Favorite Things: The Market

This is the first entry in a series of things I love/will miss about Chile. Today, the market:

Housed in a block-sized green and yellow building across the street from the ISA office and next to some campus buildings, the market is one of my favorite daily places. Filled with people, fruit and veggies, there's life on all sides and good sights, with the occasional good smell (though horse urine is more common). I'll miss the delicious fresh produce and the bustle of so much movement, but I won't miss getting whistled at by the men working as I walk by.

Mama Said...

Despite my mother's consistent and caring reminders, I've avoided sunscreen fairly successfully for the majority of my self-dependent years. I hate the smell, I hate the feel, I hate the process of putting it on. My half-latina genes always did enough to get me tan without burning. Apparently, not in Chile.

The proximity to the hole in the ozone layer and a culture of tanning (because being Latino here isn't tan enough, it seems) equates to a ridiculously high rate of skin cancer in Chile. Though I fortunately don't count myself among those numbers, I am currently suffering from the worst sunburn of my life. My skin is smarting and red from the nape of the back of my neck to my heels, saving only white lines from my bikini top and a comparatively bleach white bottom. Ouch. Shoulda listened to my mom...

Identity Crisis

Everyone says that studying abroad changes you. I'm right now realizing just how much.

I was wasting away my cloudy Sunday online, clicking through some friends' pictures on Facebook when I realized just how far behind I am. The problem is, it's not just news I've missed; I'm not really sure if I know a good stack of my friends any more. I've changed a lot in these months, and the people back home have surely changed as well, so how does that change how we relate to each other? I'm excited to get back to the people and things I've missed so much (things like debate... I'm not that materialistic), but I'm terrified of how I'll find them, not to mention how they'll find me.

I'm overall pleased with my progress this semester. I think I've grown a lot, and learned a lot about myself. Yet, I can't be more specific about what that really means, as I haven't seen these changes manifested in a context where they're highlighted. I guess all I can do is wait and see: two weeks from tomorrow, I'll be headed home.

Algunas lagrimitas

So here's the lonely Thanksgiving post long in the making:

It's hard to be away from family during the holidays, but harder, I think, for the very first time. I feel homesick for pistachios in front of the Macy's parade, crowding the kitchen with the rest of my family, being in charge of the dishes I'm always in charge of, the smells of butterflake rolls, apple pie, stuffing, and turkey, goofy toasts with sparkling cider, sappy I-am-grateful-for questions, Christmas music for the first time of the season, eating baby gerkin pickles all day, making fun of my mom's cooking frustrations, reading the ads for Black Friday, homemade cranberry sauce splattering itself all over me while it's cooking, candles, fuzzy sweaters, taking Shadow for a walk before dinner, eating pumpkin pie all night, cool whip topping, my dad watching the football game on mute, my brother hiding in and out of his room, my sister getting pretty for dinner, my mom's caring cooking, being barefoot and pajamaed over the frosty grass to get the paper in the morning, making my list of gifts to buy, smashed potatoes, putting the marshmallows in the sweet potatoes with my brother and sister, drinking tea all day, my favorite foods that my parents always buy when I'm coming home, the rush to see my Spokane friends for as much time as possible during a long weekend, Christmas decorating, watching Miracle on 34th Street, never doing the homework I intended to get ahead with, Starbucks on Pines and Sprague with my friends, the special holiday drinks at Starbucks, arguing over the perfect weekend to get a Christmas tree with my family, turning the heat up too high in my bedroom, my mom making my bed before I get home from Willamette so my room isn't a total disaster, eating leftover everything for breakfast, fighting over the best leftovers, and relaxing where I'm most comfortable.

Last year, NR came for dinner with my family. I miss his snuggles and company.

All of the homesick loneliness for Thanksgiving is made stronger than it should be. It's finals week, and I'm stressed and busy. It's one year since Logan's accident, and I miss him and all the people who miss him with me.

