Mendoza pictures!

Typical car and scene in Mendoza

Vinyards!

The main paseo

Me at a winery.

Melipilla Mess

On Monday, Angie and I finally moved to Melipilla. Duoc (the university system I am working for) was supposed to have found us housing in Melipilla before classes started. However, they did not really do their job, and despite the many calls from Teaching Chile over the previous several weeks, they didn’t do anything. We ended up commuting to Melipilla from our hostel in Santiago. This was supposed to only last one week, but of course we did it for two. Duoc finally found a place for me close to the university and with a Chileno. However, the day before I was supposed to move in, it fell through. The guy apparently did not tell his roommate about having another person live with them for 4 months. Angie had a similar problem, and hers fell through as well. At the very last minute Duoc found us a guesthouse sort of place. We came here on Monday, but have already started looking for other places to live. The location is excellent—only 3 blocks from the college, but it’s like being at a very cliché Grandma’s house. The woman is nice, but she overdoes it. She is TOO nice. If she forgets to put the sugar on the table, she apologizes as if she had just run over my dog. We don’t have a key to the outside door, so we have to let her know when we are coming back, and forget about coming back after midnight. We do get fed 2.5 meals a day including an excellent lunch, which is great, but the kitchen is locked in the evening, so cooking ourselves is a bit difficult. The place is “nice.” It’s under construction now, which was supposed to be finished on Monday for our arrival. There is a garden with grapes hanging everywhere, but there is this dog who is chained to a tree and who cries and whimpers incessantly. It’s sad and annoying. Also, I have a very severe ant problem in my bathroom. Luckily, everyday she cleans away the hundreds of dead ants that appear there over the course of a day. I don’t want to know what kind of chemicals I am living in. All this for what would be $240,000 (pesos) a month, which is pretty ridiculous. That is like $600 a month, which is about twice what it should be. It does include laundry, all utilities (TV and supposedly internet), 2.5 meals, and maid service. But I don’t necessarily need all those things.

The husband cannot understand a single word I say. Ok, so my Spanish is far from perfect, but other people can at least understand the words I am trying to spit out! He has no clue at all. I tried to explain to him that I was going to the plaza to get my carnet, or mi cedula (my Chilean ID). He had no idea what I was looking for, and started throwing out various words that start with “C.” No, I was not looking for the califont (water heater), nor did I suddenly have a desire for carne. I don’t think he has ever had to talk to anyone with any kind of accent. I bet someone from Spain would have almost as hard of a time with this man.

This all might be a little harsh because the people are so generous and the place is livable. But I don’t think I want to pay so much for this for four months. We’ve already looked at 3 places, and hopefully more today. (We will live separately, but we are looking together to see all options available) So far, I haven’t found any that really jump out at me. Angie liked the first place we saw, so she might end up with it, but it’s also still my top choice. It’s a party house with 7 other young Chileans. Great place for Spanish and social life, but it was pretty dumpy, with a painfully small bedroom, and it will surely be loud.Today we’ll make some more calls and hopefully see a few more options. Our pre-paid housing runs out next week!

