To wrap up a week of anniversary celebrations the teachers went to a bar on Saturday night. In Santiago all the fellow volunteers told me about the wonders of Pisco Sours, a local drink I couldn't try for myself since I was on antibiotics. Finally two weeks ago I got around to trying a Pisco. Pisco is a grape brandy that is mixed with lemon juice, egg whites (Chileans find a way to slip eggs into EVERYTHING they eat or drink), and some other things to make the Pisco Sour. I wasn't crazy about it and found the drink a bit too bitter. However, returning to the same bar a few days later on this particular Saturday, one of the teachers convinced me to try a PisCola. Though the name doesn't sound to appetizing to a gringo like me, I have to say that pisco and Coke is delicious. I spent the evening practicing my Spanish, learning cuss words from the professors, and watching people sing karaoke to various Chilean songs.
I got to know a really interesting language teacher at the school. His father's family is directly related to Gregor Mendel (the pea plants genetics guy) and he has the same last name. His mother's last name is Tudoro, and he thinks he's related to the Tudor dynasty of England, through some illegitimate cousin or something. Though he doesn't have more than a few generation's worth of word of mouth, and isn't 100% certain of the claim. Either way, super awesome guy who made me feel like I was back in a college classroom when I spoke with him. He was amazed when he heard about my Polish background, and he kept going on about how crazy it was that both our relatives had to escape central Europe during WWII and had such similar roots, even though the 2 of us lived worlds apart. He ended up inviting me over to his house for a birthday part the next week (which was this past Friday).
So that's what I did this weekend. Went over to Jorge's house and got drunk with a couple of teachers in their 40s. We had another asado, this time much smaller, but complete with three types of meat, PisColas (mandatory), and even the edible center of a specific kind of palm tree. We discussed all sorts of topics, and as I fell further into the zone, my Spanish seemed to improve drastically, as I always seem to think it does when I drink. So I ranted left and right about the US: the Katrina disaster, new anti-immigration laws, and the state of public schools in general. It's crazy to see how much other cultures idealize our country and the prospect of the American Dream. When I casually mentioned how some schools don't have running water, or various gang issues in the communities, the other teachers straight up told me I was bullshitting them. They absolutely refused to believe a school in America could go for days or weeks with broken plumbing, so I started describing how some CPS schools look, and specifically the big brawl that led to the death of one high school student a year ago, that was caught on cell phone camera. We also compared the earthquake and tsunami that his Chile in January 2010 to Katrina in 2005, and the federal response of both governments. Of course, its not all bad.
I discussed plenty of the positive aspects of living in the US and the various social changes we've seen in the last few decades. Hearing stories about the Pinochet dictatorship of the 80s and the current no-bullshit-tolerated attitude of the police force reminded me how nice it is to have the 1st Amendment. Living in DC, I spent four years avoiding, complaining about, laughing at, and actively participating in dozens of protests of varying sizes in front of the Capitol and the White House. Seems that many of those activities would be unthinkable to stage in other parts of the world. So after drinking and politicking for a night, I spent the rest of the weekend bumming around at home. I've been catching up on play-offs, blogging, and sleeping. This week is Semana Santa and though its not as big as it is in Spain (check my FB albums of the huge parades and KKK-style wardrobes) we still get Friday off. So I'll be spending the weekend on the mainland in Puerto Mont, Chile as a guest at the family of my head English teacher, Mauro. My host family is going on vacation Tuesday, so I'll be staying with the vice-principal of the school for a night or two. Initially I felt like a little child when my host mom didn't want to leave me home alone, and instead found me a baby-sitter. But the truth is that this house is in the middle of nowhere. The outskirts of nowhere. And without a car, to arrive at work on time I'd have to leave at like 6 am to catch the two buses I need.
I'm also considering extending my time here, but that's for another post. (Also, be sure to check out the first half of this two-part blog below.)
-Paul
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