Tranny-licious.

I live in Providencia, a nice, more suburban area just outside the center of the city. It’s not quite as “quico” (aka rich) as the neighboring comuna of Las Condes, but still nice nonetheless. It’s quiet, safe, and residential; very familial, inhabited by young and old alike. It’s complete with schools, shopping, restaurants, parks and TRANSVESTITES, or to which I more simply refer to as trannies.

One of the first times I really took notice of these trannies, was when a Chilean friend of mine was driving me home after a night of karaoke. His English is not so great, but as we passed them, he giggled and proclaimed, “not women.”

When I first began living here, there were only two or three that would strut their stuff every night just a mere block and a half away from my apartment. They have since grown in numbers, and I swear there is like 10 that now hang out every night on the corner. They usually start showing up around 10:00 pm and I’ve seen them still out there as late as 4:00 am or 5:00 am, though usually they seem to have gotten picked up sometime before 2:00 am. They have long hair, deep voices, short skirts, stomach-baring tops, and are never without heels. I’ve even seen a few who literally wear thongs with the kind of display that would most definitely be cited for indecent exposure in the States. And damn, some of them have nicer legs than me!

Riddle me this: Why do they hang out a block and a half north of my apartment, a building inhabited by young children and senior citizens in a residential neighborhood consisting mainly of middle class people? It boggles my mind every time I see them. Providencia could be compared to where I grew up in Wauwatosa and let me tell you, never once did I see a tranny hanging out on the corners in Tosa. Trannies to me seem like they are better suited for the grimy, grungy areas of town, not amongst the impeccably green lawns and gated apartment buildings that inhabit all of Providencia.

The carabineros (police) are aware of the problem. However, according to my roommate, despite the many complaints from the neighborhood, they refuse to take any action against it.

I was scared of them at first. I always walked on the other side of the street coming home, eyes to the ground. But they are like a train wreck, you know you shouldn’t look, but you cannot seem to peel your eyes away. They’ve become more of a permanent fixture to me on my walks home, much like a lamppost, or a bush. I look, but never engage in conversation. And they don’t scare me anymore; mostly because they don’t even look at me twice, but rather heckle and cat call those without breasts.

While I can’t quite figure out why they choose such a place like Providencia, it never ceases to intrigue me. Maybe one day the mystery will be solved as to why the corner of Holanda and Providencia is such a hot spot for these ladies…er, men.

Sealed with a kiss.

One my most favorite parts of the Chilean culture is the beso or kiss. People here kiss each other when they meet, when they greet, and when they say goodbye. Never on the lips, always on the cheek. And unlike other cultures, it is common practice here to kiss the person’s left cheek only, not lay one on each cheek. Of course, this is while the person is simultaneously doing the same to you. Some will actually kiss your cheek while others will touch cheeks and air kiss. Some will go all out and grab your face while planting one on you. I guess it all depends on the person and maybe how intimate you want to be.

As an American, my natural instinct is to offer my hand as a form of greeting or meeting someone and give them a firm handshake. For the first few weeks I was here, I instinctively did such an act, which always resulted in a face-hand tug-of-war. I would hold out my hand, while the other person would lean in for the kiss. Then, I would draw back my hand and lean in for the kiss, while the other person would draw back their face and extend their hand. Some people gave me weird looks, but most just chalked it up to me being a gringa. Either way, it was a bit awkward and slightly embarrassing on my part. But after all those years of practice, it’s a tough habit to break. Plus, I always prided myself on having a firm, solid handshake, at least for a girl.

I knew I was becoming more chilena when I stopped holding out my hand, and without thinking would kiss someone. Sure, it may get annoying at those times when you just want to leave someplace, yet have to go around to kiss and say good-bye to each and every person before you can depart; but on the whole, I think it’s a lovely gesture. It’s personal and intimate. It provides more of a sense of welcoming and inclusiveness that you may not find with Americans. It immediately establishes a personal connection among people, and among strangers at that. Since I am an affectionate person, I feel it quite suits my personality.

