15 Cities in 14 Days: Part II (Tacna, Arequipa, Cuzco, Ollantaytambo, Aguas Calientes, Puno, Urubamba, Písac)

We arrived with several hours to kill in Tacna, so we visited some mansions in the downtown area that had been donated and were free to the public. It was a trend among the rich to construct houses with an inner courtyard, such as the one displayed below.


While shopping around the town for fruit and souvenirs, we passed by many tantalizing pastelerías and finally succumbed to our pressing olfactory-inspired cravings. We stopped by one just to “peek inside” and fifteen minutes later found ourselves devouring a torta de mil hojas, a popular puff pastry that can include manjar or dulce de leche, among other various fillings.


Later that night as we searched among back alleys for the bus terminal where we would catch our ride to Arequipa, we ran into a couple of Peruvian police officers and received something like an escort to our destination (they accompanied us to the terminal, stopped traffic, and even carried our bags). They also scolded us for not taking adequate precautions against the dark and unfamiliar streets of a foreign city, but then asked that we mention what a wonderful place Tacna truly is to all of our gringo friends back home.


We reached Arequipa the next morning around 4:00 am and took a taxi to the hostel we had booked while in Tacna. Arequipa turned out to be a pretty trendy and touristy town—we shopped around, met some locals, and explored the vivid 16th century Monasterio de Santa Catalina de Siena, pictures of which can be seen below.



After our trip to the monastery we hit up the market for lunch (and eventually dinner that night as well). This was among the biggest markets we had seen thus far in our travels, and it boasted local delicacies such as the lobster bread below:


The next day we ate lunch with a couple of local girls with whom we had negotiated jewelry deals the previous day. They encouraged us to try cuy (guinea pig), a delicacy in Peru, and recoto relleno, or Peruvian peppers filled with meat, cheese, and potatoes. Though we had neither during our stay (the first was too expensive and the second wasn’t among the cheap items sold in the market), we did enjoy a good bit of ceviche (various bits of raw seafood marinated in citric acid) without falling ill.


We then headed to the Museo Santuarios Andinos (Museum of Andean Sanctuaries) to see the Ice Maiden "Juanita," the mummy child who was sacrificed to the Incan deities on Mount Ampato. Juanita was discovered due to the collapse of the Incan burial site and was exposed to the intense climate of the Andes for a few weeks before being transported to a university in Arequipa. The ancient Incan mummy received her fame due to the extremely well-preserved condition of her organs and body, which provided much information pertaining to her diet and cause of death.


That night we took another overnight bus into Cuzco, which turned out to be the site of quite an eventful day for me. We began by eating a small breakfast in a café that overlooked the plaza de armas (which had a church AND a cathedral) and watched as the sun rose over the mountainous terrain that engulfs the colonial city--and that was when my stomach began to churn. I believe my illness that day was caused by a curious fruit I had eaten earlier in the morning, the granadilla, which is split into two and then consumed by sucking out the fish-egg-like innards in the least feminine, slurpiest manner possible.


At any rate, I was a connoisseur of Cuzco bathrooms by the end of the day (I believe my complete track record was 12 visits to 7 bathrooms across the city, two of which occurred in a McDonald’s). Shortly before my final run—pun definitely intended—I realized my camera was missing from my jacket pocket (another lesson learned: don’t leave valuables in pockets that don’t zip). I was positive I hadn’t abandoned it in any of the numerous bathrooms I had previously visited, which left the obvious alternative that it had been stolen. I was highly disappointed by the turn in events, as Cuzco was undoubtedly the most beautiful city we had visited at that point and the following day we were scheduled to tour Machu Picchu. Without a camera I would be powerless to prove that I had actually visited both of these beauties! We still had a few hours to kill before catching our ride to Ollantaytambo, however, and so we immediately set out to buy a replacement. Catherine sympathized with my situation and drove a hard bargain with the store manager, eventually obtaining a 20% discount from the original price of the Sony camera I ended up purchasing.


