Send me away with the words of a love song

I haven’t written in so long… but then I hit overload and the words are forced out of me. I fill up and eventually they just overflow and must be put somewhere. I’m back Stateside and so lost, so confused … and slightly overwhelmed. I’ve been reading a little bit about “backwards” culture shock… I thought I was fine, everything fell back into place so smoothly I thought surely there was no way I could fell umm… out of balance? But either my cerebellum has taken some hard hits I don’t remember or I haven’t quite adjusted as well as I thought. It’s so hard to explain. I think it’s the consistency … it’s like my life was actually put on hold and now

This is how I’ll explain it… say you’re watching a movie and you’re ¼ in and it’s edging near the half way marker then boom, you hit pause… and you get up to leave the movie for a while

I dunno go: make some popcorn, have a bathroom break… if you’re really something run out and get some ice cream

Then you return to your movie.

Okay. You’ve lost touch, the emotionality that had initially connected you and the movie is lost, or maybe not lost but definitely different.

You hit play and you’re trying to remind yourself what’s going on and the importance of each of the characters…

there’s a disconnection that eventually dissolves once you get back into the film but it takes a minute or so…

I’m in the minute flux, where everything is familiar but it doesn’t feel natural yet.

How can everything be so different after only four months?

Goobye

Sunday night. November 22, 2010. 12:09 am.

Enigma- Return to Innocence on repeat

I leave for Santiago in the morning at 8:30 am. My host brother Alexi is taking Susan y yo en la manana.

I’ve been writing thank you letters to all the people that have staked their love onto my heart.

When I first decided to come down here and do this program it never crossed my mind that leaving would be hard, especially this hard. I thought I would finish up and move forward, back to my life in the State’s. Nope, not the case. I had to tell my host dad goodbye tonight because he will already be at work when we leave. Tough. I have to tell my host mother, the essence of kindness and love goodbye tomorrow. Even tougher.

Thankyou, thankyou Punta Arenas. You have given me perspective on life, love and what it means to appreciate … everything. You changed my insides, that’s some pretty powerful Patagonian magic if I do say so myself.

“It’s not the beginning of the end, it’s the return to yourself… the return to innocence”- I’m not even embarrassed.

Goodbye Patagonia, you captured my heart.

"Given the choice between the experience of pain and nothing, I would choose pain." — William Faulkner

Last day. Sunday, November 21, 2010. There’s no way this I can conjure one cohesive blog, so this may be a little cryptic.
You should see my bedroom, it’s like a mini hurricane came through and greeted my closet, suitcase, drawers and every other corner of this already compact room.

We had a snow storm last night. Remember folks, we’re well into spring here, as in summer starts the first of December. The last few day’s we’d been teased with a sprinkle of snow here and there, but last night we had a bigger snow than ol’ South Carolina could muster on its coldest months. So, to sum up the weather in Punta Arenas… I will be leaving in the same conditions I arrived in, cold, wet and rainy/snowy.

Friday night, we had a meeting/fiesta for the volunteers thrown by the Chilean Ministry of Education. We received a diploma (I still don’t really understands its significance but it’s better in situations like this to not ask questions and just roll with it). We then had some snacks… salami I might add. I’m pretty sure my roommate, Susan, and I cleaned them out before anyone else had the chance. My host teacher’s presented me with roses from my superintendent. Afterwards I was whisked away by my two Chilean fairy godmothers, Nelda and Danica (both co-teachers). We went back to Danicas house where I was given a book of Chileanismo’s (I have become addicted to finding all the Chilean slang I can, so Nelda couldn’t have given me a better gift… RIGHT ON CHICA!). We snacked and drank PiscoSours, which may be my taste buds favorite experience down here. My male co-teacher, Angel, dropped in to bid me farewell, truly a darling man… he’d written the sweetest thankyou card and gave me a bag I’m sure you’ll see me carrying at some point in the States. After our snacks and drinks we ventured out to La Marmita’s (Which means little cauldron) … it was one of the most adorable restuarante’s I have ever been in. Danica had pre-ordered our meal because we were having Curanto a seafood dish from Chiloe that has to be buried and cooked for a few hours… and let me tell you it was some kinda good. It had clams, mussels, smoked pork, salmon, chicken, cabbage, potatoes (duh) and was placed in the middle of the table for everyone to enjoy. We had a PiscoSour to start… this place claimed to have the best so we had to try it of course… and yes, it was the best. I snagged the recipe to take back home to ol’ SC (I think I may even make my mom try this sweet little concoction). After dinner around 1130 we headed back to Danica’s house for more gossip and gushing. Danica gave me a truly unique scarf, we chatted drank more wine and I fell asleep. Ha, around 230 we decided it was time to call it a night so Danica drove Nelda and I home.

I cried. Like a baby. Getting out of the car. I don’t know if these two women will ever understand how much they mean to me. My experience here was made because of their Chilean love and openness to the little foreign non-speaking Spanish gringa. They both taught me how to be a better teacher by showing me that although kids can be challenging, superintendent’s can be terrible, and janitors are actually the superintendent’s peeping-toms… it’s all worth it because… ha, well because… ummmm… I had it…

Because we’re teachers and it’s pretty kick butt we want to go in and fight the fight everyday so little people can go out into the world and make something of themselves, if they chose to of course. Ha.

Here’s to teachers!

The rest of the weekend has basically been all the volunteers not wanting to leave each other’s sides while stalking our Chilean friends… because, well it’s over and these people that have been part of our Punta Arena’s lives … they’re family. We’ve faced all this together; we’ve been each other’s shoulders, hands, eyes and heart at one point or another.

Volunteers in Fuerto Bulnes, confused as usual

I head out tomorrow morning for Santiago.

All the roads that lead you there are winding...

How is this possible, it’s over?


I’m so confused right now. My emotions have jumped from peacefully striding along in a world I had finally figured out to this… new phase.

I’m tired of new phases.

I treated myself to a celebratory Italian dinner tonight, Punta Arenian style. We were greeted with an unhelpful weight staff and garlic mayo… I’d say that’s pretty Chilean. I enhanced my already full figure with some lasagna noodles and bolognese sauce, yum-O. My good friends Keeley (who will be traveling alongside me for the next couple of weeks) and Michelle joined me. We discussed how we were planning to fix the universe, what makes Chile such a wonderful place and of course how Latin men really understand the true meaning of romance.

I said goodbye to my fellow teachers today, I kissed all of my students so long and I tried not to cry for a full 24 hours. All in a good day’s work I’d say.

