Vacations (old) and a Very Short Update (new)

I think I win the award for most negligent blogger.

Here is a salvaged post I rescued from my "drafts" box.

Just to fill in some spaces.

It should be immediately followed by another entry briefly highlighting the end of the program. But who knows: things in Chile often don't go as planned.

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...I have been planning to set aside some time for a well-thought-out post, but as that time may never come in the midst of final month in Chile craziness, I'm going to write what I can and hope that whoever reads will pardon any lack of organization, detail or cohesiveness.

Sunday evening (40 or so days ago....) marked the end of a mostly pleasant long-weekend getaway to a more southern region of Chile, following on the heels of my mostly pleasant trip down to Santiago the weekend before. I've mentioned before that Chile is divided into 13 or 14 "regions." We live in Region II, Antofagasta--which is the second northernmost region. South of us is Region III, below that Region IV, etc... I was at first hesitant to go on the trip: there is quite a bit to do between now and November 25th when we ship out for debriefing and closing ceremonies in Santiago. We have an English Festival on the 14th of November, for which I have foolishly committed-with my very limited musical knowledge-to prepare a girls choir to sing "With or Without You" and possibly "Can't Take my Eyes off You." Then there's an essay project with the 4th level kids (h.s. seniors), applying to graduate school and my normal teaching and tutoring schedule. Then there are of course financial issues and just plain laziness that doesn't want to do anything extra.

However, in the end my buddy Bryce convinced me, so Wednesday night off we were to La Serena in Region IV of Chile. Why Wednesday night you ask? Maybe I should explain. You see, here in Chile it is the custom that for the municipal elections (mayors and councilpersons) the army occupies a couple of schools as voting centers. In places like the capital, Santiago, this means the army comes in Friday or Saturday, the vote takes place on Sunday, and the school starts up again Monday or Tuesday. For my school, on the other hand, voting means we had no classes Thursday through Tuesday: that's four school days plus a weekend.

Awesome.

At least for spontaneous vacationing purposes. For educational purposes it's kind of terrible, especially since such extended pauses are par for the course. The volunteers here have actually started to plan their traveling around such sporadic breaks in the academic schedule. Recently someone suggested a short trip to Iquique--a city to the north, but wasn't sure when we might be able to go. The response from someone else in the group was: "Well, if we just wait a few weeks, I'm sure some kind of holiday or vacation will come up." Sure enough, last week we had Friday off for "Día del Profesor" (teacher's day), where all the teachers spend the day at the beach. This week, as mentioned, two of our schools were off for the voting proceedings, and this Friday some folks are taking advantage of "Protestant Day" (Día de los evangelicos) to make their own little trip to the South.

Our own trip, as I said, began Wednesday night and was a mostly very pleasant experience...

(At this point begins heavily abbreviated version composed a month and a half later)

...mostly pleasant because it involved a fair amount of mareado (nausea) near the end there, along with unbearable periods of not passing vehicles moving at 15-20 kilometers (10-15 miles) per hour. Our driver was a rather over-cautious small town fellow under the strong impression that highways involving steady inclines are a thing not only to be handled with kid gloves, but also obstacles which justify the addition of various hours to travel-time estimates. Bryce and I had a hard time understanding why automobile travel should thus be concieved like bicycle travel, but since out encouragements that he dale! dale! (go! go!) when there were wide vehicle-passing opportunites were met with less than pleasant reception, we succummed (sp?) to putting on the headphones and checking into our own personal backseat universes.

Other than that though, things were pretty amazing. It was great to get into that green, man. The Great North, as previously mentioned, is only made attractive for human habitation due to very lucrative copper mining. The region of La Serena, on the other hand, boasts giant grape-laden valleys, beaches and attractive cities. Bryce and I were also happy to see attractive women: older than 18 and younger than 35 (a demographic rather scarce in Taltal). We were also recieved quite hositably by a teacher of Bryce's and regaled with asados, tesitos and the local sights--including an in-laws valley resort and petting zoo.

Awesome.

We also stayed in an internado, a girl's boarding school that lets out certain rooms to guests. I think we paid 5 dollars a night. Rediculous. Although it came at the cost of a little East wing-abandoned-corner-of-the-old-orphanage-maybe-there-are-spooky-things-here feeling. Bryce said it would be perfect for an Anniesque movie, or a horror movie involving foreign travelers, among other things. The awesomeness of the trip was compounded exponentially for me by the fact that we hit up a go-cart track in La Serena. One of the dudes who ran the place demolished me, but I otherwise held my own. Hugging the curves and letting rip on the stretches. Fun fun. Go-carts aren't that popular down in Chile, so they charge more, but it's made up for by the fact that you ride for about 15 minutes.

