Week 3

 During orientation, one of our academic directors gave a lecture on culture shock. She told us to expect week 3 to be rough, as the honeymoon phase of study abroad wears off. Last week, it finally came, marked by rampant sickness among the American students. While, so far, I've thankfully been healthy, there have recently been a lot of ups and downs.

My whole life I've been taught to value my individuality and that blending in is an unworthy pursuit (mostly just because it's not as much fun). Now, though, fitting in is a luxury I would appreciate. My blonde hair is a dead giveaway that I'm a gringa and men on the street aren't shy about mentioning it. One of the guys on the program put it well when he said that white women get more attention than white men: both positive and negative.

Additionally, every time I speak Spanish, I practice vulnerability. I silently ask everyone I encounter to please meet me where I'm at for the duration of our conversation. To be honest, vulnerability has never exactly been one of my strong suits. Then again, I don't exactly know anyone who would list it among their skills on a resume.

In the midst of all this, this past week I've been to:
1. a huge supermarket to buy peanut butter (Chileans do not understand why we're so into it)
2. a Mexican restaurant that was a tourist trap
3. the botanical gardens
4. the Pacific Ocean in a kayak
5. an antique fair where my Chilean grandparents happen to work

Not bad for week 3.

Being Lost

Obligatory "I'm in the most beautiful place" photo

I have no idea what's going on, pretty much ever. It's simultaneously depressing and hilarious. Yesterday, I got lost on my way to my first class at a university I'd never stepped foot on. It was a seminar on economic models in Chile. The only thing worse than an economics lecture is an economics lecture in Spanish. I was lost on a number of levels.

The funniest part of this experience is that it doesn't really stand out. I'm constantly confused and on the outside, of everything: conversations, jokes. In Spanish, I take everything way too literally and can't interpret humor. It's a little tiring. Characteristically, I usually decide to laugh anyway.

a working form of transportation

Occasionally, I let my status as an outsider get to me, but for the most part, it's kind of okay. I'm constantly overwhelmed with more information to all my senses than I can possibly interpret. When you realize that you can't understand much, you focus on what you can interpret: sounds of stray dogs, soreness all over after playing in a soccer game, the taste of Chilean drinks, and new friends who won't let that creep you met at a bar walk you home.

My father tells me that being constantly overwhelmed is normal and that the crazy thing was that I ever thought I understood what was going on in the world at all. He says if I'm lucky I'll remember how little I know when I return to the States. Last semester, I spent a lot of time thinking about how we draw upon theory to act, how knowing what we know impacts how we move through the world. This semester, I'm contemplating how to act wisely in the face of everything I don't know

I am also appreciating the beauty of everything I don't understand along the way. This city makes it all too easy. I have already visited Pablo Neruda's house in Valparaiso (I can actually see it from the street outside my house). I've also seen incredible views that make walking up all the hills more than worth it. Valparaiso is also the home of some absurdly skilled street art. My Spanish teacher knows all the most famous street artists in the city and would much rather talk about that than verb tenses (hallelujah). Who saw that one coming? Then again, when do I ever? That seems to be a large part of the fun.

Orientation and my Homestay Family

During our 5 day orientation, my group of 21 stayed together in a hotel. I think it's safe to say that we're a fun group with diverse personalities and interests from all over the country. It's nice to know that we're in this together. We were privileged to get perhaps the funniest sex talk that ever happened from a local doctor. We spent a large part of the week on the beach and at bars. By the weekend, we were sleep-deprived, sunburned, a little hungover, and hopefully STD-free. On Saturday, we moved in with our host families.

For some reason, I thought my Chilean family would be more conventional than my North American family. In the last couple days, I have thrown that notion entirely out of the window. My host family consists of a couple named Mabel and Emilio who own a bar named the Rincon Bolivariano (after Simón Bolívar, of course). They want me to come eat lunch there every day during the week while they're working. I literally could not make this up if I tried. Their house is absolutely gorgeous and is complete with a framed Che Guevara poster, a piano that is purely decorative, and perhaps the most interesting bookshelf I have ever seen.

They also have a dog named Cerati who tried to eat my bra right after I washed it and went to go hang it up to dry. I'm going to assume it was a welcoming gesture and he hasn't decided that he hates me already.

 At this point, the only thing I can say with certainty is that I have no idea what comes next. Your guess is as good as mine.

Miners

I'm a terrible person for thinking this is funny, but I came across this knitted tapestry in a museum and couldn't help myself. Santiago has some of the best museums in South America and this week, I went to as many as possible.

On Tuesday, I officially start my semester in Valparaiso! I'm pretty excited to finally start classes. Through the School for International Training Program, I'll get to do awesome things such as a short homestay with an indigenous family and a month long research project. My 3 short weeks here definitely didn't do Santiago justice, but it'll have to do, for now. I can always come back!

God is Bigger than Your Problem

La Chascona

After being in Chile for about two weeks, I can definitively say that my Spanish is predictably pathetic. I understand enough to get by but it is not easy. I'm spending the first few weeks of my time here taking language classes in Santiago before I head off to Valparaiso for my semester.

Yesterday, I volunteered at an animal shelter, playing with and feeding rescued dogs that are up for adoption. When I told a friendly teenager and fellow volunteer that I was American, she immediately switched into English and started telling me all about how she moved from Florida when she was 10 and has lived in Santiago for 6 years and it definitely gets easier, so don't worry. I didn't have the heart to tell her that I should be practicing Spanish as she prattled on.

La Chascona

About a week ago, I saw a bumper sticker that said "God is Bigger than Your Problem." It sounds a little better in Spanish, but you get the idea. I'm trying to keep things in perspective and know that even if I have no idea what's going on half the time, that's kind of okay. In fact, confusion and disorientation is part of the objective. If you're uncomfortable, you're doing it right.

Without a doubt, I'm also having fun. I'm super enjoying the summer weather, cultural tourism, incredibly cheap fruit (avocados are everywhere here) and the opportunity to not take my life so seriously.

I also visited Pablo Neruda's Santiago house, La Chascona. The photos I took don't do the place justice, but it was pretty magical. He has three houses, scattered throughout Central Chile. My goal is to see them all. And then perhaps to learn something about Chile's culture, history, social problems, etc. But, for now, I'm taking things one day at a time.

Here Goes Nothing

It's 2 AM and I've been packing for hours, trying to get it 100% right. Sometimes, I think perfectionism is a disease I used to have and I am far too evolved to be so afflicted at the ripe old age of 21. Low and behold, being a recovering perfectionist is something like being a recovering alcoholic: denying your condition doesn't help matters.

It's like I think that if I pack exactly right, then everything else about my semester abroad will go according to plan. Do I really believe that? No. But on some level? Yeah, sort of. Part of me actually suspects that if I read enough internet articles on how to pack a suitcase, I'll be better prepared for what lies ahead.

Confession: I'm not at all prepared for what lies ahead. I'm spending a semester abroad in Chile and honestly, I'm kind of winging it. I haven't taken a Spanish class in about a year and a half. I really have no reason to believe this is a good idea. Except a hunch. And very supportive family and friends.


Ready or not, I'm leaving Monday. So here goes nothing.