The next day we awoke around 4:30 am in Ollantaytambo to take a bus to Aguas Calientes and then a train to Machu Picchu. Our trip was completed despite many hindrances that plagued us that day. Personal ailments included weak bowels (a tribute to the day before), a phlegm-filled cough I obtained from my unfortunate disregard for water consumption while in the Atacama Desert, and a strained kankle I received from who-knows-how-many miles of walking throughout the various cities we had visited up to that point. In addition, the train to Aguas Calientes (point of entry into Machu Picchu) broke down twice and cost us an hour and a half of our tour, and one of the volunteers succumbed to altitude sickness once again. Yet we all managed to hike to the top of Montaña Machu Picchu despite all of the personal obstacles encountered. The journey required 3.5 hours due to the thinness of the air—we were forced to stop every 20 meters or so to catch our breath, though all of us were in good physical condition. The following is the view from the summit.


Afterwards we toured Machu Picchu itself and encountered the vicuñas that inhabit the ruins. We later enjoyed an early dinner before catching the train back to Ollantaytambo. This train was also delayed—twice—due to another train ahead that was having trouble. Needless to say, I do not recommend trains as a means of transportation in Peru.



We left Ollantaytambo the next day for Urubamba and then Písac, a tiny pueblo known as much for its variety of handicrafts as for its abundance of Incan ruins. We were highly disappointed to find inflated prices in the small touristy town, though the view of the mountains on the way out made for a spectacular, albeit otherwise uneventful taxi ride. From Písac we headed back to Cuzco for one last visit, and the descent from the top of the mountains into the sprawling city below was equally breathtaking. I held on to my camera very tightly this time.


The next day took us to Puno, where we embarked on a tour of Lake Titicaca, though not before being unceremoniously locked in the tour guide's office for the half-hour before the tour was scheduled to begin and then being rushed by the very same guide to a 20-minute breakfast in a café that had, according to all appearances, not yet opened for business. It was a strange start to a surreal day. Our little boat left shore early that morning to take us to Las islas flotantes de los Uros, a group of man-made islands that float off the coast of the city. The islands are inhabited by 2,000 or so Uros who use the tourist industry to maintain their culture and lifestyle. Their vitality depends on the lake itself, the inflow of money from curious tourists, and the totora, the plant from which the islands are constructed. The Uros not only rely upon the plant for a source of building materials, but also as their primary form of sustenance.


Afterwards, we reboarded the boat and headed to Taquile, an island of about 2,000 native Quechuan speakers who run their own society and benefit economically from tourism, fishing, and farming. Before arriving, our guide warned us that machismo maintains a strong influence among the Taquileños with the result that women are not allowed to walk beside their husbands. Interestingly enough, the men are exclusively responsible for weaving and knitting the world-reknowned handicrafts, while the women make the yarn (at times even out of their own hair). We had the opportunity to explore for a bit and eat lunch before departing for our journey back to the mainland.


Upon arrival in Puno, we enjoyed a brief dinner and then hurried to the bus terminal for our overnight ride to Tacna. We chose not to dawdle in the border town this time, but proceeded immediately to the international terminal that would take us back to Chile...

15 Cities in 14 Days: Part I (La Serena, Antofagasta, San Pedro de Atacama, Chiu Chiu, Pukará de Lasana, Arica)

During the two weeks of winter vacation in Chile, several of the English Opens Doors volunteers planned to travel to Peru to see Machu Picchu. As I had previously studied the Incan culture during my college days and always wanted to see the ruins, I made plans with three other girls to go exploring on what little money we had all saved. The following adventure involved many an overnight bus ride, several days without showers, constant solicitations for discounts, and cheap meals bought in local markets or from street vendors. We also befriended the locals whenever possible to continue practicing our Spanish and to learn more about the culture in each place we visited.


Part I of our trip consists of our travels throughout northern Chile. As Santiago is located roughly in the center of the country, we decided to take cheap buses up to the border and cross over into Peru (prices for one-way tickets ranged from roughly $10.00 to 35.00 in USD). I met with another volunteer in Santiago, Tricia, on Friday, July 9th, to take a bus to La Serena, where we would rendezvous with the two others in our party. We ate a brief dinner upon arrival and departed for Antofagasta via an overnight bus (the first of many to come).