It also serves as a form of signing off when sending messages and the like. People always sign off with “besos” or x’s. I love when someone says, “un beso,” because you give kisses to everyone, but for some reason, the idea of just a single kiss gives more of a special, more intimate vibe.

Beware friends and family, I am determined to bring this back with me upon my return to the States. Or at the very least, will have become so accustomed to the beso, that I will instinctively do that instead of handshakes. Either way, don’t be scared, just embrace it.


xx

My newfound appreciation for teachers.

Most of you are probably wondering what exactly it is that I do here in Santiago, what exactly my teaching entails. Well, let me tell you…

When I applied to Instituto Chileno Norteamericano, I was specifically recruited to be part of a program sponsored by Corfo. A government agency in Chile, Corfo works to improve the economic development of the nation. They think the tourism industry is one of the top areas to stimulate growth here and recognize the need for people who work in these areas to be able to communicate in English, as many foreign visitors to this country are native English speakers. So, they offered a scholarship for those who work in this industry to take English classes at the Institute.

The program itself was an intense, six and a half week program in which students attended class three hours a day, Monday through Saturday. That was in conjunction with their pre-existing jobs and the fact that it is busy season for travel in Chile right now. To say they were a hard-working, dedicated bunch would be a complete understatement and I have only the utmost admiration for each and every one of them.

The class centered around a book that catered only to the hotel industry, which for some, proved to be very useful, but for others, not so much. My classes were composed of those that not only worked in hotels, but that worked for airlines, travel agencies, tour groups or who worked as tour guides, hiking guides, and the like. Not only was the book limited in its content, but it was also at a much lower level than my very high-level English learning students. All of them had studied English before stepping into my classroom. They knew basic vocabulary and grammatical structures, so the real necessity for them was getting a better handle on colloquial expressions and practice in conversation and natural discourse. Of course, you will always have students at different levels with different strengths, some that are better at writing, others that are better at speaking. However, as a whole, both of my classes were very proficient in the English language. This can be a blessing and a curse, because while it makes communication with them very easy, it also means that they bore quickly. Luckily, the Institute recognized that the book was not enough and thus provided weekly electives in which students spent part of the time with the book and then rest of the time learning about specific lessons centered on tourism in Chile. This helped alleviate some of the monotony of the book activities and weariness on part of the students.

I taught one semester before coming down here when I was still in Madison, but that was for one hour, two days a week and with a co-teacher. Teaching for three hours every single day and keeping students engaged the entire time, while still adhering to the provided curriculum is a lot more challenging than I originally anticipated. Teachers always have to be on the ball, and function more as an entertainer than anything else, which can be downright exhausting at times. As a teacher, you always have to be on your game, it’s hard to have a bad day when you are at the forefront of the classroom, all attention focused on you. It also requires a great deal of patience and energy to appropriately address all the needs and questions your students may have. At that, you are always being scrutinized for what you do or do not do. I spent a great deal of time outside the classroom organizing activities apart from the book to keep interest, stimulate conversation and most of all, provide them a template for practice. Lastly, as a teacher you want to have all the answers, and sometimes there is that underlying expectation on part of your students that you do, in fact, have all the answers. There are moments, though, when someone throws you a curveball question in which you are standing there dumbfounded, with no answer. As a perfectionist, I hated these moments.

My class ended this past week, and it was a wonderful experience. It was as much of a learning experience for me as it was for my students. If there’s one thing that I’ve taken away from my first class here, though, it’s that I did not nearly appreciate my teachers as much as I should have in all my years of schooling. I have nothing but respect for those that make an entire, lifelong career of it and can only hope to have given to my students what my teachers gave to me.


My classes:

It’s beginning to look a lot like…summer?

I’m not dreaming of white Christmas these days, nor am I looking to roast chestnuts on an open fire. In fact, I’m counting down the days ‘til the class I am currently teaching ends, and my friends and I pack up our things to head to the coast for some holiday, end of the year celebrations. No, this year I’m dreaming of a sandy, sunny Christmas and roasting on the endless beaches.