I’m emotionally spent. For so long I was trying to create this niche for myself; a place where I could feel normal within this seaport Chilean city. Then one day I stopped trying because it came naturally…

A morning wake-up from my Chilean family complete with reggaeton and cigarette smoke to awaken me from my peaceful dreams.
The good morning exchange crossed between me and the bicycle man, “Hola Senor, Buenos Dias”, “Hola Mes, como esta?” It was never more than this but has become somewhat ritualistic.
Walking through massive amounts of the “little ones” to get to my classroom, always complete with kisses, hugs and HELLO MEEES’s!
Staring at my adorable high school students who didn’t want to speak English anymore than I wanted to speak Spanish.
…
There’s so much more I could add to this list. What started as an adventure here has become a life, and one that I have I learned to love. This city has given me graciousness, patience, and well… perspective.

I have been blessed with people who have taught me that life, your life, is what you make it. No more than that. Things happen we can’t control, we make bad decisions but what matters is your heart and where it lies.

I’ve seen some of the most majestic mountains in the world; I’ve had the opportunity to see things that could not have been constructed from anyone or anything but God himself. All of this gave me an assurance that Jesus is always surrounding me; his creation is mother Earth (pasha-mama), how could you deny him when staring at towers that point to his kingdom. I think this is what I’m going to miss the most…

man it’s so simple here… I think we could all use some Chilean perspective in our lives.

the Purple Bowl

 

Reflection from a Chilean perspective cont.

Our arrival to Punta Arenas was actually nothing short of a scene from a horror film. That Monday went a little something like this...

en la aeropuerta the day we flew to Punta Arenas, ignorant smiles...

7 am wake up and bored a bus to the Santiago Airport. We have a flight delayed for a little over 5 hours. But of course seeing as how this is Chile no one can explain why or even if we are actually going to fly out that day or not. So, we just hang out in limbo trying to stay calm.

This is funny for anyone who has ever eaten a meal with me. For our last semi-American meal we decided to grab a sandwich from this little deli. Everyone ordered delicious turkey, avocado and tomate sandwiches on toasted bread. Because if we learned anything in our training the week before is that we couldn’t expect vegetables or fruits down South, but we could look forward to gaining at least 5 kilos (about 11 lbs).Not me, I couldn’t order that… I had to be adventurous and get the salami, pickle, sweet mustard and wheat on non-toasted bread. This probably seems insignificant to most of you, but it is something that still upsets me. It was my last shot you see… PA as glorious as it is has some of the worst food ever, and I just speeded up the terrible food process that afternoon.

Okay, so finally we board around 3:30 and take off for what is supposed to be a five hour flight. Apparently, the Chilean government didn’t want to shell out the extra $50 for a straight flight so they put us on the cargo-esque plane that had to land twice before arriving in PA. Between the motion sickness and pickle sandwich I ate before boarding… well you get the picture. We finally arrived in Punta Arenas at about 10:30 and were picked up by a Chilean gentleman missing most of his teeth, who (you guessed it) didn’t speak English and was driving a little red pick-up. He threw our luggage in the truck bed (no matter the snow or rain, it’s just the only possession’s we have for four months) and we squeezed into the cab. In that car ride I really began thinking about my life and how much I had enjoyed it to this point, how much I loved my family… things of nature. I mean that’s what you naturally do when are preparing for your death, right? Ahhh, haha. Unbelievably, we made it to the hotel where the other girls would be staying sin (without) Merrette.

I had been thinking they surely wouldn’t take me to meet my host family that night. I would just go to the hotel with the other girls and sleep off that dreadful day.

Oh Merrette, you silly gringa, of course you’re going to meet your host family tonight. It’s only 11:00, it’s still early!

So, I say my farewells to the other volunteers and climb into the truck with the missing toothed gentlemen and our coordinator Lorena.

Lorena- basically the worst excuse for a coordinator I have ever met in my life. And. And. And. She barely speaks English. Grrrrrrr.

So, they take me to my non-English speaking host family. Now, I love my host family, and I love our home, it’s perfect. But, that first night when I had to pull a string to go through a tin door and then walk past orange caution tape (that I now know is used as a volleyball net by my brother), two different clothes lines, and around a garage with interesting looking tools to a “back-house”…

So, they are going to kill us one at a time, make it look more accidental. Nobody will notice just one missing gringa.

mami y ella casa

Remember everybody, I AM OKAY. This is all part of the culture; I just didn’t know it yet. I am really safe here and somebody would definitely miss me if I went missing.

I starred at my new Spanish family and slept with my door locked that night; I woke up at 11:00 am the next day…

and well, the rest is history.

Looking back, with a little Chilean perspective

Tuesday. November 16, 2010. 10:33 en la manana. I am sitting in the teacher’s room. Listening to the Avett Brothers (duh… I seriously should think about purchasing new music sometime in the near future). I’m trying to keep it together because this time next week Punta Arena’s will no longer be a part of my life.

Santiago

My whole life I have been the type of person who acts and then thinks… somehow this has truly affected my entire outlook on life. For instance, the day before I left for Santiago and began this excursion, I laid- out with a few girlfriends and didn’t think too much about… well anything except that I wanted a tan. Then I got off a 14 hour flight and had a minor freak out. Silently of course, I didn’t want to give away the fact that I was a naive southern belle who had never EVER really been anywhere before and decided to go to a country where she not only didn’t speak the language but could not even understand it.

I keep thinking back to that first week, when I was in Santiago: meeting dozens of new people, unable to locate a Burger King, McDonalds, Chick-fil-A or a Wendys.

Ya’ll I had never even lived somewhere that doesn’t have at least 3 accessible Chick-Fil-A’s. The only thing I kept thinking was, “WHAT AM I DOING HERE”.

Me being the person I am immediately began evaluating/talking with/interviewing the other volunteers: travel experience, Spanish speaking ability and just general attitude to the strange Chilean no time frame and constantly confused lifestyle.

I ask millions of questions, sometimes after I have a conversation with people I feel they walk away wondering if they got the job…

I quickly realized that most of the 64 of us apparently either taught Spanish back in the States, majored or minored in Espanol, had lived in at least 2 other Spanish speaking countries, or had at least one parent that was Latin… and everyone, I mean everyone had lived abroad at some point or another.

Me: “So, You’re a translator and you’ve been teaching Spanish to autistic children for the last 2 years”.
Otra Volunteer: “Yeah, I mean I could never go to a country and not speak the language, that would be awful”.
Me: ………… yeah, so stupid……………………

This happened, this conversation actually happened.

I began praying… rampantly… I think the whole time I’ve been down here has been like one long prayer… I don’t feel the need for Amen anymore, that’s a waste his and my time.

My time in Santiago was amazing. Nothing short of amazing. I took in the city like it was a piece of my mom’s red velvet cake. I couldn’t get enough, the mountains, the night life, even the English Opens Doors classes were bearable. It was so new, I was amazed. It wasn’t that I had never been to a city before or that I hadn’t met new people…

But there’s something else to being in a foreign place for the first time in your life. It’s like you’re waking up to a new reality and there is no option but to mold yourself into this new existence, or leave of course.

