This went much smoother than anticipated. We were told to prepare for class sizes of about 30 to 40 students. I am fortunate enough to be working in a semi-private school where class sizes are more like eight to 15 students. I start off and end the week with Ignacia's 10th grade class, which is about 8 people. They're level of English is also something that blew me away. We were told that if our students could introduce themselves by the end of the semester, we should consider our work done. Fortunately for me, these kids can sit around and have entire convos in English. So I am certainly excited about pushing them and getting them to do all sorts of fun presentations and such. Next I went to 6th grade, followed by 3rd grade (certainly the most active, challenging bunch I had). All three classes speak at a level much higher than I expected for their age group. The 12 year olds in 6th grade can already introduce themselves and discuss their hobbies with ease. I have a few more classes later this week, including high school seniors. For the younger kids I work with Gabby, and for the older grades I work with Mauro. Both are Chileans my age that recently completed degrees in teaching English, and both are new this year to the school, having started just 3 weeks ago. So at least I am not in it alone. Mauro was very chill about lesson planning and working together, and even invited me to his family's home for Easter weekend in Puerto Montt. I hope to go, as it is about 5 hours away and would be a nice break from school (we get a three day weekend that week for Semana Santa). It is truly quite amazing how hospitable the people here are. Can you imagine someone extending an invite to their mother's home to a new co-worker on their first day in the States?
Speaking of the States, first let me reflect on something Ignacia brought up today as I sat in the living room listening to her play the guitar. She said that recently Chilean president Sebastian Piñera said the Chilean educational system needed to focus less on history, and more on English. Ignacia's sister, Camila, (whose room I'm occupying) is studying history at a university in Santiago. And as Ignacia put it, these students were very sad because their own interests and culture are being pushed aside to make room for English, and indirectly, American culture. Ignacia told me, ''It is sad because we already know America, but we do not know our own culture.'' As I tried to find some justification for this, I found the following Rolling Stone article in my Facebook feed. Clearly, there aren't many reasons why our country should find itself at the forefront of modern history.
http://www.rollingstone.com/politics/news/the-kill-team-20110327
Cliff's notes: Basically several companies in the US military spent at least a year roaming the countryside of Afghanistan murdering innocent bystanders with complete immunity. The article discusses how various troops planted guns and grenades on shot-up corpses, and how dinnertime conversation usually focused on killing Afghani civilians for sport. Pictures with dead bodies were taken, fingers were cut off and kept as trophies, and illegally obtained black-market grenades, rifles, and clips were circulated through the military so that various companies could partake in the ''shoot em up and make it look like self-defense'' mentality you would usually find in a Scorsese flick. It is really quite sickening, and what bothers me most is that the only two media sources I can even hope will cover this are a music magazine and a comedy cable station. Now I'm off to brainstorm lesson planning activities for the following month. Tomorrow I have some sort of meeting no one seems to know much about. Hopefully I will meet the one or two other volunteers living somewhere in this region. Pics of the house, family, and school will hopefully be up in the next few days or weeks.
-Pablo
Monday, March 28, 2011
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Facebook, Rihanna, and Jersey Shore
So after I finished yesterday's blog, I finally got to sit down and chat with the older daughter of the house. It's a bit ironic that I had not yet talked with her much, since she's the reason I'm living in this house. Her parents told me that she has been begging them for a long time to host an American, and they finally gave in and signed up for the English Opens Doors program. Last night we sat down and I helped her out with her English homework, and then we discussed Chilean and American geography, schools, etc. By 10pm I was pretty tired and ready for bed, but Ignacia asked to see some of my Facebook pics. For the next 2 hours we discussed my work at PNA, my various trips to different cities, and friends. We talked about Rogoz's dumbass obsession with fireworks, Hurricane Katrina and Kanye West's opinion about George Bush (that was prompted by my New Orleans pics), and the Civil Rights Movement. Meanwhile, she told me about Pinochet's reign in Chile. It was pretty awesome to practice my Spanish and shoot the breeze about Times Square, hip hop, studying abroad, etc.
