The Sweet is Never as Sweet Without the Sour

Fried eggs atop white rice for lunch. And none of that juicy fried-in-butter goodness, but fried-in-three-inches-of-oil heart attack style. Throw in a little soy sauce and meal-saving diced tomatoes, and you've got a typical meal at my homestay. I'm certainly not complaining, as this food is free - my family is paid monthly by the Ministry of Education for their food and other incurred expenses. But I feel as if this blog is lacking a good description of my typical eating habits here in Taltal, Chile! For a nice (torturous) comparison, I'm even going to give a little summary of the three star dining experience at Portillo.

Breakfast is always a struggle, as it is in most countries. A struggle against time, willpower, and availability of substance. I usually find myself waking up at 7:35 for 8am class, so I'm left very little time to fashion any respectable sort of breakfast. Most days, I resort to an un-toasted piece of bread with some jam thrown on top, or in the best-case scenario, a yogurt with some water. Not exactly the most nutritional morning pick-up, but definitely sufficient to get the day started. Either way, at 9:30am I almost always find myself at the school-side almacen, or small foodstuffs store, buying a cheese and ham sandwich with a chocolate milk for the grand total of $1. If lucky, the almacen will have a freshly-baked brazo de reina (literally: queen's arm) cake on offer, a particularly delectable shortcake with manjar (dulce-de-leche) stuffed inside and topped with heaps of powdered sugar. Needless to say, supplementing the meals I receive at home in Taltal is not so healthy!

I always return from school to get lunch around 1pm. The most popular meal by far is the aforementioned rice with fried eggs, something that the whole family genuinely enjoys but I find entirely unsatisfying. Besides this meal, there are exactly five others that I have eaten since arriving nearly four months a go - bringing the whole repertoire to six meals in constant rotation. The others are at least somewhat more appetizing and filling: spaghetti with a bolognese sauce, pork chops atop white rice, lentils cooked with ground beef and other oddities, white beans in a chicken broth soup, and my favorite, fried fish. But the fried fish meal comes once every two weeks, If I'm lucky, because my homestay mother Carmen refuses to get her hands dirty making the fish - that's Walter's job, she says - my homestay father. If I had my way, it would be the fish every single night. The other options just don't satisfy my taste buds.

Dinner isn't usually eaten in Chile; rather, the nighttime meal is simply known as te (tea) and is taken around 7pm. This consists of tea, which happens to be home-made and very good, and toasted bread with either butter and jam or mayo and ham slices. I usually opt for both, but try not to satiate my hunger by overloading on bread as I'm pretty sure I can see a carbohydrate-pouch forming around my lower abdomen. If a family does eat an actual nighttime meal, though my family does not, it is called once or once comida. This would normally consist of leftovers from the lunch of the day or maybe a delicious fish meal late at night. More importantly, we don't have it. I have resorted to protein powder, mercifully supplied by my father, and crackers for a lame attempt at nighttime hunger satiation!

So that's a pretty informative description of my eating habits here in Taltal - in general, very typical of the eating habits of most Chileans. Now, for the sake of comparison, let's take a look at the meal structure and content at Portillo. Note: though the ingredients are often very Chilean, the sheer size and number of meals is not very indicative of Chilean eating. Rather, the Portillo gastronomic experience is better described as sheer gluttony.

Full shank of lamb and mashed potatoes is what I sat down to just one hour after arriving at the hotel. Add the appetizer of some delicious soup or salad and then the myriad options available for dessert, and you can begin to see why I call Portillo sheer gluttony. In fact, the ice cream on offer for dessert is made in the hotel, and is easily some of the best I've ever had. Yes, Portillo is a ski resort, but during this most recent trip I often felt like I was on a foodie vacation instead of a ski vacation!

Sky Salivating over the Menu at Portillo

There are basically three and a half sit-down meals each day - the half being tea, which is just a coffee/tea and bread with jam offering. Breakfast is delicious, with a full menu of eggs as you like 'em, pancakes, cereals, yogurt and fresh fruit. Perfect start to the day really. Lunch is served at 1:30pm and is a more formal affair. Three courses always beginning with an interesting soup or salad - the soups always very hearty and the salads incredibly fresh. Main course for lunch is more modest than dinner, but still very substantial, and maybe too filling for motivating oneself to return to the slopes in the late afternoon. The lamb shank, for example, was overload...it was massive. Apart from the standard meat offering, Portillo also allows guests to choose from a vegetarian dish or a constantly-changing array of seafood plates.

Dinner deserves its own paragraph. One spectacular dinner that I will never forget went as follows: king crab appetizer, duck ravioli in a blueberry-merlot sauce, and a dessert I now forget...needless to say it was tasty. All three of us could not help but sit in amazement at how good that duck ravioli was - easily the best pasta dish of my life. One night a spinach gnocchi to die for, another night's main course of venison in cabernet sauce and a sauteed yellowfin tuna dish. Yet another included a spectacular seafood risotto that I couldn't get enough of. We truly became gluttons, eating a truly dizzying array of meats during the week: beef, pork, lamb, turkey, chicken, venison, ostrich, duck...and I'm sure I'm still forgetting some. The seafood offerings were endless, and endlessly delicious: tuna, salmon, congrio, king crab, Chilean abalone, razor clams, lobster, Chilean sea bass, flounder, hake, squid, octopus, scallops...and still I'm omitting more. It was like eating out at a new two- or three-star New York restaurant for seven nights in a row, yet we were at the same table, with the same two or three waiters at our constant service.

The service, oh the service. Apart from constant confusion during breakfast hour, the service at Portillo is legendary. Our waiter, Paul, did every single thing in his power to make this third Portillo experience the best yet. When we all ordered the same main dish for dinner, but still wanted to try the other dishes, he wouldn't hesitate to bring one or two more just to share. Any and all of my crazy dessert requests - like banana and chocolate ice cream with strawberries and chocolate sauce - brought out in a heartbeat. Cap that off with a birthday surprise for Sky including a cake (literally, they brought a cake), candles, balloons and ten singing waiters, and I'd say we had a truly unforgettable culinary experience. The only problem was finding stomach space to fit all that damn food.

