A River Runs Through It...

Yes, this actually happened. Take a good look at this picture and make sure you are seeing everything correctly. Nevermind the decent rainbow trout, there is a hook lodged in my upper lip! Believe what you will for this is afterall a fishing story (possibly my best), but I can assure you im not exaggerating. I suppose every fly fisherman hooks himself at some point- this was my first...
On friday, I was invited to go fishing with Thomas Schalchli and his father, who are both avid fly fisherman. Excited to inaugurate my new rod here in Chile, I couldn´t wait to get going. On saturday, I went over to Tom´s house to organize gear for our sunday morning departure. Once we gathered everything, Mr. Schalchli showed me his giant fish freezers, his private fly tying room, and tons of pictures from past fishing excursions. The following morning, we drove one hour south on the Pan-American highway and then some distance east toward the mountain range. Mr. S, like every other person in Los Angeles, works in forestry and was pointing out all the plots of land that he managed. To acsess the river we drove on the forest maintance roads dodging fallen trees and giant pot holes. The first few hours of fishing were wonderful, however, the wind was fierce! And so on an unfortunate back cast a gust wind whipped Mr. Schalchli´s hand tied Caddis right into my upper lip. I had caught myself. Full of embarassment and as helpless as the fish I had previsouly caught, I stumbled down river to where Tom and his father were casting. We managed to cut the line, but the barb was inbedded deep in my skin and so attempting to remove it would have been difficult. Mr. S said we´d better drive back to Los Angeles and visit the medical clinic. I knew trying to remove it right then and there would only worsen my predicament, but a part of me wanted to keep fishing. Moreover, I felt awful that I was the reason for our early return. Not exactly sure how express myself, I proceeded with the comic approach and said things like, "I was just really hungry..." and "looks like I caught the biggest one today, eh?". I spent the entire ride home outlining this entry in my head trying to restrain myself from touching my accidental lip ring. In the clinic waiting room, I couldn´t do anything but laugh at the looks I recieved. Luckily, the removal procedure was quick and painless, however, with all this anesthetic in my lips right now I cant exactly speak, let alone roll my Spanish R´s. My host parents are in Santiago for family reasons and wont be arriving until later tonight. I can´t wait to try and tell this story in Spanish over dinner...

How to Survive in the Chilean Jungle

I have been in Chile for almost two months now (its hard to believe) and I´ve made several oberservations about the language, lifestyle, and food. Ill start with my dictionary, "How to Survive in the Chilean Jungle", by John Brennan- an encyclodepia of Chilean slang complete with photo demonstrations and diagrams. This book translates all the R-rated english curse words, but more entertainingly it defines the "Chileanismos" or the slang terms that are only understood here in Chile. A few of my favorites include "perro muertro", which translates to the act of dinning and dashing and "A lo gringo", which means you´ve forgotten to put on underpants. Why Chileans would relate the Gringos with forgotten underpants is beyond me. This brings me to the word "Weon" (pronounced WAY-OWN), which Brennan describes as, "Chile´s prized addition to the Spanish language". When you call someone a "weon", youre calling them an idiot, but its used more like the words "dude" or "man". I couldn´t even count how many times its used in simple conversation, but literally every sentance begins and ends with "weon" and for girls "weona". And of course its used in various contexts, for example, you can descirbe something as being "weonismo"or say "estoy weando" (im just kidding). I have been told by my host parents, friends, and even teachers that Chileans speak a very poor version of the Castillian language. For example, they conjugate some verbs in "tu" form differently. Instead of "hablas"or"estas" its "hablai" and "estai". Moreover, everyone finishes words and phrases with "po", which is short for "pues". For example,"sipo", "yapo", "no sépo". I find myself saying "po" a lot and everyone thinks its hilarious to hear the gringo use the Chilean version of Spanish. We heard a presentation in school the other day and the girl next to me pinpointed the speaker as a Venezuelan just by the way he spoke. I started paying attention to these variations after we watched documentary aboot the linguistic differences between Canada and the US (I was the only one laughing).