I know that these emotions and frustrations are shared by many people away from home and family this Thanksgiving. To all my friends and family, at home and all over the world, I love and am grateful to have you in my life. You're on my mind these days, and in my heart for always.

(I also promise a more cheery post next time)

At the Grocery Store

Shopping for Thanksgiving supplies this weekend, I had a few grocery store observations I'd like to share.

1. Chile doesn't do canned pumpkin. In fact, it doesn't do pumpkin at all. Now, before you ask "Well, what do they eat at Thanksgiving??" stop yourself, and review a little colonial history. We good? Aight.

The unfortunate thing is that USAians in Chile, DO do Thanksgiving... and here I'm referring to myself and the other students in my exchange program. All of our families are getting together, some 150 people in all, for a giant Thanksgiving-end of semester feast. Unfortunately, it seems that it will be without pumpkin pie.

2. Christmas is almost here! Or, I suppose, at least getting close. Without the aforementioned holiday-marker of Thanksgiving, Chile starts the Christmas shopping season even earlier than in the US. Jumbo, the overgrown, latino Walmart, is decked out in wreaths and garland, with rows of artificial trees decorated for sale inside. It's very odd, might I add, to see Christmas decorations sold next to beach towels and summer dresses.

3. I will never be able to not notice aisles of boxed milk and eggs, unrefrigerated.

Wake-up Call

The timestamp on this post says November 17. I leave Chile, probably to never return, on December 10. That means 23 days. Where on earth did my time go????

Shhaaaky

By the way, the 7.7 earthquake that's all over the news was about 22 hours north of me. I didn't feel it, obviously, and the information I have of it is still surprisingly limited, but I'm thinking of maybe heading up there to help out, if there's a real need a couple weeks from now. I'll keep you all updated, but thanks for all your email and facebook concerns!

Oye, Gringa!

Today, I reached a new level. I'm not really sure yet if it was a high or a low...

After more than 4 months now of hundreds of "piropos" (loosely translated as being whistled at and/or propositioned on the street), I snapped. I'd complained about the graphic and degrading nature of walking past a man to my friends, here and in the States, my host family, really anyone who would listen. I'd joked about the language skills I wish I had to appropriately tell them off, compared horror stories, and taken many angry, scrub-too-hard showers. What pushed me over the line this morning? Who knows... It was just another guy, wolf whistling. But, everyone has their brink, and this apparently was mine. "F@$K OFF!" I screamed, at the horny city employee raking grass in the median. Immediately (unnecessarily?) ashamed, I looked around at the morning pedestrian commuters. To my surprise, no one even took notice, despite my shouted English. No loss! I think I'll have to do it more frequently- it might not change the machismo in the world, but I'll get a little healthy catharsis, at the least.

A Chance Ego Boost

On my walk to the beach yesterday, I met a family looking for a neighborhood close to my house. They were Argentinian, judging by the accent, and apparently quite lost. I gave them directions to the plaza in the center of their destination, clearly, easily, and correctly in spanish. "Listo," ("ready") said the dad, and they went on their way.

I am absolutely confident that they saw nothing strange about the entire interaction, thanks to my new tan, improved Spanish skills, and a little abiguity of accent. Awesome.

The Coolest Guy in Viña

Most of the micro drivers are not the nicest people in the world. They drive you around, sure, but only after grabbing your $130 pesos from your hand and stuffing a ticket back in. Having to make change is THE WORLD'S GREATEST INCONVENIENCE, and forget about them letting you off where you want, even though they'll swerve through 4 lanes of traffic to pick up a beckoning passenger at any random point. They generally seem to be in some alternate state of consciousness, either drug, alcohol, or simple meanness-induced, which guarantees a wild ride on a regular basis, especially if you're forced to stand in the too-full bus. But, this only applies to 99% of the micro drivers.

