How deep?

So today was both intimidating and totally frustrating, with a few moments of awesomeness. This post will be short, but as an update on what I'm up to, I am currently reading the history of Chile from 1540-1880 in Spanish... I recognize some of the words... 

Anyway, I was put in the track 1 Spanish but am currently enrolled in History of Chile which isn't allowed due to the difficult of the language in this class, so I was bumped up a level in my language courses. They didn't just say "yea it's ok" though, I had to do an entrance exam when I first got here and luckily I did well enough to confirm that I could take track 2. So now I'm in intermediate Spanish, I'm going to actually get credit for the photography class as well as for this Hx of Chile course. Now all I have to do is not fail.

For some reason if I read this text slowly, it totally confuses the crap out of me and I understand very little. But when I skim it, or just read more quickly, pictures seem to create themselves in my mind and I get a basic idea of what they're talking about. I hope that's enough.

Peace.

Feliz Cumplianos Usted!

Today was the 91st birthday of my host Grandma, the entire family got together for a big lunch-into-dinner at a local resort. The grounds there had multiple soccer fields and plenty of tennis courts as well; the pool was closed for the 'winter' despite it being nearly 70 degrees today (well I guess that's too cold for swimming but it's certainly not winter).

The day started off early with preparations at home, my host family didn't know then that I have a lot of kitchen experience from back in the states so they assumed my requests to help were merely politeness. Later on in the day that changed though and they were glad for the help. I don't know if this is how all families work but in mine we usually spend the day cooking and preparing for a family reunion and then pull everything together already completed at the party. It was fairly different here: The clams, muscles and other shellfish (super cheap here, by the way) were all cleaned in advanced and the ingredients collected but all of the cooking was done at the venue.

Starting with the onions and continuing to other vegetables, meats and the salad everything was prepared at the resort. I spend most of the early afternoon cutting onions and steak with my pocket knife because it was the only free knife available. I then lent it out to cut through chicken legs because it was also the only one with an adequately bad-ass serrated edge. Everything was then thrown into giant pots that were similar to woks but much shallower and wider, then it was all simmered until perfect. Es no mas complicado.

The ingredients (in no particular order) as I remember them:

Lots of muscles, lots of clams, lots of pork, lots of chicken, lots of steak, lots of onions, lots of vegetable oil, lots of wine.

Delicious.

People brought drinks and ingredients for the salad (which was a simple iceberg and avocado mixture with a white wine dressing). Drinks were Chilano wine, Pisco sour (Pisco - similar to a rum or brandy - egg white and lime, totally delicious), Heineken, some other traditional Chilano drink (a sweet wine blended with one egg and a little sugar, super strange tasting but not bad) and soda. I don't think that the Chilean people know what water is.

Drinking started around 1215 and its strange how alcohol is simply a part of life here. It wasn't an opportunity to binge or get drunk (though a few people were noticeably giddy) but it's a custom that's just normal. "Estas aqui? Tomas una cerveza!"  I like that people felt no pressure here to drink or not to drink, it was really just chill and social, totally enjoyable. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy partying and and socializing like we do in the states, it's just that there was something I cant quite put my finger on that was different here, and I liked it as well.

Son mis padres Latinas. This is Maria Elena and Carlos, they have been wonderful in making me feel at home. All throughout the party they were introducing me as "mis hijo gringo" and I am proud to be that. Gringo is often used as an insult but in the context of a family it's totally affectionate. The family is so willing to work with me through language, especially the ones who understand some English or are closer to my age. All the children of my host parents go way out of their way to make me feel like a part of the family.

I'm finding that through my extroversion and everyone's interest in helping there are so many similarities in myself/American (US) culture and Chilean culture. Well maybe culture isn't the word - though differences aren't that huge aside from the language - but I've already been invited skiing, skateboarding, paintballing, cooking, tennising, golfing, plenty of activities. I've even found a CrossFit gym in Santiago (a passion of mine, check out www.crossfit.com)!

I'm just amazed by the cool stuff that is here and being offered to me.

Ok, I think that's it for me tonight. I'm gonna take off, catch up on what Lyra is doing in her Golden Compass alternate universe and then go to sleep. Oh, a word of advice: if a bus driver is talking too fast for you to understand, it is best not to assume he's trying to make conversation; just get off and talk to someone else instead of riding to the end of the route and having to wait at the station for a returning bus. Also don't assume that he's telling you the days he drives in order to give a full tour of Santiago during his shift... I'm not sure he wasn't inviting a tour, but its not like I would have understood him anyway... I just wanted to go to the mall.