Christmas is by no means my favorite holiday. Sure, Christmas usually signifies a break from school and/or a job, a chance to see friends and family and a time to indulge in delicious food, but the heavily commercialized side of it overshadows all these great aspects. By the time December 25th actually rolls around, everyone is so sick of seeing tinsel and listening to Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer, which has been playing on repeat since about mid-September.

In Chile, it hardly feels like Christmas, though. Just this past week did I finally see hints that it is actually right around the corner. Much in contrast to the spectacle of the States, Christmas trees, ornaments, tinsel, and lights only recently appeared in storefront windows and along Alameda/Providencia/Apoquindo, the main thoroughfare in town, did they just put up little Christmas tree lights on the lamp posts. Furthermore, I have yet to hear a single Christmas song playing anywhere.

The weather especially adds to the surreal notion that Christmas is now officially less than a month away. 80 degrees and sunny does not a winter make.

The Chilean Way of Life.

I want to preface what I’m about to say in telling you that I absolutely love it here in Santiago, but, once again, I find myself comparing it to New York. It has come to my attention, over the course of the past three weeks, that things are done a bit differently around these parts.

A Midwestern girl at heart, I always say, “I’m sorry” when I bump into someone and “excuse me” to move through a group of people. I constantly smile and frequently greet strangers in passing with a friendly “hello.” You can imagine my surprise when I arrived in New York only to get elbowed or have someone throw his or her shoulder into me without so much as a glance back. I suppose with all the hustle and bustle of a city like New York, people just don’t have time for politeness and manners. And while I always maintained a courteous disposition, I grew to not expect the same in return from New Yorkers. It took a little while to adjust to that sort of brashness, but at the same time, I didn’t really mind. I loved the energy that courses through that city’s veins. It’s really unlike any other place and while everyone always seems to be in a hurry to get to their next destinations, I truly enjoyed the fast pace of the people there.

Santiago is unlike NYC in this particular sense. Even just the movement of pedestrians on the sidewalk stands in opposition to the streets of the Big Apple. People move as slow as molasses here. New York may be a bit strung out, but here, it’s as if they don’t have a care in the world, nowhere to be, nothing to do. Every day seems like a leisurely walk in the park. AND IT’S DRIVING ME CRAZY. Part of me wonders if I should stop teaching English and start teaching sidewalk etiquette, for Chileans have no mind for anyone around them. They don’t move to the side to let those with a faster pace pass. With friends, they take up the entire sidewalk and don’t move into a single file for anyone, whether following or striding towards them, to get through. Couples are so concerned with holding hands, kissing and hugging all at once while strolling down the street, they have no regard whatsoever if they are in someone else’s way. Some days, I wish the New York part of me could just barrel through these people to teach them a lesson, but the Midwestern part keeps me from doing so by politely walking around them when such opportunity arises.

This sense of relaxation found in their sidewalk mentality is reflected in their general attitude about organization or rather lack of organization, as well. They are always running late. In regard to social activities, I truly believe that to make an entrance one must be fashionably late. Let’s be honest, no one wants to be the first one to a party. However, to meetings, work shifts, practices, games, classes and the like, one must always be punctual. As my brother learned from his soccer coach, “Early is on time, and on time is late.” Here, that idea is totally lost. Students showing up on time or even, heaven forbid, early for class is a rarity. If my class starts at 7:00, you can guarantee I won’t even begin to teach until 7:15 and even then only 50-80% of the students will be there.

The way everything operates seems to be slightly dysfunctional; some days, it’s amazing that anything gets accomplished here. For example, when I arrived at the Institute for my first day of work, I was told that my contract would be ready to sign two days later and someone would be in touch to tell me when to do so. A week passed and still no call or e-mail from the Institute on the matter. When I checked on the status of my contract, I was told it hadn’t been written because they were still waiting on me to give them a few documents; documents, mind you, that I had not only sent in three weeks prior, but that had also been confirmed as being received on the Institute's end. When I relayed this story to others, I was assured that these types of occurrences were quite characteristic of operations in Chile.

