In which I explain what happens when mother nature decides to take things into her own hands...
First I'll tell you what I don't have. I don't have very many good pictures of 'La Campana', if any at all. I don't have the experience of sleeping two nights in the mountains of Chile. I don't have a group (I'll explain this shortly). As for what I DO have; I have a cold, I have extremely muddy clothes and shoes, I have a bruise on my chest, but most importantly and above all other things, I have a story.
To start this story we have to go back a few days before the trip. The way my mountain sporting class is set up is in two groups. In each of the groups, the students are split into small sub-groups of three or four. I chose to join the group with the vegetarian German couple, meaning I wouldn't be able to eat meat during the trips, and I would have to share a tent with a couple. The three of us decided that it would be easier, because they were the members of the group that were 'picky' eaters and they lived together, that they could go out and get the food and I would just pay them when we met up to leave on the trip. They also thought that they could find a tent for us so I wouldn't have to worry about that. The day before we left and two days after I had spoken with them last, I sent them a message asking if everything was ready, and if not what could I do to help. About one hour later I received a response with a sincere apology saying that neither of them would be able to make it on the trip because they were both feeling sick. Now is where the story gets interesting. While I don't blame them, after all people get sick, I was still a little upset, because the two members of the group that were supposed to have everything were no longer going, and I am now without a group, and without supplies for the trip tomorrow. I quickly e-mailed the professors explaining the situation, stating that I need a tent for camping, just for myself, and anything else they could supply me with. I then went out to go to the store (during the national strike going on outside) to pick up food for two days. I stayed in Vina, because the riots almost always stay in Valpo, and went to the Jumbo (store for foreigners, similar to an unorganized Wal*Mart). I picked up food that was already ready to eat, applesauce, bread, peanut butter (which was the first american food I had eaten in over a month), cereal bars, dried fruit, and you get the idea. I was trying to find food that was easy to eat, and that I wouldn't need to cook, so I could avoid packing cooking gear, and avoid buying a gas canister. The store was a success, all food purchased and all for under 20 dollars. When I returned to the house, I had received an e-mail from the professors. It was a short response and my feelings were mixed on its contents. On one hand I had a tent, great news; on the other hand, it was the same tent that the professors were sleeping in.
The next day, I had all of my gear packed in my hiking backpack supplied by my amazing Uncle Mike (thanks a million it worked out really well) and I was ready to meet the rest of the class. We met up at 3 in the afternoon and headed out using the metro and then a bus, and then the rest of the trail by foot. We were told that it would take about 2 hours to hike to our camping spot, and then tomorrow we would be able to leave most of our supplies with our tents and hike the rest of the trail (to the peak) with less weight. That sounded good to me, so we started the hike. It was about five o' clock when we started and I knew that most of the hike would be made at night. It was colder up in the mountains and there were clouds everywhere. I knew that the likelihood of rain was pretty high, and I also knew that in the mountains there might even be a chance of snow. The hike itself wasn't bad at all, a little tiring, but overall fun and it felt great to be out in the mountains. Fresh, clean air, no sounds of traffic, no sirens, it was nice. And even though it was pitch black for most of the hike, and the fog was too dense to see anything during the day portion of the hike, I knew in the morning when we woke up, we would be able to see just how high we'd hiked! After the two hour hike, we made it to the campsite, and we started to set up immediately, that was when the rain and wind started.
My first goal was to find a tent to sleep in, because even though I had been promised the tent with the professors, they had a third, unknown professor, join them, and the thought of me and three professors sharing a tent on the first trip, well lets just say I was not looking forward to it. I asked around and found out the tent that could fit six people only had five in it so far, so I told the professors that I was going to join that tent, said goodnight to the other people and went to join my new group.
I was placed against the wall of the tent, which I would have been fine with had the weather been cooperative. Now anyone who has ever been camping in a tent knows that even if it doesn't rain, the morning dew usually covers the outside of the tent, which is where it stays, unless someone touches the tent. With six people sharing one tent, it was impossible not to touch the tent. The weather that night was unbelievable. The wind was so strong I thought the tent was sure to collapse, the rain pounded at the tent with such force there was a possibility that it would puncture it soon, and the whole time I am lying next to the side of it, getting slapped in the face with the wet tent, and feeling the cold seep through my sleeping bag. I think it is fairly safe to say that no one got sleep that night, and in the morning when we woke up, snow covered the ground and tents and the sleet continued.
Now the professors were faced with a choice, and if it was only the snow we were up against, I feel safe in saying we would have continued. But morale was low with the students, some were wet, most were tired, and all were cold. On top of everything else, the narrow trails leading up to the peak and back to the base were now slippery mud and almost impossible to walk on. With everything looking the way it did, the professors decided to surrender and face defeat to mother nature, we would pack our things and head back down the mountain. Now for me, growing up in the mountains in Montana, I am accustomed to this. Sometimes camping trips are ended much earlier than expected due to bad weather, even with this I was disappointed. Instead of getting away for a fun weekend of camping, with campfire games and pictures of the scenery, I was cold and wet and tired and now in for a two and a half hour hike through the mud. I did attempt at a few pictures because it was, despite the weather, extremely beautiful up in the mountains, but most either turned out blurry or dark, but I have something better than those pictures. I have the memory and the experience.