His name was Juan, by the way.

Chao!

Una noche dificil

Ok, I'm going to try to make this quick:

It is now 5 am, and I just got home. I don't want any of you to assume that i'm wasted and only got back because of all the mad partying I've done, quite on the contrary...

The group I went out with was fun, we split into smaller groups and went to a few bars to get a feel for the different types of Chilean night lives that exist... then at the last one (around 1245) some people skipped or didn't pay in whole on the tab. Now, I don't know why I'm the one to do these sorts of things, but I was stuck trying to gather the rest of the money. In the end myself and Zac ended up paying twice our bill in order to cover the charge and tip. I left the place upset...

So the remaining group was trying to figure out how to get home and I was done dealing with them so I decided to go pick up the 401 bus that will run all the way to my place. I left the group and the rest of my night began:

Circa 1 am: I was standing at the bus stop thinking that it was the right place. I listened as best I could to the conversations around me.

Circa 145 am: I'm informed by a well meaning fellow-bus-stopper that I'm on the wrong side of the street and in fact I have to walk a block north and cross to pick my bus up. I run to the stop and make it just as my bus is leaving.

Circa 215 am: I meet a Chilean dude who worked in California for a number of years and spoke excellent Engligh. We hit it off and talked for probably 45 minutes to an hour before deciding to walk toward his place while I try to pick my bus up at another stop as the night schedule is on a as-they-come basis; we talk about how Chile has progressed in the world picture.

Circa 320 am: I finally part ways with the guy and hop the 401 at a later bus stop. After a few minutes I approach the driver saying "perdon, una pregunta. mi espanol is no bueno pero donde esta apoquindo? tomas moro con apoquindo?" I was looking for the intersection of my streets. He said "derecho" meaning straight ahead. 

Ok, this is where I sum up, I got off the bus at the supposed end of the line knowing not the least about where I was, I walk for 15 minutes to a gas station and get general directions w/o understanding the specifics. I end up walking for another 45 minutes or so in a t-shirt (I gave my sweatshirt to a woefully under dressed USAC compadre earlier in the night) in 60 degree weather until I find myself at another gas station. Again I get general directions and walk one way until I find myself practically tripping over a supermarket I recognize. From that point on I back tracked until I reached home 10 minutes later.

Its been a difficult night. I hope my host family doesn't wake me up early.

Es una dia completa

Wow, today was for waking up at 630 in the morning and getting ready for my first tour of the city. I went via bus and metro with Carlos (my host father's son-in-law) the whole way to meet up with the USAC group. It looks like the commute to the Andres Belo campus is about 45 minutes of pickpocket-full buses and stations. They keep warning us about the dangers of pickpockets but I think the best method for safety is simply common sense... speaking of which I should probably put a strap on my camera...

We had a tour of the school, the campus is right in the downtown area and is surrounded by shops and restaurants. There are only about 12 buildings in the university but they seem to be providing for themselves well. We were the most conspicuous group I can imagine while walking through there: a bunch of gringos talking in English and looking all impressed by everything seems to be an invitation for staring to the locals. Cat-calling seems to be a popular thing for guys to do to girls here and I'm not sure that I impressed any of the USAC kids when I joined in but I did make some of them laugh, so it's not all lost. I was going more for the I-appreciate-your-culture thing than look-I'm-a-gringo-who-can-yell, but the feeling was right. The blonds in our group get especial attention too, they get yelled at, whistled at and cheered everywhere they go.

I had my first flirted-with experience today: after the campus tour everyone branched off to go get some food and a few of us went to a local bar to see what the students do during the day. We sat in a group of about six in this crowded, smoke filled, room. Right next to our table and in front of me a large group of girls were sat with a huge amount of beer. They lit up their cigarettes and chattered on like a bunch of magpies. There was one girl, though, who I caught looking at me though she'd always glance away quickly. I looked over, out of ego-driven interest, to see if she was still looking and while I glanced she decided to look without trepidation. I was so shocked that she'd stare directly at me that I forgot to look away for a good three or four seconds. Anyway our group gets up to leave and as I stand I look at her, smile, and say "Chao" then turn to exit, only to turn the wrong way and get blocked into a corner in front of this now-silent group of girls. I laughingly turn back, retrace my steps and head for the door when I hear her say "bye!" Looking back at her I said "bye" back to be rewarded with an entire table of screaming girls waving their hands in the air. I blushed a violent red and booked it out of there. Sheesh.