Antofagasta turned out to be a deceptively large city in which huge desert dunes descend into the Pacific Ocean. (As one of the other volunteers pointed out, we can now boast of having eaten seafood in the middle of the driest desert in the world.) Being the strong, determined, independent women that we were, we decided to walk to the Plaza de Armas, against the advice of all the locals from whom we asked directions. (A side note: all cities have a centro and a Plaza de Armas, both of which are located at the heart of the city. The Plaza consists of a large square with a Catholic church and various other municipal buildings.) We asked directions from the locals after every few blocks and received different instructions almost every time: 5 blocks east turned into 7 blocks northeast, etc. We reached the market first and loaded up on very foreign and very cheap fruit for the bus ride to come.


When we did find the centro, we had about 30 minutes of leisure time to complete our touristy tasks: we took entirely too many pictures, bought cheap souvenirs for the folks back home, and asked for directions back to the bus terminal. We then took a colectivo (cheaper version of a taxi) back to the terminal for our next trip to San Pedro de Atacama.


San Pedro turned out to be the most interesting, albeit touristy, area we visited in Chile. A small town of only 2,000 or so permanent residents, San Pedro exists mainly as a central hub for tourist operations in the surrounding desert and is characterized by its endearing dusty roads and compact, adobe buildings. We arrived after night had settled in, and the view of the stars rivaled that of an observatory due to a general absence of streetlamps. As it was too early to go to bed that night, we went out to dinner at a nearby restaurant with a bonfire (a common trend in that small town) and enjoyed the musical prowess of a local Andean group. After the final number concluded, the members explained to us that they perform each night in different restaurants across San Pedro and that they view their work is a method of preserving their cultural backgrounds. All five members had indigenous ancestry, though some were from southern parts of Chile such as Concepción (central site of the earthquake in February). They invited us out to a party afterwards (one of the perks of traveling in all-female company) and we spent the remainder of the evening mingling with the locals. Although we turned in rather early due to the nasty effects of bus lag, they later informed us that the party did not wind down until 5:30 the next morning.



The next day we embarked on a cheap tour with a few others to Laguna Cejas, a salt lake located a few miles away in the midst of the desert. Though the temperature outside was less than ideal for swimming (remember, it’s winter here), the relative warmth of the water made this feat possible for tourists eager to float weightlessly in the high-salt-content lake. Afterwards, we reloaded our bus to travel to Laguna Tebenquiche for the sunset. Below are pictures of this second lake. It was extremely shallow, so much so that one could walk across and appear to be walking on water…




The next day we embarked on a journey to Valle de la Luna and Valle de la Muerte, two valleys in the desert that are appropriately named for their landscape. The former, located in the Cordillera de la Sal, boasts various stone and sand formations that make a strong lunar impression on visitors. It is also known as one of the driest valleys on Earth, as the landscape is coated in salt and some areas have not received even a drop of rain in hundreds of years (or so the mad scientists say). The Valle de la Muerte, on the other hand, is so-named for its giant dunes and craggy apertures, and is apparently a tourist attraction for those with sandboarding capabilities.



Our final tour the following day took us to the Tatio Geysers located high in the Andes mountain range. As the geysers are most active at dawn and are located a few hours from San Pedro, we were forced to awake at 4:30 in the morning to make the journey in time. Though the temperature hovered around freezing, we enjoyed the view nonetheless and ate a healthy breakfast provided by our guide (eggs boiled in the geysers, among other delicacies). As the geysers had an altitude of 4,200 meters, one of our companions fell ill to altitude sickness and resorted to drinking té de coca to alleviate her symptoms. Apparently coca leaves are commonly used for this purpose in the Atacama Desert and in Peru as well. After breakfast, we had the opportunity to swim in another heated lake, but passed up the opportunity to avoid the other tourists as well as the intense cold of the air. Instead we descended the mountain and passed by a deserted bus that had apparently rolled halfway down into the valley below 18 years earlier. Our guide, José, informed us that the bus had contained several tourists, all of whom perished when the driver lost control of the vehicle. The bus had never been removed from the side of the mountain and thus served as an eerie reminder to drivers to navigate the twists and turns with precaution.