The trip may not have been what I was expecting, but really when is anything in life what you expect it to be. I survived, I made some good memories, and even better I made some great friends. It is difficult to spend one sleepless, cold, wet, night in a tent with five strangers and not make friends. And because our weekend was shot, we decided to go home, shower, nap, and wake up and go out that night. We went out, we had fun, and even better I took the micro home and got off on the right stop for the first time yet! And even though I'm lying in bed right now, sick with a cold, and piled up with homework I don't plan on doing, I am glad for every second of it.
PS. Apparently there was a fairly sizable earthquake when I was out with my friends, but I was either too drunk, or too busy in the club to even notice it.
Also I am sorry to all those that were looking forward to the pictures, I will have some on facebook and I will have some when I return home to show people, but none will be on the blog. Thanks as always for reading, you have no idea how much I appreciate it. I hope you are all finding yourselves in good health.
Until the next chapter...
No Vemo Pronto
S.R.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Chapter 6 ~ Food is Food
In which I explain the difference in foods and habits of eating, and while there are many changes in their habits compared to the United States, one thing never changes; boredom equals hungry.
Well I'm stuck in the house for the next couple of days. As I have previously explained, there are a number of student riots and marches going on throughout Chile, protesting and requesting reform in the education system. Well instead of slowly being resolved it seems that it may be getting a little worse for a while. For today and tomorrow there is a 'National Strike' going on and, as far as I can tell, all schools in Chile have been shut down for both days. Due to these strikes, I have received numerous e-mails from the US Department of State, the US Embassy in Chile, and my home institution stating an increase in danger for the next couple of days. At the same time I'm receiving these e-mails my host mother keeps assuring me that where we live is safe and I could even wander around Vina if I'd like, just as long as I don't go anywhere near Valpo. Now I have had to fight with my other half and I am forcing myself to remain in the house, but after a friend of mine told me that they could see all of the marches from their balcony and they have several pictures of it I have encountered a little jealousy and want pictures of it too. And even though Jaime has told me it is dangerous for him to live that close, even from a balcony, in case of bombs, I still feel like my adventure into the riot would make an amazing story! Anyway I have drifted from the topic I promised in the beginning. This was just leading into it because I am now stuck in the house, with the potential of getting bored, and nothing makes me miss food like being bored.
Now I am well aware that I have already discussed a little bit about food in the chapter on my daily life, but seeing as I have nothing to discuss until I get back from my camping trip this upcoming weekend, I figured my blog could use a filler. I must first tell a bunch of my readers (including my cousin Tom) that they will be disappointed to find out there is no such thing as chili in Chile (and to think I almost used 'Chili in Chile' for the title of my blog). I discovered this because of an interesting tradition they have here in Chile. When it has been raining for a few days, it is tradition in Chile to make "sopaiapillas". This amazing piece of fried pumpkin bread is delicious and worth every ounce of grease ingested in every bite. Back home, my mother makes a version of these every time she makes chili, so while I was eating them I decided I'd bring it up and wait for the outcome. I ended up explaining what chili was (difficult in itself) all to discover they don't have anything of the sort here. Which I found slightly interesting because I have some type of soup almost every day for lunch. And I'm not complaining, because I like all of them, and I like soup, but every day is almost overdoing it. And when you join the soup with the salad that is always on the table, with the bread of course, well it just sort of feels like I have been at the 'never ending soup, salad, and breadsticks' at Olive Garden for over a month now. And when I say never ending I mean never ending. I don't have to go into how much bread I eat again do I?
Aside from that, I am not getting as much meat as I am used too. They make some type of meat on some days on some of the weekends, and sometimes during the week there will be lunch meat available to accompany the bread, but other than that, I'm really not eating meat. And according to my professor, fruits and vegetables are much cheaper here, but no one really ever eats them. I don't find it true in my house, we always have fruits and veggies around, but that might be because we don't really have a lot of meat. And generally, all the way around I have found that foods and alcohol are much cheaper comparative to the US, but clothes (sold in stores) are much more expensive. It is easy to side step the expensive clothes by buying them from the street vendors if you have enough courage, and if you do have enough courage for the street vendors, you can find almost anything cheaper.
Well I think I have rambled on for a sufficient amount of time now, it is my host mothers birthday today, so she has invited all of her girlfriends over and pisco sours are a must. Tomorrow her and Jaime are going out to trade in their vehicle for a 2012, because apparently they trade it in every 5 years for a brand new one, must be nice. The only problem with that is now I have no idea what to get her for her birthday, because I can't top a new car. Also, I am going to use this as a tester for adding pictures, and if it works, I will add some good pictures from my camping trip I'm taking this weekend. My mountain sports class is going to 'La Campana' for a few days. Should be a good time, and I should have some good stories/pictures for when I get back. Until then I hope everyone is doing well in the US and thank you all for your continued reading...
No Vemo Pronto
S.R.
(From left to right: My host brother Felipe (lives in Chiloe), my host sister Alejandra (lives half the time in Santiago and half the time with us), my host sister Silvana (twin of Alejandra and lives in Chiloe), myself, and my host mother Hilda) The dog is Pepe, he is a little mean, has bit me once, but I'm getting used to him and he is getting used to me. Jaime (my host father) could not appear because he was at work and this was the last chance I had with all of my host siblings.
