'Tis the season!
Jingle Bells.
And all that jazz...
Which means, I haven't gotten done nearly as much as I would have liked.
I've applied to two jobs since I've been home and have been reaching out to my contacts. And perhaps, incidentally, I might have landed another teaching job -- this time in South Korea. I was browsing online job postings on Seattle's craigslist when I happened upon an ad for teaching positions. I sent an e-mail laden with questions and received a response within minutes. Without necessarily intending to, this whole pursuit is being propelled forward at break-neck speed.
And you know what? At this point in my life, I can go abroad again. If I'm gone for a year, I'll be just 23 1/2 when I get back. Man, I'm young. I don't feel that young! I'm fortunate enough to have done my fair share of traveling throughout my short life.
I've been to Africa. The Middle East. South America. Europe. But .. the area I haven't been to is Asia. Well, I might just have my chance.
How would I feel about leaving home so soon after getting back?
Alright.
Home is wonderful. Home will always be here for me. Somehow whenever I'm home, I always feel like there is something out there waiting for me in the world and that I'm not going to find it at home. It might be because I'm sitting idle here until I find a job. (And by idle -- I don't mean on my butt -- but literally that I don't have a job).
So, part dos (two) of Bakan might just be recounting tales and adventures from the far side of the world. Are you game?
I am.
Monday, December 28, 2009
Friday, December 25, 2009
en route
Part dos (two) of Bakan is really an experiment more than anything.
I'm back from Chile, nestled safely into the comforting cocoon of love amongst family and friends. And I'm now in transit...
...to the next big thing.
Your guess is as good as mine.
I've applied to several jobs; some that I'm actually excited about.
My real true passion is facilitating abroad experiences for other people. My time abroad has proffered some of the most fundamental turning points in my life and I would live a happy one allowing other people to take part in something so grand. I've applied to a two relevant jobs and am now eagerly waiting to hear.
But you know one of the worst parts about a job search?
You aren't even told if you aren't worthy of an interview. Instead your application is lost to a shredder's greedy jaws; leaving you to forever wonder if your application was even received.
Que mala onda (How uncool).
So here you have it.
Welcome to my job search.
I don't know if you will read. I don't know if you will care. But for all those of you who shared in my Chilean experience last year, I thank you for reading. And being interested enough to read.
This is part dos (two).
I'm back from Chile, nestled safely into the comforting cocoon of love amongst family and friends. And I'm now in transit...
...to the next big thing.
Your guess is as good as mine.
I've applied to several jobs; some that I'm actually excited about.
My real true passion is facilitating abroad experiences for other people. My time abroad has proffered some of the most fundamental turning points in my life and I would live a happy one allowing other people to take part in something so grand. I've applied to a two relevant jobs and am now eagerly waiting to hear.
But you know one of the worst parts about a job search?
You aren't even told if you aren't worthy of an interview. Instead your application is lost to a shredder's greedy jaws; leaving you to forever wonder if your application was even received.
Que mala onda (How uncool).
So here you have it.
Welcome to my job search.
I don't know if you will read. I don't know if you will care. But for all those of you who shared in my Chilean experience last year, I thank you for reading. And being interested enough to read.
This is part dos (two).
Monday, November 23, 2009
A forward look back
Time trickles by, as if falling drop by drop from the smooth curve of an hourglass’ middle. Before it seems possible, there remains just a hint – time, sand, what you may – that must be stretched out; squeezed to surmount to all that was imagined.
Much like my last month in Santiago.
Looking back ten months to the anticipation, the questions and wonders and the excitement now provide answers.
What would become of this year-long journey?
Happiness, pain, romance, exhilaration, education…
A deep sense of satisfaction and gratitude. Because more than anything, embarking and completing a journey such as this proves that one can start with nothing more than dreams and hopes and end up with a rich, fulfilling life.
True that it will never turn out as expected and maybe even desired. But that’s the fun of it all – the most significant and potentially life-altering part.
My naïve and forever hopeless romantic side wanted and maybe even expected to fall madly, deeply in love with a Latin man. A year living in another country should yield something of the nature, shouldn’t it?
Alas, this didn’t come to be.
But what did come to be was a deep respect and growing knowledge of the person I am and am coming to be.
Boarding a plane alone and shuttling across a continent to embark upon a new life full of unknowns is not something I would have necessarily imagined for myself several years past. There’s a lot of faith that goes into a decision like that.
What if I don’t find friends? What if I can’t communicate with anyone due to language barriers? What if I’m not happy? What happens next … ?
But with a deep breath and a strong-rooted sense of faith in the simplicity of life as it should be, anything is possible.
I now know that I truly can do anything I want to. Anything. I am capable and have the world as I dream it in my hands.
While my dream now is torn in two – as I’m extremely tempted to stay longer in Chile – I know that whatever comes to be is as it should. My bank account dictates my next move (although I do realize that if I truly wanted to stay in Chile, I’d find a way).
What will come next? Hard to say.
One thing I can say for sure – dust will not be settling under my feet.
Much like my last month in Santiago.
Looking back ten months to the anticipation, the questions and wonders and the excitement now provide answers.
What would become of this year-long journey?
Happiness, pain, romance, exhilaration, education…
A deep sense of satisfaction and gratitude. Because more than anything, embarking and completing a journey such as this proves that one can start with nothing more than dreams and hopes and end up with a rich, fulfilling life.
True that it will never turn out as expected and maybe even desired. But that’s the fun of it all – the most significant and potentially life-altering part.
My naïve and forever hopeless romantic side wanted and maybe even expected to fall madly, deeply in love with a Latin man. A year living in another country should yield something of the nature, shouldn’t it?
Alas, this didn’t come to be.
But what did come to be was a deep respect and growing knowledge of the person I am and am coming to be.
Boarding a plane alone and shuttling across a continent to embark upon a new life full of unknowns is not something I would have necessarily imagined for myself several years past. There’s a lot of faith that goes into a decision like that.
What if I don’t find friends? What if I can’t communicate with anyone due to language barriers? What if I’m not happy? What happens next … ?
But with a deep breath and a strong-rooted sense of faith in the simplicity of life as it should be, anything is possible.
I now know that I truly can do anything I want to. Anything. I am capable and have the world as I dream it in my hands.
While my dream now is torn in two – as I’m extremely tempted to stay longer in Chile – I know that whatever comes to be is as it should. My bank account dictates my next move (although I do realize that if I truly wanted to stay in Chile, I’d find a way).
What will come next? Hard to say.
One thing I can say for sure – dust will not be settling under my feet.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Se viene, se viene...
Se viene, se viene ...
What's coming, you may ask?
Everything, my friends, everything.
Life and everything in between.
First of all, my parents - beginning with my mom - are coming in just a week and a half. Second, I'm coming home. In December.
The queen of indecision has done it again!
No, I'm not going to Buenos Aires after my Santiago stint. I could play dumb and say it's because I have no money (that wouldn't be far from the truth) but really - I'm ready. Ready to come home.
My mind is already beginning to split time between thinking about my life here in Chile and daydreaming about being home and surrounded by all my loved ones... certainly not what should be happening but understandable a la vez (at the same time).
Hoever; this incredible phenomenon is in no way, shape, or form going to hinder my remaining time. I am here to enjoy; to breath in the fresh Santiago spring air; to laugh; to dance; to live.
What's coming, you may ask?
Everything, my friends, everything.
Life and everything in between.
First of all, my parents - beginning with my mom - are coming in just a week and a half. Second, I'm coming home. In December.
The queen of indecision has done it again!
No, I'm not going to Buenos Aires after my Santiago stint. I could play dumb and say it's because I have no money (that wouldn't be far from the truth) but really - I'm ready. Ready to come home.
My mind is already beginning to split time between thinking about my life here in Chile and daydreaming about being home and surrounded by all my loved ones... certainly not what should be happening but understandable a la vez (at the same time).
Hoever; this incredible phenomenon is in no way, shape, or form going to hinder my remaining time. I am here to enjoy; to breath in the fresh Santiago spring air; to laugh; to dance; to live.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
VIVA CHILE
Just another example of American culture gone awry:
Conversation groups at IOM are often an opportunity to shout out whatever phrases the students know; often gleaned from American popular culture.
Last Thursday afternoon, Alejandra (IOM’s high-school English teacher) walked into the sala de ingles and Alejandro (a sophomore) shouted, “What’s up nig*er??”
I immediately went over and firmly told him that nig*er is not a word one uses in their daily, monthly or yearly vocabulary.
Alejandro responded by saying, “But I hear it in my music all the time.”
He didn't have the context or background knowledge to know better. It makes me wonder how many other extranjeros have listened to rap songs and taken what they hear at face value...
Futbol (soccer) in South America is a religion. An addictive religion at that. Saturday night brought on the World Cup qualifying match for Chile. They took on and conquered Colombia 4-2.
Our friends Trish, Ben and Melissa live in Plaza Italia, which is at the heart of Santiago and the central meeting point for all post-victory futbol celebrations. We're talking thousands of people, enough to shut down traffic in all four directions as well as bring police in full riot gear to the scene.
After Chile sealed the deal, we took to Plaza Italia to join Chilean masses in singing, dancing, shouting, jumping and all 'round chaos. Not ten minutes after we became part of the hoard did we happen upon a reporter and his camera man. He was surrounded by a crowd of excitable, screaming futbol fans. As soon as he noticed me (perhaps because I am a gringa), he wheeled around on his heels and thrust the microphone in my face. After a momentary second of confusion (probably apparent in my face), I shouted, "Woooo! VIVA CHILE!"
I thought nothing more of the experience until I received a call about ten minutes later from a fellow profe de ingles at IOM, Fransisco, excitedly telling me he had just seen me on Mega, a Chilean television channel.
The night went on. We made new friends. Laughed a lot. The fun really began, however; when we left the plaza and went to Trish's first floor balcony that overlooks the plaza. Each time a group of guys went by, we started cheering. They would all look up in surprise, notice a group of young, fresh ladies and drop likes flies. We probably re-enacted Romeo and Juliet at least 100 times. I received hundreds of air kisses. And because we were a balcony up, I felt free to tease those boys as much as I pleased. A no-risk situation. It was quite hilarious.
At one point, a young man with a steel drum and attached symbol started playing in honor of us while his friends danced around. A crowd of about 40 gathered to watch and join in while we waved and alluringly beckoned to the group below.
Monday was a holiday here so we reveled in a three-day weekend. Today, Tuesday, I heard from probably a hundred different students that they saw me on TV. A group of about 15 sixth graders went running up to me exclaiming, "Miss!! (pronounced 'Meeee-s') You're famous!!"
Too funny. I told Alejandra about it and she said, "Ohhhh. What a gringa thing to say!"
VIVA CHILE!!!!
Conversation groups at IOM are often an opportunity to shout out whatever phrases the students know; often gleaned from American popular culture.
Last Thursday afternoon, Alejandra (IOM’s high-school English teacher) walked into the sala de ingles and Alejandro (a sophomore) shouted, “What’s up nig*er??”
I immediately went over and firmly told him that nig*er is not a word one uses in their daily, monthly or yearly vocabulary.
Alejandro responded by saying, “But I hear it in my music all the time.”
He didn't have the context or background knowledge to know better. It makes me wonder how many other extranjeros have listened to rap songs and taken what they hear at face value...
Futbol (soccer) in South America is a religion. An addictive religion at that. Saturday night brought on the World Cup qualifying match for Chile. They took on and conquered Colombia 4-2.
Our friends Trish, Ben and Melissa live in Plaza Italia, which is at the heart of Santiago and the central meeting point for all post-victory futbol celebrations. We're talking thousands of people, enough to shut down traffic in all four directions as well as bring police in full riot gear to the scene.
After Chile sealed the deal, we took to Plaza Italia to join Chilean masses in singing, dancing, shouting, jumping and all 'round chaos. Not ten minutes after we became part of the hoard did we happen upon a reporter and his camera man. He was surrounded by a crowd of excitable, screaming futbol fans. As soon as he noticed me (perhaps because I am a gringa), he wheeled around on his heels and thrust the microphone in my face. After a momentary second of confusion (probably apparent in my face), I shouted, "Woooo! VIVA CHILE!"
I thought nothing more of the experience until I received a call about ten minutes later from a fellow profe de ingles at IOM, Fransisco, excitedly telling me he had just seen me on Mega, a Chilean television channel.
