miel (monolinguals click here)

A wise guy once said, "If you find honey, eat just enough--too much of it, and you will vomit." 25th Prov. v.16...and soon after, "Like a city whose walls are broken down is a man who lacks self-control" v.28.

As I sat in my small courtyard/patio/garden Wednesday nooning, drinking up the predictably unhindered solar rays--hotter and sharper than those up North, I found these Words jumping off the page before me and weighing heavy on my lap.  So, naturally, I journaled them down to make record of the sentiment and moved on to another book.  BAM, finished!

Unfortunately, that's how it goes down so often in my walk.  Powerful feeling/emotion = good and successful.  + journaling it down sets it in concrete and makes it more prominent for bonus points.  Then I move on and feel accomplished, encouraged and better about myself.  Clearly something is missing in this formula...after all, what was really accomplished?  I felt something powerful and real (true), enjoyed that feeling for myself (true), made record of it (true) and then stashed it away and moved on.  The reality is that the aforementioned weight on my lap fell to the ground the moment I stood up and walked inside for lunch.

The fool notes, observes and relishes the sentiment and lets it be (in my case on the courtyard tile). But the wise man...the wise man notes, observes and relishes the sentiment then takes it along with him in application.  The "weight" is living and active, or rather can be, should the victim identify it, plant it and let it grow and evolve beyond sentiment.  Application with intent.

I feel like a kid in a candy shop around here, to borrow the stock simile.  But it's all too true and applicable.  Each day, from my Carolina departure until now, has been jam packed with NEW fun and games, sights and sounds, food and phrases, people and places.  My first weekend here, for example, went something like this:

Rugby match at the beach, going out for drinks with three new friends, discoteching until 4:30am, taking a three hour walk/tour along the beach and through the city, watching surfers take on massive S. Pacific waves, and my personal highlight...

...All day (2pm-11pm) Sunday family fiesta--food and beverage extravaganza.  We're talking behind the closed doors of a true chilean family, all my chilean aunts, cousins, grandpa/uncle, mama, etc.  And this family doesn't miss a beat.  It has the retired/ex-miner (oh yes, I got all the stories and history), the poet, the painter/artist, the fashion designer and all the drama. The day consisted of introductions (always kisses on the right cheek), detailed geographical explications (from my chilean, ex-miner grandfather), a two hour lunch/BBQ consisting of every food but liver and mush (but most prominently featuring an avacado salad--this is the place they ship them to your supermarket from), and a poetry reading (all originals by my chilean grandfather). Also, the ongoing theme throughout the day was sampling the whole range of diverse chilean beverages--nationaly acclaimed pisco sour, several renowned red wines from the heartland vineyards and for dessert, whisky crema on ice, kind of like Baileys but much better.  With that, my first weekend in Chile was wrapping up, and the ensuing week did not disappoint or slow down.

Yesterday marked the three week anniversary of my arrival. THREE WEEKS...and I alreay feel like this city is my backyard.  On any given afternoon I call up my chilean tennis buddies (Davor and Sebastian) after class for a match down at the Club de Tenis clay courts 100 yards off the crashing surf.  Or, if the courts are full I usually stroll two blocks north to Bañario Principal along the coast and join a group of college kids playing a pickup game of sand volleyball and afterwards hop on the 114 "micro" (bus) for Coviefi.

So, "miel" is kind of a big deal in Chile.  But it's not that simple, it's not just miel.  In my chilean mama's kitchen alone we have miel de palma (coconut honey), miel de ulmo (flowering tree native to Chile honey), miel de papaya and miel de abeja (honeybee honey).  At least, these are all the ones I've been introduced to...who knows what others may exist behind the pots and pans--I'm sure we'll meet soon enough.  So, the trap is almuerza (chilean lunch, served at 2:30pm), the biggest and most formal meal of the day.  Everyday, within minutes of polishing off my main dish, my mama chilena chops up an elected fruit (usually banana, pear, or peach), puts it in a small glass goblet, douses it with one of the defined honeys above and places it under my nose, where it is devoured before she can hand me a spoon...

(*to those of you who have asked, yes...all posted photography is mine unless otherwise noted)

del piel

Then I arrived.  Forty-six (46) hours after my 10 degree, snow-dusted, icy departure from the Appalachians, my bus pulled into La Torre bus station in el centro ("the center"/downtown) of Antofagasta, Chile.  It was 6:45am, the deep-purple premorning light had just stumbled over the abutting Cerros peaks and I was one phone call away from arriving at my new home.  *phone calls in Spanish relating really important information like time, place, and fine details are my favorite!