Mendoza

This weekend was Easter, as you probably know. In Chile, that means a 3 or 4 day weekend, and everyone leaves the city. Angie, Elizabeth and I headed to Mendoza, Argentina—a 6-8 hour bus ride away. Friday morning we took off on the most spectacular bus ride I have ever been on. We crossed the Andes on the windiest switchbacky road I have ever seen, over an 11,000 ft. pass, and got a good clear glimpse of Mt. Aconcagua, the highest peak in the western hemisphere at over 22,000 ft. It truly was stunning and reminded me sometimes of the Alps and sometimes of Colorado or Glacier and then like Utah when we crossed to the other side. Sadly we couldn’t get out of the bus and explore. When we arrived in Mendoza, we went straight to the hostel and attempted to check in. They had lost our reservation, and lucky for us the entire city of Mendoza was completely out of rooms. Hostelbookers.com had overbooked the hostel—and badly. Virtually everyone’s reservation was messed up in some way. People were sleeping on the couches in the lobby because Mendoza was full. We argued with the front desk in Spanish for a few minutes and then after a phone call, 3 beds miraculously appeared. The girls were ok, but in my room all of the beds were taken. The hostel man was certain that there was one available because the computer said so. However, that was obviously not the case. For some reason, there was an extra mattress in the room, so we laid it on the floor and I volunteered to take it (for free of course) if they gave me some sheets. They refused and told me to take one of the beds since there was most certainly one free. So I did, and I moved someone’s stuff off the bed. Sure enough, at 4am, the rightful owner of the bed came stumbling in. Luckily, he was probably drunk so he just passed out on the mattress. In the morning, I tried to explain the whole situation, but he really did not care at all.

The first night we were there, we tried got a feel for the city and went to eat. It seemed there were more foreigners in Mendoza than Argentines—it was extremely touristy. However, it was really fun and the city comes completely alive after 10pm. Street performers, venders, and live music fills the streets. It’s a great summery festive atmosphere. For food, we went to find some Parilla, which is a traditional Argentine giant pile of meat. We paid $8 for a salad, empanada, and all you can eat meat, which they brought to our table on a grill so it would stay warm. It was quite good, but I stayed away from the kidney and one other organy mystery meat.

The next day we explored Mendoza. The city oddly reminded me of Poland. Wide tree-lined streets filled with old Peugots gave it a strangely soviet feel. The city is in a near perfect grid, with a large central park and four perfectly spaced smaller plazas surrounding the city center. The food was good—better than Chile in my opinion and a bit cheaper as well. The service, however, was lacking and I realized Chileans are quite speedy when it comes to restaurants.

Our Saturday afternoon was devoted to a “Bikes and Wine” adventure. We made our way out to the countryside and rented some bikes to do a winery tour. The road was busier than I would have liked, and at times kind of dangerous, but it was nice to get out and bike. We hit up two wineries and ended up running in to virtually everyone who was staying at our hostel as well as three of our friends from Santiago! Debbie, Cameron and Emily were in Mendoza for the weekend doing the same thing we were. It’s not a huge city, so we knew we would run into them sometime. After another glass of wine, we all biked back to the rental place. On our way back, two guys on a motorbike reached out and grabbed Elizabeth’s bag, trying to rip it off her. They pulled hard and she wobbled and crashed right in the middle of this very busy road. I was horrified when she fell, thinking she was going to have a gruesome accident. Luckily, she went down and came out with just some cuts and bruises on her legs. She could have been seriously injured or even killed, had a car been coming. I was right behind her and saw the whole thing. The men sped away, thankfully not getting her purse. Two women immediately came to the rescue and called the police, who were very nice and took her back to the bike rental place. Of course, these thieves won’t be caught. People like that make me absolutely sick. It’s one thing to pickpocket someone on the metro, but this sort of crime is violent. You can’t yank someone’s purse off when they are riding a bike and not expect a bloody result. Anyway, Elizabeth was ok, just a bit shaken up. The bike place even had someone (I have no idea who it was) take us back to the hostel in his car. That night we met up with our friends who we ran into and went to a pretty bad Mexican place. Go to Argentina to eat piles of meat, not Mexican food. My carne burrito was actually more or less a piece of pizza, with a small meat filling. It was weird.

We had to leave Sunday morning at 7am, because that was only bus back to Santiago. Everything was going fine until we hit the border. Drug sniffing dogs caught a scent and the border police detained this poor British girl who was just traveling through. She spoke no Spanish and was completely terrified. They strip searched and humiliated her. It turns out the man she was sitting next to was trying to smuggle cocaine. He had it taped to his body in a little pouch. This caused a long delay, but eventually the man was let back on the bus! We thought he would surely be going to jail, but it turns out he only had enough for personal consumption, so he basically got let off with a fine and a court date sometime this week. Elizabeth yelled at him to apologize to the poor English girl, but he just kind of smirked. What an asshole. Who tries to smuggle drugs across a South American border by taping it to yourself?? What an idiot.
We did get back, and despite these three incidences, we really had a great time. Mendoza is beautiful and well worth a visit, as long as you wear your purse in the front, don’t use hostelbookers.com, and please, don’t try and smuggle cocaine.