I made it but man was it ugly. I heard this more than a few times that week, “I have never met anyone like you before Merrette…..” it would always kind of trail off. I would just smile and walk away; not really wanting to know what was on the other end of that period.

Me in Santiago (pre 6 kilos)

Within that first week I managed to: lose my new cell phone the first day I bought it and lose my key to our hostal room only to find it the last day I was in Santiago. Luckily, I have been in Merrette training for about 23 years now so whereas some people would be upset, this at least was the one thing that felt normal.

So, I left Santiago and headed down South. I think a few people had bets going if I would make it or not, but I can’t be sure on this.

Now, that I have lived here for 4 months and my mom knows that I am okay, I feel I can share more openly with you...

The beginning of the end.

Esta bien, so although I have been pretty dog-on busy down here lately somehow I find myself sitting in bed, in my pajamas, drinking café y stalking the internet… usually this is around 2 pm. Don’t ask me how or why it’s just my way. Anyhow, my blog is pretty boring compared the others that I read pero es lo que hay (but it is what it is). I’m going to give you the links for a couple of real gems.


The first one is Cachando Chile (Getting Chile). She explains the significance of the title …but basically a word used around here a lot is cachay- “do you get it”. As one can imagine this is the first Chilenismos I learned… and I never got it. jajaja. It gives a great perspective of Chilean customs from the eyes of a gringa.
http://cachandochile.wordpress.com/

Segunda, is something I just recently found. It is promoting the use of Solar Energy in Africa as a means to provide jobs and energy (electrical power). It’s really interesting and one of the professors at Universidad de Maganallanes promotes this idea in her blog which is how I found out about it.
http://solar-aid.org/about/did-you-know.html

Tercer, is a website for women who were forced/enslaved into prostitution in India. Basically, these women hand-make pajamas and all of the proceeds go towards the foundation Punjammies which provides psychological intervention, housing, food, etc. Pretty amazing if you ask me.
http://www.punjammies.com/pages/the-story-of-punjammies

Anyhow. Punta Arenas and I have one more week together. I’m trying to keep it together, but it’s getting to that point when everything feels significant, entiende (understand)?

Por le ejemplo: Watching my host mom prepare our Sunday lunch… siempre (always) roasted chicken, papas (potatos), lechuga (lettuce with salt, oil, and limon).

Ahorra (now) my host mom has the purple bowl out.

The purple bowl- is used when she makes pan dulce (candy/sweet bread) basically this can be anything from empanadas, sopapillas, calzones rotos (torn panties)… basically the reason a couple pairs of my pants don’t look so hot on me anymore.

… I’m going to investigate.

updates

Lo siento for taking such a long time to update. Since, it has been so long and so much has happened I’m going to do a run down. And for a side note, I have about one week and three days left in glorious Punta Arenas… and honestly I’m not ready to go yet. Uh-oh.


Since my last blog about my incredibly terrible/wonderful Wednesday I have, in this order:

1. Visited a Chilean orphanage.

2. Been to Argentina and seen the largest floating glacier in the world.

3. Witnessed a two hour acto (like a talent show for high schoolers) that the kids did entirely in English. I wish I had a scale that could display the TREMENDOUS effort and wonderfulness of this. My student’s (well they’re not all mine, I do have 4 other co-teachers) were able to get on stage and speak, sing, act, and memorize English that they presented to their fellow peers… VIVO LICEO EXPERIMENTAL!

4. Learned the meaning of the words (all of these are Chileanisms for anyone who reads this and does speak Spanish, I promise I’m not making them up)

a. tuto- sleepy

b. carne de perro- someone who is very determined and tough

c. Lokita- little crazy (my favorite)

d. Linda- it’s like when we use the word cute or pretty (I’ve known this one, but I really like it)

5. Translate a description of the film 8 Mile written in Espanol for one of my students… very proud of this feat.

6. Cried because I am leaving

7. Been to a 12 dollar all you can eat carne (meat) buffet. This was in Argentina and how it works is; a waiter comes to your table every 15 minutes and brings you different types of meat until you beg him to stop. We had lamb, cow, calf, deer, rabbit, intestines, chicken and choro (chorizo, sausage). Let me tell you… it was yummmm-O

8. Attempted the Cabbage Soup Diet… don’t worry it lasted 2 days.

So, like… see you soon.

Hump Day.

Earlier in the week my fellow co-teacher Danica asked me to teach her Primero Basico Alumnos (1^st grade students) Wednesday morning (7:45) because the Tercer Medio Alumnos (11^th grade students) had their English Test, Cimpsea) and she was asked to moderate. Not giving it much thought I said, “Sure, no problem”. She started handing me Cd’s, Pictures (of leaves, flowers, numbers, colors), and workbooks… well you get the jist.

 While she was handing me all of these things I was thinking,

 I don’t need this stuff, they’re first graders, I’ll just have them color something and I’ll teach them the  Mr. Pumpkin Song

“Mr. Pumpkin
 Mr. Pumpkin
Round and Fat
Round and Fat
Harvest time is coming
Harvest time is coming
Yum Yum Yum
That is that”

 So, I turned down her workbook and games and just took the flashcards and CD with the song about autumn they were learning. Honestly, I hadn’t given the class a second thought… I figured it would just work itself out.

Well, my morning went a little something like this….

My host parents woke up at 6:15, turned on the radio in the kitchen (directly across from my bedroom). To no surprise the radio was set to a Reggaeton station that has about 3 songs total on its playlist, and a commercial that says, “Loving you is like feeling the rhythm”… the boom box will not be turned off again until I force myself out of bed at 11:30 tonight because if I hear this commercial or one of the these three songs again there will be a 4 person murder with a side of suicide. 

Moving on.

I remain in bed, I’ve gotten to be a pro at this, until 7:16. Then I stumble out of my room into the freezing cold house, because there is not central heating in Punta Arenas. I mean it’s only -10, who needs heat… that’s a silly idea. I step on the dog, Princesa, who is lying in front of my door.

Princesa: A small dog that has recently developed a heart condition and blocked arteries due to our host mothers cooking. Princesa had to be taken off the table food diet she was on and is now forced to eat only dog food. She has lost about 12 lbs and is one pissed off puppy. She’s always hungry and ALWAYS laying in front of my bedroom door, because it’s directly in-front of the kitchen.

Anyhow, I step on her as usual… and as usual she bites me right on the foot. Of course, I’d forgotten to put on my shoes so she got a little skin. I scream at her and go to kick her again which in turn starts the whole ordeal over because she bites me…. again.

Moving on.

I enter the kitchen to turn on the pot that boils water for our instant NesCafe (Nestle Coffe), and realize there is nothing for me to eat except bread. Man, I’m a happy kitten.   Seeing as how yesterday I weighed myself for the first since getting here and it was NOT pretty.