Alright peeps. Time's up. Looks like that entry concerning the last weeks will have to wait a few days, or until the next time we share a brew together. Suffice it to say that life in Chile is very pleasant, very exciting, but very relaxed right now. I just spent 2 days at Viña del Mar with some of my favorite people from the program, went to my first real casino and behaved very moderately, spent this afternoon basking on the beach (mid-summer down here now), ate some great mexican food, had a gelatto, and came back to the hostel. Tomorrow I head down towards the city-centre to spend the next two weeks working for the MC's with disabled kids (and spending as little cash as possible). Looking forward to the work, rubbing elbows with some MC's and mooning about the national library and other locales here in the capital.

My best to all. I hope you are well wherever you are.

Much Love,
Billy

Hey There

Stardate Friday:

Hey all. I've been thinking of saying a word here for a while, just a note to say hello, so here goes....

Here I am at 10:30 on Friday night, at the end of my first full trimester of teaching in Chile: exhausted. And my friends are all waiting for me to come over and learn how to dance Cueca (Chilean national dance) with them. Oh man. Oh, how I want my bed.

This week was pretty crazy. I tutor a friend in English twice a week in the evenings and Tuesday he invited me to have once (tea) with him and his family, which of course meant that we didn't actually start our hour of instruction till about 11:30pm. Next day it was up at 7 o'clock as usual.

That night, after watching a beautifully played World Cup qualifying match between Chile and Colombia (Chile won 4-0: ¡Vamos Chile!), I had already fallen half-asleep when my buddy Max invited me to come have fried fish with his co-teacher's family. I wasn't about to miss an opportunity to eat real food at night (rather than the usual dinner of tea, white bread, and butter--with jelly and maybe some cheese if one is lucky), and also the opportunity to hang out with a really beautiful family, so I roused myself for another round. Suffice it to say that the food and company were wonderful enough to keep me out till almost 2am...on a Wednesday.

Yeah: welcome to Chile.

It was so good though, and also justified in being a going away party for Max, who left the next night for a planned 2 week ski-trip. No prob., I thought: I'll get the sleep back with a siesta tomorrow.

So I got the siesta Thursday (1 and 1/2 hours of midday goodness) which was fortunate, because that day was also the hieght of end-of-trimester grading craziness. 320 odd students; foreign grading system; a million homeworks to grade; a million more turned in at the last minute; wanting my grade to count and be logical--not wanting to mess up some kids high school carreer...It was so much fun (he said sarcastically). So much fun that I decided to stay up most of last night grading...spent most of today grading...and finally finished at about 6 pm, making the last last minute correction and signing out at the high school. Felt so good.

Anyway, now they are calling me: "are you coming to practice with us?" Oh bed, I love you. But I love my friends too...and I need to learn Cueca. Hopefully I won't let myself get persuaded into another late night. Whatever the case, I see before me a long stretch of weekend, filled with all kinds of sleeping in and lazing about and enjoying of folkloric entertainment in preparations for Fiestas Patrias next week. Ahh....

So. Here I am. At the end of 3 months(!!) in Chile: exhausted, but super-satisfied with my work here; more attached to my students every day--feeling like I have more of an impact every day; more engaged in my relationships (with gringos and Chilenos) everyday. Missing home and so excited at the thought of returning in December, but mourning slightly the oh-so-short time that I have left.

And here I go! "Once more into the breach!" I hope this finds you all doing well.

Much love,

Billy

Happy Birthday Mom!!

¡Feliz Cumpleaños From my Chilean Students!

(please ignore my really embarassing voice in the background trying to direct them)

Happy Birthday Mrs. Phillips!

Happy Birthday Mom! I hope you had a great day. I love you and have been thinking about you guys a lot. Love,

Billy

All Aboard!...for real this time

As I was saying earlier...

The point of bringing up the pub in the first place was to eventually get to all the wonderful details of my 2 weeks of vacation. If you are wondering what I am talking about, it is becuase this blog lists entries in order of chronological publication. Thus, to hear about all the stuff leading up traveling in Perú, go back one entry. To see what is behind the creaking door, turn to page 7. Otherwise, just keep reading.

Following all the craziness of town anniversaries and marching in parades and the opening of Corwatt's Corner on the back of our house, I last left you at the bus stop at 3:30 in the morning, Monday the 14th of July. The original travel plan from this point was to arrive in Antofagasta by 8am, buy my ticket North to Arica (northern Chilean border), take care of some financial stuff when the banks opened, and head towards Perú. Unfortunately for me, a whole lot more South Americans use the bus system than North Americans, so the bus from Antofagasta to Arica routinely gets full well in advance. I couldn't find a bus company around in which the trip wasn't agotado (that is, booked straight up). Not catching the bus meant that I would be a day late in my travel plans, and miss meeting up with the crew of volunteer friends in Arica (i.e. traveling alone through foreign parts in Chile and Perú). A great way to start vacation, right?