Mmmmm...duck ravioli. Mmmmm...fried eggs atop rice. Not much of a competition, but definitely representative of my return from Portillo to Taltal in general. You see, Portillo is the cream of the crop in Chile, the place where the rich of Santiago go vacationing. While it is certainly expensive by American standards, it still represents an extremely good value when juxtaposed with elite ski resorts such as Vail and Jackson Hole. Yet Chileans pay even more than Americans to visit places like Portillo, as us gringos are exempt from the whopping 17% IVA tax...simply making it all that more difficult for middle class Chileans to go on vacation. Having now spent four months in Taltal, a place not exactly known for picturesque beauty or wealthy residents, I am able to appreciate experiences like this most recent Portillo trip that much more. Just as the duck ravioli doesn't taste as good without having eaten fried eggs atop rice three times a week, my life and upbringing in the United States doesn't feel as special without having lived in places like Taltal. Taltalinos aren't able to spend a week skiing at Portillo. Each and every paycheck goes to skyrocketing grocery prices, basic utilities, and clothing for the children. Skiing and eating at the Portillos of the world is truly a privilege, and I am more than lucky to have a father that is willing and able to take me along for the ride.

Portillo, “Narrow Valley”

Guest Starring Harry Potter and a 35 year-old

Man, it’s been too long. I’m sincerely sorry for the lack of blog updates…it’s been seriously lame. I guess I’ll just have to make up for it in the last months I have here in Chile.

Anyway, for those of you that don’t already know, this week I am at Portillo Ski Resort with my father and Schuyler. I have been looking forward to this week for quite a long time, and so far it has lived up to and far surpassed my self-imposed high expectations. It is mine and my father’s third time here in Portillo, and Schuyler’s first; needless to say it’s just as good the third time as the first, maybe even better. And though I can think of a number of Spanish words to accurately describe the Portillo experience, there is only one English word that I find fitting: magical. But this is probably because adjectives in Spanish sound a million times better.

Speaking of magical, my father and I have been blessed with the company of Harry Potter on this ski trip. Or at least that’s what four Argentines said upon meeting the man himself, also known as Schuyler Fabian. Apparently the Sky as Harry Potter craze is not just limited to North America! More fittingly, I think, they also mentioned the old standbys of Toby McGuire and Elijah Wood. Very sharp Argentines.

Let’s back up to the beginning of the trip real quick. I arrived in Santiago on Friday morning after getting a 6am flight from Antofagasta, and had a room at the airport Holiday Inn for the day and night. Yet this was no typical Holiday Inn! After checking in, I was treated to one of the most delectable hotel buffet breakfasts I have ever had. After a glorious little nap in the most comfortable bed I have slept in for months, I swam a few laps in the pool and went for a nice jog in the gym. I felt like I was in the twilight zone: pool, gym, real breakfast…this isn’t Taltal, I must be dreaming. In fact, I’m pretty sure I was dreaming, just in reality.

But after a few hours of forced relaxation and airport seclusion, I started to get restless and bored. I wanted to get to Portillo already! Also, the airport had no runway observation deck, a big deal breaker for SCL (Santiago Airport) as far as I’m concerned. My focus turned to the morning, when I would be meeting Dad and Sky.

Somehow the hours passed, and before I knew it I saw them walk through the international arrivals exit. Euphoria. We were on our way to the central Chilean Andes within minutes, passing through beautiful grape and avocado fields and gradually rising in altitude. Somehow my previous two trips here haven’t eliminated the element of excitement and surprise at seeing it all anew; coming to Portillo is like Christmas morning when I was eight. It is truly my happy place; the image or series of images that I conjure up when I’m experiencing the most dire of circumstances or moods.
We were in our room by 12pm on Saturday, clearly energized by the excitement of being here but also dead tired. Sky and I went to sample the first five-star lunch of many to be had here while my Dad slept, then got onto the slopes for a few late afternoon runs. Sky looks like he’s been skiing ten days a year for the last five years, and clearly hasn’t missed a beat. He was out there carving up the slopes right away. My Dad looked similarly well prepared, and I didn’t feel a single bit of “rust” in my first turns despite not having skied in almost a full year. It’s just like riding a bike…the movement and balance comes back so naturally after years of repetition. And despite the high altitude, I don’t feel too fatigued after the first four days of skiing, though I’ve spent just about every post-lunch afternoon relaxing far more than skiing. It’s quite hard not to when lunch is a three-course masterpiece, and renders the body comatose for the following three hours!

Much more to come on the week and the food, oh the food - an especially luxurious aspect of the Portillo experience. But for now, a few good shots!

Observaciones de Los Juegos Olympicos

Atleast half of Chile´s population stayed up (or woke up) to watch the Fernando Gonzalez - Rafael Nadal men´s finals tennis match from 5am to 8am this past Saturday night. Nadal basically re-colonized Gonzalez and the entire country of Chile with his convincing three set defeat. Though Chileans were clearly hurt by the loss, news sources quickly referred to Gonzalez as a national hero for winning a silver medal. What a change - silver in the U.S. is just the best loser!

Usain Bolt clearly went to the Terrell Owens school of sportsmanship: blow the competition away, then act like an a**hole. The Cowboys should probably offer him a contract.

Michael Phelps looks like Eli Manning.

Phelps´8 golds is obviously an amazing feat. But to repeatedly call him ¨greatest Olympian of all time¨? Please. Sure, he´s dominant in his sport, but so is Rafael Nadal right now, and no one is calling him ¨greatest Olympian of all time¨ for winning gold in men´s singles. Maybe if every olympic sport had 500 different events like swimming does we could begin to crown a single dominant olympian ¨greatest ever¨. Why can´t we just leave his title at ¨greatest swimmer of all time¨?

The gymnastics events remind me of the circus, and I´m kind of scared of the circus. Therefore, gymnastics kind of scares me.

Fencers spend way too much time waiting to attack. Just do it already!

Judo is an incredible sport. It´s like wrestling 2.0.

Why can´t there be indoor skiing events for the summer olympics? China could have built an indoor skiing park in about 2 weeks.

The Chinese basketball team is really just a live Chinese Yao Ming museum.

Men´s weightlifting can be frightening to watch. For my point of reference, see this.
Why can´t they have spotters at each side? Would have at least saved thius dude´s elbow. OUCH.

Rowing is painfully under-televised in Chile.

Fishing should be an olympic event. How does this sound for the event list: freshwater fly, freshwater spinning, saltwater trolling, drifting, fly, etc. Biggest fish wins. If any country could construct a perfectly flowing, temperature controlled trout stream in the middle of a massive city, it´s gotta be China.

Volleyball players are really just champion huggers.

Hasta Pronto Amigos. Sorry it´s been so long between updates...life has been all over the place recently. Will be posting many juicy updates soon, especially about the English debates I am currently preparing some students for. First round was this morning, and we came in last place, but for Liceo Politecnico in Taltal that´s quite a victory! Will tell all later...time to get my monthly gringo consumption fix of mall, movie, and pizza here in Antofagasta.

Nice Shot of the Little One...

before finally loading a bunch to the SmugMug site tomorrow!

One of the Stunners from Peru

A Sneak Peak.

I Am Viktor Navorski, from Krakhozia

Remember Steven Spielberg's strange-yet-sweet film The Terminal with Tom Hanks?