Rodrigo, like any brother gives, me a dirty look just because and calls me crazy while I search the fridge for something other than potatoes, bread, butter or marmalade to eat… all the while playing the one of the three reggaeton songs that isn’t currently playing on the boom box on his cellphone.

Sidenote: The children and adults here listen to music on their phones. No biggie right, we do the same thing in the US. Only these are the flip phones they hand out for free at the T-Mobile around the corner and can be compared to the “Egg” Phone I carried in college, because my parents were tired of having to purchase a new phone for me every other month because I dropped mine in the toilet on Halloween or hid it from myself and forgot where I put it until a year later. So, they are listening already to terrible music on sound devices from the early 90’s, SIN (WITHOUT) headphones. Great.

So, I grab a piece of the wheat bread I purchased last week, toast it off, fix my coffee and scoot back to my room remembering to step over Princesa.

It’s getting late at this point so I run to the bathroom lift the toilet seat up to find someone’s remnants from our lentil and potato lunch the day before. I sit down and the cat, Beba, jumps in my lap. My mom asked my not to cuss in my blog… but I think you know what I’m thinking/muttering at this point.

I go back to my room, grab my makeup and get in bed. I now put my make up on while lying in bed because it’s the only way I can get warm in the mornings… because there is no central heating silly.

I make it to school on time and walk into a classroom of 18 first graders that don’t know a lick of English. I stare, they start jumping up and down. I start talking, they start yelling continuing to jump up and down. I start searching for the CD Danica gave me cursing myself for not grabbing the color game she was trying to hand me. I start with the “Autumn Song”… I get nothing. I try to teach them the “head and shoulder’s knees and toes song”… nothing.  I try to teach them the pumpkin song… nothing. I realize one the girls is cutting her hair… well at least that’s something. This goes on from 7:45-9:15.

It hits about 9:14 and I’m thinking I’m scot free; I even begin to enjoy the kids. I see a gentlemen walking in and I assume he’s the next teacher there to take my place. 

He hands me two boxes of chocolate. I’m feeling good. I notice a note tapped to the top of one of the chocolate boxes.

My head starts spinning. But, I regroup quickly and run to my classroom grab paper and markers and decide the kids just need an activity, then they’ll be quiet, no problem. Ignorance is bliss people.  

It says, "Merr, I'm going to be busy until 10:00. I need you to take 2nd B (Second grade, class B) from 9:30 until I arrive. Check the -> student's books at the class please just pray and sign, thanks a lot. Dany"

This time I will be prepared, I am thinking. So, at about 9:40 the kids start trickling into class and by 9:43 they have realized I don’t speak Spanish. By 9:56 one of the boys is laying on the ground screaming in pain and I am holding back two other little boys while screaming SILENCIO, and telling the little girls that yes there pumpkin pictures are beautiful.

10:01 I have kicked one of these three boys out of my room. I later find out he told the Inspector (like a disciplinarian) that I brought him in there because he had a headache; therefore he failed to mention he’d been assaulting a fellow student in class… and with my Spanish speaking inability I sure as heck couldn’t explain to her what had happened in class. I just wanted him out.

By 11:00 the student’s have drawn 4 pumpkin pictures and I’m standing in front of the door blocking them from running out… because it’s funny when Miss Mary yells in English.

It’s 12:27 now and the day isn’t even half over. I’m hiding out in the teacher’s room and I really hope I don’t have anything else worth writing about happen to me today. 

Places/Events I would be attending if I lived in South Carolina instead of the bottom of the Planet

Okay. This is so lame I can’t believe I’m doing it… but when you face a life with no errands, no car, and no real place to be the internet can become your playground.

So, here is a list of things happening in South Carolina that I am missing out on and YOU should do:

1.) The Pecan Festival in good ol’ Florence South Carolina (I totally miss you Flo). I have become an avid blog reader in last year and the Flossip http://theflossip.com/ has become a favorite of mine. She makes Flo come alive with a unique distinction. But anyway for you all Pee Dee area resident's check out her site to learn more about the happening's going on around town.

2.) South Carolina Football Games... more specifically tailgating

Oh, how I miss Miss Jordan Strait screaming at 7 am. for everyone to get up and shower or else they would be left behind when the car pulled out of the parking lot at 8:15 for a 8:00 pm game time. Seriously, there is nothing like SEC Football Season:

-the food (Grilled sausage, Sausage balls, South Carolina Caviar, Hot Wings, Bar-B-Que Chicken Dip, Chick-Fil-A Platters, and Bloody Mary's)

-Playlists specially designed by Caroline Buchan to enhance an already perfect day

-Sandstorm and a ridiculous amount of college football fans jumping up and down on a swealtering day in William Brice screaming USC-USC-USC!

-Having your heart jerked around like a teenage romance because you never know what to expect from the players in those beautiful Gamecock uniforms.

gosh, I miss football.

10/30/10
vs. Tennessee
Columbia, S.C.
12:21 p.m. ET

11/06/10
vs. Arkansas
Columbia, S.C.

11/20/10
vs. Troy
Columbia, S.C.

11/27

vs. Clemson

Clemson, S.C.

go Gamecocks!

3.) My favorite band the Avett Brothers played at the Columbia, South Carolina State Fair... seriously, between missing football AND my FAVORITE BAND playing in my ol'stomping grounds it is almost more than this little gringa can take.

(Even though this date has passed I still want to give a shout-out... sooo here's the set list-

Columbia, SC State Fair 10/20/10
1) Tin Man
2) Salina
3) Paranoia
4) Rollin' In My Sweet Baby's Arms
5) Down With The Shine
6) HFOD/RFOP
7) PGF Cedar Lane
8) The Fall
9) Murder In The City
10) January Wedding
11) Old Joe Clark (Killer extended bass solo from Bob)
12) I Would Be Sad
13) And It Spread
14) Colorshow (muy rico!)
15) Traveling Song (slow)
16) Laundry Room
17) SFOS
18) Kick Drum Heart
19) ILU
20) Blue Ridge Mountain Blues
Encore:
21) Shame
22) Die Die Die

the songs in bold are my personal faves, in case you were thinking about downloading some of their FANTASTIC tunes.

the song Salina gives a shout out to the Carolinas... check it out:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6g5xsccIVHs

4.) Farmer's Market
The Farmer's Market holds a special place in my heart because my mom and I both LOVE to go and walk around together on Saturday's so that we can pick up the seasonal fruit/vegetable and usually some boiled peanuts... I like to side mine with a ginger ale personally.

Flo: Monday - Saturday all year from 8:00 a.m. – 6:00 p.m

Cola: Saturday, 8:00am - 12:00pm

alright... maybe I'm being a little to nostalgic here... Spring in October just has me a little thrown.