While this may suitable by Chilean standards, there is no way one would survive with these attitudes and behaviors in a place like New York. For this reason, the playing fields are leveled... NYC: 1 Santiago: 1.

Español de Chile o quizas, la falta de español en Chile.

Side note: So first off, let me apologize for being an absentee blogger as of late. I moved into my new apartment last weekend that is a bit lacking on the Internet factor (aka my lifeline). So my online activity has been mostly composed of quick e-mail checks at friends’ places and an occasional wifi session at Starbucks when I have time…like now. Never thought I would say this, but Gracias a Dios para Starbucks.

Back to the subject at hand...Español. My main motivation for coming to a place like Santiago is my desire to learn the language. Sure, I’ve studied it since I was in 3rd grade back at good ol’ St. Mary’s grade school all the way through high school and even majored in it at UW, but classroom Spanish can only teach you so much. In order to truly learn a language, you need to be fully immersed. No one can expect to spend an hour or two a day studying a foreign language only to spend the rest of his/her everyday life speaking his/her native tongue.

I can read and write Spanish a lot better than I can speak it, mostly because I find it to be very intimidating. Knowing I don’t speak well makes me more embarrassed than anything to make mistakes and sound stupid. Seeing as how I have to use Spanish everyday, I have quickly gotten over that. The only way I am going to learn and get better is to practice, right?

However, what you may not realize is that Chilean Spanish is a completely different language in and of itself. Most Chileans would not consider their language Spanish at all…just Chilean. They drop a lot of their endings, especially with words ending in ‘s.’ For example, there is a stop on the Metro called “Los Leones,” but when the conductor announces it on the speaker, it sounds like, “Lo Leone.”

Not sure how familiar you all are with Spanish conjugations, but the tú (you) present tense form always ends in an ‘s.’ Not only do they not pronounce the ‘s,’ but they change it so that the ending sounds like “ay.” For example, to say “How are you?” in Spanish, you would normally say, “¿Cómo estás?” but in Chilean you would say, “¿Cómo estái?”

Another interesting aspect to this language is its use of modismos or idioms. Words or phrases used here don’t even translate to other dialects of Spanish spoken elsewhere. The funniest one I’ve encountered is the use of the word “puta.” Puta, in any other sense of the word, means whore in Spanish. In Chile, however, puta is used much in the way that Americans use the word like…(in the Valley girl sense). When my friend first moved in with her Chilean roommate and he kept saying puta all the time, she wondered why he kept calling her a whore when he didn’t even know her! That issue quickly resolved itself as she discovered he was not, in fact, insinuating such a thing.

The jury is out on whether this is the best place to learn Spanish or quite possibly the worst, but I have been assured by multiple Chileans that if you can master the Chilean dialect, you can understand Spanish anywhere. Here’s hoping…

Business in the front, party in the back.

Fashion trends: it’s a vicious cycle of time. A style seen 2 decades prior seems to make its way back to the forefront of the fashion world as a must-have look. Several years ago, the big thing was the 70s inspired look of flared or bell-bottom jeans. And now, at least in the States, 80s inspired looks are back in style from leggings to broader-shouldered blazers. Well, the 80s is back with a vengeance here in Santiago, as well…but I’m not referring to the clothes per se. Although, I will say for as much as the 80s is inspiring new looks in the States, the true 80s sense still lives on in Santiago as there appears to be a large presence of acid wash denim. No, what I would like to take note of is the 80s inspired hair, namely the seemingly trendy mullet. I’ve seen a few women sporting the ‘do, but it is really popular amongst the men. Chileans are getting innovative with their mullets, however. There isn’t just one main way it’s styled. No, in fact, there are several different types that I have encountered.