Well I'm stuck in the house for the next couple of days. As I have previously explained, there are a number of student riots and marches going on throughout Chile, protesting and requesting reform in the education system. Well instead of slowly being resolved it seems that it may be getting a little worse for a while. For today and tomorrow there is a 'National Strike' going on and, as far as I can tell, all schools in Chile have been shut down for both days. Due to these strikes, I have received numerous e-mails from the US Department of State, the US Embassy in Chile, and my home institution stating an increase in danger for the next couple of days. At the same time I'm receiving these e-mails my host mother keeps assuring me that where we live is safe and I could even wander around Vina if I'd like, just as long as I don't go anywhere near Valpo. Now I have had to fight with my other half and I am forcing myself to remain in the house, but after a friend of mine told me that they could see all of the marches from their balcony and they have several pictures of it I have encountered a little jealousy and want pictures of it too. And even though Jaime has told me it is dangerous for him to live that close, even from a balcony, in case of bombs, I still feel like my adventure into the riot would make an amazing story! Anyway I have drifted from the topic I promised in the beginning. This was just leading into it because I am now stuck in the house, with the potential of getting bored, and nothing makes me miss food like being bored.
Now I am well aware that I have already discussed a little bit about food in the chapter on my daily life, but seeing as I have nothing to discuss until I get back from my camping trip this upcoming weekend, I figured my blog could use a filler. I must first tell a bunch of my readers (including my cousin Tom) that they will be disappointed to find out there is no such thing as chili in Chile (and to think I almost used 'Chili in Chile' for the title of my blog). I discovered this because of an interesting tradition they have here in Chile. When it has been raining for a few days, it is tradition in Chile to make "sopaiapillas". This amazing piece of fried pumpkin bread is delicious and worth every ounce of grease ingested in every bite. Back home, my mother makes a version of these every time she makes chili, so while I was eating them I decided I'd bring it up and wait for the outcome. I ended up explaining what chili was (difficult in itself) all to discover they don't have anything of the sort here. Which I found slightly interesting because I have some type of soup almost every day for lunch. And I'm not complaining, because I like all of them, and I like soup, but every day is almost overdoing it. And when you join the soup with the salad that is always on the table, with the bread of course, well it just sort of feels like I have been at the 'never ending soup, salad, and breadsticks' at Olive Garden for over a month now. And when I say never ending I mean never ending. I don't have to go into how much bread I eat again do I?
Aside from that, I am not getting as much meat as I am used too. They make some type of meat on some days on some of the weekends, and sometimes during the week there will be lunch meat available to accompany the bread, but other than that, I'm really not eating meat. And according to my professor, fruits and vegetables are much cheaper here, but no one really ever eats them. I don't find it true in my house, we always have fruits and veggies around, but that might be because we don't really have a lot of meat. And generally, all the way around I have found that foods and alcohol are much cheaper comparative to the US, but clothes (sold in stores) are much more expensive. It is easy to side step the expensive clothes by buying them from the street vendors if you have enough courage, and if you do have enough courage for the street vendors, you can find almost anything cheaper.
Well I think I have rambled on for a sufficient amount of time now, it is my host mothers birthday today, so she has invited all of her girlfriends over and pisco sours are a must. Tomorrow her and Jaime are going out to trade in their vehicle for a 2012, because apparently they trade it in every 5 years for a brand new one, must be nice. The only problem with that is now I have no idea what to get her for her birthday, because I can't top a new car. Also, I am going to use this as a tester for adding pictures, and if it works, I will add some good pictures from my camping trip I'm taking this weekend. My mountain sports class is going to 'La Campana' for a few days. Should be a good time, and I should have some good stories/pictures for when I get back. Until then I hope everyone is doing well in the US and thank you all for your continued reading...
No Vemo Pronto
S.R.
(From left to right: My host brother Felipe (lives in Chiloe), my host sister Alejandra (lives half the time in Santiago and half the time with us), my host sister Silvana (twin of Alejandra and lives in Chiloe), myself, and my host mother Hilda) The dog is Pepe, he is a little mean, has bit me once, but I'm getting used to him and he is getting used to me. Jaime (my host father) could not appear because he was at work and this was the last chance I had with all of my host siblings.
Monday, August 15, 2011
Chapter 5 ~ Micros, Colectivos, Metros, and More
In which I explain my first experience in a micro, my first experience on going out in Chile, and my first time going out for my mountain sporting class. Get ready to read...
So I'm sure by now that a fair few of you have been wondering why I entitled this blog "Climbing with Chileans". Well now is the time where I will explain everything. I am taking a class called 'Deportes de Montanas' which is, in essence, an extreme mounting hiking, rock climbing, camping class. As a group, we go on different types of trips, usually to the mountains, or somewhere near the mountains, and we commence the mountain sports. I have just successfully completed my first rock climbing outing. As a class we went out to Las Chilcas and climbed some pretty impressive 'cliffs'. After climbing them we repelled down and started over. I repelled down different canyons about 5 times, and I climbed two different sides of the cliff three times. Side Note: If I knew how to get the pictures up on this site, I would, but until I learn how all of the pictures will be on facebook (sorry to those of you who do not have a facebook page and/or are not friends with me). The experience of saying I have climbed and repelled down a mountain is one that I will remember forever. It was thrilling and exciting getting up that high and knowing that the only thing saving you from plummeting to the ground was a rope and your climbing abilities. It was all the more impressive that the only training they gave us was climbing up one rock wall at their gym that quite frankly my grandmother could have climbed without using her hands. So when I was asked if this class was going to be physically demanding, after only having such little training, I said no. And while it didn't require a lot of physical strength, it was much more challenging than I had anticipated, and yet, everyone was able to climb to the top and everyone repelled down. Its amazing how much we can accomplish if we put are minds to it, even if we did have to meet at 6:30 am that morning.