Well, I (sort of) fulfilled one of my life-long dreams this past weekend by living in an airport (well, airport hotel) for two days - and not just any airport hotel - but one directly connected to the airport by walkway!

After the passport debacle that Cordelia and I endured on Sunday morning and afternoon in Lima, I decided to change the original flight I had scheduled for that night back to Tacna...especially since Cordelia's flight was delayed three hours and she would have been looking at nearly 9 hours in the airport alone. Therefore, my only option to fly back to Tacna was at 6pm Monday evening, the following day.

No big deal, I thought. Since it was Fiestas Patrias weekend (combined with the biggest Cuzco tourist rush of the year) and I knew that hotels and hostels in Lima would be horrifically crammed, I just planned on getting a room at the airport Ramada "Costal del Sol" hotel after helping Cordelia check-in for her flight. Once we had waited out the eternal line and obtained her boarding pass, we headed across the walkway to get me a room for the night. I just plopped down my credit card on the counter - after all, I had already resigned myself to paying a decent sum for the night - and a LAN Airlines official had told me that the only hotel was no more than $40 or $50 a night, a fair Peruvian price for a Ramada at the decidedly-lackluster Lima airport. Yet, one glance at a posted list of tarifas and I nearly fainted: STARTING at $350 per night for a SINGLE!? WHAT!?

After my ghastly reaction, the señorita immediately began to lower the price. "Ahh, I see where this is going," I thought to myself, as bargaining is a realm very dear to me after having spent considerable time in Peru. I played every card I could possibly think of, primarily pushing the "lost passport" angle for nearly 15 minutes until I had successfully bargained her down to a reasonable sum. I won't disclose exactly what this reasonable sum was, but let it suffice to say that the agreed-upon figure was far more manageable than the one originally quoted. Thank god for Peruvian bargaining culture and my ability to look poor and disheveled while traveling, for these have saved the day more than just this once.

And then as posted previously, after Cordelia's departure I slept like a baby, waking up at 9am to enjoy a wonderfully-decadent buffet breakfast complete with hot chocolate and cocoa puffs. A short aside: Sometimes I really love what Peruvian establishments offer as "typical gringo food": usually consisting of a bland sort of cocoa puffs and some variation on pancakes, or woefully under-scrambled eggs for breakfast; and the inevitable personal-size pizza for dinner. Is this really how American food culture has been communicated throughout the past decades? I suppose we don't have much of a distinct food culture to communicate, actually, as all seem to meld into one. Thoughts?

After this satisfying breakfast, I began to ponder the opportunities available to me at that very moment. I was living in an airport. I could go run errands, in my pajamas, in an airport. Oh boy. For those of you who know me well, this was quite an exciting realization.

I proceeded to run out into the airport, in my pajamas of course, to survey all there was to offer an aerofile and homesick gringo such as myself. Airport starbucks: check. Internet cafe: check. Duty free complete with tacky Peru memorabilia: check. Food court: check, with DUNKIN' DONUTS. Score. Large observation window from which to excitedly view takeoffs and landings of large aircraft: NO. What the hell of kind of airport doesn't have this? I bought a few necessary toiletries and returned, dejected, to my hotel room. My fantasy, living out of the airport for an entire night and day, had vanished into thin air with this discovery. For those of you who have seen The Terminal: No airport store job applications, no storage room card games with maintenance guys, no translating for unruly American travelers unable to speak Spanish, and most unfortunately, no Peruvian Catherine Zeta-Jones lookalike. Damn.

Still, I was able to post the most recent blog update from the internet cafe and send out postcards to our beloved Euro friends and family. Having returned to the hotel, I went for a badly-needed three mile jog on the treadmill and headed down to the spa. Ahhh, the spa. Just to note, this gray, rectangular monstrosity had turned out to be no Ramada, not even a Ramada on steroids, but more like a whited-out postmodern Montreal-style boutique hotel that had somehow obtained the gringo Ramada brand name probably to proffer some element of legitimacy, complete with a fully-stocked spa. I relished the eucalyptus steam sauna for a half-hour while alternating with five minute breaks in the Spanish rain shower, then took in all the glory that was the dry sauna. After that, a short stint in the jacuzzi and pool, and one of the best showers I've had in years. Wow, was I reluctant to return to Taltal at that point.

Yet with no pressing Viktor-Navorskian need to venture out of the airport to experience what the city offers, as I already knew what it had to offer (next to nothing), I was very content with waiting out the time before my flight to Tacna with a cold Cuzqueña in hand and a few gloriously-overpriced Dunkin' Donuts. Tack on a $10 GQ magazine and an entertaining collection of short stories, Brief Encounters with Che Guevara, and I was primed for departure by the time 5pm rolled around. Still, the homesickness, or at least that innate feeling of comfort that home offers, was burning stronger than ever, having been brought on by Cordelia's departure and my obsession with airport departure screens. Miami, AA flight 957: mmm, warmth, beach, sun, close to home. Houston, CO flight 1091: ooo, Texas, football, Sonic burger, cross-country trips, close to home. New York, LA Flight 518: we won't even go there, I couldn't even bring myself to think about just how quickly that 7.5 hour flight would take me home.

With a sense of reluctant yet faithful purpose and duty, I dragged myself over to gate 5 to await my flight to Tacna. Leaving the enchanting Peru, let alone this little portal to home and the rest of the world, was difficult, yet I boarded the plane content with the knowledge that I have so much English left to teach, so much Spanish left to learn, and so many people left to meet.

Vamos Amigos...onward and upward!

Feliz Fiestas Patrias!

Yes, I`m still alive (how: I`m not so sure).

Hello from Lima, Peru, where it is currently Fiestas Patrias, or independence day. I have spent the last day and night pretty much entirely in Jorge Chavez international airport here in Lima, despite an ill-fated excursion with Cordelia into the Miraflores district.

Ill-fated is only somewhat misleading, as we actually went on two separate excursions into the city; one having been extremely unsuccessful, the other fairly enjoyable.

Upon arriving yesterday to Lima airport at 9am, Cordelia and I stored our luggage and headed in to Miraflores to revisit my beloved ceviche paradise, Punto Azul, and see an English film (we were gunning for Batman). Our first stop was the Scotiabank ATM in order to sacar the appropriate funds to enjoy our little day trip. However, upon checking my backpack for the all-purpose passport/Chilean ID/ATM card and credit card holder, a wave of horror began to flood over me. IT WASN`T THERE.

People, to say that I was scared would be a complete understatement. It wasn`t just my ability to access money that was lacking; in addition, I had absolutely no way to return to Chile as my passport, Chilean ID, and visa were in that pouch. I was really not looking forward to a two-week prison term in the gray, misty depression hole that is Lima.