This morning I went out with the parents and little Mati to the grocery store. I finally got to see the city center. The plaza and neighboring church look beautiful. Tomorrow I go to my school, which is also in Castro, so I'll see a bit more of the town. Haven't seen much yet since the house is located on the outskirts of town. So all in all, after traveling 13 hours south away from Santiago, crossing the water on a ferry, and driving 2 hours into the center of the island, I was still not at home. It's quite rural here lol. But amazingly beautiful. Pretty much all day I´ve been chilling with Ignacia going back and forth on music we like. Sadly, she is not a hip hop head. But she says the vast majority of kids here listen to American music. Thus she´s up on the latest Black Eyed Peas, Rihanna, Lady Gaga, and Shakira. In fact, she showed me Pink and Gaga videos I myself had not seen in the States.
Now I'm blogging while she watches Jersey Shore. I cannot put into words the simultaneous pride and guilty shame I feel about the good ole U.S. of A. seeing this show abroad. Forget 3 wars in the Middle East, sweat shops, or islands of pollution in the Pacific, this show is probably the most damaging export we have ever made. I can only find relief in the fact that much of the stupidity of the show gets lost in translation. Hopefully foreigners only see young adults drinking, puking, sexing, and bickering. That can be seen as fairly normal for people our age. It´s the smushing, battling to house music, juice-head seeking, and GTL'ing that really give this show its flavor, and that's the stuff that does not come across abroad. I guess that's a good thing... or it simply makes the show even dumber... I don't know. All I know is I have a love-hate relationship with this show and it's nice to indulge in its trashiness abroad. Needless to say, I tried explaing 'smush' to Ignacia. :)
-Pablo
This morning I went out with the parents and little Mati to the grocery store. I finally got to see the city center. The plaza and neighboring church look beautiful. Tomorrow I go to my school, which is also in Castro, so I'll see a bit more of the town. Haven't seen much yet since the house is located on the outskirts of town. So all in all, after traveling 13 hours south away from Santiago, crossing the water on a ferry, and driving 2 hours into the center of the island, I was still not at home. It's quite rural here lol. But amazingly beautiful. Pretty much all day I´ve been chilling with Ignacia going back and forth on music we like. Sadly, she is not a hip hop head. But she says the vast majority of kids here listen to American music. Thus she´s up on the latest Black Eyed Peas, Rihanna, Lady Gaga, and Shakira. In fact, she showed me Pink and Gaga videos I myself had not seen in the States.
Now I'm blogging while she watches Jersey Shore. I cannot put into words the simultaneous pride and guilty shame I feel about the good ole U.S. of A. seeing this show abroad. Forget 3 wars in the Middle East, sweat shops, or islands of pollution in the Pacific, this show is probably the most damaging export we have ever made. I can only find relief in the fact that much of the stupidity of the show gets lost in translation. Hopefully foreigners only see young adults drinking, puking, sexing, and bickering. That can be seen as fairly normal for people our age. It´s the smushing, battling to house music, juice-head seeking, and GTL'ing that really give this show its flavor, and that's the stuff that does not come across abroad. I guess that's a good thing... or it simply makes the show even dumber... I don't know. All I know is I have a love-hate relationship with this show and it's nice to indulge in its trashiness abroad. Needless to say, I tried explaing 'smush' to Ignacia. :)
-Pablo
En Castro, Por Fin!
After a 15 hour bus ride that included a ferry ride, a relaxed 'good' night's rest, and a few small meals I finally arrived in Castro, Chiloe. Thursday we wrapped up our orientation, I bought a cell phone, and we had a small cocktail party (in which I could not participate, as I am still on antibiotics and all that jazz), and I was dropped of at one of Santiago's bus terminals. Though I was about 15 hours from arriving at my new town, no one could yet tell me who would be there to pick me up. A teacher, a host family member, the regional director...I was assured it would be someone. And if not, I was told to happily sit on a bench, a la Forrest Gump, until somebody claimed me. I boarded the bus with Luisa, a returning volunteer from Cali. She told me all about her host family (a military family that spent a year in the US and actually speaks English, which is quite rare for the program), her school (fair amount of resources with kids that are pretty awesome), her volunteers friends, and all sorts of other good stuff. The fact that she was home free, and then decided while in Cali to return to the incredibly rainy Lakes region was a bit comforting. I finally arrived around 1pm and was met by the vice-director of the school as well as by members of my host family. All in all, there are four people living here. The parents (Marco and Roxana) and two daughters (teenaged Ignacia and 5 year old extremely cute and adorable--and well behaved!--Matilda). Two older children of theirs are studying/working up in Santiago.