The notable exception is a Viña bus 205 driver, one of the 3 routes that go directly by my house. He has a bushy mohawk, emo glasses, and his white uniform shirt tucked into some variation of athletic shorts. He smiles when he takes your money, winks when you get off the bus, and sings along to his excellent selection of chill island music during the whole ride. I've been fortunate enough to end up on his bus on the way to a weekend night in Valparaiso on three different occasions, and every time have enjoyed a much more pleasant night than one began with a grouchy driver. This morning, I boarded his bus with a great big woke-up-too-late-to-shower frown, but got off at the history building cheery and ready to tackle a beautiful day. Seriously, the coolest guy in Viña.

Pucon

Last weekend, all of the ISA kids loaded up a bus to go 12 hours south to the adventure-tourist haven of Pucon. Among the weekend activities for some were hiking a volcano, white water rafting, and canopy, though rafting was the only item on my agenda. We ate a lot of delicious food, drank a lot of forbidden wine, and looked at a lot of beautiful scenery. A few photos:

Smiles

I want everyone to know that Elizabeth is the coolest person in all of either Koreas, and not just because of the way awesome care package she sent me. Public love from the other corner of the Pacific Ocean!

Buenos Aires

I've realized now that I'm no good whatsoever at writing about actual travels, as I skipped at least half of my trip up north and to Bolivia, and only wrote highlights of Mendoza. Unfortunately, I believe that trend continues with this post.

Buenos Aires was, without a doubt, one of the most exciting places I've ever been. A city of 16 million, seemingly most of them international businesspeople, it bustles 24 hours each day with the exchange of capital. It's huge, shiny, lively, and varied, with sections as clean as a Liberty Lake housing development and as dirty as under Salem's bridges. It's cold and foreign, but too full to allow for much real separation from other people, instead forcing individuals like sweating sardines into crowded streets and subway cars.

I had the great luck to be traveling with someone who didn't mind traveling like me; spontaneous, wandering, and on foot. We covered all of the city that matters that way, including shopping districts, the birthplace of tango (where it's also still practiced all through the streets), the zoo, extensive gardens and parks, the majority of Argentina's important political buildings, and a world-renowned art museum. My friend Ingrid is studying in the city right now, and we went out with her a few times, including a whirlwind Halloween of 4 different bar/clubs/parties. We were also lucky enough to be there during the presidential election, which made for interesting posters plastered on buildings and editorials in the paper, though it also meant that no alcohol could be sold in the city on the only Saturday night we had there.

While I feel like I had an excellent experience in the city over the course of the week (minus one day in which we explored a bit neighboring Uruguay), I still feel like it was only the beginning. One day, when I'm possibly famous and certainly rich, I hope to return and revisit Buenos Aires in style, and this time, stay long enough to be bored of it.

A Confession

I'll write more of Buenos Aires later, but right now, I have something to get off my chest. I feel like this blog is full of adventures and positive thinking, and in reality, this experience has had a lot of those things. But there's a lot of my reality that I haven't shared; the downs experienced for no good reason, the loneliness, the frustrations with expressing myself and being understood... I think I feel like I have to be having fun adventures for this trip to be worthwhile, and that I MUST appear content and invigorated to look like I'm doing it right. The truth is, the emotional roller coaster of the first few weeks still exists, and the closer I get to the end of the ride, the more I miss standing on firm ground.

Small Fish in a Small World

In a city of 16 million people, you don't really run into people you know, especially when you only know 3 people. Or so I thought: On Sunday, our second day in Buenos Aires, we saw a woman and her daughter (memorable for their matching white skirts and platform heels) by Congress. Four hours later, we ran into them again, 40 minutes across town, at the zoo. After the zoo, we were wandering through a park looking for some certain statues, and we encounter my friend IH, who we had seen on Friday but had no plans to see that day. With her was K?, a high school friend of DW, my travelling companion, and one of Michaela's best friends at Seattle University. DW and K? hadn't seen each other in a few years now, had no idea that they were presently sharing South America. We all of us passed a pleasant hour or so in the grassy sunshine, and went on our separate ways, with plans to meet the next day.

As it turns out, even in a city of 16 million people, on a continent of 400 million, in a world of seven billion, this infinite universe is small enough for the stars to allign.