Yet after searching through all my possessions and receiving negative responses from every possible number at the airport, including the taxi driver`s cell phone, my options were not looking all that promising. Realizing that we had no choice but to return to the airport to search for ourselves, Cordelia and I hopped back in a taxi to start investigating. Still, by 1pm, we had no leads after speaking to every security agency, lost-and-found office, and LAN airlines official...and we were seriously considering facing our fate and starting the whole process of reclaiming our identity.

And then Cordelia, in all her infinite 17 year-old miraculous god bless her wisdom, suggested that she go check at the call center that we had briefly stopped in to make a call earlier that morning. Upon returning, she managed the most misleading and heart-breaking look of resignation before switching to a massive smile...SHE HAD FOUND IT. It was still in the phone booth we had used. Unbelievable.

And with that discovery, she could return to New Jersey, and I to my beloved mini-village on the sea, Taltal. We then headed back in to Miraflores to enjoy a wonderful fresh seafood lunch at Punto Azul and hang out at LarcoMar, a gringofied shopping mall built into the cliffs of Lima. Although we were too late in arriving at the theater in order to enjoy Batman, we just hung out: Cordelia ordered a coffee at gringobucks, we got a few drinks at my favorite sports bar from last summer, and we finally returned to the airport completely satisfied and she ready to get home to New Jersey. Almost as a small concession to my fragile emotional state (as I was definitely not looking forward to parting ways with Cordelia until Christmas), her flight was delayed three hours, and we spent the last bit of time together in an airport hotel I reserved for myself for the night (more on this later).

Finally, she being eager to return to her friends, our parents, cats, and her unbelievably comfortable bed, I walked her over to the depature area and saw her off at 12am, despite having a very strong urge to just destroy her passport and ticket and bring her back with me to Chile. Fighting back tears and relishing that all-too rare choking feeling, I reluctantly returned back to my airport hotel room to have what was probably the best sleep of the last two weeks, undoubtedly aided by the zero feet of altitude!

Now, as I await my flight back to the border of Peru and Chile, I cannot believe that the next time I will see Cordelia will be Christmas Eve. We had an incredible yet taxing trip together (many details to come), and I am already scheming up our next brother-sister expedition!

Any suggestions?

Viva el Peru

Hey everyone...

Just wanted to post a little notification of arrival in Cuzco! The 48-hour marathon was incredibly smooth and without a single hitch in plans. Cordelia and I arrived here at 7am after spending about four hours on the cold floor at Lima Airport - therefore, the ten hours of sleep we enjoyed today was badly needed!

We´ve just been walking around a bit and I showed the little one the plaza and surrounding areas. Had a nice little meal in a wood-fired pizza place for $15 as well. For now we´re still in acclimatization phase, but once we get out and about and partake in some serious activities I will post some good updates!

Sorry I wasn´t able to post more photos from my recent travels on my SmugMug site before leaving - I had a frantic few days. Everything is great so far here in Cuzco: Conor´s apartment is amazing, the city looks better than I remembered, and we´re booking our train tickets to Machu Picchu tomorrow!

Updates to follow...Buenas Noches!

Flaco and Chato Do Peru: Part Two

Well, folks, here we go again!

In about 24 hours I will begin my second pilgrimage to the land of the Incas, only this time it's going to take me a hell of a lot longer to get there. Go figure - I'm a whole lot closer! While my first trip took a grand total of 9 hours, including layover in Miami, this trip promises to take (at least) 48 straight hours of travel, whereupon I will finally reach Cusco...with a special someone in tow!

Yes, little Cordelia, a.k.a. Hermana a.k.a Dilly a.k.a. Quadulous (believe me, the list of my nicknames for her can go on for ever) has decided to meet me in Lima for a two week trip up to Cusco and Machu Picchu! I couldn't be more excited...she's really in for the trip of a lifetime.

Also in accompaniment (well, already there) will be Conor, a.k.a. Chato Barrigon, mi amigo from my Peru volunteering experience last summer. He has an apartment in Cusco for two months, and is supervising new volunteers while ensuring the proper future development of the guinea pig farm that we raised start up funds for last year.

A perfect recipe for an incredible adventure, I should say! Cordelia and I don't really have any set plans so far, apart from staying with Conor and her seeing Machu Picchu, of course. We are going to do a trek - just not sure which one - it will completely depend on how physically capable she feels once adjusting to the altitude in Cusco. The first two days, of course, will be spent acclimatizing (it is about 11,500 feet!), meaning we will be doing absolutely nothing. I hope to post a couple of updates about our activities when in Cusco, though I can't promise anything, as I won't have my computer with me and therefore will be entirely dependent on sketchy internet cafe's.

I, Max Calvert, I have never encountered such difficult travel planning in my life. Yes, everyone, it's true. My route will be as follows:
July 12
8:00am: Taltal-Antofagasta in bus, 4 hrs. Must spend whole day here because of Ministry of Education error in payment system...can only pick up my money at one bank in Antofagasta that closes at 2pm!
July 13
2:00am: Antofagasta-Arica in bus, 10 hrs. in sleeper seat...YES.
3:00pm: Arica, Chile-Tacna, Peru in taxi, 1 hr. Let's hope Peru accepts me and that no one plants drugs on my person.
8:30pm: Tacna-Lima, Peru in plane, 2 hrs. Meeting Cordelia in airport when I land! Wait in airport 'til 5am...
July 14
5:30am: Lima-Cusco, Peru in plane, 1 hr. FINALLY arriving!

This itinerary, mind you, took me no less than 3 weeks of constant scheming and tireless research. Let's hope it proves to be as accurate and seamless as I've planned for! In proper Max fashion, I have registered my trip with the US Dept. of State online and will be analyzing each and every mode of transportation for emergency features and exits, of course.

Wish us safe travels - Next update will be from Cordelia and me in Cusco.

VIVA EL PERU!

p.s. I will be posting a bunch of pictures to my SmugMug site (linked top right hand corner) before I leave...including (Schuyler) mountain reflection.

Finally, a Lucid Explanation

Que supresa! Today was another day of teacher's strike here in Taltal. From what I gather it's just a one-day deal, but then again one can never be too sure about anything here in Chile. Therefore, today was spent doing absolutely nothing, aside from battling a lingering cold and a minor hangover from last night's seafood dinner and wine consumption marathon at a fellow professor's house. It is truly amazing how late Chileans are able to stay up without a single yawn.

Also, I finally found a decent (although short) English news bulletin concerning student and teacher displeasure over the new law that was passed, so here you go.