I was walking down the street yesterday and all of sudden there are vendors selling strawberries, my all time favorite fruit like EVER. I sampled a few by pretending that I was going to actually pay 2,000 pesos (4 USD) for about 6 strawberries. We have trees blossoming and green grass peeking through as a tell-all sign for a Patagonian Spring looming in the near distance. My host parents have taken to wearing shorts and cut off shirts. All the while I still don't leave the house without gloves, a scarf, and a wind proof jacket (I have been venturing out without my thermal Browning hunting socks... look at me go).

We also have our own form a farmer's market

go and enjoy your farmers market's, pumpkin carving, football, tailgate's and crisp fall weather...

I'll be here, 4 weeks to go.

Going with the flow... the Chilean motto

I haven’t updated on my life in Chile recently. So, here goes…

Liceo ExperimentalNirvana- Smells like teen spirit, “Here we are now entertain us”… haha, it’s actually pretty relevant to my teaching experience so far

Alright, well my kids are pretty stuck in 80’s and 90’s music… and when I say pretty stuck I mean they are actually bogged down and gonna need one of those jacked up 4x4 trucks to get them out. Their musical interest is also reflected in their clothing, I’m talkin’ faded acid wash jeans, Nirvana-Guns-N-Roses-Metallica-Slip-Knot and any other scary/horror (as they call it) music from the Dawson Creek and 90210 days. Luckily for my students my fellow teachers and superintendents aren’t really into school either. Por le ejemplo (for example), last week school was cancelled Monday and Friday and this week ladies and gents school is cancelled Tues and Wed. When I arrived Monday morning I went to my classroom and began preparing for class… after about 20 min and I still had no students staring at me refusing to speak English I went in search of them. As I was walking down the hall to the sounds of music playing from cell phones, teenagers whispering sweet nothings into one anothers ears and “Hey, Miss Gringa” I realized that not only was class not in session but school was literally not in session. I knew exactly where to go, the teacher’s lounge…

Tangent: The teachers hide out in here throughout the day, usually it is the students that have to come find them/us after class was supposed to have started 5-10 minutes earlier. I don’t fight this anymore, it’s one of those things you just have to let happen.

Low and behold I find the teachers… all drinking coffee in the teachers’ lounge/hiding out from the rampant teens. I begin asking them what in the world is going on, even this much chaos is unusual for Liceo. They explain to me it is a continuation of Teachers Day/ el Dia del Profesores … because school was cancelled last Friday for the holiday, of course school cancellation is not enough, we also must celebrate.

Celebrate we did. We were all led into the gymnasium where for the next 3 hours the students preformed song (Te Vas, one of my current favorites), dance (bellydancing to be exact, I had to avert my eyes because it made ME uncomfortable), and theatrical skits (the 3rd graders reenacted a group of teacher discussing their classes). Of course, I had no idea what was going on the whole time … but at this point in the game you can longer ask questions without appearing like a dimwit because you haven’t learned ANY Spanish.

So, after the program finished school was dismissed.

Gosh, I love this place.

I am still listening to Enigma's "Return to Innocense" on repeat

My host family and I spent the day in a cabin that overlooks the ocean where we ate, played on the beach and read for hours. Therefore, I haven't written more about Torres Del Paine... yet, but I must share pictures with you.

Into the Wild and Back

Torres Del Paine, a National Park that offered me one of the most challenging weeks of my entire life. I and two other girl friends, Keeley and Carly, hiked the “W” (or Doble V) technically from Monday through Thursday. We arrived in the park on Saturday and remained until the next Friday. I am now laying in bed back in Punta Arenas looking through my pictures and listening to Enigma “The Return to Innocence” and still in disbelief my body and mind are attached after the mind blowing and physical challenges I have faced over our hike through the Andes Mountains.

I’m not sure where to begin, but I will try for you.

First let me explain exactly where I was and what I have been doing. The Andes Mountains has a National Park named Torres Del Paine. They have two very famous hikes, The “W” and the Circuit. Originally my friends and I were going to hike/backpack through the entire Circuit which takes you around the whole park and lasts about 9 days. Unfortunatly, due to Avalanches this time of year we were adviced not to take this route. So, Carly or the embodiment of nature women as I will forever think of her, devised a route to take us through 8 days of hikes which would include the “W”. The “W” is the formation the most famous hike in Patagonia makes, on the map it literally looks just like a W hence the name.

http://www.besthike.com/southamerica/chile/paine.html

Keeley and I arrived in Puerto Natales by bus on Friday afternoon to meet Carly, who is volunteering there. In order to get to Torres del Paine one must take about a 3 hour bus ride (well, depending on how drunk/high your driver is varies on how long it will take to get there) from Puerto Natales( this is where the previous outdoor pictures had been taken that are posted on the blog).

Friday night the three of us went grocery shopping for nine days worth of meals to carry with us for our hike. Our list included everything from avocado, bread, potatoes, chorizo (sausage) to chocolate bars and gas for our stove. We headed back to Carly’s house with full grocery bags and began divvying up our goods so that the weight was equal for each pack. We all carried our own sleeping bag (one of which we discovered the first night did not zip up). Finally, at about 11:00 pm with the tent, various foods and my clothes strapped/packed away we tucked ourselves into bed and fell straight to sleep. What felt like 5 minutes later we rudely awakened by a 6:00 am wake-up call from my cell-phone.

A called in a cab, got dropped off at the bus station and were on our way by 7:30 to Torres del Paine, which Carly and I translated into Towers of Pain (haha, we had no idea how true this metaphor would become).

The weather unfortunately hadn’t gotten the heads up we were planning on spending the next week outdoors so our first hike (Saturday) up to Campamento Zapato was full of mud, rain, wind and lastly snow. About 4 hours into our hike we realized with every step the monsoon looming was getting closer and closer. Luckily, Keeley, had the sense to stop and turn us around so that we could find refuge before we were completely annihilated by all of mother nature’s weapons. We hiked/ran/slid back down the mountain towards Campemento (basically this just means Campsite) Pingo. Quickly, our week in Torres Del Paine was turning into a nightmare. Campamento Pingo could be compared to where they found the guy from the film “Into the Wild” dead. I was having visions of our bodies being plucked from the trees the next day when the Park Ranger came by due to what felt like 70 mph winds, and the rain that was pelting us sideways. Carly and Keeley luckily had noticed an abandoned shack about 50 ft. from Campamento Pingo, so we grapped our tent and packs and ran for it. Ha, my visions now turned from Into the Wild to The Blair Witch Project, instead the actors would be found in an abandon shack inside a tent.

