a love-hate situation. I loved the feeling of absolute thrill but I hated the pit in my stomach. I knew Spanish, but I never spoke it back home. Never. We hardly ever spoke it in class, and even then, most of the kids in my Spanish 135 class still didn't know that you never pronounce the h. For this reason, I was incredibly self-conscious of the fact that as soon as I left this huge group of shaking gringos that I'd have to start adjusting to not only speaking in Spanish, but understanding the accent, the slang, the idioms, and the words that differ from Mexican and Spaniard Spanish I'd been used to learning.
The moment had come. Lizette, our director, began naming off family names. My bags were some of the last to be loaded onto the truck, so they were among the first to be unloaded, and thus were hiding in the very bottom of the pile. My family name, Peña, was called fairly early in the process and I made a point to dive into the mountain of luggage before revealing myself to whoever was waiting for me. As soon as I grabbed my things and turned around, my Chilean mother, Yanet, was standing there with a giant grin on her face. She greeted me with "Hola mi niña" and gave me a traditional kiss on the cheek. She told me we needed to find her daughter and then we'd be on our way. By then, the sun had set and it was relatively dark outside, but we found my older sister, Paula, and her boyfriend, and we managed to fit my two huge suitcases and two carry-ons into his little car with the four of us and we left Valparaíso to return to Viña del Mar (these two cities border each other, they're like sister cities, super close to one another, and people are always traveling between the two for work, school, play, whatever).
...Well, that's all I can say for right now, as I need to run to class. I'm sure this is enough reading to keep everyone occupied and send them away with a bit of a headache, so please stay tuned for my next blog, which will hopefully be a lot shorter. :]
Love,
Kelsey
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