Meeting that early in the morning was no fun task I assure you, mostly because the metro station was closed and I had to take a micro or a colectivo (which I had only taken once, a taxi with a certain route). As I stated in a previous chapter, I had only been taking the metro everywhere because it was easy, cheap, and impossible to get lost on. Well I knew that the day would come when I would have to take that dreadful micro (a city bus), and it did come, on an unfortunate Friday. This story, as to why I despise all busses requires a little bit of back story, so I will take you back to the not so distant past, in January of 2010. It was on this cold January day, in downtown Minneapolis, that I was required to take a city bus to my school, for the first time in my life. I had been over the route with my roommate and she assured me that it was super easy and that I couldn't mess it up if I tried. Well I didn't try to mess it up, and yet somehow I did. I got off on the stop after mine and had to backtrack a couple of blocks to get to my class on time, which in itself isn't so bad, but it was winter in the midwest, and I had to cross a bridge, on foot. So that started the experience, and then, on that same day, I had to take the bus back home. Well this time I was prepared, I had counted the stops and knew that after so many stops it was mine and I would not mess it up this time. Well, I had no idea that the bus had a few more stops on the way back and so when I was counting out the stops, I had no idea that the bus was not nearly as far as it should have been. So after the number of stops had passed I knew that the next stop was mine and I got off the bus, only to realize a second to late that it was not my stop. I had to walk, in the snowy cold winter, 2 miles to get back to my house, and ever since that day I have despised all busses, even if everything goes well on them, I would just prefer to walk or bike, or crawl, or just about anything but take a bus. To add a little to that story, my sense of direction (while it has improved over the years) is still astonishingly infantile. So when I am in a new area, and I don't have any landmarks to help me know where I am, and don't recognize anything around, I get a little nervous and my brain doesn't seem to work as well. Having said all of that, the story of what happened this last Friday can now begin.
I was to meet my Mountain Sports class in Sausalito at 5:20 that evening, I had a map and the numbers of the micros that I could take. I had never really been to Sausalito, and I knew it was in the hills so I wouldn't really be able to see the ocean to help with my direction, and the fact that it was in a known 'shady' part of town only bothered me a little bit. I had been waiting to take a micro until I had to, and now that I had to, I was wishing I had more experience on them. But I still went to that bus stop, and I had to wait, and watch as 3 of the micros I could have taken passed by. Here in Chile, the micros don't really stop, you just have to flag them down and they'll pull up to the curve and you jump on while its still sort of moving. Finally, after about 15 minutes one of the micros that I could take stopped, all the way, because it was stuck behind a few other micros that were unloading. I ran to the micro, stepped on the first step, and that is when things started going wrong... As soon as I got on, the driver decided to pull away from the curb, into speeding traffic, which threw me against the railing, knocking the wind out of me. Then, I walk up to the driver to pay and tell him where I am going, and he immediately says something that I couldn't understand. So with my look of confusion, and lack of a response, he grins and asks me where I am going. Well I knew exactly where I wanted to go, so I told him the stop that I needed and he shook his head that he understood, told me how much it was (about 1 dollar) and we were off. I was trying to memorize as much as I could about where we were going, and I knew that as soon as we crossed the bridge, I had to count out 12 street crossings and get off the micro at the 12th. Well lets just say that it is almost impossible to do that here. Half of the 'crossings' are only on one side, none of the streets are clearly labeled, and we are going what feels like 300 miles an hour. So after a few minutes I decide that I should just go to the front of the bus and remind the driver that I need to get off at 12 Norte. When I reach the bus driver and ask where 12 Norte is, he laughs and says that we passed it a little bit ago. He then pulls up to the curb and in the words of my dad's girlfriend, I had to tuck and roll, because he was not going to stop. Now, all I know is that we passed where I needed to be, I am in a semi-bad part of town, and I have 20 minutes to get to class. So I start walking, backtracking until the road comes to a Y, and I can't find a street sign, and knowing that if I look too lost, or too much like a 'Gringo' I will be an easy target for pick-pocketing. I decide to go with my gut, which doesn't exactly steer me wrong, and since I have no idea where the other road would have led me, I am going to say I chose correctly. After walking around for a few minutes, I decide to just ask the next person I see how to get to Sausalito. It turned out to be a nice old woman with no teeth, who was almost impossible to understand, but I just went in the direction that she pointed me in, and after a few more minutes I made it to the class, barely late and glad to have made it! My first order of business in class was to find someone who was going to the same place as I was after class and follow them, and what I ended up finding was so much better.