The food is delicious and im finding dishes that I love, but im also missing things that were otherwise my staple back home. Ill start with the Completo. At first I thought this was disgusting, but now I am an absolute fan. The completo is baiscally a hotdog, yet its bun has slightly higher sidewalls to carry all its condiments. The basic ingredients include: diced tomatoes, a thick layer of guacamole, lots of mayonnaise, and too much ketchup, but you usually have the option of adding onions and mustard. It takes two or three bites of pure condiments before you get to the hotdog and they come in various sizes depending on your appetite. On another note, Chileans don´t like peanut butter-they sell it in stores, but very few people eat it. I try to convince my hostmother that its not used like regular butter, but she keeps on putting it on the table in case I want to add it to dinner. My father is warming to the PB&J and he likes the idea of "ants on a log", however, my hostmother refuses to eat it. Although I am surviving, Chileans dont sell pretzels - I cant think of a day thats gone by where I havent eaten pretzels (with hummus). But the empanadas I absolutely love- theres a place called Los Molinos (the windmills) down the road from school where we´ll eat lunch every once and a while. I usually come home for lunch becuase the Nana cooks. The only downside to this is we will eat the same dish for dinner and so, more often than not, I find myself eating lentils for lunch, dinner, and then leftover lentil soup the following day. Nevertheless, I have gained weight, and so maybe the freshman 15 doesnt apply only to first year college students...

Fiestas Patrias

September 18th is Chile´s Independence day and, to be honest, I learned more about the county´s and history and traditions in this one week than I had in the entire month prior. On the last day of classes before vacation, we had a school wide presentation and celebration. Everyone wore traditional "huaso" clothing, which for girls included a brightly colored flower dress and for boys, boots, spurs, hat, and jacket. I felt a little out of place, even the German exchange student had a dress, but it was fine. I decided before I leave im going to buy atleast a hat. Earlier that week, I was asked to join a group that would play the traditional folk music as others preformed the "cueca", the national dance. It was an honor since the music director told me he´d never incorporated an exchange student in the presentation before. After every class presented a form of either the cueca or a dance from Easter Island, we went outside and enjoyed a buffet of Empanadas and Alfajores (sp?)- a common dessert and by far the best tasting combination of dulce de leche (manjar) and cookies I have ever had.
The following week, we drove 5 hours north to San Vicente and El Tambo, two smaller towns on the outskirts of Santiago where the family´s Campo was located. I had visited the property before, but it was dark and I never got a good view of the place. It sat at the base of a rather tall mountain, although the backdrop image of Andes made it seem like a hill. All around the house were different types of trees: lemons, oranges, grapefruits, avocado, chestnuts, almonds, walnuts... and of course a cluster of grape vines. My "grandparents" make their own jelly, wine, and enjoy fresh fruit all year around. For three days strait we celebrated the indpendence with extended family and enjoyed endless barbecue. Every morning my grandmother would wake up early and prepare homemade empandads de Pino. Pino is a mixture of meat and onions, but added to every empanada is one olive, one rasin, and a bit of a hard boiled egg- I don't understand why exactly, but it is delicious. We used a traditional clay oven to cook the meat and, with strict direction of my grandmother, I prepared my own empanada. I brought along a bottle of Millstone Maple Syrup as a gift for the grandparents and, like my host parents, they aknowledged the gesture and stored it away. It was clear they weren´t going to try it any time soon... so that night during tea I took it out and made everyone try it. They instantly fell in love and started adding it to bread, tea, bannanas, and even ate pure spoofulls. Eventhough I struggled to describe the process, they were all impressed that I had contributed to making it, especially since the grandparents prepare alot of dishes from fresh produce on their farm.
The next morning my uncle, Andres, woke me up and said, "gringo, lets go". Wasn't exactly sure where and to be honest this guy was a little intimidating. People call me gringo, but he would take it a step too far, asking me, "Como esta aya en Gringolandia?" and "Por que no estas en el ejercitio con Papi Bush?". He turned out by the "funny uncle" and once I joined his game of sarcasm we got along quite well. More than anyone else, Andres would sit and talk with me about Chile and just about anything. We were on a mission to buy Chicha- a traditional sweet wine- that is often served in a cup made from a bull´s horn. After two wrong addresses, we found our Chicha vendor and syphined the wine strait from the barrel into the Coca Cola bottles we brought along. Satisfied, we returned to the Campo, or farm, and began the third and last bbq. In between the lunch BBQ and the dinner BBQ we played a recreational game with Tejos, which was alot like bochi except we used heavy discs (Tejos) and tossed them baiscally into a pile of mud. I partnered with my father in a tournament and lost in the final match against his father...
That night we went out to a "ramada" or "fonda", which is like a carnival with live music and such. It would have been fun if I had been with friends or at least people my age- I graciously declined several invitations to dance with my aunt...nonetheless it was a good time. El Deciocho was filled with tradition, culture, good food, and good people. When I was asked to compare the festivities to the 4th of July I was a little embarrassed that we didnt have a traditional dance or a typical food. With or with out fireworks, I enjoyed Las Fiestas Patrias here in Chile much more than in the States.

