Because it's Chile

The past couple of weeks in Arica have flown by. School is finally back to normal (which means normal interruptions such as Holy Week, exams, holidays, etc) and I am loving it. The students are so much fun. They are quirky and obnoxious as all adolescents tend to be, but how boring would it be if they were any other way? Working with so many levels is a bit overwhelming, and sometimes hard to keep track of, but Chilean students are all about fairness. You can bet that if I mess up the class, they will tell me. I have twenty four groups per week, they wear uniforms and have the same hair and eye color. It would be nothing short of a miracle if I didn't make at least one mistake per day. As far as recognizing them outside of school...forget about it. Unless they have on their uniforms when I am out with the other volunteers and they say Hola profe, we all wave. Because there is no way for us to keep track of who they are talking to.

Life outside of school is great as well. I went back to Tacna, with Vladimir, not grandma, last weekend and this weekend will be going to Lluta again to start getting ready for the big day, the family's cross day. It is a much bigger deal than I realized, I was given an official invitation, with my name (misspelled), even though I live with the family and there are three on the fridge already. They were insistent that Vladimir passed by to get his yesterday as well. No texting a day and time. Grandma has made a total of four trips to Tacna to check on the progress of the cloths for the cross, and this weekend we start preparing the cross for the big day two weeks from now. It is all so official. And confusing. And beautiful. Mainly confusing. As are most things in Chile. Read on for to see what a typical day in Chile is like.

Life in Chile is is a maze for any foreigner, and speaking the language has hardly made it any less confusing. Because in Chile they don't speak Spanish. They speak Chilean. They invent words as they wish, change conjugations because why not, eat half of what they should be saying and, to top it off, don't ever finish the ends of their words. Oh, and they change the meaning of words that already exist. Up is down, down is up, or maybe it's to fix, or maybe, depending on the mood, it is a direction. On a rare occassion, down can even mean (wait for it) down. But that's only if they're feeling crazy. Privacy and personal space is not a concept. A closed door is not a barrier. A locked one hardly provides a challenge, as my window opens to inside the house, they open that to talk to me. Pee time is not me time, because there are openings above the doors where wall or window should be, so it's conversation time. It is not required to be fully clothed to walk about the house, but heaven forbid you don't have shoes on inside, that's disgusting, cochina (piggy). It's fine to breathe down the neck of the person in line in front of you at the grocery store. Even if you are the only two in the store, who wants space of their own anyways? There is no drinking allowed in the streets. Unless you put it in a bag. Or are one of the many homeless drunks or drug addicts that call the street their home. Because you can drink in your home. Loopholes. You cannot possibly survive without bread. The toilet paper does not go in the toilet. You have to ignite the gas to get hot water, and shut it off immediately after using. Unplug whatever is not in use. But leave on any light you wish to, even if you leave the house. Do not leave the house alone, maybe it will run away. Be terrified of any natural disaster, stranger, car, animal or object. Always. Always ask permission before leaving a room, entering a room, standing up from the table, etc. But don't wait for an answer. Be kind to everyone, but gossip is as necessary as bread. Telenovelas are a family event, even the children can tell you who killed whom, who slept with which hooker and who we should all be hating this episode. Collective gasps and dios mio are exchanged through the show, my stiffled giggles are not welcomed. The characters are real people. Therefore, a normal dinner conversation includes  extensive gossip about the curly haired Brazilian in the whore house in Istanbul who is missing, and her black mother in Brazil planning a trip to search for her. No one bothers to learn the actual names. Chileans are some of the most confusing and intrusive people I have met, but for it they are the most wonderful and caring. If I need anything, any one of them would drop what they're doing and offer a thousand solutions to my problem. Each more complicated than the previous, without a single one being of any help anyways. Because it's Chile. Cachai?