A Few Pics, click on them to see original size

This is my store!

Santiago skyline, from Cerro Santa Lucia

Me on top of Cerro San Cristobal

El Tabito, the beach!

Chile quirks

As I complete my third week here in Chile, I certainly have been here enough time to make some judgments about the way things run.

1.) 1) Receipts.

In this country, you receive a receipt for EVERYTHING. How much paper is wasted from this practice?? Every small mundane purchase merits a slip of proof. In the words of Mitch Hedberg, “I bought a doughnut and they gave me a receipt for the doughnut. I don't need a receipt for a doughnut. I'll give you the money, you give me the doughnut—end of transaction. We do not need to bring ink and paper into this. I just cannot imagine a scenario where I would have to prove that I bought a doughnut. Some skeptical friend—"Don't even act like I didn't get that doughnut—I got the documentation right here! (pause) Oh wait, it's back home in the file…under 'D'…for doughnut." 'Cuz we all know that 'D' is for doughnut.”

He could not have summed it up better. Mitch Hedberg must have gone to Chile.

2.) 2) Inefficiency while making a purchase.

In Chile, most purchases are made three or four times more difficult and time consuming than necessary. For example, the other day I went to buy a piece of cardboard paper to use in my class. It cost $300 pesos, less than one dollar. The process involved going downstairs and asking for the paper. He gives me a statement of what I want with the price on it. This of course required waiting a minute for the machine to print. Then I had to go back upstairs and wait in a long line to pay for my piece of cardboard. The line could not have been moving slower. After a good 10 minutes, I got to the register and handed her my slip. She types some things and stamps and writes on the slip. Then we sit and wait a good minute for the machine to print me out another slip of paper. This is my second receipt and proof that I paid for my piece of cardboard. Next, I went back downstairs to get what I paid for. The man says that I retrieve my cardboard upstairs. So I go back upstairs and make my way through the cash register line to hand another man my new receipt. Magically, my cardboard had somehow made it upstairs, and was wrapped in a tube. The man stamped my new receipt and then of course gives me my yellow copy. I walked out at least 20 minutes later. All of this for a 300peso piece of cardboard.

3.) 3) Bus stops.

Chile has an excellent bus system. They run frequently and you can get most places you want to go around the country. I have few complaints about the busses, except for the fact that there are like a dozen different companies that often go to the same places, and there is no database or system or location where you can view where all of these companies go and their times. It seems people just sort of already know. Anyway, bus stops. When I take the bus to Melipilla, it makes several very quick stops…along the freeway. I don’t know how these people know the bus will stop there, or where they are coming from or going to when they get on. The bus will just pull over, literally on the side of the freeway and someone will get on or off. There are no houses nearby, just usually an onramp and some fields and cows. Where are they going?? Also, these are business men in nice suits, not farmers. Sometimes people even get on at the toll booth—but actually in the middle of the freeway right after the toll! So the bus gets through, and then some guy is just standing there in the middle of the road to be picked up. It’s just plain weird.

4.) 4) Weird professor man

This is not about Chile, just about a weird professor. He speaks English quite well, but seemed a bit too happy to meet Angie and me. He heard us speaking English and talked to us and said he studied abroad in Michigan many years ago. He seemed enthralled with us, especially me. He thought it was the most amazing thing he’d ever heard when I told him I studied in France. And now for the weird part: He calls me “boy.” “Hey, boy” and then he shakes my hand. Or sometimes, it’s, “Hey, how’s my boy?” Yesterday he even referred to Angie and I as ‘boys.’ Now I do believe it has been many years since he has spoken English, so I think he is trying to say ‘guys’ or something like that. But it just comes out creepy. Then he invited Angie and I to a rodeo or something, but we are going to be out of town in Mendoza, Argentina on the weekend.