Snowboarding?

With borrowed boots at least a size too large and a snowboard about a foot too short, I headed south to Mt. Corralco with friends of the family. I was estatic to get the oppurtunity to travel further south and to ski down the 13, 000ft giant located just a few kilometers west of the Argentinian border. Although it is winter, it rains ceaslessly in the Bio- Bio region and come summer it will remain consistently dry. To find snow you have to reach the higher elevations in the Andes Mountain range. From what I have been told, the current weather conditions are unusual; it pours continuously and many people are suffering from flooding rivers and city streets.
Proceding slowly through the wind and rain, we drove by the large agricultural plots maintained by the foresty industries and passed audacious bike riders pedaling through the unfortunate weather. Some things are just different; pedestrian traffic on major highways, stray dogs around every corner, eating dinner past 10:00 pm...
The rain showed no signs of stopping when we arrived at the small cabin and I questioned the possiblity of snow. After hours of competitive card games and passing the guitar around, we got to bed at around 3:00 am- it was no surprise that no one woke up until 11:00 the following morning. Since the weather wasn´t looking promising we collectively decided not to go skiing; however, made a deal to wake up before 8:00am on Sunday . Instead, we fled to Malalcahuello, a thermal spring and spa, where we spent the afternoon in the naturally hot water. After wallowing in the hot tubs, we returned home for endless barbeque, more music, and a never ending game of Uno (my friends were confused that the universal card game didnt translate to ¨one¨ in the USA).
We held on to the promise to wake up early; however, when arrived to the mountain in the morning it was closed becuase of poor conditions. We could have guessed that weather would only be worse at 10,000ft, but I didnt think the entire hill would close down during prime skiing season. And so we did not go snowboarding, but nevertheless, I enjoyed getting close and hopefully I´ll find another opportunity to see some snow. As for meeting new people and having a good weekend, the trip was worthwhile.

Santiago

Chileans function on a very relaxed schedule. I was told we would be departing for Santiago at approximately 11am since its about a 6 hour drive from Los Angeles. However, we did not wake up until a quarter after and didnt eat breakfast until nearly 11:45. It has been rather easy to adapt to this lax lifestyle and I think Im going to enjoy it. Once we were finally packed and in the car it was four in the afternoon. We drove north on Route 5, which spands the entire length of the country, for about 4 hours until we arrived at the grandparent´s house, or "El Campo" as they call it. There to welcome us was Ricardo´s father as well as three of his brothers and their families. In El Campo, there was a sense of the country side and the tradition of the Huaso-the Chilean cowboy- and, although it was dark, I was told the property sat just beneath the Andes Mountain Range.
Over dinner, my host father pointed at the man sitting at the head of the table and said, ¨this is my father¨, which I had understood clearly when first introduced. Then, my hostmother acknowledged the woman sitting beside him, his wife, and said, "this is my mother¨. Now I was confused. I nodded my head with little reassurance as they all laughed at my perplexed facial expression. Over dinner, desert, and several cups of tea, my host mother and grandmother struggled to explain to me that both sides of the family had gone through divcorces and that Vici and Ricardo werent actually brother and sister. Shortly after dinner, we boarded the family´s four-door Nisan pick up and finished the remaining 200km distance to their apartment in Santiago.