San Pedro de Atacama

I recently returned from a weekend trip to San Pedro de Atacama, an oasis village in the middle of the driest desert in the world. Hands down, this place has the most impressive scenery I have ever witnessed. Lisa, Lauren (two of the other volunteers in Taltal), and I arrived in San Pedro last Friday. The bus ride, although 9 hours long, is muy impresionante - after exiting Calama, the mining city near which Chuquicamata is located, the road winds through a small mountain range and descends into jagged salt peaks and vast gorges, finally reaching a small cluster of trees and mountain streams...San Pedro de Atacama.


The town is somewhat overrun by tourists, and I had read in a number of guidebooks that this tends to dull its overall appeal. However, I didn't think so at all - muchos gringos, afterall, is a fairly natural consequence of a place having some of the most incredible landscape in the world. In addition, the saturation of gringos in San Pedro really tends to drive the price of various excursions down to very manageable levels, although everything added up quickly after three days!

Immediately upon arriving midday Friday we decided to look for an easy excursion to take that afternoon. Luckily for us, one of the most incredible sunsets in the world just so happens to take place in the Valle de la Luna, just outside San Pedro. For just $14 each we were guided on beautiful 2.5 hour hike through salt gorges, reaching the peak of a small cerro which served as our sunset venue. This was our view...


Later that night, after eating a very decent three-course meal in front of a warm fire for $10 US, we went to book some excursions for the following day. There are countless options for day and half-day trips in San Pedro, but we knew that we did not want to wake up at 4am in order to go on the full day geysers and high-alpine lakes tour, even though this is supposed to be incredible (for the next time!). Instead, we negotiated with a tour company to go sandboarding in the morning and see the Salar de Atacama in the afternoon. Fantastic decision.

At first, sandboarding seemed to be a bit counter-productive. The sand dune that we were boarding on was massive, and we had to trek back up through what seemed like a treadmill of sand at full speed after each run to the bottom. I also had no idea that turning is nearly impossible on a sandboard, making the whole activity a lot less interesting than I expected. However, after surviving a few horrific head-over-feet tumbles, I really began to enjoy the simplicity of bombing straight downhill as fast as possible. Before each run the board needs to be waxed, and we each were given a stick of wax with which we could cover the board as little or as much as preferred, translating into different levels of slickness and therefore speed. The highlight was definitely lubing up the board to the max. and bombing it from the high point of the dune, only to take a massive spill at the bottom! I suffered quite a bruise from that...




The trip to the Salar de Atacama (Atacama salt flat) that afternoon was unforgettable. A nearby town called Toconao, containing a large Atacameña population, has a wonderful symbiotic relationship with the surrounding salt flats: numerous knowledgeable guides are hired from the town and a certain percentage of proceeds from park entrance fees are recycled back into the community somehow. It really seems like a case of indigenous eco-tourism done the proper way.

After watching a short video about the ecosystem and formation of the salt flat, we were led out through the massive expanse by a local guide. I have never seen such beautiful contrast in a landscape: off-white salt shards permeate the horizon nearly as far as the eye can see until the yellow and green altiplano (high-alpine plain) rises up to meet the towering peaks of the Andes. Numerous volcanoes, many pushing 6,000 meters (19,260 ft), dominate the skyline just above the salt flats; in fact, one in particular (I no longer remember the name) has erupted quite frequently over the past few decades.


After strolling through a well-worn salt path, we were led to a viewing area situated between two lagoons populated by three of the five still-existing species of flamingo. Why there are even five species of flamingo I have no clue - it certainly seems like one would suffice, as they're all quite similar and similarly useless. Still, they're not too bad to look at, and I snapped tons of photos of the Chilean species grazing the lagoon for small pink organisms (which happen to give them their color). Once the sun set the colors of the surrounding landscape really exploded, and I took a few photos that should be frame-worthy once I return.


After spending that Saturday night eating another nice 3 course meal (this time including some wine) for $10 and having some drinks with a nice Belgian couple in front of a fuego fuerte, we rose early to take our rented mountain bikes ($6 for half-day!) on a promising 20km round trip tour of the Valle de Catarpe. After about 3km, we hit the Pukara ruins, an Atacameña village dating back to the 11th Century if I'm not mistaken. It was in surprisingly good shape considering its age.


After about 6km of pedaling through this amazing valley, we were stopped by a fairly substantial river. At that point it was nearly 11am, and we had a bus to catch at 2:15pm. While the girls immediately decided to turn back to town, I of course couldn't resist the challenge of trying to cross the damn thing. I scoped out different crossings up and down stream, but at its narrow sections the river was simply that much deeper. Still trying to avoid getting soaked in this freezing glacial torrent, I found a somewhat peaceful-looking section and just hit the water at full speed, thinking I might be able to get across. Not quite! I hit the other bank with one leg completely submerged, the girls laughing hysterically and probably thinking "thank God we decided against that".

Obviously having committed to the entire journey by now, I pressed on for another 2km, reaching a steep gorge that led to Tambo Catarpe, an Inca resting place.


After being rewarded with this incredible ruin set on a level hill above the valley, I pressed on to find a very unique church at the 10km mark.


Realizing that time was running very short at this point (I had a bus to catch, after all), I began to really pump the pedals to try to make it back. I found a great spot to cross the river a few hundred meters up stream from where I fell in, but still had to heave my bike across to the other bank and jump after it. Thinking that I was in the clear, I rode hard to meet the regular trail that leads back to San Pedro. Then, surprise! The bank I was on disappeared, and I was forced to cross to the other bank (the side opposite the one I needed!). This time, it didn't go as smoothly, as my bike throw was a few feet short and the damn thing started to drift down stream! I jumped in after it, submerged nearly to my waist. Finally emerging from the river with bike in tow (albeit with a bent handlebar), I needed to cross once more, this time making it but falling on my face after the long jump. At the time (like a complete fool) I wasn't even thinking about my new (and frighteningly expensive) camera stuffed in my backpack - thank God for gore tex, as everything was dry, except for the bottom half of my body. I proceeded to pedal the remaining 6km like a complete fiend, making it back just before checkout time!

Somehow after this entire ordeal I wasn't crippled in any way. In fact, I was pretty damn pumped full of adrenaline at that point, and took one of the most satisfying showers of my life! Before catching the bus, we went to witness a massive parade (probably containing the entire village), held every June 29 in honor of Pedro's (therefore, the town's) Saint's Day.