There’s the “clean cut mullet” that is more so buzzed at the top and is just slightly longer in the back. A subtler version of the mullet, if you will.

Then there’s the “shaggy mullet” in which the hair is a little more mangy and tousled. More of a rugged, wild look, longer than the “clean cut mullet,” but still with the same general shape.

Then there’s the “rat tail mullet” in which sticking out of the longer back mane is a rat tail. Sometimes it's braided and other times it’s just an extra long piece of hair poking out.

And then there’s my personal favorite, the “dreadlock mullet.” This is when the longer back part of the style instead of just hanging there, is in dreadlocks. Truly something I had not even seen in the States.

While they may have had a hay day in the 80s, to which many people can attest was even terrible back then, to Chile, I say this: mullets are not stylish, never were, never are and never will be. Time for a new haircut.

Santiago Metro vs. NYC Subway

This past summer I spent working and living in New York City. It was truly a dream come true and I loved every minute of it, the bright lights, the city noises, the people, my job, the food, everything. Upon living there for three months, I became one of those New York people everyone hates…you know, the one who thinks New York City is superior to any other city in the world and that everything else just pales in comparison. Obnoxious to say the least, but what can I say, I’m a city gal. So wherever I am, be that Chicago, Madison, Milwaukee, Minneapolis…or Santiago, I will forever compare it to New York. More than likely, this will not be the first entry in which Santiago is put to the test of the New York City standards.

Like New York, Santiago has a subway system, known here as the Metro. And like New York, I’ve been using the Metro to get pretty much anywhere I need to be. Before I took my first ride on the Metro, I pictured the underground stations to be dungy and smelly, much like the ones in New York. However, unlike New York, and to my pleasant surprise, they are remarkably nice, impeccably clean, and best of all, lack that those lingering smells of urine and body odor that so loiter among the stops in the city that doesn't sleep. Sure the Metro trains get pretty packed during peak hours, but if you’ve ever rode the 6 subway line during times when people are going to and from work, it isn’t a whole lot different; people are just packed into the trains like sardines in a can.

The only downfalls with the Metro here is that one, it does not run 24 hours a day like the subway in New York. And two, from what I hear, it does not have air conditioning for those hot summer months.

Regardless, the Metro, in my mind, far surpasses that of the subway system in New York. Yes, I, the girl who just stated that nothing would ever compare to NYC, is telling you that Santiago is outdoing New York on this matter. Even the system of payment to get onto the metro in which you flash your card over some sort of card reading device seems more efficient than NYC’s subway pass swipe machine that works only some of the time, and other times, forces you to swipe over and over before it can even register your card, let alone get you to your train on time.

While I may change my mind as summer quickly approaches here and I find myself drenched in sweat riding a hot, packed, un-air conditioned Metro, for now the score is in…Santiago: 1 NYC: 0.

How many Claros does it take to get un teléfono celular prepago?

Cell phone. Anyone who knows me knows I could not possibly live without a cell phone. Would you believe me if I told you that I was the last of all my friends in high school to get a cell phone? My friends didn’t either. They always used to tease me saying the one who needed a cell phone the most was the person who didn’t have one. However, there was a time in my life when I managed to function without one.

Well, that time has come again. It was not that difficult of a decision for me to suspend my Sprint cell phone service for six months knowing that the alternative was a RIDICULOUSLY high $140 international plan in which you still had to pay $2.50 per minute on top of it. With free services like Skype and gchat (both with video options, I might add), why waste the money?

I did decide that it was a bit impractical to be completely without a cell phone, though, on the chance that I need to get in touch with my Chilean friends and/or be accessible in case work needs to get a hold of me. So, I researched some different Chilean service providers and decided to go with a company called Claro.