Teaching week one

Yesterday I finished my first week of teaching! Since I do not yet have a place to live in Meliplla, I had to commute from Santiago—which is about an hour and a half each way. I arrived Tuesday morning to show up for my new job, without knowing virtually ANYTHING. For some people this would be a nightmare. I just have to go with it, because this is Chile and things just don’t function like they do in the States. As TIPS (Teacher Intern Practicum Specialists), we received little training. Well, there was one week of ‘training’ but it we really didn’t receive any of the most necessary info. All I knew showing up was what time I had classes. Other than that, I had no materials, no syllabus, and no information on pretty much anything regarding course content. Not to mention that no one in the administration speaks a word of English, and the English director (who is in charge of us) actually works at another campus. (I just learned today that he quit. So…now we have no director). But I went in and I can luckily speak some Spanish, so I was able to figure out some things. My first class, Ingles Basico, is at 10am and the students are all learning to be auto mechanics. Needless to say, their level of English is not exactly outstanding. They were rowdy, but respectful, and if I told them to be quiet, they would—at least temporarily—shut up and listen. I let my classes go 20 to 45 minutes early, because it’s the first week, and we have no materials. I teach three classes in a row (2 basic, one intermediate) in the morning and then two in the evening, finishing at 10:45pm. I get a 4.5 hour break in the afternoon, which will be really nice when I am actually living in Melipilla. No complaints about my schedule, I have the best one out of anyone. Tuesday and Thursday, that’s all! So I have a 4 day weekend every weekend. Awesome. Anyway, my evening class consists of auto mechanics, whose level of English is lower than I thought humanly possible. If you surveyed Americans, I’m sure 95% of them would know what ‘gracias’ means. Well, my students in this class did not know ‘thank you’, they had never seen the verb ‘to be’ or ‘to have’ before, and struggled with the alphabet. They will be a challenge. I later realized that many of them have probably never studied Spanish before, and have no idea how to make sense of what I put on the board. I cannot be any clearer though! I translated everything and conducted most of the class in Spanish, but that didn’t get through to everyone. They see a bunch of words, but even with the translations have no real idea what it means or how it fits into real life speech. I don’t want to be negative, especially since these auto mechanics are quite motivated, but I seriously doubt many of their abilities to pass this class. Most of my other classes are a pleasure, and the students know just enough to make my job doable.

Overall, it was a good week. Thursday was even better, and I felt more confident, yet I still am only writing things on the board and having students repeat. This could get old fast. If I had some materials or access to a free copy machine, things might be different! However, I did play a numbers game with most of my classes, and they really enjoyed it. They got really into it. So at least they are having fun—that’s the kind of teacher I wanted to be.

Chilean fashion

I have never seen so many Iron Maiden shirts in my life. For some reason, heavy metal seems to be SUPER popular in this country--the word 'heavy' has even made it into Chilean slang. Everyone wears black, and 80% of the time it is band name shirt. I probably saw 5 or 6 Iron Maiden shirts yesterday, 2 Dream Theater shirts, and numerous others including Metallica, Cannibal Corpse and Slayer. I didn't even know Iron Maiden was still around.

The other style is kind of a thug deal-- just like any urban area in the states or Europe. Baggy jeans, fubu, etc...

Well that's about it for this post. I just can't wrap my head around why metal is the only style for young people here.

Santiago, week one

I’ve been in Chile more than one week and so much has happened that I thought I would start a blog again. I could have written several entries about the past week—I feel as if I have been here for a month.