The night went on. We made new friends. Laughed a lot. The fun really began, however; when we left the plaza and went to Trish's first floor balcony that overlooks the plaza. Each time a group of guys went by, we started cheering. They would all look up in surprise, notice a group of young, fresh ladies and drop likes flies. We probably re-enacted Romeo and Juliet at least 100 times. I received hundreds of air kisses. And because we were a balcony up, I felt free to tease those boys as much as I pleased. A no-risk situation. It was quite hilarious.
At one point, a young man with a steel drum and attached symbol started playing in honor of us while his friends danced around. A crowd of about 40 gathered to watch and join in while we waved and alluringly beckoned to the group below.
Monday was a holiday here so we reveled in a three-day weekend. Today, Tuesday, I heard from probably a hundred different students that they saw me on TV. A group of about 15 sixth graders went running up to me exclaiming, "Miss!! (pronounced 'Meeee-s') You're famous!!"
Too funny. I told Alejandra about it and she said, "Ohhhh. What a gringa thing to say!"
VIVA CHILE!!!!
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Salado
Salty in Spanish is "salado".
When my students ask if something is salty or state their food preferences, they say, "I like salad foods." or "Is that salad?"
It´s too precious.
Guess what Stephanie and I are up to today?
RODEO. REAL CHILEAN RODEO.
En serio. We are actually taking part in the real deal. I never thought the day would come and never even had an interest in taking part in something so... savage. But, alas the opportunity has presented itself after several months of rodeo lessons. And I want to try everything once. So... here we go.
Not to mention, Chilean rodeo actually is a lot less brutal than rodeo in other countries. The cows aren´t tied up and dragged by their hind-legs with rope. They don´t fight till their death nor till they are fatally injured.
Instead they are herded around a medialuna (Chilean arena) by two riders and strategically pushed into a bumper. The riders earn points depending on where the cow makes contact with the padded barrier.
Fin de semana!
This weekend we are headed to Lago Rapel. It´s Alessandra (from Brazil) and Omar (from Mexico)´s birthdays and we are celebrating by renting a house on a lake about an hour from Santiago. The weather is finally tranforming from winter to summer (there is no fall nor spring in Chile) and we are ready to enjoy it outside. The house supposedly has a pool and volleyball net. I predict bathing suits, BBQs, laughter and fun in the sun.
There is also a costume party on Saturday night. Anyone famous. My clan is dressing up as characters from the boardgame Clue. Do I want to be Miss Scarlet? Or perharps Colonel Mustard? Ohhh the possibilities...
All in all ... it looks to be a good weekend. I hope yours is the same.
When my students ask if something is salty or state their food preferences, they say, "I like salad foods." or "Is that salad?"
It´s too precious.
Guess what Stephanie and I are up to today?
RODEO. REAL CHILEAN RODEO.
En serio. We are actually taking part in the real deal. I never thought the day would come and never even had an interest in taking part in something so... savage. But, alas the opportunity has presented itself after several months of rodeo lessons. And I want to try everything once. So... here we go.
Not to mention, Chilean rodeo actually is a lot less brutal than rodeo in other countries. The cows aren´t tied up and dragged by their hind-legs with rope. They don´t fight till their death nor till they are fatally injured.
Instead they are herded around a medialuna (Chilean arena) by two riders and strategically pushed into a bumper. The riders earn points depending on where the cow makes contact with the padded barrier.
Fin de semana!
This weekend we are headed to Lago Rapel. It´s Alessandra (from Brazil) and Omar (from Mexico)´s birthdays and we are celebrating by renting a house on a lake about an hour from Santiago. The weather is finally tranforming from winter to summer (there is no fall nor spring in Chile) and we are ready to enjoy it outside. The house supposedly has a pool and volleyball net. I predict bathing suits, BBQs, laughter and fun in the sun.
There is also a costume party on Saturday night. Anyone famous. My clan is dressing up as characters from the boardgame Clue. Do I want to be Miss Scarlet? Or perharps Colonel Mustard? Ohhh the possibilities...
All in all ... it looks to be a good weekend. I hope yours is the same.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
And once again...
My plans have changed.
Two of my dearest friends, Cassie and Brian, from when I lived in España, just moved to Buenos Aires. So close ... just a twenty hour bus ride or a two hour flight away from Santiago. So close, in fact, that I´m thinking very seriously about moving there for a few months when my contract ends in Chile.
I´m young -- 22 years old. I´m coming back to the States to work seriously and work hard. Returning in March versus December isn´t going to make a significant difference in the long run. Yes, I might have to work a little harder when I get back to get my finances in order. But while I´m here in South America, I should aprovechar to the máximo. After all, who knows when I´ll be back...
I´m laughing right now.
Just a month ago, I wrote that I was definitively ready to come back in December and settle down. What a contradiction and ever-changing stream of emotions I am. As December approaches (really only two or so months until I finish at IOM), I shudder and cringe at the thought of ending this journey down here. I´m ready for a new adventure -- but that doesn´t mean I´m ready to end this chapter in Sudamérica.
The 18th of September brought chaos and hoopla to Chile. Independence Day. A week-long celebration involving copious amounts of food, drink and music.
Stephanie and I took the opportunity to travel to Buenos Aires for five days and return in time for the rowdy weekend festivities. It just so happened that Brian (friend from Spain) had moved to BA three days before.
Buenos Aires is entirely and completely different from Santiago. Santiago is real. Buenos Aires is like a grand setting of a fairy-tale book. Ancient, towering buildings line the streets. Tango shows on nearly every street corner. The smells of parillas full of every meat imaginable wafting from the restaurants that fill the city. The hustle and bustle of posh, European-esque people en route to their next appointment.
It´s grand, indeed.
We also went to Colonia, a tiny coast town in Uruguay for a memorable day trip. Colonia, the oldest city in Uruguay, was founded in 1680 by Portugal. The historic quarter is a World Heritage Site and boasts structures dating back to 1695 (Iglesia Matriz). The sun was smiling on us when we went and the tranquil pause to the hub-bub of Buenos Aires was a welcome break.
Two of my dearest friends, Cassie and Brian, from when I lived in España, just moved to Buenos Aires. So close ... just a twenty hour bus ride or a two hour flight away from Santiago. So close, in fact, that I´m thinking very seriously about moving there for a few months when my contract ends in Chile.
I´m young -- 22 years old. I´m coming back to the States to work seriously and work hard. Returning in March versus December isn´t going to make a significant difference in the long run. Yes, I might have to work a little harder when I get back to get my finances in order. But while I´m here in South America, I should aprovechar to the máximo. After all, who knows when I´ll be back...
I´m laughing right now.
Just a month ago, I wrote that I was definitively ready to come back in December and settle down. What a contradiction and ever-changing stream of emotions I am. As December approaches (really only two or so months until I finish at IOM), I shudder and cringe at the thought of ending this journey down here. I´m ready for a new adventure -- but that doesn´t mean I´m ready to end this chapter in Sudamérica.
The 18th of September brought chaos and hoopla to Chile. Independence Day. A week-long celebration involving copious amounts of food, drink and music.
Stephanie and I took the opportunity to travel to Buenos Aires for five days and return in time for the rowdy weekend festivities. It just so happened that Brian (friend from Spain) had moved to BA three days before.
Buenos Aires is entirely and completely different from Santiago. Santiago is real. Buenos Aires is like a grand setting of a fairy-tale book. Ancient, towering buildings line the streets. Tango shows on nearly every street corner. The smells of parillas full of every meat imaginable wafting from the restaurants that fill the city. The hustle and bustle of posh, European-esque people en route to their next appointment.
It´s grand, indeed.
We also went to Colonia, a tiny coast town in Uruguay for a memorable day trip. Colonia, the oldest city in Uruguay, was founded in 1680 by Portugal. The historic quarter is a World Heritage Site and boasts structures dating back to 1695 (Iglesia Matriz). The sun was smiling on us when we went and the tranquil pause to the hub-bub of Buenos Aires was a welcome break.
Buenos Aires = tango.
Buenos Aires = exploring green spots.
Buenos Aires = the best meat in the world.
Buenos Aires = Recoleta cemetary.
Buenos Aires = a port city.
Colonia = tranquilidad.
Colonia = enjoying the serenity of nature.
Colonia = small town-folk charm.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
A place I can hang my hat
There are many different ways to live life depending on who you talk to.
Some opt for a secure job, a home with a two-car garage and a family while others fervently argue that to truly live one must go beyond the expected societal norm and out into the vast expanse of the world. Neither is wrong and neither is right.
However, the people who elect one lifestyle over the other typically feel strongly about their choice. Some for necessity, some in the name of what is expected and many just because they can't imagine life any other way.
The grand majority of the people I've met on this South American adventure are openly disgusted with the idea of settling down. Soccer moms -- don't even think about it. PTA -- not a chance. Buying a house -- what kind of tontería is that?
But is it possible to be neither? Or both?
I'm living with an ultimatum. I leave Santiago in four months. In the meantime, our walls will remain bare. Our kitchen will never be fully stocked. I'll have to say goodbye indefinitely to my Chilean friends in December. Life is temporary. Transitory.
This experience makes me realize that I want something permanent. A place I can hang my hat. I want to buy a Seattle condo. I want roots.
I wouldn't have known this about myself unless I had embarked upon this journey. I would have spent life yearning for the unknown; the draw of living in a world so unlike your own you can't even imagine. And I've been there. It's exhilerating, refreshing, exciting, hard at times but oh-so-worth it. Situations like these teach you the most about yourself. And often surprising realizations.
So while I still haven't decided exactly if I'm ready to settle down, I know for a fact that I'm ready to put together my adult life. If you had asked me that six months ago, I wouldn't have been able to give you an answer.
Thanks Santiago. XX Bree
Some opt for a secure job, a home with a two-car garage and a family while others fervently argue that to truly live one must go beyond the expected societal norm and out into the vast expanse of the world. Neither is wrong and neither is right.
However, the people who elect one lifestyle over the other typically feel strongly about their choice. Some for necessity, some in the name of what is expected and many just because they can't imagine life any other way.
The grand majority of the people I've met on this South American adventure are openly disgusted with the idea of settling down. Soccer moms -- don't even think about it. PTA -- not a chance. Buying a house -- what kind of tontería is that?
But is it possible to be neither? Or both?
I'm living with an ultimatum. I leave Santiago in four months. In the meantime, our walls will remain bare. Our kitchen will never be fully stocked. I'll have to say goodbye indefinitely to my Chilean friends in December. Life is temporary. Transitory.
This experience makes me realize that I want something permanent. A place I can hang my hat. I want to buy a Seattle condo. I want roots.
I wouldn't have known this about myself unless I had embarked upon this journey. I would have spent life yearning for the unknown; the draw of living in a world so unlike your own you can't even imagine. And I've been there. It's exhilerating, refreshing, exciting, hard at times but oh-so-worth it. Situations like these teach you the most about yourself. And often surprising realizations.
So while I still haven't decided exactly if I'm ready to settle down, I know for a fact that I'm ready to put together my adult life. If you had asked me that six months ago, I wouldn't have been able to give you an answer.
Thanks Santiago. XX Bree
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
... December ... what then??
Why is it that as human beings we are always looking towards the future?
Now that I’ve bought my ticket home (Dec. 23 in Vancouver, B.C. at 10:30 AM), thoughts of Seattle, my family and friends are constantly sneaking into the peripheries of my mind. Where will I work? Where will I live? What hobbies will I pick up? Will it be an easy transition? Por favor, para (stop)! I’m very much looking forward to heading home but also want to fully enjoy my last four months here.
A quick plug: if you are aware of any job opportunities in Seattle (or elsewhere for that matter), I would be VERY grateful if you passed along that information. My e-mail is breanna_bart@yahoo.com. I have a BA in Communication, emphasis in Public Relations and am especially passionate about international education and communication. I am nervous to head home and pray that I find a job without too much difficulty, as I still hear horror stories of the job market. I will also be contacting many of you to ask for tips, advice, wisdom and suggestions. Thanks in advance for your help!
On a new endeavor…
I’m picking up a new hobby and am oh so excited about it. Our apartment doesn’t have internet or television and I’m running out of books to devour.