The family is amazing. Right off the bat the parents invited me to go buy meat with them on a farm a little ways off, where the guy slaughters his animals on Fridays. So I stood in a shack with bloodied carcasses hanging on hooks and the head of something like a cow, maybe, laying on the floor with half the guts exposed. I figured if I didn't barf, it'd be all good, and if I did I'd have an awesome story to tell about my first day in Castro. After watching the guy run half a carcass through his saw, I wandered outside to eavesdrop on the conversation between Roxana and the grandmother of that house. Couldn't catch a word, but the views were beautiful. Afterwards Roxana told me that should couldn't understand much either. Apparently the people down here speak extremely fast and blurred, with lots of local slang. Great, gives me much hope of learning the language. In the evening, as I was getting ready to crash, the parents invited me to join them at a friend's house. I took the opportunity to immerse myself a bit more into the community, and went along.
We ended up in the city (my new house is situated just on the outsirts of the city) and by around 11pm all dozen guests had arrived. By midnight several various types of meat were on the grill and by 2am everyone was dancing and singing Chilean folk songs as well as some B.o.B. (''Airplanes''). After a 15 hours bus ride and a week of sleeping in a hostel, I wasn't too excited about sitting on a porch watching random men thrust their hips in my general direction to reggaeton music. Normally I'm all about that, and I'd join in on the fun. But this time I passed and got a ride home with Marco. On the ride back something cracked the entire windshield, which Roxana informed this morning was probably hoodlums chucking rocks. Seriously? Naively I figured an island one mile off the coast, in the south of Chile, South America's most economically and socially stable country, would be a fairly crime-free zone. Never assume. Still, super excited to start work Monday. I was told my classes should be pretty small, and the director of the school is super nice. We'll see if that all pans out. I'll have a week of shadowing before I get to do lesson planning and pretend that I am qualified to be in this position.
I've been uploading pics, blogging, and e-mailing all day on my fam's pc so I'm off to play with the little one. She's simply amazing. Polite, but fun and outgoing. And my Spanish is much better than when I was in Spain, thus my relations with the family are closer. Roxana already promised to go up to Santiago in late July after my program ends to meet my mom, which is pretty awesome of her. (Note: I finished this up Saturday afternoon, and was gonna add more before I posted. But I´m just gonna leave that for the next post.)
Pablo
The family is amazing. Right off the bat the parents invited me to go buy meat with them on a farm a little ways off, where the guy slaughters his animals on Fridays. So I stood in a shack with bloodied carcasses hanging on hooks and the head of something like a cow, maybe, laying on the floor with half the guts exposed. I figured if I didn't barf, it'd be all good, and if I did I'd have an awesome story to tell about my first day in Castro. After watching the guy run half a carcass through his saw, I wandered outside to eavesdrop on the conversation between Roxana and the grandmother of that house. Couldn't catch a word, but the views were beautiful. Afterwards Roxana told me that should couldn't understand much either. Apparently the people down here speak extremely fast and blurred, with lots of local slang. Great, gives me much hope of learning the language. In the evening, as I was getting ready to crash, the parents invited me to join them at a friend's house. I took the opportunity to immerse myself a bit more into the community, and went along.