I found a group of people who were planning on going out that night, and were planning on walking to the metro station as a group; just the things I had hoped to find! I got some of their numbers on the walk to the metro station and told them I would call them at 10:30 (the absolute earliest anyone goes out in Chile). I got home and told Hilda that I had plans to go out finally and would be leaving soon. She was really excited to hear this news because I had yet to go out with friends in the 3 weeks I had been here and that is really unusual behavior to Chileans. Every weekend she always asked if I had plans with friends, and every weekend I responded with 'not yet'. So she made me some food, I ate, and then she sent me on my way. My friend called me with a change of plans and said that we were meeting at 10:30 at his place to pre-game a little before we go out, and he asked me to bring something. I stopped at a liquor store to find out about the most amazing promotion I have ever heard of. On Friday and Saturday nights, the liquor stores here have a promotion for a bottle of either pisco (Chilean alcohol that is amazing) rum, or vodka, a 2 liter bottle of soda, and a bag of ice; all for just over 8 dollars. So, now loaded up with booze, ice and a mixer, I head out to my friends house with the directions he gave me, and I could take the metro! It was going to be a great night. I called him when I got to the street he lived on, he met me out by the gate (all houses have locked gates) and we started to climb the 3 flights of stairs to get to his host family's castle. Now I am extremely happy with my host family, they are great and I would never think of trading them, but my friend's host family is in a whole other dimension. As soon as we got to the top of the stairs, I started for the front door, to which he told me no, the party house is to the left. His host family has a separate building for parties!? This party 'room' had a pool table, a flat screen TV on the wall playing music videos, a bar, and seating for everyone. After congratulating myself on friend selection, we began the night. After my bottle of pisco was gone, we decided to go out to a club that his host brothers could get us into for free. At about 3:30 some of our group was a little hungry and a little tired. We went to get a 'completo' (a hot dog with a lot of avocado, mayo, and tomatoes and is equivalent to the US's big mac) and then we called it a night. I had to take a micro home, because the metro closes after 10:30, and once again I got off on the stop after mine. This time it wasn't exactly my fault, I was slightly intoxicated, it was dark, and the driver was speeding. So by the time I realized we were at my stop and I pulled the cord to tell the driver to stop, it was too late. I only had to backtrack a little, but made it home in one piece at around 4:30. It was a successful night.
I would like to add that I have since taken a few more micros and have yet to get off on the right stop, but I have also made it to where I need to go so it hasn't been a complete failure. I would also like to add just one more interesting fact about where I am living. In the United States we have ice cream trucks that drive a little slower and play music (you know the type of music, that high pitched whistling). Well here in Chile, they also have a truck that drives a little slower and plays the same type of high pitched music, except here it is the gas truck (Chileans have propane looking tanks of gas to heat their water and what not, and they have to replace the tanks twice a month). And the last truck that passed was playing the song 'Silent Night'. Interesting....
Anyway I know this was a bit longer than the usual, and I want to thank all of you that stuck through it until the end. I really appreciate it and I hope you are all finding yourselves in good health.
No Vemo Pronto
S.R.
So I'm sure by now that a fair few of you have been wondering why I entitled this blog "Climbing with Chileans". Well now is the time where I will explain everything. I am taking a class called 'Deportes de Montanas' which is, in essence, an extreme mounting hiking, rock climbing, camping class. As a group, we go on different types of trips, usually to the mountains, or somewhere near the mountains, and we commence the mountain sports. I have just successfully completed my first rock climbing outing. As a class we went out to Las Chilcas and climbed some pretty impressive 'cliffs'. After climbing them we repelled down and started over. I repelled down different canyons about 5 times, and I climbed two different sides of the cliff three times. Side Note: If I knew how to get the pictures up on this site, I would, but until I learn how all of the pictures will be on facebook (sorry to those of you who do not have a facebook page and/or are not friends with me). The experience of saying I have climbed and repelled down a mountain is one that I will remember forever. It was thrilling and exciting getting up that high and knowing that the only thing saving you from plummeting to the ground was a rope and your climbing abilities. It was all the more impressive that the only training they gave us was climbing up one rock wall at their gym that quite frankly my grandmother could have climbed without using her hands. So when I was asked if this class was going to be physically demanding, after only having such little training, I said no. And while it didn't require a lot of physical strength, it was much more challenging than I had anticipated, and yet, everyone was able to climb to the top and everyone repelled down. Its amazing how much we can accomplish if we put are minds to it, even if we did have to meet at 6:30 am that morning.
Meeting that early in the morning was no fun task I assure you, mostly because the metro station was closed and I had to take a micro or a colectivo (which I had only taken once, a taxi with a certain route). As I stated in a previous chapter, I had only been taking the metro everywhere because it was easy, cheap, and impossible to get lost on. Well I knew that the day would come when I would have to take that dreadful micro (a city bus), and it did come, on an unfortunate Friday. This story, as to why I despise all busses requires a little bit of back story, so I will take you back to the not so distant past, in January of 2010. It was on this cold January day, in downtown Minneapolis, that I was required to take a city bus to my school, for the first time in my life. I had been over the route with my roommate and she assured me that it was super easy and that I couldn't mess it up if I tried. Well I didn't try to mess it up, and yet somehow I did. I got off on the stop after mine and had to backtrack a couple of blocks to get to my class on time, which in itself isn't so bad, but it was winter in the midwest, and I had to cross a bridge, on foot. So that started the experience, and then, on that same day, I had to take the bus back home. Well this time I was prepared, I had counted the stops and knew that after so many stops it was mine and I would not mess it up this time. Well, I had no idea that the bus had a few more stops on the way back and so when I was counting out the stops, I had no idea that the bus was not nearly as far as it should have been. So after the number of stops had passed I knew that the next stop was mine and I got off the bus, only to realize a second to late that it was not my stop. I had to walk, in the snowy cold winter, 2 miles to get back to my house, and ever since that day I have despised all busses, even if everything goes well on them, I would just prefer to walk or bike, or crawl, or just about anything but take a bus. To add a little to that story, my sense of direction (while it has improved over the years) is still astonishingly infantile. So when I am in a new area, and I don't have any landmarks to help me know where I am, and don't recognize anything around, I get a little nervous and my brain doesn't seem to work as well. Having said all of that, the story of what happened this last Friday can now begin.