As frustrating as it was, things actually turned out alright. After taking care of my bank stuff, I got a hold of Mike Krax--another volunteer living in Antofagasta--and was able to hang out with him for most of the day. We took a walk up one of the hills that backs Antofagasta and got to look out over the city and the sea. Not the most impressive thing to look at, as people don't bother so much beatifying the outsides of their homes in Antofa., but it was a welcome pleasure to kick around talking philosophy with Mike. Later we went back to his house and shared a meal with his family. It was so pleasant to get a glimpse into the life he has there in the big city, and especially nice to spend some time with such a great Chilean family. When all was said and done, Mike's host-dad took me to the hostel we routinely use in Antofagasta and I settled in for the night. The next day I was up bright and early (ticket in hand this time) to catch the 6am bus to Arica.

Arica is one of the northernmost cities of Chile, and sits right across the border from the Peruvian entry-point of Tacna. The plan, at this point, was to stay in Arica that night with a teacher from the school where I work who was taking his vacation there with his family, and then leave the next morning to cross the border into Perú. This plan started off working splendidly. I got into Arica around 4pm, had time to be given a tour and see el Morro (giant rock outcropping/old fortress overlooking the city. I was routinely informed that if your boyfriend/girlfriend left you, this was were you came to end your misery), and also to enjoy a beautiful meal at el Pollón (which I think means "the chicken-lover"). You see, the Chilean food I had been eating at my house for the past 6 weeks was wonderfully nutritious, and I was always more than full--but I had rarely been satisfied by it: Just different taste buds I guess. When I got to el Pollón though, where instead of Double Whoppers or 1/4 pounders you order 1/2 or 1/4 Chickens to eat, I suspected things might be different.

Yeah, they were.

My quarter-chicken (breast and wing) came out on a bed of french fries, and accompanied by an avacado salad--topped off with an Inca Cola and condiment assortment. Super-delicious.

So then it was to home and bed and the next morning to cross the border. I had a 12:30 bus to catch and my fellow teacher sort of chuckled at me because I insisted on getting a collectivo (kind of a group taxi that runs a specific route) to cross 3 hours before my departure time, for a trip that he said would take--at the very worst--2 hours from start to finish (see how responsible I was being Mom). Little did we anticipate that on the feast day of Chile's patroness, Maria del Carmen, three-fourths of the country's northern population would decide to try to cross the border into Tacna and celebrate their day off. Suffice it to say that my border crossing took slightly more than 2 hours. In spite of our drivers best efforts to hurry things along every step of the way, I got into the bus depot in Tacna about 40 minutes too late, thus missing another bus. Though slightly frustrating, this pattern of delays became something of a serious adventure, making my journey to Cuzco--if not completely enjoyable--at least really exciting and educational. I learned all kinds of things about navigating South American bus and hostel systems (like how to carry yourself in a manner that makes the three million or so independent, questionable taxi, collectivo, or bus agents that fill the stations not interested in trying to sell you a fare). In all the long days, strangeness and confusion, I feel I also grew a bit interiorly.

At last I made it on board a bus from Arequipa to Cuzco, where I arrived after 4 days of travel, 2 missed/booked buses, 2 unplanned hostel stays, and a ride or two with the Flores bus line (Flores: 1970's hippie-daisy decor., and really heinous on-board 80's music videos for no extra charge). The unpleasantless of the trip was alliviated by chatting things up on the 10 hour ride with a really sweet Peruvian girl named Anghela who was passing through Cuzco on her way home for her own school break. I am coming to believe more and more, also through my time by the sea and some beautiful literature, in the power of beauty to help life make sense.

In Cuzco I stayed with my buddie Max and his buddy Connor who is renting an apartment there. Connor was more than gracious, and refused to accept any cash for his pains--said having people come through kept things from getting boring. After a couple of days in Cuzco, I booked my trek to Machu Picchu: 5 days in the Peruvian mountains, food, equipment, entrance fees and all that goodness to the tune of $170. Pretty sweet deal. The trek itself was, due to sickness that hit me on the last day, actually more enjoyable than the final destination. There happened to be 5 kids from Santiago there, and since I was the only one from the U.S. I was able to split my time pretty pleasantly between the Chilean college kids and the English-speaking folks from Ireland, Australia and Sweden. The Chilean kids were a pleasant and refreshing surprise as I haven't often run into people raised in such a similar environment as myself. That is, these kids had gone to a Christian school (Catholic, in their case), all came from really strong Catholic families, and prayed the rosary together on the trail everyday. Seriously, I felt like I was hiking with a group of kids from Alleluia. So that was nice, and it was easy to feel comfortable with them.