So, yes, we pitched our tent in the house, hung our clothes from the nails sticking out of the walls, and cooked our dinner which we lovingly named “Pingo Mix”. Unfortunatly, our “Pingo Mix” which was hamburger, potatos and peas would be traveling with us for the remained of our trek because we spilled it in the bottom of our tent and there’s something about that smell you can’t get rid of. Eventually it just becomes part of your sweat, skin and sleeping bags.
We awoke the next morning (Sunday) to more rain (seriously I still don’t understand how it could possibly rain that much). We packed up our wet clothes and knew hitchhiking was in our near future because walking in that monsoon was no longer possible and the park doesn’t have transportation inside the park for broke English teaching campers.

… more to follow.

a little bit of this and a little bit of that

I have been trying to figure out why I feel I have nothing to blog about… I posed this question to one of my volunteer friends and he said, “it’s because it’s not new anymore, you’re used to being here”. I’ve been marinating on this comment for the last two days.

It’s. Not. New. Anymore. I’m. Used. To. Living. Here. How and when did Punta Arenas, Chile start to not only feel comfortable but somewhat like home?

What should have been my tell all was when my roommate Susan and I were walking down the street and we were honked at (which isn’t out of the usual) pero (but) it was a friend of ours just honking a hello. Say what… I have friends?!

I’ve been doing a lot of bike riding lately because spring has officially sprung. My kids are gearing up for graduation and the looming “summer” holiday. My cuarto media alumnus (12th graders) could not be less interested in school much less the English teacher who doesn’t speak Spanish. They are giving me and my patience a run for our money.

I only have 7 weeks left here and one of those I will be hiking Torres del Paine, below is our (volunteer friend Carly, and Keeley) schedule. I am so excited. The circuit in Torres del Paine is supposed to be one of the best hikes en la mundo (in the world). It’s going to be an amazing experience. I’m thinking it could break my writers block and give me something pretty good to write about.

More details:
Friday Night:
Arrive in Natales- Buy food- Sort gear
Saturday:
7 - 10 am bus to Hosteria Las Torres in Torres Del Paine
HIKE Hosteria Las Torres to Campamento Serón (4 hours, 5.5 miles)
CAMP Campamento Serón $4,000
Sunday:
HIKE Campamento Serón to Refugio Dickenson (6 hours, 11.8 miles)
CAMP Refugio Dickenson $4,000
Monday:
HIKE Refugio Dickenson to Campamento Los Perros (4 hours, 5.5 miles)
CAMP Campamento Los Perros $4,000

Tuesday:
HIKE Campamento Los Perros to Campamento Los Guardas (9 hours, 11 miles) * I hear this will be the hardest hike but it will have beautiful view of glacier grey.
CAMP Campamento Los Guardas $free
Wednesday:
HIKE Campamento Los Guardas to Campamento Italiano (7.5 hours, 14 miles) *We´ll put a lot of miles in this day, but it will be on easy terrain.
CAMP Campamento Italiano $free
Thursday:
HIKE Campamento Italiano to Campamento Británico & Lookout then back to Campamento Italiano (6 hours, 8.5 miles) *We can leave our stuff at our campsite and hike through Valle Frances and back this day- my big backpack turns in to a day pack we can pack lunches in.
CAMP Campamento Italiano $free
Friday:
HIKE Campamento Italiano to Campamento Torres (10 hours, 14 miles) *I think we should push to hike this long day.. if we can´t do it we can cut out 1.5 hours and stay at Campamento Chilena for $4,000.
CAMP Campamento Torres $free
Saturday:
HIKE Campamento Torres to a lookout of the towers (1 hour) and then back to Hosteria Las Torres (3.5 hours) Total miles= 6.
FINISH!!

I am channeling Bridget Jones Chilean style.

I’ve had this past week off basically from work… due to the Independence Day that took place last Sat., but hey I’m not complaining. I decided would take myself skiing on my long holiday. I figured I could see a different side of Punta Arenas, and check out what this town really has to offer. I didn’t see the need to plan for my expedition because I can basically see the slopes from my house. Tuesday morning I woke up, ate some bread with marmalade without the butter …since I’m on a diet now and all.

With my belly full I got on my way. I hailed a cab uneventfully. Handed him a receipt with the name of the resort written on it (I really didn’t want to end up visiting the penguins instead of skiing because I threw in an extra –s or actually pronounced a word how it is spelled).

The ride up the mountain was quite beautiful, the city was behind me and I had nothing but blue skies in front of me.

As we approached the resort my first reaction was to internally celebrate the fact I got into a cab and arrived at the correct destination. Well, after the confetti cleared I looked up to realize the ski lift was NOT running. Alright, I’ve come to find the best way to handle these types of situations is by not freaking out and yelling English in the nearest Chileans face. So, instead I started speaking really fast spanglish to the cab driver, he just motioned for me to get out of the cab. Well, I figured I made it this far and walking down the mountain wouldn’t hurt (considering I’m not actually on a diet).

I walk in the ski rental office and through broken English and my Spanish incapability I relay, I want a lift ticket AND skis. It was a process and lot of motioning but we figured each other out. Finally, when they get my receipt written up and I have my lift ticket securely fastened on I notice the lift still isn’t running. The guys in the office follow what I’m looking at flip a switch, which in turn sends the chair lifts running up and down the mountain. It’s in this moment that I realize I am literally the ONLY person skiing on this mountain today.

I step out of the office geared down and head towards the chair lift, where you guessed it... there are no lines better yet there are no people. I position myself and take the lift to the top. Usually, from the limited amount of times I have gotten to ski I found there to be a meandering green (easy) trail off to the side of the mountain. I made it to the top got off and realized there were no signs there were no green, blue or black dots just signs with Chilean slang written on them.

Again, I say to myself, “okay Merrette you got all the way up here now all you gotta do is ski down”. I don’t know why I expected a Chilean ski resort to be any different than any other Chilean experience I’ve had thus far... why would there be signs detailing where the trails begin… that makes way to much sense. So, without further adieu I take off for what looked like the easiest course possible. I meander along for a while and then begin to notice that my trail is ending. Due to the fact that there’s a forest in front of me and no more snow on the ground. I start trying to think through my options here, either ski through the vegetation or hike back up the hill. Well, let’s be real here nobodies skiing through trees so I hoofed it back up that lovely meandering trail that wasn’t so meandering or lovely in up hill in ski boots.

30 minutes later I found myself back at the top of the mountain. Well, I got this far all I gotta do is go back down.

So, I take off thinking I just hiked up a snow covered mountain with skis on my back… I can make it down this small/biggish hill/mountain… and make it down I did, only it wasn’t in my skis or with my polls. But fortunately, I didn’t fall down the whole mountain… just in-front of the lodge where the five people who were visiting or working happened to be lounging. I lay there in the snow tangled up in the orange caution tape and started seriously thinking about turning in my skis and heading down this mountain for good. But, then I look up and a semi-toothless paramedic is standing over me yelling Spanish, Esta bien Senorita! I realized I had been laying in the snow for a good four minutes and this Chilean toothless paramedic had reason to worry. So, I quickly jumped up put my skis on and headed in the opposite direction as the paramedic …which happened to be the towards the chair lift. Whatever, I paid the money I’m here I might as well go down the mountain at least twice, and the view waaaaas pretty spectacular.