We ended up in the city (my new house is situated just on the outsirts of the city) and by around 11pm all dozen guests had arrived. By midnight several various types of meat were on the grill and by 2am everyone was dancing and singing Chilean folk songs as well as some B.o.B. (''Airplanes''). After a 15 hours bus ride and a week of sleeping in a hostel, I wasn't too excited about sitting on a porch watching random men thrust their hips in my general direction to reggaeton music. Normally I'm all about that, and I'd join in on the fun. But this time I passed and got a ride home with Marco. On the ride back something cracked the entire windshield, which Roxana informed this morning was probably hoodlums chucking rocks. Seriously? Naively I figured an island one mile off the coast, in the south of Chile, South America's most economically and socially stable country, would be a fairly crime-free zone. Never assume. Still, super excited to start work Monday. I was told my classes should be pretty small, and the director of the school is super nice. We'll see if that all pans out. I'll have a week of shadowing before I get to do lesson planning and pretend that I am qualified to be in this position.
I've been uploading pics, blogging, and e-mailing all day on my fam's pc so I'm off to play with the little one. She's simply amazing. Polite, but fun and outgoing. And my Spanish is much better than when I was in Spain, thus my relations with the family are closer. Roxana already promised to go up to Santiago in late July after my program ends to meet my mom, which is pretty awesome of her. (Note: I finished this up Saturday afternoon, and was gonna add more before I posted. But I´m just gonna leave that for the next post.)
Pablo
Monday, March 21, 2011
Valpo and Orientation
Over the weekend I caught a bus with some friends to Valparaiso, the cultural capitol of Chile. Under two hours away from Santiago, Valpo was for centuries one of the region's most important port cities. Recently it's been struggling somewhat, facing high unemployment rates, and it shows in the grit of the city. Thick bundles of wires hang over head, potential pick-pockets and street performers hover near-by, and--no joke--packs of wild dogs control the city. Ricky Bobby wasn't kidding, it's a problem over hear. As we wound our way up and down the narrow streets of the hilly city, we were forced to stop and turn around as we rounded a corner directly into several ferocious dogs of varying size and bark. as we backtracked, we were told by a local couple (which, by the way, totally watched us originally make our way down that street) that following that road was a bad idea, as we were sure to encounter more pissed-off canines. Dogs aside, the city's murals and grafitti paintings leave you feeling like you are walking through a living art exhibition. As the sun set, we grabbed some empanads con carne and made our way back.
Lazy Sunday was speant mostly conversing with fellow hostel dwellers. Most of the EOD Americans were either out exploring the city, or were making their own trip to Valpo. This left a few of us to chat it up with four Isrealis spending their last day at the hostel. Two guys and two gals, all in their early 20s, are making their way up north, having spent the last three months hitch-hiking from the continent's southernmost point. The girls explained that the two of them are both fresh out of their two year mandatory stint with the military. Meirav told us about the standard issue M-16 she keeps in her closet, while Opal told stories about the hostel in Jerusalem at which she worked. Though the guys and girls are on seperate trips, they keep meeting up, as their routes are more or less the same. I even got to see a video a few days ago, on yet another Isreali's digital camera, of the group sliding down snow-covered mountains on some metal ass plate, equipped with an ax that is somehow meant to keep you from dying. Hopefully one day that'll be me sliding axe-first down a mountain side. For now I'm focusing on reaching my host-family in one piece.
Sunday afternoon we wandered over to an art musuem, met a local who showed us damage on the museum from the 2010 earthquake, and chilled out over drinks and Peruvian seafood (though I'm still booze-free do to the antibiotics). This morning we started orientation, which is held down the street in a hotel conference room. Everyday we get an hour break for lunch alongside a 20 minute coffee break pool-side in the hotel. Fancy shmancy. In the afternoon a few friends and I walked around looking for flip-flops, among other things. Real Madrid (the soccer team, rather than not-fake Madrid) flip flops for a thousand pesos (two bucks), can't beat that.
My hometown friend Barry stopped by the city today, which caused a bit of a stir. Apparently he and his wife, Michelle, flew down with the kids for a little vacay. Wish he had let me know ahead of time, we could have met up and talked all things Chicago in Santiago. Actually, Obama's visit caused the city to lock down every street within 10 blocks of the presidential palace (which, it turns out, is just down the street I guess). Several of us were inconvenienced in our shopping with long detours, but a few folks got to see the caravan drive by. How ironic that after four years of being delayed to class, work, etc. by caravans (presidents, VPs, ambassadors and the likes) in college, I fly way the hell down here and still manage to walk directly into barricades. Having speant longer than I care to admit on a friend's laptop, rather than with real human beings, I'm beginning to wonder how feasible uploading albums and blog posts will be laptop-less. Either way, for now enjoy the pics. There should be a video somewhere, but I'm too tired to look. Also, if anybody know what the heck is going on with Libya, feel free to fill me in via the comment section or FB. I'm clueless but worried. What else is new?