As far as the trek, just being out hiking after such a long absence from the woods was nice enough. The end of the first day found us camped in a rugged little valley, carpeted with oliv-green grass, staring up at two gigantic glaciers in the distance. Sometime after nightfall, when the temperature was starting drastically to drop, and we all emerged from the dining tent, we were dumbfounded by a view of the two glaciers turned a glowing, irridescent blue by the rising moon, which hung over the shoulder of one of the ice-giants. The next day was the most challenging, having some of the toughest ascents (and therefore, in some ways, the most enjoyable). There is something to fighting oneself all the way up the long switchbacks and straight climbs of a mountainside that gives its own reward regardless of whether any spectacular view is achieved at the end of it. Luckily enough, this particular fight also bestowed its visual benedictions--we passed through two small and really enchanting little meadow-valleys, run through with streams, and eventually arrived at the knees of Salcantay: one of the two giants that looked down on our campsite of the previous night.

At times, at least for me, it seems we arrive at something we expect to be powerfully beautiful or moving, without the feelings or responses we expected to have. I think this can be scary, or at least bothersome. We're like: this is the flipping Grand Canyon, aren't I supposed to feel some unimaginable sensation right now? It seems the best thing is to enjoy the thing as you can and rest assured that you will probably have some really profound experience of beauty in the near future--like maybe when you are walking down a dull street not looking for it at all. At least this seems to happen to me. Salcantay and the mountains were amazing though. I can't say that I often felt majestically connected to the divine presence, but I was still pretty blown away--for instance--by how the glacier overwhelmed my field of vision. You could just sit there admiring a whole view, and then turn your head 30 degrees and have another whole powerful vista. Looking back at the pictures now I a even more amazed. It was also pretty neat to see some snow capped peaks with clouds drifting across them further down our path.

So as I said, the trek was pretty great. I also remember a really beautiful spot where two rivers made a noisy collision and ran together as one larger flow. It was nice just to marvel at the force and shape of so much water shoved together over lumbering rocks in some spots. We also we able to see some very pretty waterfalls--often falling right next to the trail. One day, in fact, our descent from a ridge kept offering glimpses of this beautiful waterfall, till the path wound down right past it and I was able to take off my shirt and be one with the water for a few minutes. That same day we later hiked into Aguas Calientes along a set of railroad tracks, singing in Spanish and English and forcing ourselves through the last hours of a very long day.

Just to tie things up now. After four days of hiking we had arrived in Aguas Calientes, the tourist depot at the base of Machu Picchu. In conjunction, I believe, with my decision to stay out till 2am dancing and imbibing one night and waking up at 5am the next day for an 8+ hr. hike (which apparently didn't phase my Chilean buddies, who were among the first up Machu Picchu a day later and in great spirits), in conjunction with that example of rather poor judgment, the old body got rather sick and feverish the night before going up to the Inca ruins. I was more than thankful to purge myself before the porcelin goddess at about 2am, and get another 2 hours of marvelous sleep before pulling out the flashlight and heading up the ancient steps at 4:30 in the morning. Suffice it to say that 2 hours climbing 700 yr. old steps at a serious incline didn't do a lot for my recovery: I spent my first two hours on Machu Picchu camped out half-asleep on one of the terraces that the Incans used, eons ago, for farming...willing myself not to feel like absolute crap. I did have one of the best views of the ruined city though. After waking myself up, snapping some photos, and having a soda with a friend from the trek, I decided I wasn't quite up to going back inside for the guided tour, or even just to walk around. Even if I hadn't had quite the experience I had hoped for in Machu Picchu, I had at least been able to move my body into the ruins, carry it up some stairs, force myself to have a good look, and gladly fork over $7 to take the bus back down to the bottom.

So the rest is pretty much uneventful. Well, at least relatively speaking. I was able to have a really beautiful last day in Cuzco. I got back Thursday night (the trek included a train and bus back down), had 8 hours of sleep, and woke up 300% better. Friday was super chill as I was able to snap some photos, visit a couple of really pretty museums and re-visit the enchanting sections of the city before catching my 8:30pm bus back towards home. The journey back to Taltal was the direct of opposite of the previous adventure. All tickets pre-purchased, no delays, no missed buses or surprise hostel stays, and I arrived safe and sound Sunday about noon with a full 1 and 1/2 days to recover before classes started again on Tuesday.

That was all ages ago by now. We've been back in class for a full three weeks since then. I still love the teaching and am beginning to really love my kids--looking at ways to make the little time that I have with thems more effective, linguistically and as a mentor.