Dogs absolutely run this city. They sleep in the middle of the sidewalks, they scrounge around trashes and unwatched bags, they are even seen lying under parked cars just waiting to be run over. There are no pure-bred dogs on the streets, they are all a mottled mix of long and short hair, long and wide snouts and all different colors. None of them are neutered (duh) so they just breed and produce more mutts. I haven't personally seen the procreative process, but I doubt very much that they'd go much out of their way to hide it.

My friend Nicola told me about her first trip to the US, she told me that it took about three months for her to be thinking completely in English (German being her first language) and I don't doubt her in the least. My host family speaks only Spanish with the exception of Carlos - the father - who's English, though good, is broken and slow. Because of this I am constantly trying to speak Spanish to the point that I have to physically stop myself from saying "pero" instead of "but" when I go back to speaking English. I have found that in my thoughts the words I know in Spanish are already replacing the English counterparts such that I am now thinking predominantly in English but I have Spanglish sub-tones. Even writing this blog, when I come across a sentence, word or phrase that I know in Spanish I have to stop my fingers from automatically typing that. Its a fascinating process and I can't wait for it to progress.

I found the other USAC gays, it turns out. Of course the habit is to observe people and connect with them on a person to person basis, trying not to judge based on assumed sexuality, but there are always those that stand out so that their orientation is foremost in their personalities. They say one in every 10, but I've only found two others, a girl and a guy (neither of whose names I can remember). The girl's girlfriend showed up today and I was curious so I went up to talk to them about it. When I said my boyfriend would be visiting as well they both let out a kind of yelp and said "wow! finally we found the fifth!" I guess they were missing just one more to make the gay-to-straight ratio perfect. I'm glad I could contribute to their mathematics.

Tonight I'm going out on the town with the other students here. We're meeting at the Salvador metro station at 10 and going from there. I'm excited to see the night life, but to tell you the truth I don't really like being up and sleeping late, which I imagine is going to happen tonight and tomorrow. I'd rather be chill and hang with people, chat, play music, whatever but the bar scene - especially in a country I mostly don't understand - I can only imagine will be exhausting... and alcohol seldom allows my sleep to be very restful afterward. I can only be smart about it.

Wow, I'm exhausted! It's now exactly 5:55 PM and I've spent the entire day with my host family. Carlos, the head of the house, speaks decent English and I can converse with him in that language if I wanted, but he's very patient with my Spanglish as I struggle to integrate the two languages together. A small man, he probably only stands about 5'5” with white combed-back hair and a full gray mustache. He walks with a limp on his left side and is always willing to help me either to learn about the culture or to stumble through the language. Maria, my host-mother, thought it was funny when I wanted to learn her entire name (which happens to be Maria Elena del Pilar Bueno San Martin de Grahmann). She has been so welcoming and enthusiastic about having me here that I'm very touched. The house is small and, so I'm told, well populated. Maria and Carlos are the main inhabitants, but their daughter (Ana) and her husband (Carlos) have both been living here for the last two years as well.

Today I went with Carlos (Sr.) to pick his grandchildren up at school. Melina is a handsome boy of about 10, he's soft spoken and after a few minutes of hearing me talk to his grandfather was more than willing to slowly speak to me about the two moons that will be visible tonight over the mountain (Mars, it seems, is to be amplified this evening due to an atmospheric thingie and will look like a second moon). I only understood a little of what he said, but Carlos filled in the rest. He's a polite young man, complete with 'mucho gusto's and encouraging looks when I had difficulty expressing myself. The other grandson is Amaro who seems to be constantly clad in a red one piece. Cute kid, he's always singing something but is too young to be interested in what I have to say so I just enjoy watching him be a kid.

****************

I think I'm going to have to start with the Rosetta Stone again while I'm here. I realized today that when it takes three times for me to understand that my host mother wants to do my laundry 3 times a week in small loads, it's time for more practice. Already I'm feeling the strain of being in a foreign country, and I'm sure the frustration will grow as will the fulfillment, but presently I'm totally exhausted from trying to understand Carlos' good English and everyone else's Spanish. It's now 8:30 pm, and as I go to bed the rest of Santiago is just waking up for the night.