Valparaiso, the hostel, and a few shots of the city:
-Pablo
Lazy Sunday was speant mostly conversing with fellow hostel dwellers. Most of the EOD Americans were either out exploring the city, or were making their own trip to Valpo. This left a few of us to chat it up with four Isrealis spending their last day at the hostel. Two guys and two gals, all in their early 20s, are making their way up north, having spent the last three months hitch-hiking from the continent's southernmost point. The girls explained that the two of them are both fresh out of their two year mandatory stint with the military. Meirav told us about the standard issue M-16 she keeps in her closet, while Opal told stories about the hostel in Jerusalem at which she worked. Though the guys and girls are on seperate trips, they keep meeting up, as their routes are more or less the same. I even got to see a video a few days ago, on yet another Isreali's digital camera, of the group sliding down snow-covered mountains on some metal ass plate, equipped with an ax that is somehow meant to keep you from dying. Hopefully one day that'll be me sliding axe-first down a mountain side. For now I'm focusing on reaching my host-family in one piece.
Sunday afternoon we wandered over to an art musuem, met a local who showed us damage on the museum from the 2010 earthquake, and chilled out over drinks and Peruvian seafood (though I'm still booze-free do to the antibiotics). This morning we started orientation, which is held down the street in a hotel conference room. Everyday we get an hour break for lunch alongside a 20 minute coffee break pool-side in the hotel. Fancy shmancy. In the afternoon a few friends and I walked around looking for flip-flops, among other things. Real Madrid (the soccer team, rather than not-fake Madrid) flip flops for a thousand pesos (two bucks), can't beat that.
My hometown friend Barry stopped by the city today, which caused a bit of a stir. Apparently he and his wife, Michelle, flew down with the kids for a little vacay. Wish he had let me know ahead of time, we could have met up and talked all things Chicago in Santiago. Actually, Obama's visit caused the city to lock down every street within 10 blocks of the presidential palace (which, it turns out, is just down the street I guess). Several of us were inconvenienced in our shopping with long detours, but a few folks got to see the caravan drive by. How ironic that after four years of being delayed to class, work, etc. by caravans (presidents, VPs, ambassadors and the likes) in college, I fly way the hell down here and still manage to walk directly into barricades. Having speant longer than I care to admit on a friend's laptop, rather than with real human beings, I'm beginning to wonder how feasible uploading albums and blog posts will be laptop-less. Either way, for now enjoy the pics. There should be a video somewhere, but I'm too tired to look. Also, if anybody know what the heck is going on with Libya, feel free to fill me in via the comment section or FB. I'm clueless but worried. What else is new?
Valparaiso, the hostel, and a few shots of the city:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2415516&id=5321418&l=01a5445c9a
-Pablo
Friday, March 18, 2011
Things Are Slowly Making Sense
English Opens Doors. That, rather than English Open Doors, is the name of the Chilean Ministry of Education-sponsored program I am working with. Go figure. It makes more sense grammatically, I guess. But I'm thinking that after all the typo's in my application, I probably should not have gotten the spot. Anyway, point is that the Ministry of Education is responsible for bringing hundreds of volunteers into the country annually and placing them all over the place. BridgeTEFL, the org through which I got this opportunity, is one of many private orgs that bring volunteers to the Ministry. So the barage of e-mails with contact names, addresses, and events that I have been half-skimming is starting to make more sense. Two separate places from which I'm supposed to get a little bit of help figuring out whats happening. And clearly I need the help. I've figured out that in my 'pack light' mentality, I have neglected to bring a laptop, hiking boots, rainproof gear, or a winter coat. Still, my mentality remains 'I can shop where the locals do, or screw that noise I'll do without.'