So… I’m going to teach myself to play the guitar! This effort won’t be entirely on my own – I have several friends here that play and the music teacher, Javier, at IOM also said he would help. They have an incredible deal at a music store near my apartment – a starter guitar, a case, two packs of strings and picks for $30,000 CP or about $60 US. I realize that the guitar probably won’t be top-quality but considering that I’m just starting and also that I make less than $600 US a month, it will have to do.
I’m going tomorrow to get the guitar. Yippeeee!
On the debates…
We were eliminated today, Tuesday August 18. Hahah, said with such finality. We made it to the second round and although we were quickly cut today (my team read from their notes too much), I am very proud of what they accomplished. Thinking back to myself in high-school and my level of Spanish, I never would have been able to complete a 3 minute spontaneous dialogue about a technical topic.
Here are some pictures of them:
My team and me
Practicing before their turn
Up at the podium
The debate room layout
Being silly at La Moneda after the debates finished
On Pianorquestra…
We went to the most amazing show two Saturdays ago. One piano, ten hands. Pianorquestra is a group from Brazil. Here's a blurb about them, "Created and directed by Claudio Dauelsberg, the group explores ethnic elements and Brazilian roots in a wonderful new way. They move easily from classical to popular, from Brazilian contemporary composers such as Villa-Lobos, Claudio Santoro, and Milton Nascimento, to rhythms such as samba, coco, maracatu, and ciranda. Claudio Dauelsberg, Gisele Sant’Ana, Masako Tanaka, Marina Spoladore, and Maíra Freitas explore the inside and the bottom of the piano box, inserting objects with different weights and densities—pieces of wood, metal, and rubber—on the strings, and using drumsticks to obtain percussive effects. The timbres range according to the density, weight, and texture of the objects, especially built for obtaining the desired sonorities." (Found at http://www.coastaljazz.ca/concert/pianorquestra).
On friends…
Instead of describing my amazing friends here, I’ll show you a few through pictures. The first is Jacqueline and me. Jacqueline went to Prince Edward Island University in East Coast Canada (random coincidence that Gigi also went there). She is going to be one of my guitar teachers and was also who inspired me to pick it up.
This is Esteban doing what he does best ... cook for us. We are always happy campers. 
Esteban, me and Steph .... two of my best friends here.
All in all, life sigue (continues) in fast forward. It’s hard to believe that August is more than half –way over. Life is good here – full of friends, work, happiness and rainy weather (reminds me of home!). I wish all of you an amazing last bit of summer … soak up that sunshine for me!
Now that I’ve bought my ticket home (Dec. 23 in Vancouver, B.C. at 10:30 AM), thoughts of Seattle, my family and friends are constantly sneaking into the peripheries of my mind. Where will I work? Where will I live? What hobbies will I pick up? Will it be an easy transition? Por favor, para (stop)! I’m very much looking forward to heading home but also want to fully enjoy my last four months here.
A quick plug: if you are aware of any job opportunities in Seattle (or elsewhere for that matter), I would be VERY grateful if you passed along that information. My e-mail is breanna_bart@yahoo.com. I have a BA in Communication, emphasis in Public Relations and am especially passionate about international education and communication. I am nervous to head home and pray that I find a job without too much difficulty, as I still hear horror stories of the job market. I will also be contacting many of you to ask for tips, advice, wisdom and suggestions. Thanks in advance for your help!
On a new endeavor…
I’m picking up a new hobby and am oh so excited about it. Our apartment doesn’t have internet or television and I’m running out of books to devour.
So… I’m going to teach myself to play the guitar! This effort won’t be entirely on my own – I have several friends here that play and the music teacher, Javier, at IOM also said he would help. They have an incredible deal at a music store near my apartment – a starter guitar, a case, two packs of strings and picks for $30,000 CP or about $60 US. I realize that the guitar probably won’t be top-quality but considering that I’m just starting and also that I make less than $600 US a month, it will have to do.
I’m going tomorrow to get the guitar. Yippeeee!
On the debates…
We were eliminated today, Tuesday August 18. Hahah, said with such finality. We made it to the second round and although we were quickly cut today (my team read from their notes too much), I am very proud of what they accomplished. Thinking back to myself in high-school and my level of Spanish, I never would have been able to complete a 3 minute spontaneous dialogue about a technical topic.
Here are some pictures of them:
My team and me
Practicing before their turn
Up at the podium
The debate room layout
Being silly at La Moneda after the debates finished
On Pianorquestra…
We went to the most amazing show two Saturdays ago. One piano, ten hands. Pianorquestra is a group from Brazil. Here's a blurb about them, "Created and directed by Claudio Dauelsberg, the group explores ethnic elements and Brazilian roots in a wonderful new way. They move easily from classical to popular, from Brazilian contemporary composers such as Villa-Lobos, Claudio Santoro, and Milton Nascimento, to rhythms such as samba, coco, maracatu, and ciranda. Claudio Dauelsberg, Gisele Sant’Ana, Masako Tanaka, Marina Spoladore, and Maíra Freitas explore the inside and the bottom of the piano box, inserting objects with different weights and densities—pieces of wood, metal, and rubber—on the strings, and using drumsticks to obtain percussive effects. The timbres range according to the density, weight, and texture of the objects, especially built for obtaining the desired sonorities." (Found at http://www.coastaljazz.ca/concert/pianorquestra).
On friends…
Instead of describing my amazing friends here, I’ll show you a few through pictures. The first is Jacqueline and me. Jacqueline went to Prince Edward Island University in East Coast Canada (random coincidence that Gigi also went there). She is going to be one of my guitar teachers and was also who inspired me to pick it up.
Esteban, me and Steph .... two of my best friends here.All in all, life sigue (continues) in fast forward. It’s hard to believe that August is more than half –way over. Life is good here – full of friends, work, happiness and rainy weather (reminds me of home!). I wish all of you an amazing last bit of summer … soak up that sunshine for me!
Monday, August 3, 2009
The not-so-secret lives of teachers
An innocent goodbye kiss with Sergio in downtown Santiago turned into a public display in front of several IOM students two Wednesdays ago.
I didn’t think anything of it. I certainly didn’t imagine I’d come back to school after winter break to, “Miss Breeee…. We saw you in Baquedano. Wooooooo!!” combined with full scene enactments. By two different groups of students (freshman and seniors) that saw me independently of each other. Whaaaaaaaaat?!
After all, Santiago’s a huge city and Maipu is an hour away from the heart of it all. What were my students doing in the same metro station as I was at the same time? Had they been tailing me for awhile, getting a kick out of their gringa pololeando con un chileno? Ohhh the questions I have... and the answers I’d prefer not to know.
When work and personal lives collide, the ensuing results can be interesting. Where are the lines drawn? I certainly have a right to live my life outside of work as I see fit. However, I’d rather not have my dirty laundry aired for all to see.
The bottom of the line: conduct myself as I’d want others to see me. But I want goodbye kisses. I want to live life. I want to make mistakes. I want to live without regrets. And I guess if that’s how my students at IOM see me, it’s not the end of the world.
HORSES:
I’m taking riding lessons again. Por fin. The first time I was on a horse was when I was three-months-old, cradled in my dad's arms as he shared his equine love with me. I was that girl in middle-school – the one who lived, dreamed and breathed horses. I got my own at nine-years-old and spent the next ten years or so living the dream. I was in
Pony Club and spent my youth competing in Eventing (Dressage, stadium jumping and cross country jumping) at Horse Trials across Washington State.
I looked into taking jumping lessons here but then decided to get local. Rodeo style, that is. Chile has a huge rodeo tradition. A while back, I even went to the national rodeo in Rancagua. I didn’t understand a thing that was happening but I recognized beautiful horses when I saw them.
So here I go again. I had my first lesson last Thursday and am eager for this Thursday to come around. Eventually, I plan to get back into Eventing but while in Chile, may as well learn like a Chilean huaso, cierto?
POMAIRE:
This past Sunday was spent trekking an hour and a half outside of the city to Pomaire, a small Chilean mountain town famous for ceramics and native cuisine. We endulged in both. The cobblestone streets are lined with artisan warehouse upon artisan warehouse, each exhibiting the resident craftsman’s speciality. Without fail, each store displayed clay chanchitos (little pigs), which are believed in Pomaire to bring good luck to family members and loved ones. These poor chanchitos to the left where piled on top of each other in a cardboard box in one shop - which I don't think the creators of Pomaire's legend would be so pleased to see.
I didn’t think anything of it. I certainly didn’t imagine I’d come back to school after winter break to, “Miss Breeee…. We saw you in Baquedano. Wooooooo!!” combined with full scene enactments. By two different groups of students (freshman and seniors) that saw me independently of each other. Whaaaaaaaaat?!
After all, Santiago’s a huge city and Maipu is an hour away from the heart of it all. What were my students doing in the same metro station as I was at the same time? Had they been tailing me for awhile, getting a kick out of their gringa pololeando con un chileno? Ohhh the questions I have... and the answers I’d prefer not to know.
When work and personal lives collide, the ensuing results can be interesting. Where are the lines drawn? I certainly have a right to live my life outside of work as I see fit. However, I’d rather not have my dirty laundry aired for all to see.
The bottom of the line: conduct myself as I’d want others to see me. But I want goodbye kisses. I want to live life. I want to make mistakes. I want to live without regrets. And I guess if that’s how my students at IOM see me, it’s not the end of the world.
HORSES:
I’m taking riding lessons again. Por fin. The first time I was on a horse was when I was three-months-old, cradled in my dad's arms as he shared his equine love with me. I was that girl in middle-school – the one who lived, dreamed and breathed horses. I got my own at nine-years-old and spent the next ten years or so living the dream. I was in
Pony Club and spent my youth competing in Eventing (Dressage, stadium jumping and cross country jumping) at Horse Trials across Washington State.I looked into taking jumping lessons here but then decided to get local. Rodeo style, that is. Chile has a huge rodeo tradition. A while back, I even went to the national rodeo in Rancagua. I didn’t understand a thing that was happening but I recognized beautiful horses when I saw them.
So here I go again. I had my first lesson last Thursday and am eager for this Thursday to come around. Eventually, I plan to get back into Eventing but while in Chile, may as well learn like a Chilean huaso, cierto?
POMAIRE:This past Sunday was spent trekking an hour and a half outside of the city to Pomaire, a small Chilean mountain town famous for ceramics and native cuisine. We endulged in both. The cobblestone streets are lined with artisan warehouse upon artisan warehouse, each exhibiting the resident craftsman’s speciality. Without fail, each store displayed clay chanchitos (little pigs), which are believed in Pomaire to bring good luck to family members and loved ones. These poor chanchitos to the left where piled on top of each other in a cardboard box in one shop - which I don't think the creators of Pomaire's legend would be so pleased to see.
The afternoon sun glistened on the white stone cottages while hundreds of families milled throughout the streets perusing the shops for their next household purchase. I found a beautiful clay paila bowl cast inside with a piercing turquoise-green shade for $1,500 CP (about $3 U
S) that I’m going to put my spare change in. The wonderful afternoon finished with a heaping bowl of Pastel de Choclo, a fresh-ground corn pie with meat, onions and basil (a Chilean culinary staple).
S) that I’m going to put my spare change in. The wonderful afternoon finished with a heaping bowl of Pastel de Choclo, a fresh-ground corn pie with meat, onions and basil (a Chilean culinary staple).Wednesday, July 29, 2009
July ... where have you gone?
Hello again. A month later. I know I’ve promised I wouldn’t keep doing this. But once again, life got in the way. This month was whirlwind.July = winter vacation.
I thought I’d have a lot of time to write and post updates … however, I quickly learned that downtime meant no time.
But now I’m back to my full time job and finding my life scheduled and routine again. Who knew I’d have more time when I’m taming the wild children at IOM?
It’s 10:30 pm on a Tuesday. I’m lounging on a silver chrome barstool at our granite countertop (the picture above is a view of Santiago from our apartment balcony), munching on toast with strawberry jam and sporting sweatpants and a Seattle Mariners sweatshirt. I got back at 9 pm from teaching my Advanced Conversation group at the institute and am in for the night. Ahhhh the sweet joys of going to bed at a decent hour. I’d forgotten what that feels like the last few weeks.