This past week we hunkered down for some serious English debate training as next week begins our regional competition. The kids from Liceo Juan Cortes surprised themselves last year by coming in third place in the region, so we have quite a legacy to live up to and not as much time to prepare. Meanwhile Alfredo is here telling the kids that third was nice, but we want Gold this year. Interestingly enough, I was informed early in the week that we would have debate practice all afternoon, every afternoon this past week. Which is to say, in my school they don't think twice about kids missing a whole week of afternoon classes to focus on one particular extra-curricular. Things just run differently down here. It was really good for the team though, as there was (and is) plenty of preparation to do. So maybe the next blog will cover our English debate exploits, which will include at least two trips to the regional capital (usually quite an enjoyable trip for me) and surely many more mini-adventures. By the way--the regional debates: they take place on two consecutive Tuesdays, meaning another 3 out of 5 days missed two weeks in a row starting Monday. Gosh, they do things differently down here.

Well, until I write again, I wish all the best to all you guys.

Peace,
Billy

P.s. Still no pictures!! What's your problem Phillips?? Okay, so pictures are such a pain for me. I am going to try to make the next entry just a bunch of photos with captions dealing with the Pub opening, the Vacation, and some other adventures. For those who have asked, sorry it takes me so long to get these things up. Much love, Billy

P.p.s. A little section I cut out that I include here for those who still actually care:
....So, when I arrived in Arica (at the beginning of my trip), I was eventually met by my fellow teacher, whom everyone back in Taltal calls Cipe. Cipe, I learned, is actually his last name, which it was no use calling him since I would be spending the next 18 hours with a whole house full of Cipe's (they too, are Catholic, and believers in the wonders of procreation). In fact, more than one of his brother's is named Sergio, so sometimes first names weren't safe either. Luckily he is the only Ivan....

¡A Bordo!....(almost)

So today saw me back in the classroom after a two-week absence spent navigating my way through the Peruvian mountains and the equally challenging system of buses, terminals and transportation in general in Perú and Chile respectively. My first night of vacation was unexpectedly spent in a hostel in the city of Antofagasta becuase I had failed to purchase my bus ticket from Antofa. to Arica ahead of time, thus forcing me to wait 24 hours in a city only 4 hours from where I live.

In order to aviod chronological dimentia, lets begin at the beginning though. Some blessed day in the second week of July brought the news that the mayor of Taltal was requesting the presence of the students and teachers in a parade on July 12th to celebrate the town's anniversary. This was welcome news, not only because I figured it would be pretty neat to participate in the desfila, but also becuase it meant the mayor was obligated to tack on an extra day to the two-week-long Winter Vacations which would commence immediately after our marching duties were complete.
Score.

Thus I would be free to roam about the continent from the 14th till the 28th of July, giving a little more breathing room to my travel plans, and my pilgrimage to the famed Inca ruins at Machu Picchu. As it turned out, I needed all the breathing room I could get, but more of that later. In order to get to missed itineraries, border delays and floral pattern buses, I first have to tell you about the pub.

You see, Alfredo--my co-teacher in the Ingles Abre Puertas program, and also my host-uncle-brother--seems to be a bit of a dreamer. For a long time now it seems that he has been nurturing one dream or another involving building a quaint beautiful little hotel, restaurant, snack-shop, what have you, in a quaint enchanting location somewhere in Taltal. One such dream took root on La Puntilla, a little point that forms one arm of the Bay of Taltal (once a major trading port in the saltpeter era). It included lodging, food services, and even some sort of building stationed on a rock about 50 yards off the point. Suffice it to say that the Puntilla dream never materialized; however, the same weekend we began our vacation, another vision--that of opening up a pub on the back of the house--did become reality. El Rincón de Corwatt (Corwatt's Corner) has now taken its place as arguably the most happenin' bar in Taltal. And no, that's not because it is the only bar in Taltal (there are actually 3 or 4 others). What makes this place so great--other than the fact that it is located on the back of my house--is that, number one, it has an amazing view of the ocean. Two of the four walls consist largely of window glass and open directly out onto the ocean, a little beach, and--if you are there at the right time--one of the best sunset views Taltal has to offer.

Alfredo's grandfather, Alfredo Cordero Watters, owned the main ship trade and customs-house back in Taltal's heyday. The restobar, as they call it (they open each day as a restaurant for Almuerzo--a heavy lunch, and the main daily meal for most hispanics--and every evening but Sunday as a bar), is fittingly centered around said grandfather and the shipping trade. Trimmed out and panelled in beautiful woodwork, the bar is super-enchanting with everything from a giant model sailboat, a large portrait of Corwatt, a topless mermaid and a bar shaped like a boat (complete with a mast which supports a cross-beam/glass rack).