I preface this story in saying that only after I finally got back from this excursion did I find out Chileans are known for giving people the run-around and sending them on these wild goose chases:

I looked up where the nearest Claros were and decided to go get a phone the other day. In Providencia, Claro seems to be what Starbucks is to the States; there’s one on practically every corner. So, I go to the first store, find lots of phones and tell the salesman that I would like a prepaid phone. He brings me to a counter with phones I hadn’t even seen because it is up against the storefront window and points down to a Blackberry. Now, I don’t even have a Blackberry at home, so I’m sure as hell not going to have one here. Instead, I ask for something more “económico.” He tells me I have to go to the Claro down the street. I make my way to the next one and approach the saleslady, telling her the same spiel as I told the other guy. She says they don’t have any prepaid phones there and that I have to go to another Claro, further down the road. I make my way to that one and the guy there says the same thing to me. At this point, I start to question whether they don’t, in fact, have prepaid phones, or if they keep sending me down the road because they recognize that I’m an American who is a bit lacking in Spanish language fluency and simply don’t want to have to deal with me. I tell this man that the other store sent me to him because they assured me he had prepaid phones. He in turn hands me a card to yet another Claro, again, down the street and needless to say, that is where I FINALLY got the phone I needed.

And the answer would be four. Four Claros to get a prepaid cell phone.

A little TIP if you come to Chile...

Once upon a time, I was a waitress at a little Italian restaurant in Madison, WI called Porta Bella. Now as a waitress, most of your income is generated through tips, although legally, your employer is supposed to pay you a base hourly rate. The longer you waitressed, the more likely you were to assess potential customers according to what percentage of a tip you thought they would leave for your services. Foreigners were notoriously cheap tippers and everyone always dreaded being sat the table of people foreign to the U.S. You were lucky if they left you 10%.

I considered myself to be a good tipper way before I ever became a waitress. Sure, 15% is considered a standard U.S. tip, but for most people who wait tables, at least at more upscale places, 15% isn’t all that great. At a young age, my dad taught me always to tip 20%. If the service was just so terrible that you felt 20% was too much, then go with the standard 15%, but this was only reserved for very rare occasions. When I finally started waiting tables, I gained a greater appreciation for good tippers which only continued to reflect in tips I left for fellow servers on rare occasion I myself went out to eat. Let’s face it, if you have the money to spend going out to dinner, you ought to have the money for a decent tip.

I’ve been out for meals a few times here in Santiago, and standard rate of tipping around these parts is 10%. I feel like such a cheapskate only tipping 10%, but at the same time I don’t want to overstep any cultural boundaries. After all, I’m trying to assimilate to the culture, not draw any more attention to myself as a foreigner than I already do. And I surely do not want to offend anyone, so I comply with Chilean standards.

However, what they lack in tips for waiters and waitresses, they make up for in the most unusual places, namely the grocery store. I have slowly come to find out that it is custom here to tip your friendly grocery store baggers. In fact, one person even told me that people who bag groceries don’t even get any base hourly rate or salary. Their sole income is that of tips. Well, wouldn’t you know, the only two times I’ve been to the grocery store, I didn’t tip them. Not one cent. I just grabbed my bags, smiled and said gracias.

Now I’m that foreign asshole.

So far, yet so close to home.

The amazing thing about this city is how much it feels like home. Granted, I’ve only been here a few days and have been hanging out with people who primarily speak English, but still. I’m not quite sure how I imagined this place to be, but I suppose I was expecting it to be drastically different from being in the States. Santiago is really just like any other city. It has its tall buildings and mass transportation systems, floods of pedestrians and little neighborhoods defined by the collection of people who congregate there. Don’t get me wrong, there are definitely things that are different here, but it is amazingly influenced by western culture and a very modern city in its own right. I’m sure as I continue to get out more my sentiments might change, but I have to say, it’s eased my transition from American life to Chilean life thus far.

Yesterday, I took it upon myself to venture out a bit on my own, not with any real direction in mind, but just a walk around the neighborhood to familiarize myself with the area and get my bearings. For as much as I studied the Chilean past in school, there’s really so little I know about the Chilean present. (The photo to the left is a view of my street.)