On school…
This week at IOM, we’re doing something a little different. I’m not teaching any classes - just working solely with a team of six high-schoolers preparing for a debate this coming Monday against another colegio. The topic is euthanasia. Already three people have quit the team because they find the topic uninteresting. Luckily, it hasn’t been difficult finding people that want to miss several hours of class each day to eat cookies and practice debating and then go
downtown on Monday for the actual competition. This project feels more tangible than a lot of the things I’ve done at IOM and I’m happy to be put to use.I can’t remember if I wrote anything about the other gringa at my school last semester. In a nutshell, she ending up hating the school and left a semester and a month early without saying goodbye to anyone. She was very religious and set in her expectations of how things should be. The new girl this semester, Trish, is from New Jersey, lived in the Philippines for nine years and comes off innocent but has a bit of a wild girl lurking within. Love it. One of the first people she met at IOM was Felipe, a PE teacher. The very first question he asked her was if she’s religious. The look on Trish’s face was priceless. She’d been warned about Chile being a Catholic country but wasn’t prepared to get slammed with the religion question right off the bat. Felipe, however, then backed up the question with, “I only ask this because of the other girl.” Meaning it had nothing to do with if he was going to agree or disagree with her religious tendencies but more along the lines of if she was like Sarah at all. Which she’s not.
I still am enamorada with my students. Of course, there are many high schoolers that couldn’t give a darn about learning English but the many who put the effort forth have captured my heart. I’m spreading the word that everyone has to/should come visit me in Seattle when I get back. Minus the logistics of actually doing so, everyone seems pretty stoked about having an opportunity to go to the States, having a free place to stay and a tour guide. But seriously … how full circle would that be if after spending a year wrapped in their welcoming arms, I would be able to demonstrate my appreciation by showing them my country?
On future plans…
Remember that job I wrote about awhile ago that I turned down? They e-mailed me again … this time with a different and much more appealing job opportunity. As a reporter and/or editor. Um yes please! You may or may not know, but I worked as a reporter for Washington State University on their daily newspaper. Minus the stress of juggling deadlines in addition to aiming for academic excellence and extra-curricular success, I absolutely loved the experience. To work as a full-time, salaried reporter would be a dream come true.
This, however, would mean I wasn’t coming home in December. There still is so much to be seen in these next five months. Crazy that I’m at the half-way mark, isn’t it? I’m not going to make a decision right now. But I’m open to possibilities.
On boys boys boys…
Notice I wrote it three times? I’m doing a bit of juggling right now. Not serious with anyone but enjoying my time with three dashing men. Cristian, Sergio and Felipe. Definitely a great mix of ages and walks of life.
Cristian is a 31-year-old transportation engineer for the government. I met him at where else but … the castle. We’ve been going on dates for the past few weeks. Dinner planned for Thursday, tennis this Sunday and tentative plans to La Serena to visit a friend in the near future. Also interesting is the fact that the only place Cristian has been in the States is Seattle, for a transportation conference. Sergio is a 20-year-old musician and ski lodge attendant at El Colorado. I met him when we went snowboarding about a month ago. There was definitely an instant connection between us but I’m realizing that 20 year olds aren’t so secure and confident in themselves and their place in the world. He’s taking me snowboarding on Aug. 8 (h
e’s got the hookup). I’m hoping he’ll bust out his guitar before long. Felipe is 24-year-old international business student (the picture to the right is of Felipe -making a very serious face- and me). I met him ages ago and we’ve been talking casually for awhile but suddenly, the heat picked up. We also had an instant connection but it took awhile for plans to materialize between us. He really wanted me to go to Algarrobo, a beach town, with him this week but alas I have to work. I went on a date with him last Friday and we have plans to meet up when he gets back into town. Isn’t it ever so fun to be single and ready to mingle?That’s probably enough of an update for one sitting. The next installation shall be on its way soon.
Here’s a photo montage of our winter vacation:
Salsa Dancing
Masquerade Ball at the Castle
Bowling 
Valparaiso
Exploring Chile’s Coast
Wine Tasting in Cajon de Maipo
Horseback Riding
Buenas Noches! Until next time … XX Bree
Valparaiso
Exploring Chile’s Coast
Wine Tasting in Cajon de Maipo
Horseback Riding
Buenas Noches! Until next time … XX Bree
Monday, July 6, 2009
22 years old.
And man, do I have a lot to be grateful for.
It´s my birthday tomorrow. This will be my second year in a row not being home for it.
Last year, on my 21st, I was a counselor at a camp for high-schoolers and I got to share my birthday with a sixteen-year-old boy. Not exactly the wild 21st you´d have imagined. But we did have some pretty delicious chocolate cake - and anyone that knows me well knows that chocolate is definitely one of my principal food groups. This year shall be interesting though ... in another country surrounded by friends I made just a few months ago. Albeit, my friends feel like family. Vamos a ver como pasara...
We went snowboarding yesterday!! Sooo much fun. We were in a group of 7 Americans, Chileans and Portugese. We went to El Colorado, which is part of Los Farellones in Los Andes. While the ski resort certainly didn´t have the greenage and the expanse that the mountains in Washington have, it had the most amazing view of the surrounding mountain range and Santiago valley. We were so high that two of our friends had to stop skiing at mid-day because of altitude sickness. As we were riding down the mountain at the end of the day, the glowing ball of sun set amongst the mountain peaks, turning the glistening white snow into a rainbow of purple, indigo and burnt orange. Definitely a memorable puesta del sol.
On Friday, we went salsa dancing. Also so much fun. I think my dad was more excited that I went than I was ... which I find very endearing. Who woulda thought that our little Mikey would be such a salsa picante man??
Eso es. My laptop is currently disputing life and showing its five years of age but as soon as I get it up and running again, I´ll put pictures up. Miss you all, love you and hope you have a fantastic week.
It´s my birthday tomorrow. This will be my second year in a row not being home for it.
Last year, on my 21st, I was a counselor at a camp for high-schoolers and I got to share my birthday with a sixteen-year-old boy. Not exactly the wild 21st you´d have imagined. But we did have some pretty delicious chocolate cake - and anyone that knows me well knows that chocolate is definitely one of my principal food groups. This year shall be interesting though ... in another country surrounded by friends I made just a few months ago. Albeit, my friends feel like family. Vamos a ver como pasara...
We went snowboarding yesterday!! Sooo much fun. We were in a group of 7 Americans, Chileans and Portugese. We went to El Colorado, which is part of Los Farellones in Los Andes. While the ski resort certainly didn´t have the greenage and the expanse that the mountains in Washington have, it had the most amazing view of the surrounding mountain range and Santiago valley. We were so high that two of our friends had to stop skiing at mid-day because of altitude sickness. As we were riding down the mountain at the end of the day, the glowing ball of sun set amongst the mountain peaks, turning the glistening white snow into a rainbow of purple, indigo and burnt orange. Definitely a memorable puesta del sol.
On Friday, we went salsa dancing. Also so much fun. I think my dad was more excited that I went than I was ... which I find very endearing. Who woulda thought that our little Mikey would be such a salsa picante man??
Eso es. My laptop is currently disputing life and showing its five years of age but as soon as I get it up and running again, I´ll put pictures up. Miss you all, love you and hope you have a fantastic week.
Friday, July 3, 2009
Regret
Regret.
The famous six letter word.
I recently had an experience that required me to evaluate the all-encompassing word from 987,928,349,827,349 different angles.
I could have been working as a full-time, salaried International Account Executive by this time next week. But I turned it down.
Let me back up ...
About a month ago, I met one of Esteban´s friends, María José. She works as a Human Resources Generalist at a reputable international news company for 12 different industry sectors in the Americas. She mentioned that they were always looking for English speakers to edit copies and call businesses in the States. I figured it would do no harm to submit a resume and see what happens. After all, I have a BA in Communications, emphasis in Public Relations and will eventually be doing something in that field. This might be an unpassable opportunity.
I received an e-mail from the company two Wednesdays ago, saying they had an open position as an International Account Executive. In the Sales Department.
Ok... worth getting more information, right?
I had a three hour interview mostly in Spanish last Friday. It went great. Fabulous. Fantastic. Magnificent. I learned more about the company, the position, everything. Great; I´d make more money, have an impressive job title to put on my resume, get some professional experience ... but there´s one problem. I´d be selling subscriptions to the news service. Sales ... not something I´ve ever particularly wanted to do.
And - I have a job I love right now. Yeah, so it might not be something that I want to do for the rest of my life but for right now, it´s exactly why I´m here in Chile. As the first semester nears its end, I can reflect on the incredible experience I´ve had and see where I can go from there to make it even better next semester. I´m not ready to leave the colegio yet.
That´s my heart speaking.
When it comes to my rational mind, I think about the professional experience I´d gain that could make me more marketable for a position back home in the Pacific Northwest. Would it be a mistake to pass up an opportunity like this? To cohort with the big wigs and convince them that they absolutely need to buy a news subscription or their company will go under (something to that extent). I don´t know. You often never know the answers to those kinds of questions until it´s too late to go back and change your mind.
But when you follow your heart, you never lose. Because at the end of the day, if you´re not happy, then what´s the point?
The famous six letter word.
I recently had an experience that required me to evaluate the all-encompassing word from 987,928,349,827,349 different angles.
I could have been working as a full-time, salaried International Account Executive by this time next week. But I turned it down.
Let me back up ...
About a month ago, I met one of Esteban´s friends, María José. She works as a Human Resources Generalist at a reputable international news company for 12 different industry sectors in the Americas. She mentioned that they were always looking for English speakers to edit copies and call businesses in the States. I figured it would do no harm to submit a resume and see what happens. After all, I have a BA in Communications, emphasis in Public Relations and will eventually be doing something in that field. This might be an unpassable opportunity.
I received an e-mail from the company two Wednesdays ago, saying they had an open position as an International Account Executive. In the Sales Department.
Ok... worth getting more information, right?
I had a three hour interview mostly in Spanish last Friday. It went great. Fabulous. Fantastic. Magnificent. I learned more about the company, the position, everything. Great; I´d make more money, have an impressive job title to put on my resume, get some professional experience ... but there´s one problem. I´d be selling subscriptions to the news service. Sales ... not something I´ve ever particularly wanted to do.
And - I have a job I love right now. Yeah, so it might not be something that I want to do for the rest of my life but for right now, it´s exactly why I´m here in Chile. As the first semester nears its end, I can reflect on the incredible experience I´ve had and see where I can go from there to make it even better next semester. I´m not ready to leave the colegio yet.
That´s my heart speaking.
When it comes to my rational mind, I think about the professional experience I´d gain that could make me more marketable for a position back home in the Pacific Northwest. Would it be a mistake to pass up an opportunity like this? To cohort with the big wigs and convince them that they absolutely need to buy a news subscription or their company will go under (something to that extent). I don´t know. You often never know the answers to those kinds of questions until it´s too late to go back and change your mind.
But when you follow your heart, you never lose. Because at the end of the day, if you´re not happy, then what´s the point?
Friday, June 26, 2009
Conmocion
Click, click. La la lalala la. It was midnight on Saturday and I was procrastinating. For what; I did not know. I had just gotten back from a delicious dinner at El Huerto, one of Santiago’s finest vegetarian restaurants and was now flipping through my iTunes, trying to find that song. The song that would ease my restlessness; my sense that the night wasn’t really over.
And then my phone rang. Jacqueline!
“Hey girl, where are you? We’re on Avenida Providencia and heading to the Conmocion concert. You comin’?” she said.
Avenida Providencia. Only two blocks from my apartment...
“I’m there. See ya in two minutes,” I replied.
I leapt off the shiny chrome barstool, grabbed my luscious leather purse and flew out the door of our 14th floor apartment. Something had kept me from following the bed-bound fate of my roommates when we got home from dinner. I certainly would have silenced Jacqueline’s call if I was nestled under my three billowy blankets counting Mary’s lambs and awaiting slumber. A Conmocion concert (falling more or less into the Ska genre) is the exact opposite of the inner peace and tranquility one feels when surrendering to dream land.
Rewind several months.
Jacqueline and I went to a concert at La Universidad Catolica’s “Festival de Bienvenida” soon after I arrived. Think sweaty bodies jumping up and down, twirling, swaying and singing along to the 19-person musical ensemble onstage. Trumpets blare, drums slither, cymbals clatter and the warm, velvety, buttery voice of the lead singer envelopes its way into the very pores of the enthusiastic listeners in the packed outdoor courtyard. It was slightly overwhelming, having just arrived in Santiago and still adjusting to the passionate culture.