José then drove us a few more hours to the distant (and teensy) town of Chiu Chiu, where we promptly took photos of the oldest church in Chile before departing once again to visit Pukará de Lasana, a pre-Columbian fortress built in the 12th century. Along the way we viewed petroglyghs, or ancient pictures carved into stones by an indigenous people that predated even the Incans. The rocks onto which they were carved were perched ominously along the cliffs above the highway and seemed perfectly capable of launching themselves at passersby at any moment. Finally we arrived at Calama, a mining town full of men, where we caught an overnight bus to Arica.





We arrived at Arica at 6:30 the morning of the 14th to find one of the volunteer’s bags missing. Catherine, a spunky, first-generation New Yorker from China, had left her bag on the overhead bus rack. We were the only foreigners on that particular ride and were thus obvious targets. A seasoned traveler, Catherine knew to keep her passport, money, and personal documents on her person; as a result, the thief’s stolen booty consisted only of the bag itself, a few inexpensive souvenirs, and several pairs of dirty socks and underwear.




Arica turned out to be a hip, modern port town on the border of Peru. As we arrived at 6:30 am, it was too early to book a train to Tacna, Peru, so we decided to hit up the first American hot spot we spied: the Golden Arches. Yes, our first stop in Arica was to a McDonald’s. As it had been more than 36 hours since any of us had had showers, we spent about 30 minutes freshening up in the bathrooms (the only truly reliable facilities we had encountered since Santiago). We returned to the train station only to learn that travelers must book tickets at least one day in advance of the intended departure, so we reluctantly trudged back to the bus terminal to find an international company that would serve our needs. We found a bus to cross the border for just a couple of bucks and traveled to our next destination: Tacna.

Family and Friends and Floods, Oh My!

Due to a recent flood in the Canales household, my dear old antiquated laptop has sadly passed away, along with all the lovely pictures that are now lost in the bowels of its soaking hard drive. Thus, until I take new photos to replace the old and buy another computer on which to upload them, we're all stuck reading my picture-less blog posts (if you need pics for motivation, read no further). In the meantime, I will try to make my writing style as entertaining as possible and regale everyone with tales of Chilean adventures.

I will introduce my host family by beginning with my mother. María Angélica Canales is a single mother who works long hours (44 teaching hours per week not including lesson planning, to be more precise) to fund her daughters' education. She and I work alongside each other to teach English to students in the 5th - 8th grades in her school. Her eldest daughter, Carola, is studying to become a nurse and is gaining her observation hours by working in a public hospital in Santiago. She is clean, well-organized, and very busy, though she always makes time to speak Spanish with me in the evenings. Though she is 24 and has a pololo of eight years, she is determined not to marry until she achieves her professional goals. The younger daughter, María Jesús, is studying to become a music professor. As is the case with most musical geniuses, she prefers to work in the midst of messiness, sings in the shower (and everywhere else, for that matter), and is highly talented on the guitar and piano, along with a few other instruments with which I am unfamiliar. She also has a pololo who is equally musically gifted.

As for friends, I have made several here, though I would like to mention those from NC in particular. Kirsten Logrande is a current UNC student who happens to be studying in Santiago, Chile this summer. We met two years ago, when I was her RA in an on-campus residence hall, yet neither of us knew of the other's plans to travel. To make a long story short, we found each other via Facebook (of course) and decided to meet up in the downtown area. We visited La Chascona--one of the three houses of famous Nobel Prize winner Pablo Neruda--and caught up over coffee, empanadas and pastries afterward. (The pictures taken during this visit are among those that were lost--if my laptop memory can be retrieved, you can look for them in a later post!) Here's a link to her blog, which actually inspired me to create mine: http://klogrande.blogspot.com/ Another UNC alum, Karen, has been teaching English here for several months and offered to meet me during orientation. She had plenty of advice to offer regarding city life and has led me in all the right directions, especially with respect to Chilean cuisine. Finally, one of the other girls in my orientation group is a current NC State (rival school!) student majoring in engineering. That brings the Carolina tally to a total of four, with perhaps more to come.