Yesterday, I spent the day in and out of waiting rooms at the hospital getting check-ups on the sore throat and new prescriptions just to make sure things wouldn't hit the fan at a later time, when I'm say...half an hour off the coast of the mainland with no real doctors to speak of. Point is, the strep throat, while very much still there, is much better and I've finally starting chowing down on some amazing food. Also, the private high-end hospital my insurance hooked it up with, which for the money I'm paying they better, was more like a hotel than a hospital. Didn't even have that hospital smell. And apparently the entire country operates like a deli. From the hospital, to the place where you pay your bills, to I'm guessing a real deli, you take a number and wait until they call it out. The main room at the ER was more like a row of bank tellers than anything else, super clean and fast. Now I'm ready to be done with being sick, and finally enjoy the weather.
The people here are super kind and helpful. And smokin hot. Like ridiculously beautiful. I'm beginning to understand why that whole 'South American girls are hot' stereotype exists. And I don't mean that in some chauvinistic way, I'm simply sayin that even the 'feas' here would light up a room in the land of the free and the home of the Double Down sandwich. Speakin of the States, my politics rant of the day (expect more to come, sorry) did you know a new Souther Poverty Law Center study shows 1,002 active hate groups in the US in 2010. A rise of 40% from 2009. I figured, being an immigrant in a Latino country, I can´t not put that out there. We need to stop worrying about our border and start worrying about what´s happening to the American citizens living deep inside the country, legally or otherwise. Random quote from some Republican angry white guy, and a petition to make sure people like that can't decide public policy. Because no matter what your opinions are, if you say things like this in public, you do are not fit to write laws.
http://act.presente.org/sign/dumppeck/?referring_akid=.323406.CPjo3e&source=taf
Going back to how this whole thing works. I figured 7 of us were staying in this hostel for a week for orientation and then moving south. I have now learned that in addition to us 7 from Bridge, there will be like 100 other folks from all over joining us in the hostel starting tomorrow. Crazy fun stuff. I just stopped mid-blog to FB add a Japanese girl that studied in Malaga, Spain (a very short bus trip away from Granada) the entire time I was in Granada. Not surprisingly, we've been to many of the same cities. I'd like to think that there was a day when we were on the same bus, or getting drunk on same beach, speaking to friends in broken Spanish or our respective languages. Small world, I'm sure it happened.
-Pablo
Yesterday, I spent the day in and out of waiting rooms at the hospital getting check-ups on the sore throat and new prescriptions just to make sure things wouldn't hit the fan at a later time, when I'm say...half an hour off the coast of the mainland with no real doctors to speak of. Point is, the strep throat, while very much still there, is much better and I've finally starting chowing down on some amazing food. Also, the private high-end hospital my insurance hooked it up with, which for the money I'm paying they better, was more like a hotel than a hospital. Didn't even have that hospital smell. And apparently the entire country operates like a deli. From the hospital, to the place where you pay your bills, to I'm guessing a real deli, you take a number and wait until they call it out. The main room at the ER was more like a row of bank tellers than anything else, super clean and fast. Now I'm ready to be done with being sick, and finally enjoy the weather.
The people here are super kind and helpful. And smokin hot. Like ridiculously beautiful. I'm beginning to understand why that whole 'South American girls are hot' stereotype exists. And I don't mean that in some chauvinistic way, I'm simply sayin that even the 'feas' here would light up a room in the land of the free and the home of the Double Down sandwich. Speakin of the States, my politics rant of the day (expect more to come, sorry) did you know a new Souther Poverty Law Center study shows 1,002 active hate groups in the US in 2010. A rise of 40% from 2009. I figured, being an immigrant in a Latino country, I can´t not put that out there. We need to stop worrying about our border and start worrying about what´s happening to the American citizens living deep inside the country, legally or otherwise. Random quote from some Republican angry white guy, and a petition to make sure people like that can't decide public policy. Because no matter what your opinions are, if you say things like this in public, you do are not fit to write laws.
http://act.presente.org/sign/dumppeck/?referring_akid=.323406.CPjo3e&source=taf
Going back to how this whole thing works. I figured 7 of us were staying in this hostel for a week for orientation and then moving south. I have now learned that in addition to us 7 from Bridge, there will be like 100 other folks from all over joining us in the hostel starting tomorrow. Crazy fun stuff. I just stopped mid-blog to FB add a Japanese girl that studied in Malaga, Spain (a very short bus trip away from Granada) the entire time I was in Granada. Not surprisingly, we've been to many of the same cities. I'd like to think that there was a day when we were on the same bus, or getting drunk on same beach, speaking to friends in broken Spanish or our respective languages. Small world, I'm sure it happened.