Having boarded the bus and finally feeling the soporific effects of my adventure, I slumped into my seat with the intention of having a nice nap to pass away the hours. Unfortunately my Dutch-Colombian-Chilean seat-neighbor had other plans for me on that bus ride, and proceeded to divulge the entire story of his conversion to the Rastafarian way of life and admiration for "his Emperor" Haile Selassie. Just when I thought I was in the clear and started to doze off, he dropped a bomb of a question on me:
"What do you think the world will be like in 10 years?"
"Well," I responded sleepily, "China and India will probably be very powerful and gas will be really damn expensive."
My clearly lame attempt to avoid predicting the fate of my country in 10 years did not satisfy him, and of course he pressed on.
"But, hey mannnn, what about your country, the United States of Jorge Bush?"
"In 10 years...hmmmm..."
I knew I was going to have to give him something that would mesh with his "philosophies" for me to be able sleep on that bus ride, so I quickly thew out...
"Well, the first black President in the history of the U.S. will just have left office..."
"Yeah, man, that's what I'm talking about!"

Then I slept a nice deep sleep, thoroughly satisfied by this latest of many personal victories and completely in awe of the desolate beauty of San Pedro and the vast Atacama Desert.

Chilean Hospitality (not to be confused with kidnapping)

I've been intending to write a little something about Chilean hospitality for quite some time now. As the title suggests, and as you will soon discover, the Chilean concept of inviting others to reunions, whether it be to lunch (formal) or to tea (very informal) almost always involves a command and whole lot of deception. Therefore, Chilean invitations are in fact not really invitations at all, but instead premeditated 'requests' with only one right answer: YES. To say no to an initial invitation, folks, is like turning down a personal invitation from the Pope to take a private tour of the Vatican Gardens: you just don't do it. If, in fact, you do turn down someone's initial invitation - well, I won't even cross that line - like I said, you just don't do it.

I'll give a particularly demonstrative example.

The other day, as I was preparing to walk into town to meet with the other volunteers in order to discuss all-important plans for the upcoming winter vacation, my family randomly suggested that we go check out a popular sandy crescent-shaped beach called cifuncho. At the time, it was already 4pm, and I had planned on meeting them at 4:30. Also note that the family had been particularly keen on grilling me the entire day about my poor Spanish, and I was truly looking forward to speaking English with the others and having some time to rewind.
"But it's so close," they said.
"How close?"
"Only ten minutes, we swear!"
"OK, sure," I innocently responded.

How could I possibly turn down an offer to visit a beautiful sandy crescent-shaped beach? We hopped in their 1990 Nissan pickup (complete with massive windshield-length crack) and flew up the highway to meet the Panamerican South. After 10 minutes or so we met the Panamerican, as well as a glaring sign that reads "Cifuncho: 35km"

"35KM!!!" I screamed, while the entire family was laughing hysterically and chanting "estas secuestrado, estas secuestrado!" (You're kidnapped). Needless to say, I did not appreciate this.

We arrived at the beach at 4:30, exactly the time I had promised to meet the other volunteers in town. The beach was admittedly gorgeous - a huge crescent framed on both ends by jagged cliffs and dark volcanic rock, with calm waves - but after 30 seconds of attempting to assuage my frustration by staring out to sea the whole family decided it was time to hop back in the car.


"OK Max, tienes un reunion, vamos a regressar!"
"What? Leave already? We just got here, and I'm going to miss it anyway!"

Nonetheless, we hopped back in, speeding along the highway in the white deathtrap at 140km/hr with no seat belts. Clearly, for those of you who know me very well, I was not a happy camper at this point. My independence had been completely revoked, I had been crudely teased by a fleeting beach visit, and my vehicular safety was clearly compromised. However much I wanted to display these emotions and just engage them in a lengthy shouting match, I could not, as after all, they had just taken their time and spent decent gas money showing me their favorite beach on a gorgeous day. It clearly did not register with them that a gringo reunion (which I sorely needed at the time) could possibly trump a one hour car trip to see a beautiful beach for 30 seconds. And who was I to tell them otherwise?

We finally rolled into town 45 minutes late. Walter, my homestay father, lamented the fact that he was already at empty after having filled up the week prior. "Wow," I wanted to respond, "Big %@*&#* surprise! You were going 140km/hr in an old pickup truck after all!" Fuming with frustration over my violated autonomy and disrespected plans, I rushed to meet the others so I could vent. Fortunately however, I have yet to find a funk that 5 minutes of speaking English can't cure!

Disclaimer: this is an example of Chilean hospitality gone wrong. Many good examples to come!

The Strike Has Ended

So the Chilean Congress passed the controversial education law anyway. Meaning, in effect, that the teachers simply gave up after finding out that their efforts went unnoticed. Seems kind of like a cop-out to me, but hey, the students do need to get back to school after all! Also, I heard that a strike longer than one week would have cut into winter vacation time (in order to make up classes). In retrospect, the whole strike seemed a bit half-hearted to me, especially in the particular high school in which I'm teaching.

So classes finally started back up yesterday. Although the terms of my "contract" require a full week of observation, I was eager to start out on my own, so the co-teacher, Boris, and I began with split classes in the morning. Everything went pretty well, although I still don't have a wipe-board! This makes teaching a whole lot more difficult, as I have no way to show the students what they're supposed to be repeating and no model for discussions.

In general, high school classes (middle school as well) can be summed up in one particularly appropriate chilenismo that I have adopted as my favorite: Cumpleaños de Mono ("Monkey's Birthday"). Just picture what a monkey's birthday party might consist of for a second...yes, that is the Chilean education system for you. Kids make calls during class, blast music through earphones from their cell phones, walk around the room, and generally disrespect the teacher in every way possible. Luckily, I don't have to deal with other volunteers' stories of kids making out for an entire class period because there are very few girls in my school. Yet today, at the request of my co-teacher, I went over to speak with one student who reeked of Marijuana. It was 9:30 in the morning! What have I signed up for?

So far, however, I have witnessed fairly decent behavior in my breakdown classes. Because the whole English class splits for two 45 minute periods, I haven't had more than 15 students at one time. This definitely prevents some of the Cumpleaños de Mono, but what really should prevent it is the class division. I specifically went over the entire roll call with the co-teacher in order to split up best friends and various partners-in-crime. Yes, I know what you're thinking...great call.

I am really looking forward to getting back into a normal work habit this week. I was incredibly lazy all last week during the strike, and I feel extremely unhealthy after partaking in minimal physical activity. This is definitely one of those get-back-on-track weeks! Today is a perfect day to start: very warm, completely sunny, and fried fish (fresh off the morning boats) for lunch!

Chao Everyone... I hope all is well.

Mi Familia Chilena

“Max, tu vas a pololear a ca in Taltal?” was literally the first question I received from my family when I arrived. Although the translation into English isn’t all that smooth, they were basically asking me whether I planned on searching for a Chilean girlfriend (polola=girlfriend; pololear=verb form, literally “girlfriending”). Although my answer of “no, thank you” probably thwarted some of their lofty gossiping ambitions, it certainly didn’t faze them all that much, since they still haven’t stopped asking me this question.