As for my other friends from orientation--collectively from Wisconsin, England, and Minnesota--we met this weekend and went on a Starbucks hunt that endured for several hours. We all decided that instant coffee was no substitute for the real thing and that we needed to find the brewed stuff ASAP. I'm sure every Chilean from whom we asked directions knew instantly that we were Americans--who else would walk out obliviously into oncoming traffic, have only an inkling of a sense of direction, and be so doggedly determined to find this ultra-expensive coffeehouse? Among the items offered on the menu was Café Americano, the contents of which I'm still curious to know. A group of us also ventured to a theater to watch Toy Story 3. We were originally informed that it would be shown in English with Spanish subtitles, but that was not the case when we arrived. As it turned out, the movie was dubbed. We made it through the showing easily enough, however, as the voices were in a more standard Spanish (as opposed to the Chilean version, which is fairly difficult to understand) and the movements of the characters' mouths actually coordinated with their words, surprisingly enough. It turned out to be a pretty good, fairly Americanized weekend.

And then there was the flood. Everything proceeded normally Tuesday (meaning I woke up, froze, thawed by drinking Nescafe and drying my hair with a secador , and then refroze on the way to school), until my mom, Angélica, received a call from the neighbors during lunch. They reported that there was water leaking from her house out onto the street, so she rushed home to see what had happened. We expected that a couple of the rooms would be affected by the pipe that had burst in the bathroom, but we unfortunately underestimated the extent of the damage. The entire house was inches deep in very cold water (it's winter here, remember), and we spent the remainder of the afternoon sweeping/mopping/wiping it all up with various items of old clothing. I had inadvertently left my laptop on the floor that morning when I left the house in a rush, and it had already drowned by the time we arrived on the scene. Among other damaged household items were a TV, a guitar, several books, and lots and lots of shoes. And of course the broken pipe in the bathroom. I was fortunate to have only lost an old, busted computer--the tile floor of the house, on the other hand, is still somewhat damp and very loose in many areas. My mother has in fact been planning on moving to a different location for several months now, as her house sustained a fair amount of damage during the earthquake earlier this year. While the majority of the home was fine, her bedroom wall cracked and is perpetually damp--she must resort to using towels each morning just to wipe the accumulated moisture from the floor.

Classroom Observation

My school, Escuela General Carlos Prats González, is located in the poorer region of a middle-class neighborhood in Santiago called Recoleta. The building has three stories and surrounds a covered recreational area where the kids play during recess. I will be teaching 5th – 8th grades, or children between 11 and 15 years of age. Unlike some of the other teachers, I have my own classroom and will be teaching the brightest and most motivated of the students enrolled in English. I am required to teach 25 hours each week, while an additional 10 hours will be spent completing lesson plans and arranging extracurricular activities that pertain to English language-learning. Below is the view from the 3rd floor of the building:


My first official day of observation (Monday, June 21st) was not only the day after Father’s Day, but also coincided with Chile’s second match in the World Cup against Switzerland. We began the day with a celebratory breakfast for all the father teachers and proceeded to watch the game afterwards with the few children whose parents actually sent them to school that day. There was no sense in trying to teach, as neither the students nor the teachers were interested in much aside from soccer. Classes proceeded after the win, but in such frenzy that it might as well have been a free day for me.


The second and third days proceeded a bit more academically. I became accustomed to the students staring at me during recess and asking me how to say various words and phrases in English. Among some of the questions asked were “Do you know Tiger Woods/Brittany Spears/The Simpsons/Lady Gaga/Barack Obama,” “Which soccer player are you dating,” “What does ‘Waka Waka’ (the new song by Shakira) mean,” and “Is your hair real?” There seems to be a general mindset among the younger crowd that those from the U.S. must be celebrities and therefore live among and are acquainted with all celebrities—including cartoons—of the same origin. In addition, there seems to be a strong American influence in the children’s musical taste, so I was also frequently asked to translate lyrics. Some teachers were shocked to learn the meaning of the lyrics to The Killer’s “Somebody Told Me.” Also, Michael Jackson has a particularly strong following in Chile. I took the following video of an imitator trying to make a few bucks on a street corner near my host family’s house. He was quite talented and would stop dancing between songs to motivate bystanders to contribute.



On Friday the school held a ceremony to celebrate the Mapuche (indigenous people of Chile) identity. As many of the students are of indigenous descent, they participated in several dances led by a Mapuche representative dressed in the traditional garb. The event was held outside underneath the covered area, and the children and teachers alike had to keep an eye out for the palomas, or pigeons, that enjoyed terrorizing the crowd with their frequent droppings.