There’s a little park just a few blocks west of where I’m staying. It was a gorgeous day so I slowly meandered over there…strolled through the park where children were climbing jungle gyms while adults rested on park benches. As I walked around I tried to listen to the tidbits of conversation around me to see if I could understand what they were saying. I walked up to La Plaza Italia (see the photo to the right) and down streets that housed Universidad Católica buildings and Chile’s Olympic Committee building. Then I crossed a little river and made my way to a neighborhood called Bellavista. The sign denoting this area described it as the Bohemian part of Santiago. There was an open market and a lot of little sidewalk vendors selling all sorts of things. And then I saw I sign up above that said “Dublin.” Being so Irish, of course I had to see what it was! As my mom said, it was like the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow! It was this little Irish restaurant in this nice plaza called Patio Bellavista. It has all sorts of little shops and restaurants of all varieties. I found the little Irish pub, a sushi place and an Italian restaurant! Lots of foreigners were hanging out there so I imagine it’s a bit of a tourist place to go. Nonetheless, it seems like a neat little place and I’m sure I will be making my way back there at some point or another.

Last night, my roommate and I decided to get a late bite to eat. So we hopped a bus that took us a little bit further into the heart of Providencia. When we stepped off the bus, the first restaurants I saw were McDonald’s and Pizza Hut. No, thank you. We decided on a Spanish tapas place and had croquetas de pollo, tortillas, patatas con salsa brava, some shrimp thing (the name slips my mind) and for dessert, pastis xocolata…or as I would like to compare it to, exploding chocolate lava cake! Not quite the traditional Chilean cuisine, but even so, muy delicioso! The restaurant seemed to be a big date night spot…lots of couples and lots of PDA. From what I hear, Chileans are not shy about their PDA. From making out to restaurants to embracing each other as they cross the street, they are not afraid to show their love for one another.

Like other cities, they have taxicabs, so we hailed one and got a ride home to the tunes of Frank Sinatra. They sure do seem to love their American music down here, but how can you blame them, Frank is great! When we got home, teenagers were hanging out on the sidewalk. Two boys were sitting in the bushes by the door to the apartment building trying to hide the fact that they were drinking! Ah, to be in high school again!

Tomorrow I start my job and make my debut as an official English teacher here. I’m excited, but have those initial nerves you get when you start any new job. I can’t wait to get settled into a routine and meet more people! So, I’m relaxing today and getting ready for tomorrow…and trying to keep up with the score of the Packers game in hopes that they do not disappoint like the Badgers did yesterday. So far, it’s looking good.

¡Hasta luego!

¡Bienvenidos a Santiago!

Well, friends, I made it to Chile...and lucky for me, my way overstuffed bags did, too. Now, I'm not sure if any of you have also seen pictures of celebrities like Victoria Beckham after a cross-country flight from L.A. to London, stepping off the plane, impeccably suited up in a mini-dress and heels with a full face of make-up and a flawless hairdo, but I can assure you, that was not me. In fact, if Victoria has some secrets to share about international traveling, then I would love to hear them because never have I felt more exhausted and disgusting than stepping off a plane (in sweats, mind you) from nearly 24 hours of travel.

It all began in Chicago. I had a short flight from Chicago to Des Moines with a flight attendant that could have been Liza Minnelli's long lost twin sister. That was followed by another short flight from Des Moines to Dallas-Fort Worth, TX. On this flight I struck up a conversation with a nice man that said to me, "Name's William, but you can call me Will." Now Will was an interesting man, native to the State of Texas with a love for Texas that outshines even the love Sconnies have for Wisconsin. This was the first time in 2 years since he'd been back to his home state and was on leave from his tour in Iraq with the Navy. We shared laughs over a book he was reading and giggling about, a book that I read this past summer entitled, I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell. Now, I know a lot of you are getting a chuckle over this because of course, I would make a new friend in an hour and a half flight, but what can I say, I just love people. Will came from such a different background than me and was doing such different things with his life, yet we bonded. He talked about his fiancée, his children, why he joined the Navy and what he wanted to do after he was done serving. Fascinating, really. Despite the many obstacles he seemed to have encountered over time, there was rarely a moment when there was not a big grin plastered on his face. Sensing my nerves about the big move, he assured me he had been to Chile and how awesome of a place it is. His optimism was inspiring and if only for that short time in air, I was comforted by the words of a stranger.