But I was ready tonight; ready to rock ‘n roll with the best of ‘em.
I met Jacqueline, Adam and John on Avenida Providencia and we hopped into one of the many yellow-topped black cabs that scour Santiago’s streets looking for customers. Down, down, down to the other end of the city the driver took us. We hopped out at Barrio Brazil, which coincidentally was where I stayed in the hostel with the group for the first month. Following the crowd seemed to be the best bet. They took us down a dark street milling with unsavory looking characters and then suddenly stopped outside of ominous-looking warehouse doors.
Welcome to Galpon Victor Jarra, one of Santiago’s underground concert venues. Two burly, scraggly men stood proud at the entrance, arms stretched out for the 3,000 pesos (about US $5) we had to fork over to get inside. Quiet outside; music suddenly burst from the now open doors as the men beckoned for us to enter. John, already well on his way to la la land, headed straight for the bar, which greeted its patrons with hand-written signs boasting Chilean bar basics. Piscola (Pisco and Coca Cola), Pisco Sour (Chile’s go-to drink) and Cristal (beer). Jacqueline, Adam and I stood back and breathed in the chaotic but rhythmic scene of a hundred or so Chileans bouncing and swaying to tropical melodies blaring from loudspeakers above.
It was dark, dirty and hot. You could smell the sweat dripping from the brows of the fervent dancers. Laughter and whoops of delight punctured the upbeat, melodious music. We looked at each other in unspoken agreement and plunged ahead. It was go time.
With a hop, skip and a jump; we were just as quickly part of the flailing crowd. We may have been the only gringos there but none of that mattered once we joined the rest of them. A few minutes more and the opening band, Dulce de Guayaba, started rattling their instruments behind the closed stage curtain. A deep but caramel-sweet voice rose above the crowd as the curtain snapped open.
The handsome singer, wearing a green and white flower-patterned shirt, must have been all but 18. Behind him, 6 others wearing the same shirt in different colors, stood behind their instruments, a steel drum, xylophone, and maracas among others. They danced and swayed as they sang and played. The chaos that once was the warehouse-turned-concert venue became a methodically moving mass of people. People loved the 18-year-old. Jacqueline and I decided to be obnoxious and yell things in English, which the grand majority of the crowd there was certain not to understand.
“Take it off!” I shouted.
“I want to have your babies!” she roared.
Yes, when it comes down to it, we’re Americans and prone to yelling inappropriate things during crowded, passionate events. Think football, baseball, soccer, track competitions, heck, even ice-skating.
They played and played, working the crowd into a frenzy. And just as quickly as they had started, they stopped. The loudspeakers once again blared music conducive to swaying hips and fancy footwork. We danced until 3 AM when suddenly, everything went quiet.
From the far back of the warehouse, the pitter-patter of drums began. A trumpet bellowed. Cymbals went clatter-clatter. And men dressed as devils led the long entourage across the room and through the crowd, up to the stage, pausing every minute or so to coax the eager audience into a worked-up bed of emotion. The 19-person group was primarily male but the four women that had worked their way in wore gypsy dresses and hundreds of bangles, their faces jeweled and painted in exotic swirls.
When Conmocion got on stage, they simultaneously stopped and then broke right into their first song. What sounded to us like a bunch of musical instruments intertwining and short, choppy song lyrics was comfort to the Chileans in the crowd. They knew all the words and shouted them right back to the performers onstage. We followed their lead and jumped up and down; scattering in a few upward arm throws as well. I hummed along loudly, trying to pass off that I, too, knew what was going on.
In addition to clanging cymbals, the devils would act out the songs, often jumping on each other and pummeling each other’s behinds. They would fight over the elegant woman who held front and center on the stage and attempt to entice her to leave with them. Others in costumes would jump on top of the large speakers to the side of the stage and dance, then just as slyly crawl down and resume playing. The handsome trumpet player often knelt at the stage’s edge, reaching for the out-flung hands of adoring female fans. Every once in awhile, each member would pause briefly to take a large gulp of the alcoholic beverage that never left their side.
We jumped up and down and pretended to know the words for an hour and a half. In that time; a shorter, rather round middle-aged man had been making his way around the venue, hitting on men and women alike. He was clearly intoxicated. His pink, knitted beanie fit loosely on his bald head and his black nylon fanny-pack was slung over the bottom of his cherry-red hooded sweatshirt. Jacqueline, Adam and I were each approached separately. We also witnessed the little man accosting our neighbors.
As the night wore on, he became increasingly incoherent. He would fold in half, appearing to be sleeping on his feet while swaying back and forth violently. Realizing the man’s predicament, many of the concert go-ers joined forces and dragged/carried him out the door. We quickly forgot the whole scenario and resumed our chaotic bobbing.
At 5 AM, with the concert still going strong and the Chileans showing no signs of tiring, we called it a night. We hovered near the grand, steel doors for a minute, soaking in the last drops of the grungy, sweaty and loud crowd thrashing to Conmocion. And there, as we walked out and away from the warehouse, we came upon the man. He was directly across the street, slumped at the waist sleeping, his hat-clad head resting firmly on the forest green bench in Plaza Brazil and his feet planted solidly on the ground.
As we watched and observed, feeling mixed emotions of pity and compassion for him, a group of people in their mid-20’s clad in black and metal spikes stopped in front of him. Their breath rose in frosty, grey curls as they contemplated the man’s future on this chilly, Saturday night.
“El gorro! …el gorro! …el gorro!” they chanted, prodding the leader to snag the rosy knit hat off his bare head.
They swiped it, flexed in mid-position, waiting to see if he would arouse from his unconscious state. He remained as he was. The group started to walk away, then stopped and simultaneously glanced at the fanny-pack suspended around his waist. The leader thrust forward, unzipped the pack with an experienced swoop and pulled out the man’s wallet. He stashed it in his front pocket, and the pack walked away as if nothing had happened.
I wanted to interfere; to tell them that they can’t take advantage of a man so clearly out of it. But the world has its pecking order. And people that have no qualms about stealing in plain view probably don’t have qualms about doing things I don’t care to think about.
We plunged into the next cab we saw; warm, safe and curled into each other to fight the cold of the night. The cab shuttled us across town and to our spotless, modern 19-story apartment building, where we picked a snack from our full cabinets, changed into a fresh pair of pajamas and fell asleep under our down comforters.
And then my phone rang. Jacqueline!
“Hey girl, where are you? We’re on Avenida Providencia and heading to the Conmocion concert. You comin’?” she said.
Avenida Providencia. Only two blocks from my apartment...
“I’m there. See ya in two minutes,” I replied.
I leapt off the shiny chrome barstool, grabbed my luscious leather purse and flew out the door of our 14th floor apartment. Something had kept me from following the bed-bound fate of my roommates when we got home from dinner. I certainly would have silenced Jacqueline’s call if I was nestled under my three billowy blankets counting Mary’s lambs and awaiting slumber. A Conmocion concert (falling more or less into the Ska genre) is the exact opposite of the inner peace and tranquility one feels when surrendering to dream land.
Rewind several months.
Jacqueline and I went to a concert at La Universidad Catolica’s “Festival de Bienvenida” soon after I arrived. Think sweaty bodies jumping up and down, twirling, swaying and singing along to the 19-person musical ensemble onstage. Trumpets blare, drums slither, cymbals clatter and the warm, velvety, buttery voice of the lead singer envelopes its way into the very pores of the enthusiastic listeners in the packed outdoor courtyard. It was slightly overwhelming, having just arrived in Santiago and still adjusting to the passionate culture.
But I was ready tonight; ready to rock ‘n roll with the best of ‘em.
I met Jacqueline, Adam and John on Avenida Providencia and we hopped into one of the many yellow-topped black cabs that scour Santiago’s streets looking for customers. Down, down, down to the other end of the city the driver took us. We hopped out at Barrio Brazil, which coincidentally was where I stayed in the hostel with the group for the first month. Following the crowd seemed to be the best bet. They took us down a dark street milling with unsavory looking characters and then suddenly stopped outside of ominous-looking warehouse doors.
Welcome to Galpon Victor Jarra, one of Santiago’s underground concert venues. Two burly, scraggly men stood proud at the entrance, arms stretched out for the 3,000 pesos (about US $5) we had to fork over to get inside. Quiet outside; music suddenly burst from the now open doors as the men beckoned for us to enter. John, already well on his way to la la land, headed straight for the bar, which greeted its patrons with hand-written signs boasting Chilean bar basics. Piscola (Pisco and Coca Cola), Pisco Sour (Chile’s go-to drink) and Cristal (beer). Jacqueline, Adam and I stood back and breathed in the chaotic but rhythmic scene of a hundred or so Chileans bouncing and swaying to tropical melodies blaring from loudspeakers above.
It was dark, dirty and hot. You could smell the sweat dripping from the brows of the fervent dancers. Laughter and whoops of delight punctured the upbeat, melodious music. We looked at each other in unspoken agreement and plunged ahead. It was go time.
With a hop, skip and a jump; we were just as quickly part of the flailing crowd. We may have been the only gringos there but none of that mattered once we joined the rest of them. A few minutes more and the opening band, Dulce de Guayaba, started rattling their instruments behind the closed stage curtain. A deep but caramel-sweet voice rose above the crowd as the curtain snapped open.
The handsome singer, wearing a green and white flower-patterned shirt, must have been all but 18. Behind him, 6 others wearing the same shirt in different colors, stood behind their instruments, a steel drum, xylophone, and maracas among others. They danced and swayed as they sang and played. The chaos that once was the warehouse-turned-concert venue became a methodically moving mass of people. People loved the 18-year-old. Jacqueline and I decided to be obnoxious and yell things in English, which the grand majority of the crowd there was certain not to understand.
“Take it off!” I shouted.
“I want to have your babies!” she roared.
Yes, when it comes down to it, we’re Americans and prone to yelling inappropriate things during crowded, passionate events. Think football, baseball, soccer, track competitions, heck, even ice-skating.
They played and played, working the crowd into a frenzy. And just as quickly as they had started, they stopped. The loudspeakers once again blared music conducive to swaying hips and fancy footwork. We danced until 3 AM when suddenly, everything went quiet.
From the far back of the warehouse, the pitter-patter of drums began. A trumpet bellowed. Cymbals went clatter-clatter. And men dressed as devils led the long entourage across the room and through the crowd, up to the stage, pausing every minute or so to coax the eager audience into a worked-up bed of emotion. The 19-person group was primarily male but the four women that had worked their way in wore gypsy dresses and hundreds of bangles, their faces jeweled and painted in exotic swirls.
When Conmocion got on stage, they simultaneously stopped and then broke right into their first song. What sounded to us like a bunch of musical instruments intertwining and short, choppy song lyrics was comfort to the Chileans in the crowd. They knew all the words and shouted them right back to the performers onstage. We followed their lead and jumped up and down; scattering in a few upward arm throws as well. I hummed along loudly, trying to pass off that I, too, knew what was going on.
In addition to clanging cymbals, the devils would act out the songs, often jumping on each other and pummeling each other’s behinds. They would fight over the elegant woman who held front and center on the stage and attempt to entice her to leave with them. Others in costumes would jump on top of the large speakers to the side of the stage and dance, then just as slyly crawl down and resume playing. The handsome trumpet player often knelt at the stage’s edge, reaching for the out-flung hands of adoring female fans. Every once in awhile, each member would pause briefly to take a large gulp of the alcoholic beverage that never left their side.
We jumped up and down and pretended to know the words for an hour and a half. In that time; a shorter, rather round middle-aged man had been making his way around the venue, hitting on men and women alike. He was clearly intoxicated. His pink, knitted beanie fit loosely on his bald head and his black nylon fanny-pack was slung over the bottom of his cherry-red hooded sweatshirt. Jacqueline, Adam and I were each approached separately. We also witnessed the little man accosting our neighbors.
As the night wore on, he became increasingly incoherent. He would fold in half, appearing to be sleeping on his feet while swaying back and forth violently. Realizing the man’s predicament, many of the concert go-ers joined forces and dragged/carried him out the door. We quickly forgot the whole scenario and resumed our chaotic bobbing.