Tengo un poco remordimiento

It has happened over and over again for me, such that I'm regretful for my lack of dedication. I'm having a bit of an ego battle with myself right now and I wish I hadn't repeatedly created this dilemma for myself: I haven't been dedicated enough to Spanish to allow for an easy transition into the things I'm interested in.

I was just instructed to drop the Latin American photography class for credit and take it on an invitational basis only. This means that I'll still be in the class but not even on the level of auditing it; I'll merely be there for observation and practice. This is alright in itself as I am looking not only for digital photography instruction but also to practice Spanish (the class is taught entirely in Spanish) but, as has happened to me each and every time I try to progress in Spanish classes, I find myself limited by the lack of work I've applied in the past to this language.

I've taken Spanish classes long enough that I should be conversationally fluent at this point. I haven't, however, dedicated myself to the study enough that my progress has been anything but dismally slow. My issue is with my passion for learning and practicing and mastering this language and the hypocrisy I seem to apply in proving that passion to myself and others.

Without making excuses, I've just slacked off. In every Spanish class I've ever taken. My enthusiasm is curbed now by being in the basic language track in this program - a definite blow to my ego). I am encouragingly told that "by the time you get to next semester, you will be in the advanced class!" but I want the challenge and application of coursework to push me quickly past my current meager grasp of the language.

I have no doubt that I'm going to improve quickly from this point, I only regret that I haven't built the foundation of application to insure fluency as soon as possible.

This work is still going to be very challenging, and in ways I've never experienced before, but I am going to have to become alright with the fact that, yet again, I need to start from the beginning.

Ok, smiles from now on! I'm off to meet my host family!

Last night

...I slept like a rock.

Comfy bed, heavy blankets, open balcony and pure unadulterated exhaustion; everything I need to instantly pass out.

Que lastima!

Ok, first and foremost I have something very important that I need to address here. I've been in Santiago for just under 24 hours now and this is really weighing heavy on me.

I regret to say that I can't tell you whether the toilets here flush in the opposite direction or not. I'm very sorry, here is my explanation:

Firstly, I have only had the privilege to use two toilets thus far in Chile and they were both inconclusive. The first one I used had such a hurricane-force flush that it was impossible to determine a direction at all. After doing all sorts of experiments, including floater divination and even coloring some floss and lowering it slowly into the frothing bowl to determine a current, all I found was the bowl was tumultuous and violent. The second toilet was far less violent and more like the normal household friends we keep so dear in Los Estados Unidos, however the water descending into the bowl wasn't just a freeflow of cleanly fluids; the entire tide was predetermined by angeled jets. I know this because I used one of the smaller students as a sounding board for my splashy theory... I guess he hadn't had that happen to him since high school. Anyway, the jets emit water at an angle that prompts a specific spin of the water in the bowl.

Secondly, even if I hadn't done all these timely and costly experiments, I forgot which direction the water flows in the US. I probably should have checked that out first.

I'm staying tonight in a hotel in one of the nicer neighborhoods of the Santiago suburbs (I'd give you the name but I've forgotten). The houses here all have high iron or wooden fences blocking in small yards and brightly colored houses. All the driveways have slide/swing gates with intercoms and more than on has a vociferous dog letting you now how important he is every time you come close.

I've broken away from the group a couple of times today to do some quiet exploring on my own and in addition to the neighborhood we are currently living in I've discovered a bit about the hotel itself. I've never quite seen anything like it; it is a not-so-small three story place with about 10 rooms on a floor and a couple of short wings. It seems like USAC is the only occupancy right now (which is probably for the best as we're pretty loud). The front drive is guarded by a pleasant guard in a booth who lowers a chain on the approach of cars. A gravel driveway flanked by a massive antique steam locomotive in red and black leads up to the granite ramp and steps to the lobby. The entire place has a theme of antiquity with its dual buggies, ancient harp and various small machines decorating the lobby. The dining room starts next to the sitting area in the front and follows the glass walls back and around a few corners to comfortably seat around 50 people. 

Now, everyone in the USAC program has at this point seen the interior of the hotel, and most have even ventured to the various bars and clubs that are nearby, but I'm fairly certain that few if any have explored with any interest the grounds that surround the hotel; at least I haven't seen any. Walking past a mason re-bricking the walkway I was suddenly aware of the moss-covered path I was on. It twists to and fro through the thick foliage behind the main building, probably a full 5 minute walk from one end to the other. Thick, old, trees line either side and are covered with vines and decorated at their bases with thick rusty chain that leads to a massive anchor. The path takes several routes, one to a large stained glass gazebo, another to a pool; still another leads to a 40 foot barbecue pit and a giant earthen oven. This place is beautiful!