$200 Chilean pesos (about 40 US cents) bought passage to the bus station bathroom where I readily brushed the teeth, washed my face and satisfied several other overdue hygiene needs. After deciding I looked presentable enough to meet my new Chilean family, I exited the station and awaited my ride (Maria Ines, international coordinator at the university).

On my ride through the city I learned from Maria that I will not be staying with a Chilean family, but rather a single woman and her sister who have a spare bedroom at their house (no worries, they're both in their upper fifties and quite motherly!)  Patricia, my mama Chilena, is an endearing 57 year-old divorcee who enjoys her weekly Lions club meeting, cooking, going to the supermarket, cleaning up after me and watching telenovelas (soap operas).  She is such the motherly type.  I'm honestly having a bit of a hard time adjusting to not having any house chores, not being allowed to clean my own dishes (I talked her into letting me at least take them to the sink...sometimes), not preparing ANY of my meals and having my laundry done for me. But hey, it's la vida Chilena, and I'm not about to go messing with any cultural norms and standards.  Speaking of which...

Personal space definitely seems to be a bit minimized in the Chilean culture.  Well, really there's just less of a sense of privacy and "personal" anything, creating a much more OPEN culture all around, which has it's pluses and minuses.  I definitely haven't adjusted to walking down the beach and seeing a butt naked guy changing into a wetsuit, or a couple on the street corner (or in the supermarket, or anywhere) making out + passionately engaging in motley

PDA; it's relatively common to see some dude urinating in public and the shower in our bathroom has a large open window at eye-level that looks into the kitchen.  Yet, this unique cultural openness flows into all aspects of interpersonal relationships in a very neat way.  Chileans in general don't seem to waste much time on establishing precedence, beating around the bush, or putting on a front within their relationships and personal conversations.  For example, if they have a question about something, they're gonna ask it, be it how much you weight, how much your house cost, or even a girl coming up and asking if you have a girlfriend.  Personally, I greatly appreciate this aspect of the cultural honesty and openness and think that most gringos (*in South America "gringo" is NOT a racial slur at all but a mere "white person" classification) could use a healthy dose of it.

*I have a theory (okay fine, it's probably just an hypothesis right now) about how this kind of cultural standard (proximity and privacy) is established by a simple traditions like greeting all females with a kiss on the cheek.

Anyway, I really said all that to get to a short/funny story about personal property:

My first day here (Thursday) I set up my room just how I wanted it, a bit obsesive-compulsive like, quite intentionally placing an item here or there (these books on this side the bookshelf, Grace's picture on this side of my bed my bed, my backpackers head lamp around this moderately sized statue of Mary, Joseph and baby Jesus, etc.).  I guess it was part of the whole "first-day" here, make this place feel like home so I won't be homesick thing.  Nevertheless, before long the room was set up pretty shnazzy-like how I wanted it and I was all unpacked. Until...Friday afternoon when I returned from the university after a morning spent meeting the other foreign exchange students and traveling downtown to the the departments of Investigative Police and Civil Identity and Registration to settle visa and residency issues.

Apparently, Cecelia the house maid/cleaning woman comes to our house every Tuesday and Friday and cleans everything.  EVERYTHING.  I don't think a single item in my room went untouched, and it was already clean and orderly!  My hats went from hanging here to sitting on this shelf over there, and the books I was reading on my nighstand had disappeared altogether, along with my tent, sleeping bag, and backpack.  Surprise!  After some time, I found the backpack ontop of the closet (which is just a small personal wardrobe) and shortly after found my tent and sleeping bag inside.  My asthma medication and personal documents took a little longer to find, hidden in a column of five drawers in my computer desk, but in search of those items I found my dirty clothes bag stashed in an adjacent cubby.  The books on my shelf were REorganized, my toiletry bag tidied up, and I'm pretty sure she folded my underoos in my underwear drawer...ay yah yi.  What's funny is that I left everything where she put it only to find it all rearranged again the following Tuesday after her cleaning. *I'm really looking forward to coming home from my Antropología Cristiana class tomorrow afternoon.  It's like the good old days of easter egg hunts...except every Tuesday and Friday afternoon!