After the ceremony, class was canceled for the observation of Chile’s third match in the World Cup against Spain. Some of the staff were planning an asado, or barbecue, to which my co-teacher and I were invited. Though Chile lost the match 2-1, you would have thought they had won from the celebrations that ensued afterward (one of the volunteers was in the downtown area when tear gas was used on the crowd). Apparently the consensus was that Chile’s loss would make for a more competitive match against Brazil, though unfortunately that wasn't the case. After the match concluded, the teachers began to dance to some salsa music. Someone eventually invited me onto the rudimentary dance floor, and we all found out just how uncoordinated I can be when it comes to Latin dancing. To address this issue, one of the teachers promised to take me to a salsa club the next night where I could receive instruction and dance the night away. I ended up having a great time and even learned a few moves. Altogether, I passed the first week very well and feel much more prepared to begin teaching.

A Few Cultural Differences

Though many may not realize it, winter in Chile (and the rest of South America, for that matter) corresponds with summer in the U.S. For this reason, I packed what I thought was a reasonable amount of business clothes (for teaching) and sweaters (for layering). What I didn’t realize is that central heating is something we definitely take for granted in the U.S.



Upon arrival in the hostel, I was shocked to find my room the same temperature as the air outside (around 50 degrees Fahrenheit, give or take a few). We bundled up for the night and survived the week somehow—neither our classroom nor any of the restaurants in which we dined offered heating either. When I arrived at my host family’s house later that week, the shock had worn off a bit and I was not as disappointed to learn of the family’s reliance on hot tea and a space heater when in the house. The beds do have mattress heaters, however, which is a definite plus! Among all of the places I’ve visited thus far during my time here, only one bank (and it was a really nice one!) and a huge 3-story mall offered central heating to customers.

Due to the constant exposure to the cold, I’ve found that I get hungry much more often and need to consume more food than that to which I was accustomed in the U.S. I find myself shivering every time I step foot outdoors when there’s no direct sunlight, and gloves and legwarmers are a definite necessity. The climate is great for dieting purposes, though—I’ve already lost a good five lbs and I attribute it completely to the cold!

Stray dogs were another aspect of this city with which I was unfamiliar. They roam the streets of Santiago in search of food and freebies and will follow you forever if you show them any decency at all. Our group had a mixed Doberman/German Shepherd fellow as our guide for a bit while we toured the city. He knew exactly when it was safe to cross the street (he recognized the difference between a green and a red light, though dogs are supposedly colorblind), and he accompanied us for over an hour until we walked into a restaurant. He is portrayed in all his magnificence below:



Earlier this week, when I was walking with my “mom” to buy a transportation card for the Metro (subway), I was shocked to see firemen soliciting handouts alongside the homeless. When I asked her about it, Mom informed me that firemen, or bomberos, are not paid, but that they must stand on street corners and humbly ask for pocket change if they want to supplement their income from other jobs. I felt very awkward about this—how would the homeless react if one bypassed them only to contribute to the well-dressed firemen?

Finally, one of the most notable (and obvious) cultural differences can be immediately discovered upon engaging in small talk with locals. Among the usual questions a foreigner can expect to be asked—occupation, reason for being in Chile, regions to which you have traveled, etc.—are those regarding age and marital status (and in some cases even political and religious beliefs)! Whereas I usually regarded these topics as taboo when I was in the U.S., in Santiago they are apparently incorporated into introductory conversation with relative ease and comfort. Though this may not be the case for all, or even a majority of the Santiaguinos, I have found it to be the case in many of my first encounters with fellow teachers and Chilean friends.

Chilean Cuisine

Meals constitute one of the biggest culture shocks I received during my first week in Chile. When North Americans consider the South American diet, tacos and burritos are usually among the first dishes that come to mind. Not so in Chile! These items are more typical of Mexican cuisine, and as the U.S. is so close in proximity to Mexico, we tend to associate their dietary preferences with all of Latin America. In fact, Mexican and Peruvian restaurants are fairly common and popular in many areas of Santiago.