At 5 AM, with the concert still going strong and the Chileans showing no signs of tiring, we called it a night. We hovered near the grand, steel doors for a minute, soaking in the last drops of the grungy, sweaty and loud crowd thrashing to Conmocion. And there, as we walked out and away from the warehouse, we came upon the man. He was directly across the street, slumped at the waist sleeping, his hat-clad head resting firmly on the forest green bench in Plaza Brazil and his feet planted solidly on the ground.
As we watched and observed, feeling mixed emotions of pity and compassion for him, a group of people in their mid-20’s clad in black and metal spikes stopped in front of him. Their breath rose in frosty, grey curls as they contemplated the man’s future on this chilly, Saturday night.
“El gorro! …el gorro! …el gorro!” they chanted, prodding the leader to snag the rosy knit hat off his bare head.
They swiped it, flexed in mid-position, waiting to see if he would arouse from his unconscious state. He remained as he was. The group started to walk away, then stopped and simultaneously glanced at the fanny-pack suspended around his waist. The leader thrust forward, unzipped the pack with an experienced swoop and pulled out the man’s wallet. He stashed it in his front pocket, and the pack walked away as if nothing had happened.
I wanted to interfere; to tell them that they can’t take advantage of a man so clearly out of it. But the world has its pecking order. And people that have no qualms about stealing in plain view probably don’t have qualms about doing things I don’t care to think about.
We plunged into the next cab we saw; warm, safe and curled into each other to fight the cold of the night. The cab shuttled us across town and to our spotless, modern 19-story apartment building, where we picked a snack from our full cabinets, changed into a fresh pair of pajamas and fell asleep under our down comforters.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Pierre
Pierre. Pluto. Papi. Pickle. Podgekins. Pops. Pookie Bear.All of these names have three things in common:
1. I have no idea where they came from.
2. They all start with 'P'.
3. They're my father's nicknames.
HAPPY FATHERS DAY to all you Dads out there!!
If only all the children in the world could be so blessed as to have a father as sincere, genuine, hilarious (usually when he doesn't mean to be...), hard-working and entrepreneurial as mine.I've learned many a things from my old man. The one I'm most grateful for, however; is that of independence and saaviness. My father is my grounding factor; the rock I turn when I need to be brought back down to reality. He's my foundation and my support, my knowledge of wealth and my safe spot. I'm 21 (almost 22!!!), going on 30 in many aspects and I think I owe a lot of this to my father. He taught me to be a self-starter, to be proactive, to go after my dreams but to be practical when I want to float above the clouds. He's the fatherly yin to my daughterly yang.
I'm missing out on celebrating Fathers Day with you this year, Dad, but know that I will be thinking about you
constantly throughout the day and wishing you all the best in Vancouver!I love you.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Hot showers, sing-a-longs and sushi
I am alive and well. Just a little behind on the posting. La culpa mia ... lo siento.
I received four new night classes a week, so in addition to teaching all day, I come home and teach more! It makes life considerably busier but also that much more fulfilling and enriching. Being busy makes off-time that much the sweeter. One of my new students, Patricio, is the head economist of the government´s banking and financial institution branch. Twice a week, I head downtown to his office, which is right next to Chile´s "White House" (La Moneda). It´s a refreshing change of pace. I always leave for the class early so I can wander through the downtown paseos drenched with people pouring out of their offices after work.
Life in the new apartment is wonderful. It feels like home, por fin. I never knew how much I took hot showers for granted until they weren't there. The two balconies on our 14th floor apartment look out onto Cerro San Cristobal, Santiago's largest public park that I wrote about earlier. However, the city smog is so bad that the mountain (which is about a 20 minute walk from our apartment) is often a blurry outline. The cool, winter air pushes the pollution down into Santiago Valley and creates a perpetual foggy haze. Not the most desirable living conditions but I can handle it for a year. I don't know how the Chileans deal with it for a lifetime.
I´ve gone to my colegio on Saturday for various musical events and celebrations for the last two weeks. Two Saturdays ago, my favorite senior class hosted El Festival de La Voz. After belting out their favorite songs (some in English!), they handed the microphones over to the middle schoolers for a battle of the bands. My colegio celebrated their 50th anniversary this past Saturday with music, food, dancing and games. The fiesta began at 12 pm and lasted until 3 am... if that gives you any idea of how Latin-American parties at pre-K to 12th grade schools go down.
I've discovered how to make learning English fun...... singing songs. English popular culture saturates Chile; the grand majority of my students listen to songs in English (even though they don't know what most of them mean), watch TV and movies in English with Spanish subtitles and buy food products from the United States (the biggest chain of grocery stores here, Lider, sells Safeway products). Singing songs in our conversation groups is a grand success. If I thought my students were excited about leaving the classroom before, I was wrong. They now practically fall out of their seats when raising their hand to leave the room and then maul each other on the way out the door to be the first to make it to La Sala de Inglés.
It makes sense to teach them English through popular music. Not only are mis alumnos able to practice their pronunciaton while singing along but they also learn everyday slang and modismos (sayings). And it makes me happy to see them so excited about learning English. I can't even count by now the number of times I've sang I Don't Wanna Miss a Thing by Aerosmith but I will gladly sing it a million times more just to see my students singing at the top of their lungs and swaying back and forth with their arms around each other's shoulders. I have 3 conversation groups for each of the 22 classes I work with and they often request to listen to the song twice ... so the song is definitely working its way into the 200's for me.
Chileans have quite the sense of humor. They are always joking, often in a sexual context. I enjoy the constant bromas; they keep me on my toes. It's pretty easy to make my students laugh and there's nothing better than having the whole class react to a joke with a simultaneous "OooooOoooooooooooh!", knee-slapping and laughter. They enjoy calling each other out and don't hesitate to dig for the dirty. This is probably a poor teaching move on my part, but maaaan, it is really hard to not laugh at times. As a teacher, you certainly don't want to encourage immaturity nor picking on others but since when did high-schoolers get so witty, quirky and quick!? I often fail at trying to hold my laughter in or keep my amusement to myself.
We also have our "own" restaurant now ... a Peruvian and Japonese culinary delight. An odd combination, you might ask. However, it makes perfect sense. In Chile, sushi and Peruvian ceviche/carne fall a close second to its own national cuisine. By chance, Steph and I stumbled upon Muelle Montt and now make a weekly trek to the discreet, classy and deliciously fresh restaurant located about three blocks from our apartment. The owners often shower our table with free appetizers and profusely express their gratitude at our loyal service. I always order the Menú del Día Japonese, which starts with an appetizer of gyoza and panko-crusted salmon, a pisco sour and finishes with 12 artfully crafted and freshly rolled peices of sushi. Que rico!
There is so much to contar. This is a good start but as its been two action-packed weeks since I've last written, I have many more tales and funny stories. All in good time, my friends. Thanks for your loyal readership. Can't wait to see ya'll back in the States in December (most likely...). Mucho amor!
I received four new night classes a week, so in addition to teaching all day, I come home and teach more! It makes life considerably busier but also that much more fulfilling and enriching. Being busy makes off-time that much the sweeter. One of my new students, Patricio, is the head economist of the government´s banking and financial institution branch. Twice a week, I head downtown to his office, which is right next to Chile´s "White House" (La Moneda). It´s a refreshing change of pace. I always leave for the class early so I can wander through the downtown paseos drenched with people pouring out of their offices after work.
Life in the new apartment is wonderful. It feels like home, por fin. I never knew how much I took hot showers for granted until they weren't there. The two balconies on our 14th floor apartment look out onto Cerro San Cristobal, Santiago's largest public park that I wrote about earlier. However, the city smog is so bad that the mountain (which is about a 20 minute walk from our apartment) is often a blurry outline. The cool, winter air pushes the pollution down into Santiago Valley and creates a perpetual foggy haze. Not the most desirable living conditions but I can handle it for a year. I don't know how the Chileans deal with it for a lifetime.
I´ve gone to my colegio on Saturday for various musical events and celebrations for the last two weeks. Two Saturdays ago, my favorite senior class hosted El Festival de La Voz. After belting out their favorite songs (some in English!), they handed the microphones over to the middle schoolers for a battle of the bands. My colegio celebrated their 50th anniversary this past Saturday with music, food, dancing and games. The fiesta began at 12 pm and lasted until 3 am... if that gives you any idea of how Latin-American parties at pre-K to 12th grade schools go down.
I've discovered how to make learning English fun...... singing songs. English popular culture saturates Chile; the grand majority of my students listen to songs in English (even though they don't know what most of them mean), watch TV and movies in English with Spanish subtitles and buy food products from the United States (the biggest chain of grocery stores here, Lider, sells Safeway products). Singing songs in our conversation groups is a grand success. If I thought my students were excited about leaving the classroom before, I was wrong. They now practically fall out of their seats when raising their hand to leave the room and then maul each other on the way out the door to be the first to make it to La Sala de Inglés.
It makes sense to teach them English through popular music. Not only are mis alumnos able to practice their pronunciaton while singing along but they also learn everyday slang and modismos (sayings). And it makes me happy to see them so excited about learning English. I can't even count by now the number of times I've sang I Don't Wanna Miss a Thing by Aerosmith but I will gladly sing it a million times more just to see my students singing at the top of their lungs and swaying back and forth with their arms around each other's shoulders. I have 3 conversation groups for each of the 22 classes I work with and they often request to listen to the song twice ... so the song is definitely working its way into the 200's for me.
Chileans have quite the sense of humor. They are always joking, often in a sexual context. I enjoy the constant bromas; they keep me on my toes. It's pretty easy to make my students laugh and there's nothing better than having the whole class react to a joke with a simultaneous "OooooOoooooooooooh!", knee-slapping and laughter. They enjoy calling each other out and don't hesitate to dig for the dirty. This is probably a poor teaching move on my part, but maaaan, it is really hard to not laugh at times. As a teacher, you certainly don't want to encourage immaturity nor picking on others but since when did high-schoolers get so witty, quirky and quick!? I often fail at trying to hold my laughter in or keep my amusement to myself.
We also have our "own" restaurant now ... a Peruvian and Japonese culinary delight. An odd combination, you might ask. However, it makes perfect sense. In Chile, sushi and Peruvian ceviche/carne fall a close second to its own national cuisine. By chance, Steph and I stumbled upon Muelle Montt and now make a weekly trek to the discreet, classy and deliciously fresh restaurant located about three blocks from our apartment. The owners often shower our table with free appetizers and profusely express their gratitude at our loyal service. I always order the Menú del Día Japonese, which starts with an appetizer of gyoza and panko-crusted salmon, a pisco sour and finishes with 12 artfully crafted and freshly rolled peices of sushi. Que rico!
There is so much to contar. This is a good start but as its been two action-packed weeks since I've last written, I have many more tales and funny stories. All in good time, my friends. Thanks for your loyal readership. Can't wait to see ya'll back in the States in December (most likely...). Mucho amor!
Friday, May 29, 2009
New address as of tomorrow
Well. Things happened really fast, as they tend to do in life once you get on the ball ... and I'm moving into the new, beautiful, modern, gorgeous, spacious, comfortable, pristine apartment TOMORROW. Thank you God.
My new address is:
Breanna Bart
Manuel Montt 111, Departamento 1406
Providencia, Santiago, CHILE
Letters are always welcome : )
My new address is:
Breanna Bart
Manuel Montt 111, Departamento 1406
Providencia, Santiago, CHILE
Letters are always welcome : )
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Calm after the Storm ... or not
Last week was one heck of a whirlwind. In the best way possible.
Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday ... the fun don´t stop till you drop.
I can finally and happily say that I have a family here ... Chileans included. We have a big, cozy group of amazing people with such different stories and walks of life - but we all have one thing in common - the belief that life should be FUN.
They are pretty much the same crew that I talked about in my last post; the ones who went to Fiesta Nikkita and After Office. Mi querido hermano is Esteban and my sugar daddy is Coco. Kathryn, Stephanie and I are known as the Familia Fome (fome in Chilean spanish actually means ´lame´or ´boring´... hahahah.) I think we were coined Familia Fome because unlike the Chileans, we can´t handle going out until 7 AM every Friday, Saturday and some weekdays. I honestly don´t know how they do it ... these
people don´t sleep, I tell you. There´s been many a good night that we´ve stayed in to wrap up in blankets, eat some chocolate and watch a good movie.
