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...