-Pablo
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Made it to Santiago
After a delayed flight in Chicago (that threatened to cause me to miss my connection in Cincinatti, until I found out I was flying the same tiny itty-bitty American Eagle plane for both flights) and getting locked in at Miami International (yeah, somehow all the doors got locked and caused a group of us to wander about from dead end to dead end in the hallways. I stood helplessly at the glass window on the second floor, watching down on people board at my next gate, hoping the flight didn´t leave me stranded all night inside an airport on lockdown), I finally landed in Santiago this morning. (How 'bout dem parenthetical notes? That was one sentence!) After having to pay a $140 entrance fee at customs, I was pretty glad that my flight cost a whole five bucks, thanks to a stupid amount of miles through AA. I caught a bus into town, wandered around lost, eventually found my hostel, and proceeded to the doctors. Let´s go back a day:
My mom is amazing. Only she can wake up to find out I have a 103 degree fever with a throat so diseased and swollen that I literally cannot speak, and STILL manage to whip me into shape in under 8 hours in time for an international flight. Antibiotics, hot salt water to gargle, and herbat (tea) was all I consumed all day until I got to O'Hare. By the time I landed I felt much better, but still figured using a free day to check in with the doctors and get my money´s worth out of the insurance company was in order.
Now I´m sitting at my hostel´s computer, remembering how much I hate foreign keyboards. I chose 'wisely' to leave my laptop at home, and now have nowhere to skype from, store my pictures, or write my blog from. Ugh, hopefully when I arrive at Chiloe Island my homestay will hook it up. Or its internet cafe or bust. Or...I break down and get that thing shipped down. This weeks agenda: Friday meet some people running my organization, Saturday and Sunday other participants move in, Mon through Fri we have orientation so I can learn what Im actually doing here, and next weekend I bus down to Chiloe Island where I'll live with a family and teach English at some school, with some grade.
-Pablo
And yes, I did name my blog after a Lil' Kim song: ''While you stay OT, I stay OC that's out the country.'' She's no Nicky Minaj, but ''money got you vacation in Chile...really really really?'' was a bit long, and would contstrict me to like just this one country. I'll try to keep the posts shorter from here on out, but no promises.
My mom is amazing. Only she can wake up to find out I have a 103 degree fever with a throat so diseased and swollen that I literally cannot speak, and STILL manage to whip me into shape in under 8 hours in time for an international flight. Antibiotics, hot salt water to gargle, and herbat (tea) was all I consumed all day until I got to O'Hare. By the time I landed I felt much better, but still figured using a free day to check in with the doctors and get my money´s worth out of the insurance company was in order.
Now I´m sitting at my hostel´s computer, remembering how much I hate foreign keyboards. I chose 'wisely' to leave my laptop at home, and now have nowhere to skype from, store my pictures, or write my blog from. Ugh, hopefully when I arrive at Chiloe Island my homestay will hook it up. Or its internet cafe or bust. Or...I break down and get that thing shipped down. This weeks agenda: Friday meet some people running my organization, Saturday and Sunday other participants move in, Mon through Fri we have orientation so I can learn what Im actually doing here, and next weekend I bus down to Chiloe Island where I'll live with a family and teach English at some school, with some grade.
-Pablo
And yes, I did name my blog after a Lil' Kim song: ''While you stay OT, I stay OC that's out the country.'' She's no Nicky Minaj, but ''money got you vacation in Chile...really really really?'' was a bit long, and would contstrict me to like just this one country. I'll try to keep the posts shorter from here on out, but no promises.
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