I was to meet my Mountain Sports class in Sausalito at 5:20 that evening, I had a map and the numbers of the micros that I could take. I had never really been to Sausalito, and I knew it was in the hills so I wouldn't really be able to see the ocean to help with my direction, and the fact that it was in a known 'shady' part of town only bothered me a little bit. I had been waiting to take a micro until I had to, and now that I had to, I was wishing I had more experience on them. But I still went to that bus stop, and I had to wait, and watch as 3 of the micros I could have taken passed by. Here in Chile, the micros don't really stop, you just have to flag them down and they'll pull up to the curve and you jump on while its still sort of moving. Finally, after about 15 minutes one of the micros that I could take stopped, all the way, because it was stuck behind a few other micros that were unloading. I ran to the micro, stepped on the first step, and that is when things started going wrong... As soon as I got on, the driver decided to pull away from the curb, into speeding traffic, which threw me against the railing, knocking the wind out of me. Then, I walk up to the driver to pay and tell him where I am going, and he immediately says something that I couldn't understand. So with my look of confusion, and lack of a response, he grins and asks me where I am going. Well I knew exactly where I wanted to go, so I told him the stop that I needed and he shook his head that he understood, told me how much it was (about 1 dollar) and we were off. I was trying to memorize as much as I could about where we were going, and I knew that as soon as we crossed the bridge, I had to count out 12 street crossings and get off the micro at the 12th. Well lets just say that it is almost impossible to do that here. Half of the 'crossings' are only on one side, none of the streets are clearly labeled, and we are going what feels like 300 miles an hour. So after a few minutes I decide that I should just go to the front of the bus and remind the driver that I need to get off at 12 Norte. When I reach the bus driver and ask where 12 Norte is, he laughs and says that we passed it a little bit ago. He then pulls up to the curb and in the words of my dad's girlfriend, I had to tuck and roll, because he was not going to stop. Now, all I know is that we passed where I needed to be, I am in a semi-bad part of town, and I have 20 minutes to get to class. So I start walking, backtracking until the road comes to a Y, and I can't find a street sign, and knowing that if I look too lost, or too much like a 'Gringo' I will be an easy target for pick-pocketing. I decide to go with my gut, which doesn't exactly steer me wrong, and since I have no idea where the other road would have led me, I am going to say I chose correctly. After walking around for a few minutes, I decide to just ask the next person I see how to get to Sausalito. It turned out to be a nice old woman with no teeth, who was almost impossible to understand, but I just went in the direction that she pointed me in, and after a few more minutes I made it to the class, barely late and glad to have made it! My first order of business in class was to find someone who was going to the same place as I was after class and follow them, and what I ended up finding was so much better.
I found a group of people who were planning on going out that night, and were planning on walking to the metro station as a group; just the things I had hoped to find! I got some of their numbers on the walk to the metro station and told them I would call them at 10:30 (the absolute earliest anyone goes out in Chile). I got home and told Hilda that I had plans to go out finally and would be leaving soon. She was really excited to hear this news because I had yet to go out with friends in the 3 weeks I had been here and that is really unusual behavior to Chileans. Every weekend she always asked if I had plans with friends, and every weekend I responded with 'not yet'. So she made me some food, I ate, and then she sent me on my way. My friend called me with a change of plans and said that we were meeting at 10:30 at his place to pre-game a little before we go out, and he asked me to bring something. I stopped at a liquor store to find out about the most amazing promotion I have ever heard of. On Friday and Saturday nights, the liquor stores here have a promotion for a bottle of either pisco (Chilean alcohol that is amazing) rum, or vodka, a 2 liter bottle of soda, and a bag of ice; all for just over 8 dollars. So, now loaded up with booze, ice and a mixer, I head out to my friends house with the directions he gave me, and I could take the metro! It was going to be a great night. I called him when I got to the street he lived on, he met me out by the gate (all houses have locked gates) and we started to climb the 3 flights of stairs to get to his host family's castle. Now I am extremely happy with my host family, they are great and I would never think of trading them, but my friend's host family is in a whole other dimension. As soon as we got to the top of the stairs, I started for the front door, to which he told me no, the party house is to the left. His host family has a separate building for parties!? This party 'room' had a pool table, a flat screen TV on the wall playing music videos, a bar, and seating for everyone. After congratulating myself on friend selection, we began the night. After my bottle of pisco was gone, we decided to go out to a club that his host brothers could get us into for free. At about 3:30 some of our group was a little hungry and a little tired. We went to get a 'completo' (a hot dog with a lot of avocado, mayo, and tomatoes and is equivalent to the US's big mac) and then we called it a night. I had to take a micro home, because the metro closes after 10:30, and once again I got off on the stop after mine. This time it wasn't exactly my fault, I was slightly intoxicated, it was dark, and the driver was speeding. So by the time I realized we were at my stop and I pulled the cord to tell the driver to stop, it was too late. I only had to backtrack a little, but made it home in one piece at around 4:30. It was a successful night.