I made it back up the mountain still determined to find my meandering trail… and low and behold I found one. I was able to look out on to the Andes snow covered mountains, Punta Arenas, Tierre Del Fuego, the Pacific Ocean and the straight of Magallanas. I passed two men in a snow plow truck, gave them a friendly wave… finally I was skiing in Chile… it was amazing. Then I started to realize that there wasn’t any meandering trail left... again... in fact there wasn’t anything left except a highway sign telling me Punta Arenas to the left and the Ski lodge to the right… and then I realized… I had managed to ski to the highway. Somehow or another on I had meandered off the ski resort trail and ended up on the highway.

Again, I am faced with one of two options. Either go back up the mountain (again) or walk along the road until I arrived back to the ski lodge. Well, my dignity at this point had all it could take, so I decide to walk back up the mountain. I didn’t think I could handle for the five people in the ski lodge to watch me walk up from the road after I had just wrapped my body in the orange caution tape directly in-front of them. As I’m walking up the mountain (again) I run into the snow plow guys, who apparently knew I was skiing in the wrong direction when I gave them that friendly wave previously. This sleeveless Chilean man climbs out of the cab of the plow truck takes my skis from me, then my polls and lastly practically picks me up and puts me in the truck. As usual when I am in a any type of moving vehicle with a Chilean he/she starts explaining how I got so lost… I am just nodding and throw in a loco gringa before my sipo. Finally we pull up to the top of the mountain. The sleeveless Chilean points at me and says muy facil Mary (that’s my name down here, Merrette just doesn’t exist). He then proceeds to take my skis out, point them directly in the front of the Bunny Slope, stick my polls in the ground beside them and lastly basically places my ski boots into my skis for me… these Chileans. He gives me a wave, climbs back into his trusty stead and heads into the sunset.

At this point the entire Ski Resort (all five of them) are swapping stories of where THEY found the gringa girl. I continue to ski since I now knew exactly how to the find the “intermedia” slope.
I ski down the mountain and around 2:00 and proceed into the ski lodge… not completely sure I will be returning the ski lift anymore that day… or any other day in the future.

I have a hot chocolate and a chat with the paramedic from earlier in the afternoon, watch the snow falling and eventually decide… I did make it up here I should ski at least one more hour.
So, I take the lift to the top only to find the paramedic Louis waiting on me. He has decided the gringa needs a partner, which at this point I can’t argue with. He shows me a new trails, and not a meandering ones mind you. But before we can go down the slope he pulls out his phone asks me if I’m single and for my telephone number. Well, semi-toothless 70 year old man (I am thinking), "I don’t have a phone and I am not single". This news does not deter him, more than likely I told him I would love to run away and get married to him immediately... who knows.

Again, I make an attempt to head down the slope and he says, “wait Mary... musica” and he beings playing Enya, “who can say that that your loves gone…” on his telephone… and then we begin skiing to Enya (the singer) looking out over the city of Punta Arenas, the ocean and Tierre Del Fuego.

We continue skiing for a few more hours, there an no more falls to report or meandering trails leading to a highway… finally I got to do what I headed up that mountain for.

I hope this puts a smile on your face, because I still find myself chuckling over my Chilean ski adventure.

200 Anos for Chile

My host mother dancing the queca in the "typical" fashion

So, for the last week I have been traveling and spending time with friends, Chileans and empanadas (fried deliciousness, even Carolinians would be pleased with). Life has been GOOD, way to good in fact. I’m not sure how I can be expected to go back to school on … wait for… Thurs. Yes, I got an entire week off for the Independence Day Holiday because let’s face it … its Chile, it’s the way here. I asked a few people if this was just because it was the bicentennial and they looked at me funny. THEY looked at ME funny, “No Marry do you not celebrate your Independence in the States?”. I contemplated this question seriously because compared to Chile’s celebrations with fonda’s (rented out building’s, gymnasiuns, schools, etc that have live bands with dancing, cerveza, pisco and FOOD), kermesses (like a carnival we have in the states), parades (two days worth) and an entire city that remains shut down two days after the actual holiday for people to recuperate… sorry America you got nothing on this.

I went to Tierre del Fuego the Thurs – Sat before Independence Day where my good friend Megan is volunteering. It’s very small, flat in the city but turns to rolling hills and beach the further away from town you go. We visited where the Atlantic Ocean meets the Pacific, something about the idea of two oceans forming seems exciting. The water is very blue here, like most oceans …I understand. But it’s a deeper blue but somehow clearer at the same time. We also went to an estancia (sheep farm) and watched a sheep shearing and rode horses along with four wheelers… all in all a pretty SWELL tiempo. The more of Patagonia I am seeing the more in love with the area I am becoming. There’s definitely some sort of magic down here, well that’s what these crazy Chilenos keep telling me. I have met some amazing people and getting to experience these sights and adventures with them makes everything so much special and memorable. Basically, any other girl who selected Patagonia to go and teach English is gonna be alright with me.

When we got back to Punta Arenas on Saturday the fun was to continue. We kicked it off with empanadas and a serious glam session. It’s not often that we all (Patagonian girl volunteers) get to be really girly so we turned up the music and pulled out the mascara. Saturday and Sunday night we went to the Military Base Fonda, aka lots of Chilean soldiers and only a few gringas… the odds were looking up. Haha. We quaca’d (Chilean National Dance) and salsa’d well into the night. Well for us gringas it was well into the night, Chileans don’t require sleep.
Sunday was Chile’s Veterans Day, and is celebrated as much if not more than their Independence Day. We went to another parade and fonda. My “parents” had an asado (barbque) which lasted the entire afternoon, of course.
I loved watching the people of Chile support their country, they are so proud and want to celebrate their military and where they have come from as a country.

Viva Chile.

Alice in wonderland has got nothing on Patagonia

Primavera

Spryly branches with fingers interlaced with one another
holding buds of promise
only meant to be opened with grace from the sol

"It's magic... ya know, never believe it's not so"

Words like majestic, serene, beautiful, awe-inspiring were designed to describe Patagonia and I will forever stand by this. Although, I am currently living in Patagonia Punta Arenas unfortunately I don’t look out my window and see this everyday

The volunteers in Puerto Natales, where I visited this weekend, do have this convenience. Can you imagine being able to walk to work every day and have the Andes snow covered mountains as a way to beckon you through the windy ice covered streets? I felt like I was living in one of those calendars dedicated to insanely beautiful mountain scenes. I couldn’t get enough who knew scenery could be such a drug I sat on a park bench looking past the sound onto the mountains with a fellow volunteer and watched the sun  set until the sky was a resounding blue and still I wanted more. Earlier in the afternoon we hiked el Cerro Dorotea it took about two hours to reach the peak. We sat on top of this hill overlooking Puerto Natales, el campos, the Sound of last hope and of course the Andes Mountains.