Exploring

Adobe house damaged by quake

Fishermen on Playa Chinchorro (near my school)

Chilean flag

Everything is settling back down and going back to normal in Arica post quakes, although they say a bigger one is expected. Today, tomorrow, or in fifty years. So until it happens, or not, it's business as usual. Damage was minimal but even still schools remained closed until Tuesday, giving ample time for inspection, trauma and students meetings and for me, ample play time. I've been going to the beach, playing with the kiddos and took a couple of day trips. Sunday Vladimir and I joined a tour group to Lake Chungará, the 29th highest lake in the world, at almost 16,000 feet. The lake gives way to three snow capped volcanoes and is surrounded by grazing llamas and birds of prey. Along the way we stopped at the famous candelabra cacti in the Atacama, the worlds driest desert houses cacti that exist by absorbing the morning dew, we had breakfast in small town where we watched a llama chase a cat and drank coca leaf tea, stopped at lookouts for photos, the lake and then a small town on the way back. It was a long day that exposed us to five different zones, beginning at the desert and going up to the mountainous lake. The altitude was higher than I've ever experienced and we found that we got dizzy moving at a normal pace, and forget about squatting down for the perfect shot. And thank goodness for that tea.

Atacama desert, driest in the world

 Candelabra cactus

    

View of Parinacota volcano

Coca leaf tea

Llama chasing a cat

    

Llama friends

    

Lake Chungará

Monday, seeing as there were still no classes, grandma took me to Tacna with her, the Peruvian border town. She needed to order the cloths for the family's cross celebration next month. I went as more of a chaperone and followed her to three cloth stores, one three times. A barber, phone center, malls, bowl shopping, pirated movie shopping, juice shops, pharmacies, the cousin's house, markets for olives and toilet paper sold in Costco sized quantities and the bus station to look for a new maid. Longest day of my life. She was so content to be out and about, being a typical grandmother trying to buy me ice cream and cutting in line because she's older. But nine hours was a bit much for me. I look forward to exploring Peru on my time.

This Tuesday it was back to school, I have now seen half of my students two weeks into my time teaching. Fingers crossed those tectonic plates stay put at least through this week. So I can meet all my students.

Martina practicing English

A little too shaken up

I wanted to take a quick minute to update everyone after last night's earthquake. Everyone here, my family, fellow volunteers, all of Arica and myself is fine. Yesterday night around 8:30 pm there was an earthquake of 8.2 magnitude off the coast of northern Chile. Luckily we were all at home, minus Boris who works in safety and evacuation here in Arica, when a tremor started. I had just gone upstairs and as the tremor escalated ran downstairs, by the time I was halfway down the shaking made it incredibly difficult to make it down. The family was huddled under the doorframe to the dining area, right next to the metal spiral staircase I stood under with grandpa, and in traditional Chilen Catholic fashion saying the Lord's Prayer while we waited for the quake to stop. Then everyone ran for their go bags, something I had not yet prepped but have now, and we evacuated. I live in the middle area of Arica, still classified as tsunami zone, though no tsunami has ever reached this far. Something grandpa pointed out, as he stubbornly told us he would be staying. Boris met us and joined the thousands of people in the street headed to the safety zone. Martina and I sang songs and played games the whole way, which honestly took both of our minds off how scary it really was. We were lucky enough to have family friends who live in the safety zone and so we walked the mile and a half to their house, where Boris left to go back to work, and we huddled around a half functional emergency radio and flashlight in our sleeping bags listening for updates until we all drifted off. The rest of the night was full of aftershocks, according to the news about 90, though for the most part they have been so faint it would be easy to confuse them for a truck driving by. This morning we woke to find that most of Arica was just as it was before the quake, with minimal damage, only buildings made of adobe fell, obviously mud is not earthquake proof. We went back to the house at 9 this morning and were lucky enough to have electricity and internet so I could call home. Then our water was cut for a few hours. And right when Vladimir came to use our internet because his area still had no electricity, it died. But the water came back. Can't win them all.

As I was finishing this entry last night, which means the part above refers to two nights ago, we had another earthquake, 7.6, and evacuated again. This one turned out to be a big aftershock from the previous, and after five hours of evacuation we all returned home. Needless to say things are a bit too shaken up here for anyone's liking and now we are out of school until Monday. It is an unreal experience to come from an area with almost no natural disasters, to one where everyone is constantly prepared for a couple. And though I'm not a fan of either, I think I'd prefer the tsunami. At least those comes with a warning.