Well, let’s get a review of my arrival and first week in Santiago. While waiting out a 3.5 hour delay in the Atlanta airport, I met three of the other teachers in my program who were on the same flight, and on the same taxi reservation. We grabbed a beer and some food and discussed the upcoming life-changing adventure. The flight down to Santiago was not particularly pleasant, as we had no personal screens and the least amount of leg room I had ever seen on an international flight. When we finally arrived, it was close to noon, and a few hours later than we were supposed to get there. Luckily, our taxi reservations were still there and we headed off to the hostel.

My first glimpse of Santiago revealed a seemingly wealthy city with good roads and new cars. When you are in the ‘centro’ you might feel like you are in Europe, not Latin America. Sure, the outskirts are poverty-stricken with some people living in shacks, but it is not even remotely on the same scale as Guatemala City, for example. I have a hard time designating Chile as ‘third-world.’ However, in talking with the two Chileans who own this hostel, I learned the rich European atmosphere is kind of a façade. Yes, Chile is the wealthiest nation in South America, but has a huge income disparity. The rich are very rich, and the poor are very poor. The middle class is scarce. In Santiago, even the well dressed businessmen walking down the streets are usually quite poor—but they don’t look it. The government has a lot of money, but it just is not distributed. Many people hate la presidenta Michelle Bachelet. According to one person, she was elected just because she was a woman, and not because she would be a good president. She has ties to Pinochet’s regime, and there is currently a war going on between the Mapuche Indians and the government in the North, so I have been told.

My first week in Santiago was great. About 13 other Americans and 3 English ladies are living in this hostel. Naturally we all became pretty good friends pretty quickly and have done virtually everything together. Of course small social groups have formed, but pretty much everyone is very cool and we all get along. The English ladies have dubbed me “Mountain Man” for obvious reasons. But what made them laugh the most was the fact that I own, wear, and am a vocal proponent of zip-off pants that are magically transformed into shorts. I am very different from many of the people here. BUT there seems to be a plurality of people from the Northwest, including a girl who went to UM (now lives in Seattle), and whose sister works with my cousin’s wife at a middle school in Helena. When two people from Montana meet, wherever you are in the world, there will ALWAYS be a connection. So I can talk about anything with them. The other day we Seattleites even made a toast to the phrase ‘the mountain is out.’ No one else understood the significance of that phrase, but we all knew. It is geography that attracted us northwesterners here. Apparently in rugged Patagonia, the vast majority of all tourists they get are from California, Washington, and Alaska—hardly an accurate representation of the population of the US.

After only a week, I know the metro system (which is quite nice) and can orient myself in the city. Overall, it’s European in appearance but with some very Latin neighborhoods and culture. Dogs run free throughout the city and there are constantly dozens of couples making out, very intensely I might add, in the park. So in that respect, this is South America.

The other day, I had the chance to visit my campus in Melipilla. I am excited about going there. This town is South America. It cannot be more different from Santiago—the buildings are colorful, the air is clean, and palm trees line the streets. The campus is actually situated on top of a mall. It’s the top floor of this normal American-style mall and the views are amazing. It is the highest building in town and every class has floor to ceiling windows. We showed up at this place and these two girls, about our age, met us and gave us a tour. They were SO nice and will likely help us with anything, ie. Housing?? They also spoke slowly enough for us to understand pretty much everything they said, which brings me to another point: Spanish. Chilean Spanish is certainly difficult to understand. They don’t seem to think the letter ‘s’ needs to be pronounced, and they speak rapid-fire with a smattering of Chilenismos. My Spanish seems to vary—sometimes I can understand pretty much everything and can hold a decent conversation, while other times I can’t even spit out a word. It will get better, especially in Melipilla, where Angie and I will be the ONLY gringos in the town. Oh, and I found out my name means, “money” in Chilean slang. Yo tengo las lucas!

That is a pretty large post, but not even nearly enough to get a feel for my first week. Yesterday I got back from a weekend at the beach, which I will maybe write more about later.