I was awe-inspired by the serene majestic beauty of Patagonia. All the cheesy tourist books I’ve read over the last few months describing the beauty of this land untouched by man became not so cheesy anymore. I sat down and soaked in the most indescribable view possible. I was finally able to appreciate for the first time exactly what I'm doing here. I am living in Patagonia teaching children English well kind of but definitely living in Patagonia. Sitting on top of that hill made everything come full circle. It made all the bad food, the inability to understand Chilean culture norms or their language worth it 

I am still waiting for Jesus to come through the clouds and bestow the Chilean tongue upon me as well as understand why the heck I can’t flush my toilet paper instead of putting it into a tiny trash can. But all these weird differences are making my experience exceptional and deeply personal. I never imagined that I would actually move away from everything I know to the bottom of the planet in a country where the language might as well be gibberish and try to teach English.

I dunno if you allow yourself to dream the possibilities are endless

My best friends taught me this. They all are beautiful inside and out and never allowed for themselves or anyone else to doubt what we are capable. I am thankful for all of you who have been praying for me and sending words of encouragement. You each deserve a handwritten note tied in a satin bow with chocolate encrusted lettering I love chocolate 

I love you

Sorry this is just so darn cheesy. I’ll definitely work out the mush for next time

Emersion Commencement Continues

welcome back

Okay. So, it’s 8:10 and I am finally on the way to my first Asado. The water hoses/shaved ice and now 79 fans are coming at us hard. Luckily, I had the sanctity of Nelda’s father’s car and the promise of a warm home and food on the table waiting for me in the very near future. We pulled up and Danica aka Seniorita Martha Stewart was waiting at the front door. I walked from the car in the cold and rainy night and wafted into the most divine smells of carne de vodka, pollo, chorizo sausage, onions, peppers, and warm bread. Her home much like the delicious smells coming from it was warm and welcoming. Rodrigo Senor Martha Stewart was standing in what could best be described as a sun room with the most amazing open fire chimeneyesque grill that covered an entire wall.

We hung our coats up and I immediately had to back track to investigate the entire home, from the foyer into the sitting room that had hundreds of pictures covering the walls down to the calendar with the numbers positioned upside down for a funny way to make fun of time I was happy to hear we had a little longer before the food would be ready because a quick walkthrough could never have done this home justice and I use the word home here very consciously because Danica made a point in saying it was not a house but a home and I was to feel welcome. 

Amen sister welcome and warm I felt. 

So, I began perusing through her home. It had a lived-in feel which I quite like, the picture frames were all made from natural wood. The color scheme was rustic reds, yellows, and greens. Norah Jones was playing in the background and the linens on the dining room table were anticipating the meal to come as was I

Before sitting down to eat we took pictures of the food and the ladies grouped around the table a way to mark the occasion for la gringa

After my first bite of slivered salmon drizzled with olive oil, sprinkled with parmeson cheese and topped with capers I knew my life of pan and marmalda was over I was completely ruined. I moved on quickly to the grilled vegetables of red, green and yellow peppers, corn, carrots and baby onions. The beautiful sensations of taking those first few bites never subsided throughout the entire meal. 

The meat was all on one platter directly in front of me God’s will. I took a choice piece of each and then I took and devoured more. It was beautiful. The conversation was in complete Spanish which I surprisingly and impressively was able to keep up with and when I got lost it wasn’t a big deal because I needed to devote as much of myself as possible to that delectable meal. We finished up with a raspberry meringue and a glass of port.  

It was beautiful down to the last button popping bite

Señor Martha Stewart is a vegetarian by the way but loves cooking and hosting dinners excused himself shortly after dinner but not before pouring us each a glass of wine and putting Michael Buble in the disc changer. We girls relocated ourselves into the sitting room where we talked about school, relationships, Chile, America life I stayed until 2 am and that wasn’t nearly long enough

One of the most perfect night’s of my life Gracias Chile for your people and asado

The End

Comense Emersion

I am now officially a Chilean. I have lived, eaten… well basically experienced/survived a Chilean Dinner Party. This past week my head of the English Department ,Danica,  told me she would be preparing an Asado Saturday night as a welcome to Chile for me that would begin at 7 pm. Well, I heard the palabra food and I was sold. I had been hearing these tall tales that Asado food was pretty amazing.

Bring it on Chile

Well siiiirree I have eaten my words yet again down here in the south lands literalllly
Let’s start at the beginning because I feel my evening could explain so much about Chilean culture.

On Friday Nelda, my co-teacher , who would also be attending the dinner party informed me she would pick me up at 6:45 at my case. She also told me she didn’t really believe in Chilean time and she found it important to always arrive at the designated hour and minute instructed. So, yesterday Susan and I went out for coffee at about 5:00 and met up with a few girls to have some gossip y café. It had been snowing off and on all day so a little fresh I use this word tentatively air sounded spectacular.

It normally takes about 10-13 minutes to get to el centro  yes, Susan being the loveable A-type personality she is timed it so that when I complain about walking she can say, “Well it only takes about 13 minutes Merrette”
 We began our trek towards the coffee shop, trek being the optive word. In order for you to understand the wind/weather here in Punta Arenas would consist of 73 industrial strength fans, a dozen or so buckets of shaved ice and a water hose get the picture. Luckily the wind was at our backs walking towards centro so we got there in about .03 seconds flat Susan timed it

So as the time near’d for my dinner party I had to cut the gossip short and return to mi casa to get ready. I began walking/crawling/rolling face first into the 73 industrial strength fans, buckets of shaved ice and water hoses towards home. I forgot money so a collectivo was out of the questio I am beginning to seriously resent collectivos Well 24 minutes I may have picked up Susan’s timing habit later I arrived home. I looked in the mirror and realized my mascara had run completely down my face, my hair was plastered to my forehead and my face was beat red. I am rushing to get ready. I have the blow dryer in the crook of my arm, tissue in one hand and mascara in the other because Nelda does not believe in Chilean time right

6:50
alright well anyone can be 5 minutes late

7:00

7:15
I call her No answer

7:35
she calls and it goes something like this.
Nelda: Hey Mary, did you call
Me: confused um yeah. Weren’t you supposed to be here at 6:45

Nelda: Don’t worry. See you in 10 minutes

7:45

7:50
Nelda: Mary, I can’t find your house. We’re at the corner store

Me: Okay, stay there I’ll meet you

Nelda: click as in she hung up

8:00
I’m shivering standing by the corner store and my mascara is threatening another trip down my cheeks

8:10
Nelda arrives

Me: is it okay we’re late

Nelda: It’s Chilean time

To be cont.