My layover in Dallas was a couple hours long, so I made my last few phone calls from my beloved U.S. cell phone…and had a few drinks. I boarded the plane a little before 9:00 pm. For the first time, my nerves seemed to dissipate and were replaced by waves of excitement as I heard mumblings of Spanish from all over the plane while I made my way to my seat. It reminded me of why I’m going on this adventure in the first place…to better my Spanish language skills! The flight itself was remarkably uneventful…and the 9 hours it took to get there flew by fast. We were served dinner and an early breakfast and had the option of watching a dumb Jessica Biel movie. I opted to sleep. The unseasoned traveler that I am did not bring a neck rest and eye mask with me, so the sleep I tried to get was interrupted by the kinks I would get in my neck and the lights from people around me trying to read. However, once day broke out over the wings of the plane, the Andes were revealed and it was a beautiful sight! The only thing that would have made the view better was a window seat.

Once I landed, I stood in long lines to pay my entrance fee into the country, collect my bags and go through customs. Toto, we are not in the Midwest anymore. This is the moment I realized that Chilean Spanish is unlike any other Spanish I’ve encountered. Meanings of words and phrases that I know were totally lost on me when spoken. The woman directing the traffic through customs wanted to know if I was carrying any food…I thought she wanted to check my documents. She was not happy with the misunderstanding. Then, the man at the customs station asked me if I needed his help…his “ayuda.” Now, I know this word, but for some reason, however he was saying it did not sound like “ayuda” to me. After he said it a couple times over, I finally understood. I seemed to have no communication problems with the man at the taxi stand, thankfully, but the taxi driver himself could not understand the address of the location I was trying to tell him. One of the other passengers, a Chilean who had spent some time learning English in New York, helped bridge the gap in understanding between the driver and me.

I made it to the place I’m staying and a little man helped me lug my very heavy bags up four flights of stairs. The look of disdain on his face clearly questioned what the hell was in my bag, but all I could respond with was a “muchas gracias.”

It’s amazing the connections you will find once you make plans such as this and move out of the country. My Aunt Tracy’s friend’s daughter, Alana, also from Wisconsin, is in Santiago and happens to be a teacher at the school where I will be working. She was kind enough to take me in for a little while until I get settled into a place of my own. Her roommate, a German woman, coincidentally spent some time in Wisconsin as an au pair…it really is such a small world!

Shortly after I arrived, Alana took me to the supermarket, which was surprisingly just like ones back home. It was clean, sectioned off in the same ways and featured many of the same products. They were even playing Steve Winwood’s “Higher Lover” as we cruised around the store. After, we walked around the neighborhood a bit and made a few pit stops on the way home. The neighborhood of Providencia is nice. The streets are narrow and the buildings brightly colored. It’s just a little outside of the main downtown area. As we walked around, it became very apparent that I am going to stand out as a tall person…and a tall woman at that. However, the people seem very friendly and smile often.

After a much needed nap and shower, I ate a little empanada I bought earlier at the store and watched some TV. The funny thing was, almost all the stations featured American shows! I flew all the way to the other side of the world to watch Two and a Half Men, Seinfeld and Scrubs. Too funny!

I’m hoping to spend the rest of the weekend exploring a bit, getting to know the area and getting a feel for the transportation system. I start work Monday morning at the Institute and am really excited for it! The only thing that I am really missing at this point is the ability to call and/or text whoever whenever I feel like it. Skype and video chat through gmail has already been put to use to remedy the situation. Thank god for advances in technology!

Take care and talk soon!

BESOS! :)