Among the most notable food-related quirks is the importance of avocado in the Chilean diet. Everything here is served with avocado, from bread to hot dogs! There are even avocado dispensers that accompany mustard and ketchup dispensers at hot dog stands. In addition, salt takes on a greater role here than in the U.S., whereas pepper is almost completely discarded. I have now been here for a week and a half, and not once have I spied a pepper dispenser in any restaurant or food stand. Sometimes there are even two salt dispensers on a table, just in case customers have a particularly salty tooth.



I also knew before I arrived that fruit would be extra-cheap in South America, but I had no clue just how cheap it could be. When I met my host mother for the first time, she took me to a feria (a fruit/vegetable market) to take into account my dietary preferences. A kilo of apples can be bought for $1,000 pesos, or around $2.00 in U.S. currency! There was also a variety of fruit which was completely foreign to me: something that resembled a pear, another something that looked like a pumpkin, and something similar to a watermelon were the most striking (I’ll try to take pictures during my next visit).

If Americans would be impressed by the cheap cost of fruit here, they would be horrified by the lack of brewed coffee or fresh milk! Every cup I’ve had of each has come from a box of powder. I had always just assumed that all South American countries sold great coffee, but that is sadly not the case here. Tea is much more popular, so I’ve been trying to slowly replace caffeine with the healthy stuff. Milk seems to be a lost cause, though—there’s just no replacing a fresh gallon of milk from Harris Teeter.

Salads are mostly served with fresh lemon juice as dressing. Lemon is another Chilean phenomenon—bread is sometimes served at restaurants along with a plate of sliced lemons (for water, salad, seafood dishes, etc.). Seafood is extremely popular and cheap, considering the fact that Chile boasts the longest coastline in the world.



The dish above is lomo a lo pobre, a popular item on the menu here that consists of two eggs (usually friend) served on top of a steak with french fries on the side. A stranger combination has never occurred to me.

Finally, as for meals themselves, the Chilean structure is somewhat distinct from that of the U.S. Breakfasts are typically rather continental and consist of bread and jam and coffee or tea. Lunch is served a bit later here, usually around 1:00 or 2:00 pm. Once, or the Spanish equivalent for the number 11, many times replaces dinner and can be served at almost any time of the day (except, ironically, 11:00). As once is always consumed after lunch (the largest meal) but sometimes before dinner (if it doesn’t replace dinner altogether), it usually occurs between 4:00 and 8:00 pm. If there is a dinner served afterward (more common on weekends), it usually takes place after 9:00 pm. Between once and dinner the schedule is very flexible, and I don’t completely understand it yet, but such is the life of a gringa (don't worry, it's considered term of endearment in Chile).

Orientation

During the week of orientation, my friends and I went shopping in the downtown area for various supplies we had either lost en route to Chile or forgotten at home. One of the first things that caught my attention in a "super" (short for supermercado, or grocery store) was an aisle full of liquor--as most of us North Carolinians know, these items are prohibited in our own grocery stores. As we browsed the shelves, amusing ourselves with the Spanish titles, we stumbled across Cuban Rum! A friend and I decided to split the cost (a whopping $12 for a fifth) and try it with fellow volunteers at the hostel. It was surprisingly strong and sweet, and I highly recommend it to all of my alcohol-drinking friends
whenever the animosity between the U.S. and Cuba
dissipates.


I mentioned the name "San Cristóbol" in an earlier post as a popular attraction in Santiago. I went with a few volunteers to explore the city and came upon this hill, the second highest in the city, that offers visitors a fascinating vista of the Andes. At the top of the hill (and pictured above) is a large statue of the Virgin Mary that overlooks the city. We did not make it all the way to the top of San Cristóbol due to the setting sun, but below is a picture of the city that was taken from the half-way point. As you can see, smog constitutes a major problem for Santiago, which is located in a valley and therefore trapped beneath a perpetual blanket of its own creation. In fact, the towering Andes can only be clearly seen from the city after a rainstorm, which permits the polluted air to rise.