I would like to add that I have since taken a few more micros and have yet to get off on the right stop, but I have also made it to where I need to go so it hasn't been a complete failure. I would also like to add just one more interesting fact about where I am living. In the United States we have ice cream trucks that drive a little slower and play music (you know the type of music, that high pitched whistling). Well here in Chile, they also have a truck that drives a little slower and plays the same type of high pitched music, except here it is the gas truck (Chileans have propane looking tanks of gas to heat their water and what not, and they have to replace the tanks twice a month). And the last truck that passed was playing the song 'Silent Night'. Interesting....
Anyway I know this was a bit longer than the usual, and I want to thank all of you that stuck through it until the end. I really appreciate it and I hope you are all finding yourselves in good health.
No Vemo Pronto
S.R.
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Chapter 4 ~ Its a Dog Eat Dog World
In which I explain my daily life as a South American, some differences between here and the US, and I finally have the truth on toilet flushing...
It is a strange concept, time. It is difficult to grasp how, depending on what you are thinking about or doing in any given moment, the speed of time changes. For instance, when you are having a great time, or are on vacation, or sleeping even, time doesn't seem to slow down. It even seems to accelerate. But then the second you are homesick, or are in class, or waiting for 3 hours to get an ID at what can only be described as the DMV, sitting there, on the floor because there are too many people to even find a good place to stand; time finds the breaks. And now that 3 hours, or that 1 hour and 45 minutes remaining of class, or that 4 months until you return home seems like it will NEVER arrive. Time, for me anyway, seems to be a teenager learning to drive for the first time. Sometimes the foot slips and you accelerate into next week, and sometimes they just can't find the courage to go the speed limit on the interstate. What I'm doing with my time, however, is what this whole trip is really about.
So, what is it like, being a South American? Incredibly it can be described using only one word, relaxed. I will take you on an average day with me to show you what it is exactly that I mean. I wake up in the morning everyday (except Tuesdays because I have class) at around 10. My host mother, Hilda, makes me breakfast, which usually consists of bread with a variety of toppings on the side. She has homemade jams, she has different kinds of cheese that I still have no idea what they are, she has honey, she has butter, and if there was something else I wanted on my toast that morning, she would find it. Sometimes there is a bowl of cut up fruit and yogurt but that isn't everyday, bread is every day. After we eat breakfast, depending on the day, I either get ready for class or go in my room and relax, because breakfast was extremely stressful. After a few hours of relaxing it is time for lunch, the main, and only big meal of the day. I have yet to know exactly what I am eating, but it is always good. It is usually some kind of stew, or soup, with salad and bread. Of course there is bread, just assume from now on that there is always bread and it will make envisioning this a lot easier. So after lunch, I generally take a nap. Not a long one, only about an hour, just enough to sleep off that huge lunch I just ate. After my nap, I try to be productive, so that is when I go for a walk usually, to get to know the city, to do something, really anything that day. After my walk its time for 'once', the spanish word for 11, and what they call dinner. It also consists of, you guessed it, bread! Also, just so it is clear, all beverages are either tea, or instant coffee. I drink a LOT of tea and instant coffee, and water. If I drank milk, which I don't, but if I did, my only option would be the powdered milk that they have here. After 'once', Hilda and I clean up the kitchen and then generally play cards until 930, 10, after which, I go to my room and either watch a movie on my laptop, listen to music and play a game until around 2 or 3. Then I go to bed and start the whole process over the next day... life is a little rough right now.
What I didn't include in my daily life rituals, were my classes. I have no classes on Mondays, so what you read above is usually my Monday. Tuesday is the rough day, I have class from 8:15 until about 3:30 that day. Wednesday I only have one class from 11:45 until 1:30. Thursday I have class from 10:15 until 1:30, and Friday I have my favorite class so far, Deportes de Montanas, from 5:20 until 7:20. Because I have only had classes for one week I will wait to discuss them in more detail until further into the semester. All I can say right now, is they are small, consisting of only 9 or 10, and seem to have no real structure that I can tell right now. Interesting, yes, fun, sometimes, easy, well thats to be determined. This relaxed schedule I have had for the past couple weeks is going to change very soon, I have a lot planned for the upcoming months, but for now, its just kind of nice to not have much to do.
As for the introduction, I promised the truth about toilet flushing. Thanks to two of the best friends in the world (Chris and Ashley), I promised I would mention them, we have finally discovered the myth of the toilet flush. It was said, by many people, and only now am I wondering why I believed them and all their stupidity, that once you cross the equator, the toilet flushes in the opposite direction. Well, after a few tests, and thanks to the wonderful invention of Skype, I can safely say that it is NOT true. The toilet flushes in the same direction no matter where you are in the world.