All that was lacking on the Thursday afternoon before we opened was tunes and customers. The former was installed at the last minute, and the latter showed up later that night for the inaugaración. Having had previous table-waiting experience, I was enlisted as one of the garsons, and even got a sweet apron out of the deal. The first night was, of course, pretty chaotic. I may have written here somewhere about the non-linear thinking of most Chileans (and probably South Americans in general). At any rate, at least in my family, things are not generally planned out in a hyper-organized and regulated way. Life is sort of encountered, and then responses are made to fit the situation. For instance, no one really thought of the fact that a restobar would need a storage room until about three days before the place opened. Thus, three days before opening, the carpenters were levelling ground and pouring a slab for the bodega that would house all our back-inventory and also serve as a prep-room.

In keeping with such non-stratified thinking, a nice little snack menu and list of drinks/cocktails had been printed up and laminated for the bar, regardless of the fact that no one had bothered to list, quantify and purchase all the requisite materials to prepare said food and beverages. Luckily for everyone, one of Alfredo's favorite sayings is: don't worry. Some of the guests were a little worried because there wasn't anything to eat except peanuts and potato chips, I was a little worried because I had to tell a lady that we couldn't make either of the 3 drinks she asked for, but Alfredo, and most of the family/management weren't really that worried. And with good reason apparently. That whole weekend, from Thursday night through Saturday night, the place was pretty slammed from 10pm till 4am. Oh, that reminds me. You know how in the States last call is about 2:00 - 2:30am, and 3 o'clock is a respectably late night? Not so in Chile. Like in Spain, normal kids don't even get together to hang out until 11 or 12 at night, and a 5 or 6am return is looked on as normal. One night we closed at 5am.

Suffice it to say I had a fairly busy weekend before heading North for my Peruvian pilgrimage. In the midst of all this, I got to march with my kids in the town anniversary parade on Saturday, which was highly gratifying. Sunday I spent sleeping, catching mass, and stuffing my things into a bag before catching about 2 hours of sleep previous to my 3:30am bus departure the next day. I am afraid this entry has run a bit long, so I'll insert a pause now, and if you feel like reading on about travel adventures, feel free to read the next installment.

Peace,
Billy

P.s. I'll put some accompanying pics. in this post when I can
P.p.s. Details about the trip itself to follow in a couple of days

To the Desert!

In order to address certain conerns that have been voiced, I have not recently been kidnapped (though it IS a joke among the gringos here in Taltal that we have often been secuestrado, that is cajoled, convinced or carried off in various ways to attend events with our host families). In the sense of guerrilleras with M-16s and scraggly beards though, there has been no such activity. There has been a lot of activity in general though, so Í'll do what I can to fill you in on a little of life in the past weeks here in Chile.

Its so strange to say "past weeks." Wierd to think that I have been in Chile for over a month. Thankfully, I spent the last of those weeks actually doing something productive. But more about that later. First you need to know where exactly I have been while I have been doing nothing and how it is I got there, why it was I was idle, and what I did with the downtime.

The last entry here left Max and I getting back the hostel in Santiago just in time to hustle our stuff out of the storage room and onto the bus heading to Antofagasta, the capital city of Region II. In Chile, rather than states they have these regions (13 in all) which people usually refer to by their numbers. Roughly, the numbers start with Region I in the North, through XII in the far South, with the Region Metropolitania--the capital Santiago, near the middle of the country--thrown in numberless for good measure. As far as I gather, Santiago was designated as its own region about the same time as they decided to officially switch from numbers to names like, "Los Lagos" (The Lakes), "La Region Atacama" (named for the desert), and our own Region II: Antofagasta (named for the aforementioned principal city). And it was with good reason that they gave the capital its own regional status. Something like 6 of the 12 million people in the country live there. Like I said, in spite of the less formulaesque names, people still widely use the numbers to refer to regions, even the high school kid who took us on a hike today up the cerros (hills) that surround our town.

Orientation in Antofagasta with the other 16 volunteers stationed
in my region, and our director Carla Fuentes (2nd from left).

As you can guess, being in Region II puts us pretty far North. That meant a 20 hour bus ride from Santiago to Antofagasta. 20 hours on a bus in South America probably does not sound like anything anyone would want to do, but the bus situation is actually really nice in Chile. They use the buses much more than in the States, so maybe because of this, and because Chile is one of the most economically/politically developed countries in S.A., the bus system is pretty advanced. For our marathon drive, we took a "salon-cama" bus complete with almost-full-tilting seats, footboards, headphone jacks to get audio for the movies they played, 3 "snacks" and 1 "meal," and a ticker that buzzed whenever the driver exceeded the 100km/hr (60mph) speed limit set, I think, by the bus company.