*******************

Ok, it's definitely getting close to my bedtime, but one final thing before I go: I'm having a blast with the challenge of speaking to people around here. My Spanish is just good enough to eventually get my point across but, as someone so accurately put it, it is somewhat like a Helen Keller impersonation with Spanish syllables. I feel lucky that I am outgoing enough to be willing to go make a fool of myself with people who will help me to improve in the end, there are others here who know far more Spanish than I but don't have the loquacity to encourage confidence in their speaking. This place is definitely a challenge, but it's a fun one.

Oh, and I want to hike some of the mountains before I leave... maybe at the top of them the smog won't be so thick...

First thing i see in Chile: A Holiday Inn

Well it's 5 AM and my computer finally decided to cooperate; unfortunately now I'm groggy from sleeping in a space small enough that only a prepubescent would be happy. I had so much to say earlier when my laptop only wanted to lag for a half hour and not actually complete anything, but now that everything is running alright I find that I mostly want to complain about being woken up.

I've found something nice, though, that I hadn't expected on this trip: its only a 9 hour flight! Originally I was under the impression that I'd be in this seat for 15+, but not today! Arriving around 6, I can already see that the flight attendants are rushing to get the final meal out and done with. “Buenos dias... ¿algo mas?” They're in such a rush that the guy who has been working my side of the plane forgot to speak English to me, something he switched into as soon as she looked at me for some reason. I've been trying to talk to the attendants in spanish but find they inevitably see Estadounidensia stamped on my forehead and decide only to partake in English conversation with me.

Right now I'm cruising at 35,000 feet with an airspeed of 525 miles per hour and an external temperature of -56F. The sun hasn't risen, and I'm a little worried that we'll land without me seeing the Andes, but I'll be living in them either way if that's the case.

I just realized that I have no idea where I'm supposed to go once I get off the plane... I sure hope that I can find the group that was meeting around 8 somewhere in the airport by a coffee thing (the specificity with which I'm directing myself leaves something to be desired), or at the very least find a hot spot somewhere so I can get the address of my hotel for the next few days. I hope my guitar is ok, and my extra socks...

My nose is so drippy.... but it always gets that way eventually in planes.... all that dry air.

And with that, farewell.

*********************

Later:

Just got off the plane and a Holiday Inn is promenantly sitting across the street. I have a perverse sense of pleasure in stealing internet in another country. Next step: Meet with the program, then buy a phone. All is well. Peace out

An intro and hello

Well this is it, I'm sitting on the ground in Miami International Airport at the only power outlet that isn't being used by teenagers chatting on AIM and business people charging their cell phones. I've already ran into a fellow study-abroader by the name of Zac (the only other person from UNH on this trip). My butt has fallen asleep and I'm constantly getting stares for my barefeet and the Crocs sitting next to me. I've been loading pictures and videos onto my external hard drive for the last 45 minutes with no sign of slowing and I'm wishing I had somehow packed a Tepur-Pedic mattress to ease my spine. Couldn't find one that fit into my carry-on bag though.

For those of you who don't know, I'm on my way to Chile for a year of Spanish-intensive training. I've gone through the University of Nevada, Reno, in order to find a program that has no prerequisites for study and after many months of waiting and anticipation I'm finally on my way. In Miami it seems like every other person is speaking Spanish and I'm quickly realizing that my grasp of the language is far less then I'd like it to be, in fact it's atrocious... but I'm looking forward to the challenge that is coming to me.

It was difficult saying goodbye to my loved ones at the airport, I've never traveled this far from home, nor for this amount of time, but I'm happy for the experience and can only anticipate what it will bring me. I'm eternally grateful for the support and encouragement my friends and family have given me.

The title of this blog (blogging... I've always had a little bit of contempt for the idea of the process, but for some reason I'm excited to be giving it a try) is Como Se Dice which means "How do you say...?" I figure it's gonna be a theme for a good portion of my trip and thought it appropriate as a heading. I don't know how often I'll be able to post on here, but I'd like to keep all y'all updated as best I can with pictures and stories of what's going on with me over the next few months.

Ok, I think I'm going to watch some House. Peace out kids!