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.

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!

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 : )

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.

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 connections 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 until 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!

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.

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...