Thus riding in style, I plugged my phones in and spent the majority of the waking part of the trip watching movies--a pleasure I rarely get to indulge in. Apparently I missed some nice scenery, but most of the time all I saw out my window was dusty brown flatness punctuated by dusty brown hilliness. I kept wondering why anyone would want to live near this sort of life-sapping landscape. The main answer is minerals. Apparently when the Incas were dominating the continent they decided there wasn't really any reason to come past what is now the Northern border of Chile. By the early 1900's however, when man had discovered heavy machinery and saltpeter, Northern Chile became a hot commodity. Beneath all that dead looking dirt and rock, you see, there were all kinds of minables waiting to be tapped and shipped over to England and Germany for lush profits. This is actually the source of a lot of the stories associated with the pub that is opening on the back end of my house...But the pub and stories will have to wait because we still haven't even gotten to Antofagasta!

What I saw outside my bus window

When we did start the approach, I figured that maybe--since at 250,000 people Antofagasta is the biggest city in the region--the blankness would be broken up by well-cultivated, enchanting civilization. I thought about my visit to Spain, where it seems like most cities employ half their labor force in sweeping and washing the streets and sidewalks; where 30 minutes after the raucous gay-day parade that passed through Madrid, the little Street Zambonis were busily brushing and scrubbing all traces of human activity from the pavement. So Antofagasta will be really nice, right? Not quite. Everyone seems to agree (even the natives) that Antofagasta is pretty fea (ugly). It seems like the dust of the desert blows right up to the ocean, giving the city a dulling tint no one bothers to wipe away.

The ocean helps a little

The lack of scenic satisfaction didn't stop a few of us from taking a jog along the coast, or all of us from enjoying the regional orientation with Carla Fuentes--our regional coordinator. And I have to confess that it was pretty awesome to go up to my 5th story hostel room with a bottle of beer (Cristal--the Budwieser of Chile) and spend my evening relaxing on the top bunk, tooling around on my buddy's computer, with the sound of the waves playing right outside my balcony.

View from the hostel: so not everything in Anto. is ugly

The next afternoon we boarded the 4 hour bus for Taltal, where we arrived at about 8pm. I have to confess that my first impression, and the one that stuck with me for quite some time, was quite similar to my first impression of Antofagasta. I remember a Sunday about a week later playing "baby futbol" (roughly equivalent to smallbox) with some kids and looking around at the same blank pale brown and thinking, "Man, this landscape cannot be good for personal interior development."


Back in the bus though, something was happening (qeue corny dramatic music). I don't think I had felt seriously nervous about anything to do with my trip until we pulled into the station that evening and I had gathered my stuff and was moving to the exit. We could see that some of the people there were waiting for us, and this sensation that had been coming on me gradually, got really strong "You will be spending the next six months of your life with one of these families. Are you going to get along with these people? Will they like you? Oh man. This feels a lot like jumping into a cold mountain river or giving blood. Stand up straight. Good first impression. Oh man. Go!"

The First Days

So. Here I am back in Taltal looking out at a wide expanse of liesure time made available by a nationwide strike of Chilean teachers...which means I´ve got some time to finally write a little about all that has been going on up till this point.

The Great Chilean Enterprise began about two and a half weeks ago with the arrival in Santiago of myself and a little less than 40 other volunteers for the Chile Ingles Abre Puertas (English Opens Doors) program. My own arrival was pretty spectacular. We had gotten an e-mail a few days before departure telling us there would be some filming of the arrival and that a few of the volunteers (not me) would be interviewed. When I came through the airport though, I was a little surprised to see a press of reporters and film crews all really excited at the opening of the sliding doors. Jessica Holt--one of the organizers--flagged me down and explained that I happened to come through right before Selección 23--the Chilean national under-23 soccer team--who had just returned from winning some sort of cup in France or some like business. So we fought the news crowd to the curb with a single, short Ministry of Education camera man manuevering around us the whole time with his single camera.

Thus the Enterprise begun. It continued from Saturday the 31st, the day myself and about half the others got in, until the following Friday, when we celebrated the end of orientation with the Chilean equivalent of a barbeque called an Asado. But I´m skipping over too much!! The week was pretty great. The weather for most of the time was pretty miserable, but that only led to us all becoming closer faster. It was pretty amazing actually, the way all 40 of us formed friendships so quickly. The only thing I have experienced to compare it to is 4 days of orientation when I went to Ave Maria about 5 years ago...Only this time we had the added help of really, really inexpensive alcohol to help the friendship vibes flow.