I don´t necessarily want to recount exactly what happened last week because it would be more of the same. Dinner parties. Dancing. Walking and exploring the city. Yoga. Spinning. Seems to be routine these days. Which I definitely don´t mind.
I have to confess something: I caved.
I lasted three months without Starbucks. I plugged my ears all those times the Chileans starting raving about their favorite drinks and how amaaaaazing Starbucks is. It was only so long before I had to give in. I think there´s something about growing up in the Northwest too; something about walking around on a nippy day clutching a warm, steaming cup of coffee. It´s in our blood.
Well, the weather turned chilly here and guess where I went? And once I started, I couldn´t stop. I went three days in a row last week. Kathryn, to the left, is my fellow partner in crime. The funny thing is - I´m not even a huge Starbucks drinker back home. I prefer the little Mom and Pop coffee stands that come three to a street block in Seattle. But when you´ve been drinking powdered Nescafe for three months -- Starbucks is a little sip of heaven.
Another thing : Our landlords are officially stark raving mad. On Monday night, well actually Tuesday morning at 1 AM, they came over to our house to shout, scream, yell, jump up and down, and call us ´pigs´, ´mierda´and ´putas´. In front of our friend, Esteban. The jokes on you, landlords. I´m pretty sure they were tripping on cocaine.
We had a dinner party on Sunday afternoon with seven people, three of which live in the house. It was quite the elaborate feast - Esteban is seriously a gourmet chef. Dishes got dirty and chairs got moved around. When we were done, we washed all the dishes minus the cups we drank out of while watching a movie afterwards. Those were in the sink, waiting to be washed when we got home from work on Monday. Maybe we didn´t push the chairs back in the "correct" way ... I don´t even know. Something about the fact that we had a dinner party and enjoyed the space WE are renting and paying for really set the landlords off. And I mean really.
I thought they were going to whip out a knife and threaten us or something. I´m truly grateful that Esteban was there, even though it was a horrible thing for him to witness. I´ve never seen two 40-year-old men behave in such a way to three young-20´s women.
I think the fact that when I pay $300 a month (which is half of my monthly salary) to live in a house that the landlords don´t even live in, it means I am renting it and am therefore entitled to use it as I please, escaped them. They believe that since they own it, they have every right to dictate how we are supposed to live there. They come over several times a day to inspect the place and make sure we aren´t throwing raves or anything. I totally agree that the house should be treated with respect and when someone makes a mess, they should clean it up. By all means. But there comes a point. And they´ve crossed the line.
Unfortunately, I have to wait until June 12th to move out. The contract explicitly states that I can get my deposit back a month from when I told them I was moving out - which was May 12th. They are not getting away with money that is not rightly theirs. Even though they´ve kept everyone else´s deposit, I´m making sure I get mine back. I´m following the rules of the contract and they will too. They will. How naive I sound. But I´m not going to let it go easily.
As you can tell, I´m a little rattled. I´ve never been threatened by two insanely worked-up, tripped-out and irrational adult men before. For leaving a dish in the sink. And maybe not pushing a chair back under the table. In a house that I live in and they don´t. It was a frightening experience. Stephanie was crying afterwards and would tear up throughout the next day.
But life goes on. And so it does. This weekend we are hoping to take a nighttime tour of the old, elaborate and grand cemetary that houses all the big Chilean names. The tour has all the pre-requisites of a good time - ghost sitings, dramatics, and a Chilean history lesson. Anyone who knows me well knows I´m equally petrified and intrigued by ghost stories. True story: I was so frightened after watching The Sixth Sense that I slept in my parent´s bed. I was 13-years-old.
Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday ... the fun don´t stop till you drop.I can finally and happily say that I have a family here ... Chileans included. We have a big, cozy group of amazing people with such different stories and walks of life - but we all have one thing in common - the belief that life should be FUN.
They are pretty much the same crew that I talked about in my last post; the ones who went to Fiesta Nikkita and After Office. Mi querido hermano is Esteban and my sugar daddy is Coco. Kathryn, Stephanie and I are known as the Familia Fome (fome in Chilean spanish actually means ´lame´or ´boring´... hahahah.) I think we were coined Familia Fome because unlike the Chileans, we can´t handle going out until 7 AM every Friday, Saturday and some weekdays. I honestly don´t know how they do it ... these
people don´t sleep, I tell you. There´s been many a good night that we´ve stayed in to wrap up in blankets, eat some chocolate and watch a good movie.I don´t necessarily want to recount exactly what happened last week because it would be more of the same. Dinner parties. Dancing. Walking and exploring the city. Yoga. Spinning. Seems to be routine these days. Which I definitely don´t mind.
I have to confess something: I caved.
I lasted three months without Starbucks. I plugged my ears all those times the Chileans starting raving about their favorite drinks and how amaaaaazing Starbucks is. It was only so long before I had to give in. I think there´s something about growing up in the Northwest too; something about walking around on a nippy day clutching a warm, steaming cup of coffee. It´s in our blood.
Well, the weather turned chilly here and guess where I went? And once I started, I couldn´t stop. I went three days in a row last week. Kathryn, to the left, is my fellow partner in crime. The funny thing is - I´m not even a huge Starbucks drinker back home. I prefer the little Mom and Pop coffee stands that come three to a street block in Seattle. But when you´ve been drinking powdered Nescafe for three months -- Starbucks is a little sip of heaven.
Another thing : Our landlords are officially stark raving mad. On Monday night, well actually Tuesday morning at 1 AM, they came over to our house to shout, scream, yell, jump up and down, and call us ´pigs´, ´mierda´and ´putas´. In front of our friend, Esteban. The jokes on you, landlords. I´m pretty sure they were tripping on cocaine.
We had a dinner party on Sunday afternoon with seven people, three of which live in the house. It was quite the elaborate feast - Esteban is seriously a gourmet chef. Dishes got dirty and chairs got moved around. When we were done, we washed all the dishes minus the cups we drank out of while watching a movie afterwards. Those were in the sink, waiting to be washed when we got home from work on Monday. Maybe we didn´t push the chairs back in the "correct" way ... I don´t even know. Something about the fact that we had a dinner party and enjoyed the space WE are renting and paying for really set the landlords off. And I mean really.
I thought they were going to whip out a knife and threaten us or something. I´m truly grateful that Esteban was there, even though it was a horrible thing for him to witness. I´ve never seen two 40-year-old men behave in such a way to three young-20´s women.
I think the fact that when I pay $300 a month (which is half of my monthly salary) to live in a house that the landlords don´t even live in, it means I am renting it and am therefore entitled to use it as I please, escaped them. They believe that since they own it, they have every right to dictate how we are supposed to live there. They come over several times a day to inspect the place and make sure we aren´t throwing raves or anything. I totally agree that the house should be treated with respect and when someone makes a mess, they should clean it up. By all means. But there comes a point. And they´ve crossed the line.
Unfortunately, I have to wait until June 12th to move out. The contract explicitly states that I can get my deposit back a month from when I told them I was moving out - which was May 12th. They are not getting away with money that is not rightly theirs. Even though they´ve kept everyone else´s deposit, I´m making sure I get mine back. I´m following the rules of the contract and they will too. They will. How naive I sound. But I´m not going to let it go easily.
As you can tell, I´m a little rattled. I´ve never been threatened by two insanely worked-up, tripped-out and irrational adult men before. For leaving a dish in the sink. And maybe not pushing a chair back under the table. In a house that I live in and they don´t. It was a frightening experience. Stephanie was crying afterwards and would tear up throughout the next day.
But life goes on. And so it does. This weekend we are hoping to take a nighttime tour of the old, elaborate and grand cemetary that houses all the big Chilean names. The tour has all the pre-requisites of a good time - ghost sitings, dramatics, and a Chilean history lesson. Anyone who knows me well knows I´m equally petrified and intrigued by ghost stories. True story: I was so frightened after watching The Sixth Sense that I slept in my parent´s bed. I was 13-years-old.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Activity = life-long happiness
Dancing. Bowling. The cinema and arcade games. Tennis. Biking. Yoga. Cooking. Spinning class.
Last weekend was not lacking in things to do.
I took it upon myself to fill my schedule with things I love after feeling a little down last week. Ta-da! I am loving life. Of course, I am still amazed at how often I think of home and all the wonderfulness it entails but I do realize I have it pretty dang good here. Living in another
country will always encompass up's and down's; much like life anywhere. It's important to realize, however; that one is not captive to their feelings.
The weekend began at 12:45 pm on Friday, when I got home from work. Getting up at 5:30 am has its advantages, namely being that I get home that much earlier. Spinning class at 1:15 pm. Homemade dinner en la casa with the Belles and then ... Fiesta Nikkita! Fiesta Nikkita happens once a month in Santiago at rotating choice locations throughout the city. This month happened to be at a posh two-story club located up winding cobblestone streets behind Barrio Bellavista. Of course, thanks to the c
onnections we are somehow fortunate enough to have, we were able to cut to the front of the line and receive VIP bracelets upon entrance. We went with our normal After Office crew, being Esteban and Coco plus friends. Some of their friends remind me of Chilean frat boys. There was, however; a Frenchie and her Mexican boyfriend who were boisterous, suave and fun. Tonight, Tuesday, we are heading over to her place for dinner with the same crew from Friday.
I think I finally crawled into bed at 6:30 am. Welcome to the Latin American life of carretes.
The rainy, gloomy Saturday afternoon was spent watching Federer take on Del Patro in Madrid. That's tennis for those you who are going, "Huhh?!". The Belles were kind enough to watch the match with me. On Saturday night, Kathryn and I went to Angels and Demons with Gustavo (one of our doctor friends). We went to Hoyts cinema in La Reina, which rivals and definitely comes out ahead of many movie theaters in the States. Three stories high and glistening with modernity, one might have the sensation of being swallowed alive upon walking in. We showed up for the 8:30 pm film but because it was the first weekend that the movie was out, we had to wait unt
il the 10:30 showing. No problem ... because those arcade games were calling our names. Gustavo didn't know what he was getting himself into when he went with two early-20's American ladies to the movies. However, I think he was the most into the games by the time we left the arcade to wait in a line that snaked down three flights of stairs for Angeles y Demonios.
I won a competition earlier in the week through a Santiago online English-language magazine, Revolver (http://www.revolver-magazine.com/), for a free bike tour of Santiago. Sunday morning it was! I was able to take Kathryn along for free and with a group of about ten people, we rode our beach cruisers to the important downtown historical sites and attractions. It was the perfect way to spend a Sunday morning. We ended the tour at El Mercado Central, the largest and most extensive seafood market in Santiago. There, along with the eight members of our tour, we endulged in Paila Marina, a seafood stew chock-full of any and all kinds of seafood you could imagine.
Bliss.
As we wandered back from El Mercado Central, we happened upon a protest and festival celebrating the right to smoke marijuana. Two guys sporting waist-length dreadlocks were jamming reggae onstage to a crowd of about a thousand people in the middle of a busy Santiago street. Traffic was cut off. With the carabineros (Chile's police force) standing by and watching, the free love crowd lit-up and indulged in their "right" to smoke. It was quite the scene.
Gustavo called in the afternoon wanting to play tennis that evening. It was my first time playing on clay and definitely a different sensation. After tennis, he dropped me off at home so he could go to mass and I could shower and then picked me up an hour later to go bowling with his little brother and some friends. Did I mention that Gustavo is on the national bowling team of Chile? He takes it quite seriously. It was neat to see how the "pros" do it. Gustavo and I took on the other three and we barely lost. Hahaha. I got home at midnight and collapsed into bed, ready to take on the colegio this week.
Luckily Thursday is a free day because it is El Combate Naval de Iquique, a day of celebration and remembrance of Chilean Captian Arturo Prat losing his life during a naval battle between Chile and Peru. Chilean patriotism became known as "Pratiotism". The event inspired thousands of Chilean youth to join the army and eventually seize the land from Peru.
On another note, Stephanie and I (and maybe Kathryn) will be moving out of our six-bedroom house on Manuel Montt to a new, modern apartment building on the other side of the street. There were several deciding factors that went into the decision that eventually overpowered the 'con' side of moving out. The house we live in is OLD and therefore, has holes in the walls, no central heating during the winter, lukewarm water and no water pressure for showers, a kitchen sink drainage system that brings old food up into the shower drain and out into a puddle of food while one is showering, owners that do cocaine and bring over their cokehead
friends ... among other things. It's time to move. We should find out today if we get the apartment and will begin moving shortly. I'm really looking forward to having my own space as well, as living with six people gives the place a slight 'hostel' feel. The apartment building also has a pool and a small gym on the bottom floor. Yes please!