Well, maybe next time I'll talk about living in the driest desert in the world, delicious Chilean cuisine, discoteching until 5am, beach volleyball, surfing in the south pacific, or picnicing on an empty beach between the cliffs and crystal blue 8 foot waves.  

Or, I could expound on brushing my teeth and arranging my room...check back soon.

mojando (monolinguals...please click)

*(Please forgive the hideous formatting. I've spent about an hour and half trying to fix it...and have become REALLY frustrated)

The countdown is over...I am officially immersed.

I'll say my study abroad immersion experience officially began the moment I entered Ft. Lauderdale's fourth departure terminal (for international, or more specifically, south american flights) to check-in with Avianca Airlines (no, it's not just you, most of the airport employees haven't heard of it either).

I'm fairly comfortable communicating in Spanish and like to articulate my level as “conversational.” But, apparently “conversational” doesn't mean you can comfortably or easily check-in with airlines, pass through security/immigration, respond to flight attendants, find the right bus to downtown Santiago, buy a bus ticket to Antofagasta, find the customer service office after losing your ticket, or buy normal bottled water (sin gas). Yup, I'm immersed...soaking wet.

As for the Chileans, their reputation for cutting words short (droping their "S's"), speaking at lightning fast speed, and propagating a miriad of cultural slangs/Chilenismos is well deserved. Here they don't have a novio/novia, but a pelolo/pelola. Nothing is "más o menos" but "maomeno," and you hear the expression "no má" (no more) at the end of every other sentence..."mira el perro, no má," "quiero jugo, no má," "voy a dormir, no má," etc. Also, the Chileans love their diminutives! EVERYTHING can be ito o ita (little), regardless of actual size. College student can be "chicitos" o "chicitas", and when asked, "quieres jugito" (literally, "would you like a 'little' juice") you may be served a 40 oz. traugh of the stuff. Fun, fun...as if starndard Spanish doesn't give me enough trouble.

The day after I arrived in Antofagasta I met another international student named Carla from Mexico, Baja California, and our conversation proved the dramatic difference between Spanish in Mexico and Chile. We had an entire conversation about our universities back home, surfing, traveling, hiking, and our experiences in Chile with me saying "¿Que?" or "¿pardon?" less than 3 times...compared to my average conversation with a Chilean, which usually leaves me a bit wide-eyed and confused, listening intently for those two or three key nouns and verbs I can put together to find some continuity or at least the topic of conversation.

Anyway, I departed from the 10 degree, snow covered and icy Appalachians at 7:30am Tuesday the 3rd and arrived at my final destination in Northern Chile's beautiful city of Antofagasta at 7:30am Thursday the 5th (with a 2 hour time change, ahead). Travel consisted of a 20 hour bus ride (700 miles) from Santiago, a lot of walking within Santiago, four airports (Santiago, Bogotá Colombia, Ft. Lauderdale and Charlotte), 3 flights, and a two hour drive to Charlotte. Gotta love traveling cheap! (no regrets...except maybe losing my bus ticket in Santiago).

The 20 hour bus ride from Santiago to Antofagsta was by far the highlight of my journey. Nearly the entire trip was along the renowned Pacific Coast Highway (yes, the same highway way 1/big sur of California, Oregon and Washington state).

The large, exceptionally comfortable and spacious Tur-Bus laced it's way over, under, around and through the many diverse peaks (Los Cerros mountains), bridges, rivers, cities, and deserts of central and northern Chile, occasionally revealing a snow capped Andean peak to the East and never ventured far from the Southern Pacific on my left.

At this point in my travels I was running on about two hours of restless sleep over the past 35ish hours of travel. It was a fight to stay awake in the luxurious "cama" (nearly fully reclining, La-Z-Boy style seats). But I slapped myself every time I started nodding-off, having sworn before hand that I wouldn't miss a bit of the diverse Chilean landscape between Santiago and Antofagasta during the daylight hours.

As the sun set, things only only became more beautiful and I freaked out when my camera suddenly read "batteries exhausted." Fortunately, at the next gasup stop our bus driving was willing to open up the back for me, where I found one new battery in my bag...giving me enough juice for the rest of the journey.

But, unfortunately...that's all the juice I have for now. It's time to get out in the sunshine and move around a bit. So, I'll update you on where I'm living and various Antofagasta adventures within the next week. Thanks for tuning in!