Our adventurous spirits were not satisfied after dark fell (the sun sets around 6:15 here) and so we ventured out into the city once again after dinner was served. One of the volunteers who had explored on his own showed us a bookstore he had found that contained loads of Spanish literature. Having majored in Spanish myself during my time at UNC, I was fascinated to discover this small wealth of information embedded in such a large, developing city. Most of the books had fallen from their original shelves during the earthquake earlier this year and were thus hopelessly out of order, but I happened upon "Como Agua para Chocolate" (As Water for Chocolate) and bought it without hesitation. In addition to his public collection, the owner (who spoke only Spanish) revealed to us his private archive on a platform suspended from the ceiling. The literature displayed there was mixture of photocopies and originals, he told us, of poems and prose produced during the military dictatorship (1973 - 1990). Though these materials are still highly controversial in Chile, he welcomed us to browse through them at any time.

Earlier I mentioned the cheap cost of Cuban rum. I knew before coming to Chile that the cost of living in South America was generally cheaper than that of the U.S., but I was told by various locals throughout orientation that Chile is actually among the cheapest countries in the South. Though I cannot verify this (I will try once I visit Argentina and Peru!), I can vouch for the relatively low cost of meals. Each volunteer was provided with a check for $2,500 Chilean pesos (roughly $5 in U.S. currency) to cover lunch. As lunch is the biggest meal of the day in Chile, I wasn't expecting to find a venue cheap enough for the check to cover the cost. In one restaurant, however, the meal of the day came with a soup, salad, chicken and rice (a popular dish here), a soft drink and a dessert for around $2,100 pesos! Wine is also very cheap--most bottles can be purchased for less than the equivalent of $5--as the city is surrounded by wineries. I never thought that beer could be more expensive than wine, but that is generally the case in Santiago.

And finally, a bit about the hostel. For those of us who had never stayed in a hostel before, the transition was somewhat difficult. I did not know, for example, that guests are usually expected to provide their own towels and toiletries. As I had no towel, I resorted to drying myself with my pajamas for the first few days of my stay. In addition, there was no central heating, so we really had to bundle up at night to stay warm. It is apparently a rarity for buildings to have central heating in Santiago, so volunteers found it necessary to wear jackets and gloves at all times throughout the day. Below is a picture of the hostel.

Arrival and World Cup

My journey began when my plane took off from Charlotte, NC at 11:45 am on Saturday, June 12. I flew through Miami, FL and Bogota, Colombia before finally reaching my destination in Santiago, Chile at 4:45 am the next morning. I sat between a Colombian and a Brazilian en route to Colombia and we had an interesting conversation in Spanish/English/Portuguese!

Upon arrival in Santiago, the 40 volunteers were provided with transportation to a hostel in the downtown area. Training ran from 9:00 am-5:30 pm each day during the week, and we took advantage of the free time to explore the city. Among the most popular sites were San Cristobol, Santa Lucia, and La Chascona (the house of famed Chilean Nobel Prize winner Pablo Neruda).



Above is La Moneda, the Chilean presidential palace. Americans who visit Santiago without some political background knowledge will be surprised to see a main street named "11 de Septiembre," which was the date that La Moneda was bombed in a 1973 military coup led by the up-and-coming dictator Augusto Pinochet. Socialist president Salvador Allende was killed in the attack. La Moneda was rebuilt in the following years, but now serves only as a working environment rather than the presidential residence.



On Wednesday, June 16 many of the volunteers chose to wake up early to watch the World Cup (Chile vs. Honduras) with the Chileans at 7:30 am. The match was projected onto a huge screen in front of La Moneda (a 10-minute walk from the hostel), and the turnout was amazing. The local schools had canceled early morning classes to allow the students to watch, and much of the crowd was composed of adolescent males (see the video below to assess the level of craziness). Many vulgarities were shouted, none of which I understood at the time (my host family has since filled me in), but loudest of all was the Chilean cheer "Chi-Chi-Chi, le-le-le, Vi-va Chi-le!" Most of us left to attend training before the match ended, but we knew Chile had won when the cars outside our building began honking crazily. The spirit lasted throughout the day, and a drunk young man behind our building proceeded to blast the same Chilean national song over and over from his apartment window for the duration of our training session from 10 am - 5:30 pm. It was the first time Chile had been eligible to compete in the World Cup in about 10 years, so it was a great week for all of us to be in the downtown area.

More to come!