There was one night when a handful of us discovered a botelleria ("-eria" at the end of anything, by the way, is the Spanish equivalent of "place where whatever came before ´eria´ is sold: thus "tortilleria," where they sell tortillas; "relojeria" where they sell relojes, or watches; and of course, you get your "bottles" at the botelleria) so we discovered this botelleria and everyone bought their own bottle of wine for 1,500-3,000 chilean pesos ($3-$6) and brought it back to the hostel to drink.

I don´t think I´ve laughed that hard, or that much since the first time I saw the Red Green Show. It was pretty excellent. In fact, it was so excellent that the kid running the front desk had to tell us to be quiet 3 times, and eventually had to kick us out to the patio in the back. I´m glad he did though, because that´s where I discovered that one of my roommates--whom I had pegged as a UGA party-hardy frat type--was actually a seriously well-read philosophy major who has also read all stuff on the literature side that I should have read by now as a supposed lit. nerd.

And the roommates were half the fun. Nick, Andrew, Jeremy, Mike and I. It felt like my dorm at Ave again. Some nights I would wake them up shouting in a dream and we would all fall out laughing in our beds once they realized there wasn´t a fire, and I realized I hadn´t been involved in a plane crash (contrary to my dream); another night we all 5 broke out in uncontrollable laughter. In trying to remember what the giggling was all about, the best we can come up with is that at some point we were talking about girls, and at some point I referred to the cute Spanish teacher as "neat."

We did a lot more than just laugh and drink wine, though (we also drank a lot of beer). No seriously, the orientation classes themselves--while sometimes laced with laughter--also provided some great preparation for what we would be encountering as volunteer English teachers working alongside full-time Chilean English teachers. We got great teaching and classroom management strategies--elements which I especially appreciated since I have yet to set foot in a classroom on the other side of the desk. And, as much of a mistake as it was to put the Spanish classes at the very end of the very very long days of orientation, I also felt like these prepared me to jump into the world of Chilean spanish, which differs in certain distinct ways from the standard academic/Spanish Spanish, and the Mexican Spanish I am more accustomed to.

To give you a taste, here are a few "Chilenismos" that we found entertaining...I might put a special column up for humorous Chilean phrases later:

~"cumpleaños de mono" = monkey´s birthday = a big mess, debacle

~"están cayendo patos asados" = roast ducks are falling from the sky = it´s really flippin´hot outside

~"bruja" = witch = wife

~"nada más" = nothing more = say this at the end of just about any sentence if you want to sound Chilean

And many more I can´t remember right now.

So orientation was phenomenal. It was fun. It was hard. It was helpful. And I made some really great friends (whom you can see in the pics. in the earlier post). And it ended with a race to the Cerro San Crístobal on the last day as Liz, Max, Brian and I made a valiant and successful dash for the subway station, through the streets of downtown Santiago, and into the "Fernicular" (a kind of hill-climbing cable car) to see the city from its highest point--this scraggly green hump jutting out of the smog , steel and stone of Santiago. We were dashing because Max and I had only about and hour and a half round trip time to get up the hill, sacar some fotos and zip back in time to catch our bus to Antofagasta along with the other 15 folks who were being shipped to our region. So we got to the top with time to be throughly amazed and resolve to come back and spend more time at the end of the program, before Max and I had to jump back in the cable car and head down, parting oh-so-sadly from Liz and Brian, who were to take the Gondola down the other side of the hill.

Yes. They have Gondola´s to take you down the hills in Chile. My other buddy Mike said he had so much fun taking the Gondola that he did it three times. Ask me some time to tell you other funny stories about Mike--they also involve spontaneous bouts of uncontrolled laughter...and completos. I will explain completos later, but suffice it to say that they are Chilean, they are food, and they are amazing.

Well, Max and I made it back in time--we even had a few minutes for him to buy some lapis lazuli jewelry from a street market for his host mother and sisters. And then? And then Billy decided he had to get off the computer because he had been there so long and his host cousin is politely not saying anything--though he suspects she really wants to be on the Internet.

But there you have a seemingly-long-winded, but actually terribly insufficient account of Billy´s first week in Chile. The next installment should detail our departure for our region, arrival in Taltal, teacher strikes, pisco, laughing schoolgirls and much much more. In the meantime, I send my love and hope all who read this are well. Hit me with an e-mail if you want to catch up personally (though I´m not promising super-rapid correspondance!)

Peace!

~Billy

Taltal: First Glimpses of My New Home

Photobucket Album

Welcome

Greetings! So here I am. A blog, finally. Plenty to say, but nothing written yet.

Don´t worry though I will (should) have plenty of interesting and terribly profound things to say real soon...

The plan is to keep a somewhat running record of my adventures here for the present so folks who, for whatever reason, are interested can follow along.

We´ll see how it works out. For now I just want to say welcome to you all, and wish you all ¡buen día!

Peace,
Billy