They are five strong (eight if you count dogs, twenty if you count voice strength and volume of conversation): Walter, father, 44; Carmen, mother, 43; Cristian, son, 17; Stephanie (Boni), daughter, 13; and Alexandra, daughter, 11. They also have three Maltese dogs: Francisco Javier, father, 4; Francisca, mother, 4; Francisca Javiera, daughter, 3 months. Oh, and Francisca Javiera, the perrita (puppy), just so happens to be one of the cutest dogs I have ever seen, even though I don’t like Maltese very much.

Walter and Carmen are the biggest jokers I have ever encountered in my short life. Literally everything is a joke for them - which is great fun for me most of the time – especially when the jokes are at my expense (which they often are). However, their constant joking presents a particularly difficult problem, namely, I hardly ever understand them until I’ve said “no entiendo” (I don't understand) twenty times and ruined the hilarity for everyone. Their absolute favorite source of roasting is Lisa, another volunteer teacher in town from Champagne/Urbana, Illinois. Because she has very light skin and blonde hair (they call her “La Rubia”), they think I must want her to be my polola. They simply won’t take no for an answer. Every day, in fact every five minutes, they ask me “how is your polola Lisa?” or if my cell phone rings, “oh Max, it’s your polola Lisa calling!” I’m beginning to think that I should have told them I was married the minute I arrived. In fact, they just barged into my room two seconds a go because Lisa called my cell and it happened to be in the living room. “Max, corre! Lisa ha llamada!” (Max, run, Lisa called!) I’m really not sure how much more I can take!

Their other favorite joke is one that I came up with in Spanish – something I am very proud of – and it’s actually not that funny, but go easy on me guys…I made a joke in Spanish! Palta is avocado in Spanish, and they happen to eat tons of it (score!). One day, they asked me what palta is in English, and I told them. Avocado said in Spanish, however, sounds exactly like “abogado” (lawyer), because they pronounce v’s like b’s. After the entire family attempted to pronounce avocado for a full minute, I came up with “Si, las paltas estudian en la escuela del derecho para hacerse abogado!” In English, “Yeah, avocados study at law school to become lawyers!” Lame, I know, but they loved it.

The three children are extremely well-behaved and always help out around the house. Cristian, the 17 year-old, is in 12th grade (cuarto) at Liceo Politecnico, the school where I teach. Lucky for Cristian, however, I don’t teach his class! He gets muy vergonzoso (very embarrassed) whenever he walks around town with me, probably because I say “buenas dias!” to literally every person I pass in Taltal (he simply doesn’t understand this). It’s not like I have a habit of saying hello to everyone, and I certainly don’t do that in the U.S., but literally every person stares so intently at the gringo that I’m forced to say hello in order to break the awkwardness. The other day I went for a run with Cristian to the beach and much to his chagrin I decided to pass through town on the way back. At one point he thought he saw some friends from school, so he dropped back about 15 feet behind me, started to walk, and brought out his cell phone and pretended to check his messages. He’s so timid! Here in Chile, they call the years between 16-18 “El Edad del Pavo”, literally, “The Age of the Duck”. It describes that time period perfectly!

The two young daughters, Alexandra and Stephanie, are pretty quiet and very well mannered. They also love to make fun of me – especially about girls – but for the most part they’re pretty tranquilo. They’re on their laptops for an incredible amount of time each day – it’s truly amazing how little outdoor activity kids get around here. For the most part, they would rather play computer games than play sports or go down to the beach. At least Cristian plays a lot of soccer, and is always willing to bring me along to play even though I pretty much suck. But watch, by the time I get back from Chile I’ll be the American version of Cristiano Ronaldo, haha.

The bottom line is I feel like I am truly a member of the family. Everyone is so easy-going and open to discussing literally every topic – to use a particularly extreme example – Carmen has absolutely no qualms about discussing sex around the entire family, in fact, she keeps two boxes of condoms in the refrigerator. Certainly peculiar and interesting, yes, but I find it to be unbelievably refreshing in a country where little attention is paid to birth control and girls are often getting pregnant at 13 and 14 here in Taltal. Although Cristian (17) is in no way sexually active yet, I think it’s great that his parents are that open with him and want to ensure that he takes the appropriate measures when he’s ready.

Beyond that, my laundry is done for me, I have a nice big room, and the food has been great, although one big meal a day (lunch) is hard to get used to. I am so accustomed to having a large breakfast, small lunch, and large dinner that the total switcheroo is throwing me off a bit, although I’ll get used to it eventually. I live a bit far from town (in Taltal that means a whopping 15-20 min. walk), but I wouldn’t change my family here for 100,000 Chilean pesos (only $200, haha). They’ve been absolutely great, even if they are nearly impossible to understand at times, and I can’t wait to spend a full five more months here!

Here are some pictures, and if you guys have any questions about my living arrangements, family, food, etc, just comment, because I can’t continue this marathon post any longer.

Walter

Carmen

Cristian

Alexandra

Stephanie (Boni)

Francisca, the puppy

A Panoramic View of Taltal

Bienvenidos!

Looking North

Looking West towards the mountains

Looking South towards the town center

Sunset facing East on the Pacific

Las Huelgistas

Hola Mis Amigos de EE UU,

Today I was informed that teachers, along with students, will be on strike here in Chile next week. And honestly, even though I sat in on a lengthy, heated teacher's meeting today at my school, I still have only a slight idea why they are striking (maybe due to my poor Spanish?). The first, and probably most important, reason that I have deduced is that there exists an entrenched culture of striking in Chile. I'm actually beginning to think that striking in Chile is similar to the all-too-familiar and carefully-planned song and dance commonly known as health insurance in the US. Por ejemplo: get sick, go to the doctor (or emergency room in my case), hospital submits claim, insurance company denies, patient complains 487234 times, insurance company finally pays. Entonces, in the Chilean education system: Chilean Congress passes questionable law dealing with education (sometimes not even very questionable), teachers (or even students) threaten to strike, Chilean Congress continues to threaten to pass law, teachers and students go on strike, el gobierno threatens to cut jobs, teachers and students threaten to remain on strike forever, and so on and so forth. Yet concerning the latter I still have yet to find out which side typically concedes. I'll certainly know by the end of next week (con suerte)!

The second, and most presently relevant reason, is that the Chilean Congress is planning to pass some law that will prevent something from happening and allow some other things to happen that will make public school teachers veryyyy angry. This is the complex information that I picked up while sitting in on the heated teacher's meeting at the Liceo Polytecnico. At one point, I kind of just pumped my fist in the air for no reason (especially since I couldn't understand much)...but it certainly felt appropriate at the time. I think it also has something to do with allowing more semi-private and private schools to exist in the system, therefore pushing out some public schools that of course are necessary to allow the poor to attend school until 12th grade, but I can't really be sure, haha...

