Calorias y Clases

You were warned! These past two weeks have been very busy as classes have started and I've begun to settle in to my daily life here. Here's what I've been up to...

Classes mostly consist of daily sessions of intensive Spanish at La Universidad Alberto Hurtado. Our group of eleven is split into two smaller classes based on Spanish ability. My teacher, Mabel, is a tiny woman with a lot of energy and personality. Besides the obligatory grammar exercises, she gets us to talk about interesting issues like class, gender, race and compare it to the US experience. There is also a fun cultural component to the classes that give us a more in depth look into Chilean/Latin life than any guide book could ever do. She especially likes to give us the lyrics to songs in Spanish with some words missing. We then have to listen to the song and fill in the blanks on the sheet. Let me tell you, this activity is much harder than it sounds. Mostly my classmates and I struggle to hear what exactly some of the singers mumble in varied intonation and tones. Mabel then plays the song again and makes us sing and dance to it. In between classes, which can be any where between 3-6 hours a day, we have 1-2 coffee breaks. This consists of a pitcher of hot water for tea, hot coffee, and little Oreo-like cookies. While the first time it was nice, coffee breaks have become a scary thing as most of us don't want to leave Chile a couple pounds heavier. According to my host mom, however, all her girls go back home at least one pant size larger. Aghhh...

This brings me to a related point. Chileans eat a lot. I am feed so much everywhere I go. As Mabel and many other people I've met explain, Chileans show their love by feeding you. Besides the normal breakfast, lunch, and dinner, many people also do what is called "tomar once" (literally "take eleven"). This consists of tea, cookies, sandwiches, cakes, toast, and more wheat-based products. My host mom is constantly asking me if I'd like tea between 4 and 10 in the evening. This custom is thought to be influenced by the British and their concept of afternoon tea. But seriously, I've never had so much tea before in my life. Another very cultural thing here is to eat A LOT of bread. Chile is second in the world for highest bread consumption. Besides the numerous varieties that exist, bread is also very cheap. This makes it a popular staple, especially in the lower classes. I'm a Chilean bread expert now thanks to a presentation I gave in Spanish class.

March 8th was International Women's Day. It’s funny because I wouldn’t have even been aware of this if it hadn’t been for the various posters advertising celebratory events here in Santiago. The first time I had heard of the existence of such a day was in high school, and even then I don’t feel like I celebrated like I did here in Chile. It’s interesting how unknown this celebration is in the United States, besides the occasional elementary school class on Women’s History Month. That morning in Spanish class, we got a surprise visit from our directors Roberto and Rosanna. They kissed us on the check (in normal greeting custom), gave us each a rose, and wished us a happy “Dia de la Mujer.” Some of us were literally on the verge of tears, while others had the biggest smile on their faces. It is always nice to receive flowers, but that day it felt even more genuine and special. After class, all eleven of us decided to attend a march Rosanna had mentioned was occurring just near the university. As we walked to where we were told to go, all of the sudden we saw the mass of people walking along Avenida O’Higgins (a very long, central street). We just happened to enter right behind a group representing Amnesty International, but the march consisted of millions more humanitarian, political, and social activist organizations. The witty signs, chants, and loud drumming all made the experience more exciting as we marched in celebration but also protest. The Chilean woman stills faces many obstacles in what is still a very machista society. This is just one of many protests I hope to attend here, because there always seems to be something being organized.

Numero 14

I’m here, safe and sound in Santiago after what have been a long couple of days. Tuesday afternoon I started with a three hour flight from DC to Miami. Once in Miami, I arrived at my gate for the Santiago flight. Within the large group of chilenos returning home from summer vacation, I saw a group of American college students. We quickly realized we were in the same program and boarded the plane for the eight hour trip that lay ahead. Famished and tired from the overnight flight, I was able to make my way through customs and immigration without any problems. As I exited into the arrival gate we excitedly scanned the sea of people until I saw Roberto, Rosanna, and Elena holding a sign reading “SIT Educacion.” Even if I hadn’t seen the sign, it wouldn’t have mattered because they easily recognized me, waved me over with a “Hola Camila!” Because our group is made up of just eleven students, the SIT staff were very familiar with our faces, names, and backgrounds (information we had sent in as part of our application). It was funny in my case because after the “Ah Camila!” moment came “Pero si tu eres la que tiene la abuelita chilena, verdad?” (Aren’t you the one with the Chilean grandmother?). They proceeded with “Tu parecias mas chilena en tus fotos, pero ahora que estas aqui te ves americana” (You looked Chilean in the photo you sent, but now in person you look American.) Although slightly disappointed in the fact I could have almost passed for latina, I laughed and met up with the other girls who had already arrived.

From the airport, we drove directly to Algarrobo where we would have our three day orientation. This town, about 45 minutes outside the capital, is a beachy vacation spot for Chileans. After getting split up into rooms, we embarked on what Roberto (our Academic Director) called, the hardest part of the program. STAIRS. Our rooms where on the highest level of the hotel and there was no elevator. Carrying an over 50 pound suitcase, duffel, and my backpack was a nightmare, especially as the steps got steeper towards the top. Later that same day we made a trip to Pablo Neruda’s house in Isla Negra. Neruda had his house intricately structured and decorated with a quirky collection of art. The theme was an interesting twist between inspiration from the ocean and the power of love. Being one of the greatest romantics of all time, Neruda had to (of course) have the most spectacular bedroom ever, complete with a dazzling view of the ocean. Unfortunately, no photographs from the inside were allowed.

The next day, all we could think about as a group was finding out who our host family would be. After a giddy drive back to the capital of Santiago, we arrived at Casa SIT (where we will have our seminars) and met our families. My host mother, Mercedes Soto, lives in downtown Santiago (which is nice because it means unlike some other students, I can walk to class). A widow since her husband was assassinated during the 1973 coup, Mercedes lives alone in a one bedroom apartment. She has hosted students for a while now and according to her I am number 14. She is quite fond of the previous students she has had and often recalls great memories. I have to admit, I feel a certain pressure to be beat out all those other girls and be here favorite. While it may just be the two of us at home, my real host family here is much larger. Within the first day here I met Mercedes’ son, his wife, two sons and daughter, as well as, Mercedes’ daughter and her son.

This past weekend they have taken me all over small towns and cities south of Valparaiso. One day we went to a hotel resort because they have daily passes to their pool. This was no ordinary pool experience. The center of the pool area had a DJ area where they blasted music and the DJs, on their microphones, tried to get pool go-ers to join competitions and games. Unfortunately my host nephew and I got coerced into being the first participants in a puzzle where we were linked by scarves and had to figure out a way to disentangle ourselves. Eventually, we gave up and went into the pool. I felt a little less embarrassed after the DJs got half the people in the pool area to join in on a large water-jazzercise type class. It was kind of hilarious to watch.

Of course this is only half of the family. Next week I’m invited to a grandson’s wedding where I will probably meet Mercedes’ other two daughters and their children. I love it because I can have the best of both worlds. At home it is just Mercedes and I, but I can still have the large extended Latino family experience at the same time. This past weekend was great because it made me feel like a part of the family.

 Our beach-side hotel

 Pablo Neruda's house in Isla Negra

 View from Isla Negra

Bonding with my program group!