And as for the title of this chapter. If Bob Barker ever came to Chile, he would die, if he isn't dead already, I'm not sure how old he is but he looks about 104. Anyway, the reason is, there are literally thousands of dogs living on the streets here. None of them are fixed, and most look malnourished. Some are nice, but I'd say the majority are skittish and mean at times. On any given walk, I see about 10 dogs roaming around, fighting with each other, looking through garbages, eating off of outdoor tables left unattended. And they bark, constantly and I mean CONSTANTLY, all night long. Most nights I am accustomed to it, but some nights it is hard to sleep.
Well, further chapters to look forward too consist of Mountain Climbing, surfing lessons, Machu Picchu, and further traveling. All of these activities are going to make that time that I mentioned earlier fly by.
Until the next chapter, Thanks for reading!
Nos Vemos Pronto
S.R.
It is a strange concept, time. It is difficult to grasp how, depending on what you are thinking about or doing in any given moment, the speed of time changes. For instance, when you are having a great time, or are on vacation, or sleeping even, time doesn't seem to slow down. It even seems to accelerate. But then the second you are homesick, or are in class, or waiting for 3 hours to get an ID at what can only be described as the DMV, sitting there, on the floor because there are too many people to even find a good place to stand; time finds the breaks. And now that 3 hours, or that 1 hour and 45 minutes remaining of class, or that 4 months until you return home seems like it will NEVER arrive. Time, for me anyway, seems to be a teenager learning to drive for the first time. Sometimes the foot slips and you accelerate into next week, and sometimes they just can't find the courage to go the speed limit on the interstate. What I'm doing with my time, however, is what this whole trip is really about.
So, what is it like, being a South American? Incredibly it can be described using only one word, relaxed. I will take you on an average day with me to show you what it is exactly that I mean. I wake up in the morning everyday (except Tuesdays because I have class) at around 10. My host mother, Hilda, makes me breakfast, which usually consists of bread with a variety of toppings on the side. She has homemade jams, she has different kinds of cheese that I still have no idea what they are, she has honey, she has butter, and if there was something else I wanted on my toast that morning, she would find it. Sometimes there is a bowl of cut up fruit and yogurt but that isn't everyday, bread is every day. After we eat breakfast, depending on the day, I either get ready for class or go in my room and relax, because breakfast was extremely stressful. After a few hours of relaxing it is time for lunch, the main, and only big meal of the day. I have yet to know exactly what I am eating, but it is always good. It is usually some kind of stew, or soup, with salad and bread. Of course there is bread, just assume from now on that there is always bread and it will make envisioning this a lot easier. So after lunch, I generally take a nap. Not a long one, only about an hour, just enough to sleep off that huge lunch I just ate. After my nap, I try to be productive, so that is when I go for a walk usually, to get to know the city, to do something, really anything that day. After my walk its time for 'once', the spanish word for 11, and what they call dinner. It also consists of, you guessed it, bread! Also, just so it is clear, all beverages are either tea, or instant coffee. I drink a LOT of tea and instant coffee, and water. If I drank milk, which I don't, but if I did, my only option would be the powdered milk that they have here. After 'once', Hilda and I clean up the kitchen and then generally play cards until 930, 10, after which, I go to my room and either watch a movie on my laptop, listen to music and play a game until around 2 or 3. Then I go to bed and start the whole process over the next day... life is a little rough right now.
What I didn't include in my daily life rituals, were my classes. I have no classes on Mondays, so what you read above is usually my Monday. Tuesday is the rough day, I have class from 8:15 until about 3:30 that day. Wednesday I only have one class from 11:45 until 1:30. Thursday I have class from 10:15 until 1:30, and Friday I have my favorite class so far, Deportes de Montanas, from 5:20 until 7:20. Because I have only had classes for one week I will wait to discuss them in more detail until further into the semester. All I can say right now, is they are small, consisting of only 9 or 10, and seem to have no real structure that I can tell right now. Interesting, yes, fun, sometimes, easy, well thats to be determined. This relaxed schedule I have had for the past couple weeks is going to change very soon, I have a lot planned for the upcoming months, but for now, its just kind of nice to not have much to do.
As for the introduction, I promised the truth about toilet flushing. Thanks to two of the best friends in the world (Chris and Ashley), I promised I would mention them, we have finally discovered the myth of the toilet flush. It was said, by many people, and only now am I wondering why I believed them and all their stupidity, that once you cross the equator, the toilet flushes in the opposite direction. Well, after a few tests, and thanks to the wonderful invention of Skype, I can safely say that it is NOT true. The toilet flushes in the same direction no matter where you are in the world.
And as for the title of this chapter. If Bob Barker ever came to Chile, he would die, if he isn't dead already, I'm not sure how old he is but he looks about 104. Anyway, the reason is, there are literally thousands of dogs living on the streets here. None of them are fixed, and most look malnourished. Some are nice, but I'd say the majority are skittish and mean at times. On any given walk, I see about 10 dogs roaming around, fighting with each other, looking through garbages, eating off of outdoor tables left unattended. And they bark, constantly and I mean CONSTANTLY, all night long. Most nights I am accustomed to it, but some nights it is hard to sleep.
Well, further chapters to look forward too consist of Mountain Climbing, surfing lessons, Machu Picchu, and further traveling. All of these activities are going to make that time that I mentioned earlier fly by.
Until the next chapter, Thanks for reading!
Nos Vemos Pronto
S.R.
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