That concludes this week's edition of what I did last weekend. Hahaha. Besos!
Last weekend was not lacking in things to do.
I took it upon myself to fill my schedule with things I love after feeling a little down last week. Ta-da! I am loving life. Of course, I am still amazed at how often I think of home and all the wonderfulness it entails but I do realize I have it pretty dang good here. Living in another
country will always encompass up's and down's; much like life anywhere. It's important to realize, however; that one is not captive to their feelings.The weekend began at 12:45 pm on Friday, when I got home from work. Getting up at 5:30 am has its advantages, namely being that I get home that much earlier. Spinning class at 1:15 pm. Homemade dinner en la casa with the Belles and then ... Fiesta Nikkita! Fiesta Nikkita happens once a month in Santiago at rotating choice locations throughout the city. This month happened to be at a posh two-story club located up winding cobblestone streets behind Barrio Bellavista. Of course, thanks to the c
onnections we are somehow fortunate enough to have, we were able to cut to the front of the line and receive VIP bracelets upon entrance. We went with our normal After Office crew, being Esteban and Coco plus friends. Some of their friends remind me of Chilean frat boys. There was, however; a Frenchie and her Mexican boyfriend who were boisterous, suave and fun. Tonight, Tuesday, we are heading over to her place for dinner with the same crew from Friday.I think I finally crawled into bed at 6:30 am. Welcome to the Latin American life of carretes.
The rainy, gloomy Saturday afternoon was spent watching Federer take on Del Patro in Madrid. That's tennis for those you who are going, "Huhh?!". The Belles were kind enough to watch the match with me. On Saturday night, Kathryn and I went to Angels and Demons with Gustavo (one of our doctor friends). We went to Hoyts cinema in La Reina, which rivals and definitely comes out ahead of many movie theaters in the States. Three stories high and glistening with modernity, one might have the sensation of being swallowed alive upon walking in. We showed up for the 8:30 pm film but because it was the first weekend that the movie was out, we had to wait unt
il the 10:30 showing. No problem ... because those arcade games were calling our names. Gustavo didn't know what he was getting himself into when he went with two early-20's American ladies to the movies. However, I think he was the most into the games by the time we left the arcade to wait in a line that snaked down three flights of stairs for Angeles y Demonios.I won a competition earlier in the week through a Santiago online English-language magazine, Revolver (http://www.revolver-magazine.com/), for a free bike tour of Santiago. Sunday morning it was! I was able to take Kathryn along for free and with a group of about ten people, we rode our beach cruisers to the important downtown historical sites and attractions. It was the perfect way to spend a Sunday morning. We ended the tour at El Mercado Central, the largest and most extensive seafood market in Santiago. There, along with the eight members of our tour, we endulged in Paila Marina, a seafood stew chock-full of any and all kinds of seafood you could imagine.
Bliss.As we wandered back from El Mercado Central, we happened upon a protest and festival celebrating the right to smoke marijuana. Two guys sporting waist-length dreadlocks were jamming reggae onstage to a crowd of about a thousand people in the middle of a busy Santiago street. Traffic was cut off. With the carabineros (Chile's police force) standing by and watching, the free love crowd lit-up and indulged in their "right" to smoke. It was quite the scene.
Gustavo called in the afternoon wanting to play tennis that evening. It was my first time playing on clay and definitely a different sensation. After tennis, he dropped me off at home so he could go to mass and I could shower and then picked me up an hour later to go bowling with his little brother and some friends. Did I mention that Gustavo is on the national bowling team of Chile? He takes it quite seriously. It was neat to see how the "pros" do it. Gustavo and I took on the other three and we barely lost. Hahaha. I got home at midnight and collapsed into bed, ready to take on the colegio this week.
Luckily Thursday is a free day because it is El Combate Naval de Iquique, a day of celebration and remembrance of Chilean Captian Arturo Prat losing his life during a naval battle between Chile and Peru. Chilean patriotism became known as "Pratiotism". The event inspired thousands of Chilean youth to join the army and eventually seize the land from Peru.
On another note, Stephanie and I (and maybe Kathryn) will be moving out of our six-bedroom house on Manuel Montt to a new, modern apartment building on the other side of the street. There were several deciding factors that went into the decision that eventually overpowered the 'con' side of moving out. The house we live in is OLD and therefore, has holes in the walls, no central heating during the winter, lukewarm water and no water pressure for showers, a kitchen sink drainage system that brings old food up into the shower drain and out into a puddle of food while one is showering, owners that do cocaine and bring over their cokehead
friends ... among other things. It's time to move. We should find out today if we get the apartment and will begin moving shortly. I'm really looking forward to having my own space as well, as living with six people gives the place a slight 'hostel' feel. The apartment building also has a pool and a small gym on the bottom floor. Yes please!That concludes this week's edition of what I did last weekend. Hahaha. Besos!
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
It was bound to happen
I miss home. I miss the Unites States. My family, my friends. My culture.
I suppose this is an inevitable part of being away and living in another country for a year. There´s always the honeymoon phase, to be followed by the realization that this is it.
Is missing home taking the easy route? It´s easier to be at home, or at least in the Unites States, surrounded by modern comforts and people who know and love you. It´s also easy to point the finger at cultural differences when things aren´t always perfect. "If only I had known that ... "
Am I making enough of an effort to integrate myself into the culture? I have my American friends (I also have Chilean friends but live with my gringas and therefore spend the majority of my time with them) and I read books in English. When I watch tv shows (I rarely do ... and when I do, it´s online), they are in English. But I feel like maintaining some part of who I am; the American part of me, is important.
Is living in another country enough?
I am immersed in the Chilean culture at work. There is another gringa, Sarah, who works here but I probably see her once or twice a week because we work on opposite sides of a huge school. Walking out the door everyday is an exersize in Chilean culture... Riding the subway to and from work. Eating at restaurants. Going out at night. Taking weekend trips. Going to museums. Taking long walks down the tree-lined city streets. Doing yoga and spinning classes at the gym.
Is that enough?
Where does one draw the line of integrating sufficiently into the culture and life while it still being ok to retain American aspects?
For example, the teachers at my school truly get offended when they see me reading books in English (I am a self-proclaimed book worm). They say, "You´re in Chile. WHY are you reading books in English?"
Beeeeeeeecause I am in Chile. And if I was to give up everything about who I am ... I think I´d lose myself.
Is that a fair thing and way to think, say and act?
I don´t know. You tell me.
I suppose this is an inevitable part of being away and living in another country for a year. There´s always the honeymoon phase, to be followed by the realization that this is it.
Is missing home taking the easy route? It´s easier to be at home, or at least in the Unites States, surrounded by modern comforts and people who know and love you. It´s also easy to point the finger at cultural differences when things aren´t always perfect. "If only I had known that ... "
Am I making enough of an effort to integrate myself into the culture? I have my American friends (I also have Chilean friends but live with my gringas and therefore spend the majority of my time with them) and I read books in English. When I watch tv shows (I rarely do ... and when I do, it´s online), they are in English. But I feel like maintaining some part of who I am; the American part of me, is important.
Is living in another country enough?
I am immersed in the Chilean culture at work. There is another gringa, Sarah, who works here but I probably see her once or twice a week because we work on opposite sides of a huge school. Walking out the door everyday is an exersize in Chilean culture... Riding the subway to and from work. Eating at restaurants. Going out at night. Taking weekend trips. Going to museums. Taking long walks down the tree-lined city streets. Doing yoga and spinning classes at the gym.
Is that enough?
Where does one draw the line of integrating sufficiently into the culture and life while it still being ok to retain American aspects?
For example, the teachers at my school truly get offended when they see me reading books in English (I am a self-proclaimed book worm). They say, "You´re in Chile. WHY are you reading books in English?"
Beeeeeeeecause I am in Chile. And if I was to give up everything about who I am ... I think I´d lose myself.
Is that a fair thing and way to think, say and act?
I don´t know. You tell me.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Being friends comes at a price
¨What´s a blow job?¨
That´s just one of many questions that echoes down the hallways at IOM when I wander past.
My students seem to latch onto any bad English word they learn and are persistent at coaxing the meaning out of me. I´ll leave them to figure out questions such as that.
I´m starting to realize there is a fine balance between being on good terms with my students and being equal friends with them. I am only three-years-older than the seniors after all. But those three years make the difference between being high-school educated and university educated.
Yesterday, two girls asked me to let them into la sala de ingles so that they could crawl out the window and escape from the confines of the colegio.
I´m happy that they feel I´m their pal; someone to help them out with problems they might not ask one of the older, more conventional teachers. But I´m still a teacher and my role remains so at the risk of losing my job otherwise.
The lines between teacher and student are definitely more blurred here. One of the teachers at Kathryn´s colegio openly and repeatedly asserts her strong attraction for one of her students. And our director did tell us stories upon getting here of teachers falling in love with and later ending up with their students. Can you spell S-C-A-N-D-A-L?
Or so you´d think. Bruce, our director, was sharing this with us as one of the ´warm fuzzies´ about being a young teacher at a colegio.
I´ll believe it when I see it ... however, I think that even if I was attracted to one of my students (and yes, some of them will make great future boyfriends and husbands for lucky girls), I would stop myself upon grounds of moral boundaries. And the fact that I always go for guys several years my senior. A cougar I am not.
I´ll keep you posted on if any of my fellow profes prance off into the sunset with their beloved alumnos...
That´s just one of many questions that echoes down the hallways at IOM when I wander past.
My students seem to latch onto any bad English word they learn and are persistent at coaxing the meaning out of me. I´ll leave them to figure out questions such as that.
I´m starting to realize there is a fine balance between being on good terms with my students and being equal friends with them. I am only three-years-older than the seniors after all. But those three years make the difference between being high-school educated and university educated.
Yesterday, two girls asked me to let them into la sala de ingles so that they could crawl out the window and escape from the confines of the colegio.
I´m happy that they feel I´m their pal; someone to help them out with problems they might not ask one of the older, more conventional teachers. But I´m still a teacher and my role remains so at the risk of losing my job otherwise.
The lines between teacher and student are definitely more blurred here. One of the teachers at Kathryn´s colegio openly and repeatedly asserts her strong attraction for one of her students. And our director did tell us stories upon getting here of teachers falling in love with and later ending up with their students. Can you spell S-C-A-N-D-A-L?
Or so you´d think. Bruce, our director, was sharing this with us as one of the ´warm fuzzies´ about being a young teacher at a colegio.
I´ll believe it when I see it ... however, I think that even if I was attracted to one of my students (and yes, some of them will make great future boyfriends and husbands for lucky girls), I would stop myself upon grounds of moral boundaries. And the fact that I always go for guys several years my senior. A cougar I am not.
I´ll keep you posted on if any of my fellow profes prance off into the sunset with their beloved alumnos...
Saturday, May 9, 2009
Ode to a Mother
As time wraps its sly grasp around us, I realize we've come a long way.I suddenly am not being shuttled off to Saturday soccer games with the neighborhood kids in the Mom-mobile or watching Full House after getting dropped off by Janet and her big, yellow school bus in the afternoon.
Now I'm a continent away from those sacred childhood memories and the special people behind them, learning to live like my Mother has taught me. Without fear. With love and appreciation for the simple fact of being alive.
Something happened when I went away to college. Our relationship shifted. While you will always be my Mother, I consider you one of my best friends. A warm, loving and wise face to turn to when I'm confused, hurt, upset or just plain happy and need to let my joy bubble out.
We are one and the same; me a product and result of the person you are. Every step I take in my daily walk of life is never far from you, no matter the geographical distance. I carry you with me.
Thank you for the times you listened patiently and the times you straight-up laid down the law. I realize now more than ever ... and keep realizing it ... that yes, Mothers really do know everything.
I'm excited for what our future holds together and excited to share the wonderful gift of life, love and wisdom you gave me with the world.
I wish I could be with you celebrating Mothers Day. Enjoy your special day and know that I'm with you in spirit.
I love you.
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