Seriously though, one thing to take note of when discussing the passage of new laws in the Chilean Congress: since the departure of General Pinochet in 1990, Chile has dealt with a very sensitive legislative situation. Pinochet, having been a dictator, was able to mold the constitution and pass amendments fairly easily. Many of these amendments were aimed at benefiting certain extraction industries (therefore particular companies). Obviously, this strange version of authoritarian capitalism has in many ways allowed Chile to economically develop far beyond other South American nations, especially when one looks at the income Chile derives from mining (copper, gold, formerly nitrate) and forestry exports. On the other hand, the sudden introduction of democracy in 1990 presented a particularly delicate situation in which the constitution needed a major renovation to allow the existence of an efficient democracy, yet drastic changes could not be made at the risk of repeating the same mistakes of the Pinochet era. Therefore, systemic legislative modifications are still taking place to this day in order to reflect a more democratic government.

So, I will keep everyone posted on how the strike progresses once Monday rolls around. The students, of course, are threatening to strike "in solidarity" with the professors, but I've yet to figure out if here in Taltal this means that the students are genuinely concerned about the passage of the law or if it just means they want more time off of school. At least in my school, it is quite possibly the latter, although many students have said that their workload is horrible after a strike because the teachers simply double up their lesson plans. We'll see what happens!

Hasta Luego a Todos!

A Couple More Photos and First Impressions of Taltal

Well Guys,

I arrived in Taltal on Monday night. By now it feels like I've been here for two weeks! This past weekend we stayed in Antofagasta for one night to see the city and attend a short orientation with the regional director of the Ingles Abre Puertas (English Opens Doors) program. Antofagasta is fairly unimpressive - it's city bordering the driest desert in the world (Atacama) after all - and just so happens to look very much like a mini-Lima. The coastline is even a bit rockier and far less inviting - more pollution I think. Still, the city happens to have a mall the size of Garden State, haha, with stores lined up as follows: pharmacy, futbol store, ugly clothing store, cell phone store, pharmacy, futbol store, ugly clothing store, cell phone store, and so on and so forth. Besides this never-ending cycle, there was actually a car store, as in a car dealership of every manufacturer, right inside the mall! Inside one of the futbol gear stores (I think it was Diadora), I tried to buy a very nice pair of sneakers, only to be told that they don't order any shoes beyond size 10. Yes, folks, I feel like a giant here. When I explain to people that my height (5'10") is the absolute norm for men in the US, they simply don't believe me! My Chilean gigantism is also exacerbated by the fact that the average height of my host family is approx. 5'1" - Father, 5'4" or so; Mother, maybe 4'10"; Brother, 5'5"? Sisters, about 4'11" each, haha.

Taltal is pretty much what I expected. We had to hop on a four-hour bus south from Antofagasta on Monday afternoon, even after taking a twenty-hour bus ride north from Santiago on Saturday - they could have just dropped us off on the way! All of the host families were at the bus stop when we arrived. My host family, along with my co-English teacher, brought me to the house and thus began my total immersion. It feels great to be back into the swing of speaking Spanish...even after a short three days I feel like I'm already back to my end-of-Peru form. With a solid amount of studying grammar and constant absorption of new vocabulary I should be fluent by the time I go back!

I will post some photos of Taltal when I get a chance to take some this weekend. It is very third world when compared to a city like Santiago, but very similar to what I experienced in the areas surrounding Cusco. First impressions of the school: I'M SCARED OUT OF MY MIND. It's very different from any school that any of us attended in the US. First impressions of the family: AWESOME. I live a bit far from the center of town, however, and the four other volunteers are living right in the center, so I feel a bit cut off at times.

Must get to sleep now though...my Chilean parents smoke a bit in the house and I'm starting to feel something brewing in my throat! I will be posting separate updates about the family and the school in the next few days since I have so much to tell and so little time.

Now, two more photos...

The Atacama Desert while entering Antofagasta.

El Santuario at Cerro San Cristobal.

A Few Nice Shots from Santiago de Chile

Cerro San Cristobal

HUGE variety of palm trees in Santiago.

Found this building close to the hostel I was staying at.

Week In Santiago

Hola Amigos!

I am writing this from seat number four on the salon cama bus en route Santiago to Antofagasta. It is currently hour SEVEN of TWENTY. Yes, folks, TWENTY. I’ve no idea how many km’s this trip actually is, but I imagine about 1600…pretty much like driving from NJ to Florida. The one upside is, however, that salon cama just so happens to mean sleeper bus – as in I basically have a seat that should belong in International Business class on Singapore Airlines. Not so bad really! Another interesting thing about buses in Chile: each one has a sensor that beeps when the driver goes above 100 km’s/hr (60 mph), and I think that sensor actually sends a signal to the bus company headquarters. Two words: Thank God. Peruvian buses really need to adopt that system, because they simply scare the crap out of me.

Sorry for the late post - this past week has been a complete blur filled with incredibly cheap Chilean vino and way too many orientation classes. In fact, I’m so sick of positive reinforcement that I just want someone to tell me I’m a fool and can’t teach for crap! Every single session went “OK, very good, here are some small things that you could change to make the lesson more effective, but overall a very nice job.” Some people really needed to be told that their lessons were awful, because they truly were, but the TEFL teachers were too nice way too often.

Monday was spectacularly exhausting. I got off the plane at 8am, only to arrive at the hostel at 10am to be told that I needed to take a Spanish evaluation test ASAP. I went straight into the classroom without having showered or brushed my teeth only to find the HARDEST damn three-hour Spanish test I could ever imagine. I ended up getting a 36/100, so clearly better than every AP Chemistry test I took in Senior year of high school, but still not too respectable. After taking that test I thought I was going to be the lone minimal Spanish speaker, but I ended up being placed in the intermediate Spanish class for some odd reason. Most likely because I am very good at pretending that my Spanish is passable…meaning I say the only things I know how to say very quickly and with the best accent possible. Still, this can present some especially challenging situations, especially when Chileans respond to my rapid speaking with something COMPLETELY unknown to me. Then, folks, I am immediately identified as a gringo, as if the really sweet zip-off pants doesn’t already do the job.

The rest of the week was a total jumble in my brain, although I managed two fantastic jogs up Cerro Santa Lucia and Cerro San Cristobal, followed by a fantastic asado, or barbeque, on Friday night. Just arrived in Antofagasta now, will write a larger update once I arrive in Taltal on Monday night. I also have a few very cool pictures that I took while in Santiago, but I can't seem to post them right now because of a sketchy internet connection. I will definitely be posting them once I get settled in Taltal!

Hasta Pronto Todos!