Living in Santiago were Nacho´s older siblings Daniella and Ricardo, who were both studying at Universities in the city. I was particually interested to hear that Daniella´s boy friend was the director of the Spanish copyright of TV show The Office. The next day, we attened another family reunion, but this time I was prepared with the knowledge of their unique family tree. That afternoon we drove Nacho to the Santiago International Airport to catch his flight to Stateline, Nevada and his new home on the coast of Lake Tahoe. We arrived a safe 3 hours before departure and Nacho proceded through checking and security with no issues. The plane was in the gate and the weather was clear, but the family insisted on waiting until it took off. Two and a half hours later... the departure screen for AA flight 954 changed from "On time" to "Boarding" to "Last Call" and finally to "Departure" and then we hurried outside to watch the plane take off. It seemed a little excessive, but the family was pleased to stay close until the last moment.

Despite being one of the most polluted cities in the world, Santiago was interesting. Although we were in a urban setting, I enjoyed the picturesque view of the Andes which could be seen perfectly outside the apartment´s balcony. Before daprting, again behind schedule, we ate at a traditional Chilean restuarant, where we all shared empanadas with pevere (a tipical salsa), and an array of surf and turf. We arrived in Los Angeles at around 1:30am and I had to wake up for school the following morning...

First Impressions

August 20, 2008

Well, im in school now and easily confused by everything. Yesterday was my firsty day, however; I came with Nacho, my host brother, and now im on my own. I´ve learned quickly that Chileans dont heat anything. For instance, to take a shower in the morning you have to run down stairs and ignite a heater (a custom that I was not aware of for my first three showers). If only I had read the "Chile: Customs and Traditions" book I brought along, I might not be suffering from this small cold. I keep telling myself, "taylor you lived on a glacier for thirty days", but really I am cold, always. I have yet to be formally introduced to a principle or a teacher for that matter, which strikes me as strange and makes me wonder if they even know that im in the school. For the most part we remain in one class and the teachers rotate through, but every once and a while everyone gets up and departs for another room- there must be a bell, but i have yet to hear even the slightest noise. Since I dont have an established schedule I usually follow the people that ive actually managed to maintain a fluent conversation with. Today that brought me to an all girls Art History class and I dove right into Renaissance art. Despite my initial interpretation, El Colegio Aleman de Los Angeles does have a strong German influence. When I first entered the Klasse Aleman (as its spelled on the door) the boy infront of me turned around, and in broken English said, "Do you know Ronald Macdonald?¿" Confused, I continued through the door to see the teacher dressed in a flambouyant organge sweater with massive orange hair- it was rather hilarious. As if she doesnt know how foreign I am, she asked me to read from the German story we were working with. I later learned she was a substitute and actually didnt speak Spanish either. Its too strange to sit through an English class and observe people trying to learn my first language. I think I finally understand why you cant truly learn Spanish, or any language for that matter, in the class room. You really do need to become emersed and use it daily. However, everytime I turn on the radio, TV, or use the computer im blasted with pop culutre from the states. I´ve yet to hear Juanes on the radio instead, I cant escape Britney Spears, Fallout Boy, Yellowcard, and more. Anyhow, I am enjoying Nacho´s selection of Dispatch and Bob Marley. Bueno, me voy, escribire mas luego.