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.